ᯓ Dancing for the devil, Bring your body and your energy
pairing: ballet dancer!Song Mingi x ballet dancer fem!reader
synopsis: at Seoul's most prestigious ballet university, no pair is more legendary than you and Ikhyun - until a scandal destroys his career overnight. Varna is coming up, and you're forced to pick a new partner. But maybe some things are never meant to be replaced. - or lowkey a k-drama that somehow got converted to a fanfic on tumblr dot com content: uni au, ballet dancer au, somewhat enemies to lovers, grief without death, angst, drama, drinking, forced proximity, slow burn, mention of drugs and ed culture (it's ballet after all), reader is lowkey a bitch, and mingi is very sassy, unreliable narrator (?), fluff, smut (nothing too crazy), petnames (princess, baby, good girl, pretty girl, pretty, cruella) wc: 23.5k featuring: '99 liners, h2h: Jiwoo, Stella, Skz: Lee Know, Hyunjin, Twice: Mina, Lsfm: Kazuha
⭑루안: my contribution to @sungbeam 's live alive fic collab - who i thank graciously. you can find the master list for the event here. also warning!! i don't dance ballet, i never did.
this is my longest fic... hope u will enjoy it as much as i did (said with tears in my eyes)
pt. 2
pas de deux
/ˌpɑː də ˈdəː/
noun
a dance for two people, especially as part of a ballet.
"One, two. Let those muscles tighten," the professor's voice bounced off the walls. "Jiwoo, I really hoped you would learn to do your plié better," he tsked, disgust visible on his harsh features. "We're not in starting classes anymore, this is third year ballet if I remember right."
Jiwoo knew better than to try to explain her situation and instead turned her hips out more, the muscles in her glutes burning just as hot as her calves. Minkus' Don Quixote blared through the studio, almost deafening, as sweat rolled down her forehead.
"Minseo, lower," he looked at her in the mirror, giving her a really harsh look from the side. He began softly nudging her legs, turning her pointe outward and pushing her lower into position. The uncomfortable look was clear on her face, her hand holding onto the barre shaking with the strain.
When he moved forward, his eyes settled on your figure, just for a second and went on to Ikhyun's, and then a sort of appreciative noise left his lips, threatening a smile to break out on your face. He just continued walking behind the line of students in front of the mirror, adjusting everyone with small yet harsh moves. Ikhyun's gaze found yours in the mirror, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"Okay, stop." Professor Lee dismissed his hands, coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in feigned disappointment. The class sighed collectively, dropping from their toes, "disastrous." Okay, maybe not feigned… "I want everyone's pliés looking like those two's by next class, or I swear to god I am failing all of you." His words made some people give you and your partner envious stares, in their breathless misery.
"y/n, and Ikhyun, stay. Everyone else, leave." His arms crossed against his chest, and his nose flared with the breath he took. "So, La Bayedére." His eyebrows shot up in an impressed manner as the classmates scurried out of the room while they could.
"Yes, sir." Your voice betrayed the confidence in your choice.
"You couldn't have picked a piece that requires more control and trust," his lips curled into a snarl, gaze picking you and your best friend to pieces. "Why?" he questioned, looking genuinely intrigued, "for Varna especially, Swan Lake or Don Quixote would've gone even better."
Because Varna called for something new, something unfamiliar to you. It was the biggest challenge for pair dancers. You recall dancing mindlessly at the mere age of six, dreaming of the competition while your seniors trained for it - you even remember the tone in your voice when you asked Ikhyun if he believed you could succeed. Imagine flying to Bulgaria, returning with a gleaming gold medal in hand and a smile wider than you ever imagined.
"We like a good challenge, sir," Ikhyun smiled up at him, his back straight, ready to answer all of his concerns - and voice just as confident as it was when you first asked him. "and as you said, Varna actually requires stepping out of the comfort zone." The Professor only hummed in response, his hand rubbing his chin.
"Okay, show me what you've got," he motioned to the now empty classroom, backing up to his phone to put the music on.
"Gladly, sir."
Both of you were on mark by the time the music started, the violins slicing through the air sharply. You knew the set by heart. Effortless with the movements, turns, lifts and supports. Back as straight as it can get. Moving elegantly from one side of the floor to the other. You didn't need to look at him to stay in sync anymore.
Usually, during performances with Ikhyun - even in the classroom for only one professor - your mind cleared of all worries. Only focusing on his steps and moves as if it were muscle memory rather than a dance. As if it were something rehearsed, not felt.
When the music suddenly stopped after what felt like only seconds, your lungs burned. Sweat gathered everywhere - forehead, ribs, palms. Your feet were nearly numb in the pointe shoes as you held your ending pose. After a few moments, both of you released the pose simultaneously without any cue, because after all this time, that's simply how it happened.
Professor Lee gave one firm nod - which translated to a storm of applause from a real and not-so-harsh audience. "Lift your legs higher, y/n, let the music guide you, not the habit," he told you with a puzzled look on his face, "The same goes for you too, Ikhyun, but with enough practice it will settle, hopefully." You both nodded at his critiques, still breathless from the dance. "What about the competition this Friday?"
"I wanted to tell you one of the reasons we're not doing Don Quixote is because we're doing it this weekend," Ikhyun explains easily, between ragged breaths.
"Easier, not as flashy; and definitely for smaller competitions," you finished for him, trying to stretch your forefoot with the pointes impeding your movement. Mr Lee nodded along to your words, looking deep in thought.
"Take this win home, this is child's play for a pair like you." his voice turned softer than the authoritative loud tone it usually held in class. "Who will be there? No-names, maybe Minho and Mina are the only pair as a respectable rival there," he scoffed, dismissively rolling his eyes. "You will do it." his voice held no argument, practically demanding your return with the golden trophy in hand.
"Of course, Sir," you replied at the same time, bowing in front of him, taking those last words as a dismissal from class, finally. Your bag's strap cut into your aching shoulder, trying to kick off your pointes as fast as possible.
"You want me to give you a ride home?" Ikhyun's voice came from behind you as you stepped through the door he held open.
"Obviously," you giggled at him, shooting him a playful glance, which he rolled his eyes at. This banter was an everyday thing for you since you both learned to talk, way before all this ballet lunacy started.
But when it started, you did it with him in tow - parents pushing you financially to the best masters and educators. The ultimate goal was to get into the ballet university of your choice, an ambition that had seemed entirely childish at the time.
When the letter of acceptance came to both you and Ikhyun, you told the boy to pinch you at least fifteen times in a row, making the soft skin of your forearms sting with every squeeze. All those late nights spent in the practice room, sweat, tears and blood put into your moves and reps - as if it was more than just a passion. It was worth it in the end, but the real work only started in the first year of university.
They pushed you harder, stronger, until failure every day. Attendance was mandatory for first-year students at every competition, even if they weren't selected to perform their variation.
And soon it started to show: the ballet community began talking about your pair, quickly making it one of the most-liked young pas de deux dancers in the country. Ikhyun's shredded figure next to your own, in such contrast, brings out each other's best features: his height and your fluid grace. Everything had an eternal essence to it. That's what people loved most about the two of you.
And that's why, when the music ended, the applause came louder than it had for any dancer at today's competition. It echoed off the walls, swelling around you, forcing your smile wider despite the strain in your chest.
You needed to hold the pose, even though the headpiece rubbed your scalp raw. Even though you wanted nothing but to get off stage, holding the pose at the end sometimes got appreciated more than the whole performance. Even though you felt the last few notes of Don Quixote try to rip your head apart.
These seconds felt longer than the dance itself, but everything must come to an end, right? You bowed to the audience in unsaid synchronisation with Ikhyun, hearing the claps even from the side of the stage.
Some guys from your school clapped Ikhyun's shoulders as soon as he was in reach, not helping the ache in every limb of his - or yours, for that matter. But right now, the adrenaline was still in you, feeding the fire of your ambition, blurring everything that came after the performance.
"You were lovely as always out there, darling." Ikhyun's mother came up to you with your parents behind them. Both of them held flowers in their hands, which was a habit rather than a congratulation at this point. Her soft hand caressed your cheeks, eyes shining in a way they only did after seeing you and her son connect on a different level.
But her supposed son was still all laughs and jokes with the guys - Mingi, Yunho, and some others you didn't recognise. Just other dancers in your year that never lived up to Ikhyun's skill - or at least to you.
They were here tonight to compete in solo categories, dressed in way too tight clothes that have always been the norm for ballet dancing - but on Mingi, the black unitard with silver details seemed to look… good. You wonder if he has already danced his variation - or if you could still wish them good luck.
But your eyes returned to Ikhyun, who was still school girlishly giggling around, not even registering that you had left his side to talk to your families, who seemed to blend after all this time seamlessly.
You called out his name rather sharply, pulling one eyebrow up questioningly.
"Oh, I gotta go, think about that party tonight, Mingi," his smile was wide still as he fist bumped everyone in his little circle. "Hey, Mom," as soon as he was in the vicinity, he planted a loud, sloppy kiss on her cheek. She laughed, swatting him away to wipe her face, but the affection was practically a ceremony by now. He greeted your parents, too, with that usual boyish charm he always wore proudly.
His arms wrapped around your shoulder, "Don't be so stiff, y/nnie, you're coming tonight also," his tone held no argument, but oh, this guy was nothing to one up.
The thought of anything other than a hot shower and your bed made your skin crawl right now, and you doubted it would change any time soon. And there wasn't even a win yet to celebrate. "You know damn well I won't," you chuckled, turning back to face your families. As soon as you were about to speak, the booming voice of the announcer called up the last pair to the stage.
"Hwang Hyunjin and Kazuha Nakamura from Seoul Arts University performing Swan Lake."
Your head snapped to the pair walking onto the stage. A small smile grazed your lips at their grace-filled steps, already giving themselves to the performance.
"I didn't know Hwang was here," Ikhyun said, his tone making it sound more like an accusation than a question, making your eyes roll. Did this guy even use his brain? - better one, did he even have one?
"Name one competition in Seoul- in the country we haven't seen them at," you deadpanned. Your eyes found their way back to their performance, magnetised to Kazuha's frame, "I still envy the elegance with which she moves." A weary sigh escaped your lips.
Ikhyun only chuckled, "You move better, and I outdance Hwang in every possible criteria." his chest puffed with pride, "They are no match."
And suddenly the adrenaline started to wear off, kicking back the strains and sorespots at full force. Giving place to the anxiety to claw its way into you, until the announcements came.
Pointe shoes were discarded everywhere backstage. Sweat mixed with some left behind bouquets that made everything smell like a flower field in the worst way possible. But hearing your name being called for the gold medal made all of this endurable.
When you were packing in your still ecstatic mood, Ikhyun came begging, almost even going as low as getting on his knees to get you to the after-party. But the call of your bed was way stronger than anything he could have promised.
By the time you got home, your mind was muddled. Long forgotten about that shower collapsing headfirst into the bed, still smelling like sweat and hairspray - unusual, but not unheard of.
You woke up early the next day, not by your own will but rather the non-stop buzzing of your phone. Endless messages flood your home screen.
Dahyun
have you seen?
Jiwoo
wake up
this is bad.
link attached
Your stomach dropped even before you opened the article. Skipping every other notification and opening what they all had in common.
Prestigious ballet university student involved in street fight
No.
No, no, no.
Soo Ikhyun, a student at the School of Korean Ballet - and widely regarded as one of the nation's most promising young dancers - has been involved in a disagreement that appeared to escalate into a physical altercation with a student from a rival school, An Kangmin.
Footage from nearby street cameras shows the presence of multiple students from both institutions. The cause of the conflict remains unclear, though further statements are expected once An Kangmin is discharged from urgent care.
With potential legal consequences pending, the university has yet to release an official statement regarding disciplinary action. However, sources suggest that expulsion is being considered, as students have previously been dismissed for significantly lesser offences.
This incident places a shadow over Ikhyun's rising career. The dancer has been preparing for the upcoming Varna International Ballet Competition in Bulgaria, where he was expected to compete as a leading contender in the pas de deux category alongside his long-time partner, y/n l/n.
Tears blurred your vision by the time you finished the article. Your knuckles turned white with how hard you were holding the phone with your grip, and your breath came in short bursts. This isn't real. How will you compete now? How will- wait, will they expel him? Will they let him stay because he is the Soo Ikhyun?
This isn't a matter money can hush; this will be the talk of the ballet community for at least the season - if not the next five. What was he thinking? Going out all mighty, getting drunk beyond recognition, just to hit someone …for what reason exactly?
Your fingers worked with haste, opening the chat with your best friend, who, as of right now, felt like someone you didn't know.
Ikhyun <3 - 12:07 am
i wish you would've came tn
its so empty w/o uuuuuuu
Ikhyun <3 - 01:54 am
fuck this is baasd
thatfucker kangmin is here
Ikhyun <3 - 03:21 am
pick up please
i am so sorry
please wake up
fuck
i messed up
please don't be mad
Don't be mad?
Don't be mad?
You
what the fuck have you done
Your calls go unanswered. Ikhyun and whatever he might be doing better be important. The tears just pour down your face, shaking your whole body with the force. The door opens, figures come in, but it's way too blurry to even think about who it might be. There must be a way to salvage this, there must.
What has he done.
On the other side of town, Ikhyun is taking in the damage from yesterday. The dean and Professor Lee are sitting in the room - or rather, the latter is pacing back and forth along the walls of the room.
"Such careless actions!" the professor murmurs under his breath, the hand he holds in front of his mouth somewhat muffling his words. "What were you thinking?" His voice doesn't carry the strictness that has bounced off the studio's walls every day; students have never seen this side of him.
"Mr Lee, I advise you to sit down," The dean's voice is more collected, her well-manicured hands tapping against the wooden surface of her table. How can one be so calm in a situation like this? "You're only making matters worse."
"Worse?" his steps falter, facing Ms Payer, his eyes turn eerily dark as his next words boom off the walls, "He won't be able to compete at Varna- or more like any competition!" his hands gesture animatedly, anger overtaking all of his earlier rationality, "He will be locked out of ballet circles because of this! It doesn't matter what we decide; it has already been decided by the others!"
"I understand, Mister Lee, and that is why you should calm down; the outcome is out of our hands." He huffs at her words. Hands crossing over his chest, while shaking his head, "And most importantly, I am sorry, Ikhyun," she says to the boy, whose eyes were just snapping from one figure to the other until she finally addressed him. Sorry about what exactly? "You threw away your career the exact time you threw the punch, but I am sure you know that by now."
Oh, wouldn't she like to know. His chest has been convulsing as if it wants to give up on him any minute since he registered what exactly happened. But he couldn't just let the guy degrade you freely when you weren't there to protect your pride. He nods at her, head falling between his sagged shoulders.
"You were the only competition we had against the Russians." Mr Lee's voice broke the sudden mourning silence that settled over the room. Ikhyun's hands balled into fists next to him, nails breaking the delicate skin of his palm. Because that's all he was, an asset - a chance for the school.
When he was dismissed from the room, his eyes immediately took in your shaking frame, barely held up by your parents. Your first reaction was to grab onto his jacket, maybe shake some sense into him, but you just collapsed into his arms. Now crying on each other's shoulders.
Your eyes sting from being unable to cry, and you must ask him: Why did he do it? Why would he do it? Was there no other way to resolve this? What will you do without him now? You never danced with anyone else before - only during practices he missed due to sickness, and never for more than a few hours.
But you can't form the words, can't force them out, no matter how much you want to. You sit there in the suffocating mourning silence in the comfort of your bed and his arms. He is the one to break the silence first after all.
"We went over a few things with Miss Payer and Mister Lee." his words die down into an unsteady breath that shakes your head on his chest. "It's not official yet, but I will be expelled."
The words crumble every last hope you had, starting the dry tears to come back again. He released a weary sigh, letting the silence take over.
Until he couldn't.
"There are a lot of good dancers in the school-"
"No." You support yourself up from the bed, grabbing his shoulders for purchase. Eyes wide in disbelief as the tears still fell.
"I don't want you to not reach your dreams because of me."
"Are they really my dreams if you're not in them?" The words hit him like a shot. He is shaking his head as he closes his eyes, unable to look into your broken gaze anymore. And your cries come back at full force, until his comforting words lull you to sleep.
Your chemistry was a weird one. Everyone thought there must be some romantic aspect to it, but there never was. You loved each other as siblings would. You grew up together, glued together by ballet. But what would happen to the bond if ballet weren't there anymore?
—
plié
/ˈpliːeɪ/
noun
a movement in which a dancer bends the knees and straightens them again, usually with the feet turned right out and heels firmly on the ground.
—
Getting to university is way harder on Monday than it should have been.
Ikhyun wasn't there in the morning to pick you up. He didn't force you to listen to his horrible music, and he didn't tell you at least fifty dad jokes before arriving at the parking lot.
Dahyun and Jiwoo joined your side the minute you stepped into the building, trying to shield you from the pitying glances every student threw you, with more or less success. It wasn't their fault; men twice their size wouldn't have been enough to block them all.
Your blood boiled more with each. Nails digging into your palms, drawing blood. No breathing exercise could have helped, no topic Jiwoo or Dahyun could have brought up, because there wasn't any that didn't concern you or him.
And even the professors joined in the public pity. Making you stay behind after class to ask you if you need help with anything, as if Ikhyun died, not just left.
The cafeteria was the worst part. As if everyone judging each other's plates wasn't enough, you craved the little comforting touches the others gave you with their mock-up sad smiles. The most mind-blowing part was the way some first-years let you go in front of them in the line. You couldn't even help the little "what the fuck" that escaped your lips, and the scowl that came with it.
There were always whispers everywhere you walked, but now they were louder, crueller, and not as slick as they were before. Almost as if the absence of Ikhyun made them bolder.
You were taking your tray back when you bumped into someone.
Poor girl's face drained from blood, white as a ghost, as she murmured repeated apologies while she scurried away, head pulled between her shoulders. Jiwoo and Dahyun chuckled when you looked at them with a questioning glance.
Okay, maybe I lied when I said the cafeteria was the worst - it definitely was the studio.
Chatter fully died down when you stepped inside. You felt every eye on you, but they all looked away the moment you stared back.
These were the same mirrors you looked at for three years now, the same studio, same everything. But all of it was so wrong. How can one feel so out of place, especially somewhere they spend their everydays? Tying your pointe shoes was an unfamiliar experience, as if you were looking through their eyes, only seeing the empty pot next to you.
When Mr Lee came in, that was usually the time he told you to practice the set for any upcoming competition, but even his voice faltered at the sight of you. It might've been the puffiness of your eyes, the messiness of your hair, or the way your leotard was crooked; it could have been anything, honestly.
His eyes quickly averted, not even giving you any task. Just calling out to the others to do their variations, avoiding your existence altogether.
So you do what you know best. Dance.
You try just letting go to the current variation's music playing through the studio's speakers, trying to feel the music instead of letting your body search for the warmth beside you. But somehow entirely different routines steer you right back to a move that's in a dance you did with Ikhyun, and you just let it happen from there.
You dance that choreography anyway, even though he won't be there to lift you, to guide you through it. Because maybe if you held your arms out further and jumped higher, he would be there to catch you.
The stares didn't disappear; they just got softer, not as pointed. Just like Mingi's - his gaze lingering a little longer than the others'. He hurt too. Maybe not as a partner, but as someone who had lost a friend, a constant. So he just watched you in pure silence from across the studio.
By Wednesday, you were over the stares, staring back openly at everyone who still felt the need to pity, who still pointed out the lack of him next to you. On Thursday, you also called them out loudly, "Why the fuck are you staring holes into my head?" and, "Don't you have turnouts to practice?"
Jiwoo and Dahyun only fueled it, adding their own degrading comments to the people you didn't notice, maybe even going further than you would. "You're staring, asshole," came from Dahyun. "At least close your mouth, it smells," Jiwoo said to someone.
On Friday, the verdict finally came. You were called into the dean's office, trying hard not to stab an insult into anyone who passed you. When you saw his frame, your shoulders dropped, knots relaxing immediately, no matter the context. No matter, you know he is here to get expelled.
Mr Lee, Ms Payer and another professor stood there with Ikhyun. Their looks no different from any student you lost yourself over. But with him there, you swallowed the words down before you joined your best friend in being expelled.
The greetings were cut short by Mr Lee, who quickly started explaining, "I'm gonna be straight with you, there is no need to sugar coat it." his voice held despair, and maybe anger, "You have two choices, you don't compete at Varna, or you pick another partner."
You looked around the room, Ikhyun's hand caressed yours in a barely there touch. His eyes are quietly pleading with you to choose the second option. The other professor spoke up, her voice so much more caring than Mr Lee's was before, "There are plenty of dancers who would jump at the chance to partner you." she gave you a weak smile but dropped her gaze before you could reciprocate it.
What was there to lose if you didn't go? You would probably save yourself the humiliation of showing up with someone you barely know and have no chemistry with.
But on the other hand... What was there to lose if you didn't go? Nine-year-old you would shatter. She would scream at you for throwing away an opportunity as not dancing at the biggest international competition.
Would it be worth it?
"I…" Words died down your throat, but the questions just got louder in your head, bringing up more questions. More things to be worried about, more to be mad about. "I'll think about it."
They gave you a defeated smile. Nodding along, because this wouldn't be an easy decision.
Ikhyun couldn't stay any longer. As soon as you left the office, he left, but hugged you tightly before he did.
What you haven't thought of before is how all of this went down on him? He was actually the one getting practically exiled from everything he learned to love from a young age. Ballet was everything for him, too, not just you.
He would soon be shut out of every circle as the guy who beat up the competition. Because in ballet, this was worse than doing drugs or actually sabotaging someone. Drugs were so normalised due to the extreme thinness it required, and the sabotage just came with them.
Everyone thought they were too elegant to physically hurt someone with their hands. Too refined. Too sophisticated. And they made your skin crawl.
You didn't even notice heading to the studio; your feet just took you there. You could've just hoped nobody would actually be there to disturb your sudden need to practice. The doors were open, lights down and… Nobody was there.
You slammed your bag down, letting it fall where it may, already tugging your pointe shoes on. But as soon as they were, you actually realised: for the first time in years, you didn't know what to practice.
—
grand jeté
/ˌɡrɒ̃ ˈʒɛteɪ/
noun
a jump in which a dancer springs from one foot to land on the other with one leg forward of their body and the other stretched backwards while in the air.
—
People don't talk about how hard the first week is without someone who was always there before, a prominent figure. Not in an absolute sense - like dying. Just being robbed of doing your passion, while still breathing… And that somehow feels worse than passing.
Because there Ikhyun was again, lying in your bed with you in his arms, staring at the ceiling endlessly. "You should still go," his chest rumbles under your head, "I'm sure there is someone to match your energy."
His shirt was cold with your spilt tears on it. You were too exhausted to start explaining your worries again, because he was just as stubborn as you were, sticking to his opinion until the very end.
You already told him about everyone's stares, words and endless pity towards you. He listened in silence, a hand rubbing circles on your back, eventually steering the conversation away from school, from ballet, because the wound was still too fresh to be ripping it up continuously.
At some point, the conversation faded. Your voices were overpowered by a random show that was screening on the TV. Occasionally broken by your sniffles, or his longing sighs. The weekend slipped away from your fingers, just like everything seemed lately - no matter how hard you hold onto it - and you were back in the studio.
Warm-up already done and forgotten, as you do certain spins and moves. Getting comfortable high on your toes. But there isn't music to filter out the others' words from your head, and one particular moment catches your attention while you tie your shoes tighter.
The boys are doing Grand Jetés left and right, trying to show how it's done around here, while laughing around, smiles wide on their faces.
San jumped with finesse, arms elegantly folded around his torso, maintaining perfect posture mid-air. He glides momentarily, reminding you so much of Ikhyun. They applaud him, Wooyoung's jaw nearly drops in amazement, while Mingi appears barely entertained.
"Ikhyun still did it better." Mingi declares while still clapping. Your fingers paused mid-knot. And he earns himself a slap on the back of his head from Yeosang. "Yah! It's not like I'm lying!" His hands flew up to shield himself, failing to block the incoming onslaught.
As you watch them, - so domestic, and child-like - you wonder what Ikhyun would do. Playfully order them around, playing his strict ballet teacher part for the day. Which would only make them laugh harder, while also practising and improving. A smile tugs on your lips at the sight; it doesn't last long, nevertheless. Because the thoughts only spiral with the what-ifs from there.
But this was the first time you genuinely smiled since that Saturday.
Jiwoo and Dahyun are still stuck to your side as soon as you leave the studio, leading the way to the cafeteria. "Have you thought about what Ms Payer said?" Dahyun's head is tilted to the side as she looks at you from across the table.
Both of them wait for your answer with curious glances. "I did." They wait for a few seconds only to realise you don't intend to explain further.
"And?"
"I don't know." The truth felt harder to confess out loud. Because yes, you have thought about it. But there were too many odds against both that neither seemed like a good idea. You're getting lost in your thoughts again when someone takes a seat at your table.
And it's… Mr Lee?
The sigh that leaves him as he sits down is sharp. "Girls," he nods to all three of you, but a harsher frown pulls at his when his eyes settle on you. "Have you decided?" Not playing around, I see.
"Not yet."
He scoffs at that, shaking his head before he speaks up again, "You had the time. Your and your future partner's time isn't the only one you're playing with."
Confusion pulls your brows together. It was easy for him to say. While in practice, this is a bigger stake than just a few days of thinking.
Before you could reply, he was talking again. "If you want Varna, you choose this week." He paused, hesitation crossing his eyes. "Or I pull you from the lineup myself." And with that, he was back on his feet, grumbling a goodbye.
His words resonate in your head in classes. The pressure of it is almost physically sitting on your shoulders, hoping to pull you under. And they do, in a way. Pulling your focus from the lectures.
You don't remember pulling your phone out on the way to the studio. Nor typing a message out to Ikhyun. Mind hazy with the spiralling thoughts.
I don't think anyone will match you
Your fingers hover over the mockingly blinking send button. Regretting participating will always be better than regretting not. It could go either way if you try, but at least you tried and didn't give up when you already saw the finish line.
You pocket your phone and pick up your steps towards the building. The message stays unsent. Your chest tightens when you step in, finding Mr Lee alone.
"I'll do it."
You swear you could've seen a smile threatening his way onto his face, but he just nodded.
By the next morning, the whole school seemed to know, and that made you realise this decision didn't concern you alone. But most male dancers in the school.
"Do you have anyone in mind?" The professor who was in the office with you the other day asks. The soft smile seems to be the default on her face.
"No. I haven't danced in pair with anyone except Ikhyun."
"Aah, I understand why it was so difficult-"
Her voice is cut off by the clattering opening of the studio doors. Mr Lee waltzes in with multiple men in tow. "Stand aside, Eunseo, I got this."
The boys set their bags to the side, voices overbearing in the studio. You notice familiar faces, from your classes and lower-years who Ikhyun hung out with. Maybe some were even there at the after-competition parties he dragged you to.
"I don't think this would require such an upheaval." Your voice only reaches the female professor - Eunseo - but even calling her by her first name in your thoughts only feels weird.
She chuckles, but her eyes are just as wide as yours as she takes in the stretching forms. "Warm up well, gentlemen, we're gonna look over lifts, and particular steps from La Bayedére."
One of the younger students straightened immediately. "Yes, Mrs Lee."
—
Ballet lifts are dynamic partner movements designed for height and spectacle in a pas de deux, relying on core strength, precise hand placement, and mutual trust. Key techniques include secure waist grips, using pliés for momentum, and maintaining upright posture to ensure safety. Common lifts include overhead lifts, shoulder sits, fish dives, and the split over, often enhanced by creative, fluid transitions.
—
What you thought about this part was everything, but definitely not this.
Swan Lake blared over the speakers as another pair of unstable hands lifted you high. It just didn't feel right. He was too stiff, too careful. And something you know by now is: being careful gets you nowhere.
The second he put you down, you stopped. Hands finding purchase on your hips as your ribs expanded with each strained inhale. You just shook your head in the Professors' direction, and they looked at each other with an unreadable expression before cutting the music.
Your limbs feel numb after all the trying. You lost count of the partners after the fifth. Nobody felt like him. They didn't even try. Maybe they already felt defeated, knowing whose replacement they would be. But your blood began to boil. May it be all the failed attempts, the hunger, or just the exhaustion - you didn't know, didn't care.
Then the next promising gentleman came. His figure was similar to the one you were used to; he even was in your class - Yeosang.
No more room left for the fatigue to set in, because the music started again. His form was so effortlessly pretty as you locked on his reflection in the mirror. The hold was stable- until it wasn't. The same mistake, over and over again.
This time, you didn't even shake your head; you just stared at them, barely containing your eyeroll.
The next guy that stepped up boomed with confidence. Chest all puffed up as he murmured a small, "Watch this," to his friends in the back. The scowl this time couldn't be held back; it sat out on your face loudly.
The music started again, and you could see the way his eyes were locked on himself in the mirror. Yeah, no. He danced for the mirror. Not for you and definitely not with you. When the lift came, he didn't wait. He just took it. Your stomach dropped mid-air, and you landed harder than you should've. "Is this a joke?"
Another guy, another lift, but this time it just felt wrong. Maybe it looked all right from the outside, given the hopeful looks of the professors. But you shook your head again as soon as the music died down, and collapsed against the handrail on the walls. Your own hope started to fail you, doubts getting louder in your head again, "Next."
The next guy came after you had a few breaths. He looked familiar again, and not just from class. You've seen Song Mingi standing on the sides with displeasure on his face the whole time, eyebrows drawing together every time you dragged someone down. You wonder how he feels to have to compete as Ikhyun's replacement.
But he stepped in, music started, and he followed your lead. Hands exactly where they supposed to be at the lift, stable and controlled.
"…again."
He wasn't perfect either; his touch lacked that familiarity and trust, but that's something you can work on.
What you didn't notice was how everyone stopped for a second. Nobody moved, not the professors, not the boys in the back. And not even him.
Then he nodded when he realised you were on mark already. This time, the move came easier. Not perfect again - far from it - but something clicked. His grip adjusted faster, still following you but taking less time. Your timing met his halfway, instead of dragging behind. Not forced or shaky, and not wrong either.
Your breath hitched, but you didn't falter. Going further with the choreography, pushing, testing him and yourself. He followed, no hesitation, not getting ahead of himself.
The music faded out, silence hitting you harder than the ones before. You stepped away first, looking at the professors again, because you didn't trust yourself to look at him.
Mr Lee's expression was different from before. Arms still crossed, and so were his brows. But he was leaning forward with interest, calculating sharply with his eyes. Mrs Lee watched you more softly, smiling wider than she was before.
"Next." Her smile dropped immediately.
The next few dancers came one by one. One too unsure, too slow, too much thinking, the other not thinking enough. Your voice was harsher with them, "Stop." poor guy's face drained. You knew the next is going to be the last.
But when his arm slipped on your waist mid-air, everything broke. "That's enough." The words slipped out before anyone could stop them. Your chest was falling with rapid breaths, fingers slightly trembling as you took a seat right in front of the professors. The exhaustion caught up with you, but not from the dancing, no. From the trying.
Your gaze flickered across the room, taking in everyone's pained expressions. Until it stopped on him, still standing where you left him. Your eyes snapped away first.
"Alright," Mr Lee's hands clapped together, "You're done for today." Shoulders drooped, long sighs left, and they left eventually. Their packing was loud, but not as chaotic when they came in. But the contrast was still felt when you were alone with the professors again.
"Take the evening," Mrs Lee's voice was the first to break the silence. "Think about it."
You barely heard her over the thoughts. Her eyes lingered on your crumpled-up form. Almost as if she were ready to answer all your doubts. But then she smiled again, "But you already know."
You nodded, even though your mind was anything but settled. Your body, however- has already decided.
You didn't sleep much that night, because every time your eyes closed, you saw the same thing. Lift, almost fall. Lift, fall. Then him - stable, flexible, and adjusting to you. And it repeated every time sleep was about to pull you down.
You went to the studio before classes. The first rays of the rising sun painted the sky yellow behind the building. But he was already there with his little group, stretching, laughing, causing havoc before a normal person would be even up.
You watched him through the glass doors for longer than you'd like to admit. Dancing through a variation on his own, slower than the variation demanded. But it felt refreshing rather than uncomfortable. Emotional.
You took a deep breath before you strutted into the studio, like you owned the place. You didn't bother yourself with the audience, went straight to him, stepping in front of him as he regulated his breaths.
"So you're free for Varna, right?"
His eyebrows drew together, and he took a step back. He took a towel from the handrail, slightly patting it over his forehead. "Am I?" his head tilted.
Your eyes closed to hold back an eyeroll, and with a deep breath, you continued. "You're the only one who didn't make me want to walk out yesterday." The confession felt bitter in the back of your mouth. Especially because you knew Yeosang was here too. His eyes searched yours with caution, snapping from left to right. Not like he would find anything.
When you realised he won't bother with a reply, you spoke up again. Tone lighter than before, losing the attitude. "If we do this, we do it right." Your fingers fiddled with the strap of your bag, and his eyes snapped to the motion. "Just tell me if you even want to do it."
He stared at you for another long minute before he replied, "I don't exactly half-ass things." you could see his jaw tighten, tongue poking his cheek. His gaze was scrutinising, mean. He looked away for a second, dissecting something else rather than you. "So you're… serious."
You scoffed, which made him look back at you, "I don't have time not to be."
His eyebrows twitched, but so did his lips, "Then yeah, we're doing this." You nodded at his response, then left. You won't have to come back here until ballet anyway.
San and Yunho's chests let out a breath they didn't know they were holding, their eyes rounded out. "Fuck, she's intense," San says, trying to make the tense air disappear with humour.
"And a bitch." Wooyoung adds, clearly not pleased by your attitude.
Yeosang hits his arm, "You never felt what she is going through," he tries to reason, but it falls on deaf ears.
"But I am sure, if I were to, my approach would be very different."
—
La Bayadère ("The Temple Dancer") is a classic 19th-century Russian ballet choreographed by Marius Petipa with music by Ludwig Minkus, premiering in 1877. It tells a tragic story of love, betrayal, and vengeance set in India, involving the temple dancer Nikiya, warrior Solor, and princess Gamzatti
—
Your schedule became crammed after that. Practices earlier than when most were awake, staying later than the sun was up. Between classes - everywhere, your timetables aligned.
The texts exchanged were brief between you, calculated and always to the point.
You
I'm free after next lesson
Song Mingi
i am alr here
When you finally joined him, his hand found your waist again. Firmer than before, and definitely not hesitant. But he didn't take the lead; he just waited. You almost missed the cue.
With Ikhyun, you never had to think. Your body would've moved before you even realised. His grip already guiding you into place, every shift anticipated before it happened.
But now - you were a fraction late. He didn't even make a mistake, but he stopped too. His touch a ghost on your skin as he said, "Again," quietly. But he didn't look annoyed or mad, no matter how hard you searched for a reaction.
You swallowed and nodded, already stepping back. Your fingers curled into his shoulder, more deliberate. Checking the placement twice rather than failing once more. Music started again, the count muted in your head. One- two.
You stepped and felt it. The transfer of weight, the slight delay in his response. His hands adjusted, not you, but his grip. It threw you off. Frustration pulled your eyebrow together again, failing to hold back the snarl on your lips.
Your turn faltered, coming a breath too early. His grip tightened, just enough to steady you, but he didn't force you back as Ikhyun would have.
He let it be wrong. Let it be off.
Making you spiral, because you knew you were the one to mess it up, yet it somehow still felt as if it was his fault.
Your feet hit the floor too hard - letting you know exactly where you messed up. You pulled back then, ready to lash out, to reset- to apologise. But he didn't stop. You watched him for a second, resuming the choreography as if nothing had happened. "Keep going." The words were low, between his controlled breaths.
For the first time in years, you had to think. Not just move, with your body guiding you, as if it were carved into it. But listen to the music, to the count, to him. And to yourself.
You joined back on the next count, a little slower intentionally. Falling into rhythm with him. Waiting - just half a second - to feel where his balance would lead him, before settling into yours. Meeting you in the middle. It wasn't clean or perfect. No, it wasn't anywhere near. But you finally felt - knew - where he would be.
Another lift came, this time you didn't rush it. You let the momentum build while paying attention to everything. Felt the axis of your body instead of assuming it would be there. When you landed, his grip steadied you. Not because you made a mistake he needed to correct, but because you chose the timing together.
Maybe this was something you needed. Because no one learned from someone doing it right instead of them. They learned from patience and guidance. From being forced to be great. Because he had nothing to lose if he didn't correct you.
And fuck, it made you mad.
Mr Lee was keeping an eye on you, without disturbing the scene. But when you finally stopped between sets, you saw the low smile curling at his lips. Only making your ambition burn harder, wilder.
With every practice, something simmered deep within you. An unexplainable feeling that kept you up at night. Thinking about all the times you let Ikhyun correct you, instead of pushing to do better himself.
The next day, you were dancing in the back of the room while the others were doing something orchestrated by Mr Lee. You didn't want to be loud, because your newfound audience would hear everything, in the panting silence that settled over the classroom. But it was clear that Mingi didn't share those agendas.
"Stop."
You blinked at him, still breathing unevenly.
His hands dropped from your waist, discarding the contact as if it burned. "You anticipate too much," he ran a hand through his hair. "You already move before I even finish the last step."
A scoff left your lips, "Because if I don't, the lift doesn't happen."
His jaw tightened at your tone, unshaken by the eyes on you. "Or maybe it happens differently."
"Different doesn't win Varna."
"Yeah, neither does not knowing basic counts." The words hung sharply between you. Brows pulling together in another reason now.
You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and started again with a mocking smile on your lips, "Then explain on which count am I supposed to be even near you?"
He stepped back into position, jaw tight as he looked at you. This became an everyday thing between you. Mocking, doubting. The snarls on your lips were default as soon as you stepped within the vicinity of one another.
—
Ballet positions are the foundation of classical dance, focusing on turnout from the hips, posture, and grace. The five basic foot positions, numbered one through five, involve rotating legs and hands.
—
"I hate when people's default expressions are like dying swans," You muttered under your breath as a first-year passed by, clearly shaken from practice. Dahyun snorted at your comment, while Jiwoo suppressed a giggle.
Mingi wasn't even trying to listen; he just heard it as he walked past you with Yunho and Wooyoung. His steps halted, eyes flicking toward you with disappointment. It sat wrong in his chest, "Pretty sure yours isn't any better," he huffed. Not even sure if he meant you to hear it.
Your eyes narrowed on him, "At least I don't look like that all the time."
Mingi's expression didn't change. Which somehow made it worse than if it had. "Funny," he muttered, voice flat, "Could've sworn you did."
Wooyoung's eyes widened as he let out a little "shit-" under his breath, while elbowing Yunho lightly. After that, the whole hallway went quiet. Waiting for your rebuttal or surrender. But you never knew when to stop, did you?
"Maybe it's just because I see you," you shrugged, continuing your walk towards your class.
At practice that day, he was snappier. His moves were cold and rushed, antsier than usual. It reflected on his performance more than you would like. His hands on your waist weren't as firm as they were the day before, having lost that precise anchor point just above the flare of your hip.
"Okay, stop," you snapped, already on your way to turn the music off. "What's up with you today?"
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, lightly tugging at the roots to stay present. "Nothing," his voice was dull, almost empty. Then he began walking toward you, taking your phone and resuming the music. "Let's move on."
He went back to the middle of the empty studio, already standing in fourth position. His muscles were on display with his arms elegantly in the air, and your eyes lingered a second too long. With a shake of your head, you settled near him in your starting pose too, feeling the music guide you.
You felt free. Dancing, moving to the sound, finally acclimatised to his moves and style. You felt better than you had a few weeks ago, finally feeling as if you had your grounding back. Your jumps were synchronised better, more aware of each other- until today it seems.
His moves were delayed. It was barely noticeable, but you felt it. Especially when he wasn't where he was supposed to be when the lift came, he was a few centimetres more to the left than usual, throwing off your count and rhythm as you had to get closer to him. But still, his hands weren't stable around you.
He stumbled - or rather his hands did - resulting in you slipping from his grasp and having a hard time catching your balance. He grunted, arms still around your waist as you stood closer to him than usual. Your chests pushed against each other with swallowed air. Your hand rested on his shoulder as you stared into his eyes.
His fingers flexed against your side, eyebrows still drawn together, as he stared back. Breaths short and loud when the music stops. You felt your heart beat uncontrollably, faster than usual, faster than it does after an average dance.
The thought of that made you snap out of whatever tiredness-induced daze you were in and pull back from him. "Your timing was off," you said quickly. Gaze averted to the barre on the wall - anything but him.
He took a deep breath, eyes still on your distancing frame. "Yeah," his tone felt defeated. "We should just stop here today." You hummed back in response, hands already working on the ribbon of your shoes. But before you even finished with one, the door slammed shut behind Mingi.
You prepared yourself for his attitude the next day. Whatever snarky reply he may throw your way, what will either of you mess up that day. But today wasn't anything like that. The practice went well, without any insults or huffs. He even stayed longer after, asking about how it would be better for you in supported turns, and even about other classes.
It was almost worse this way, with no snapping, no tension thick enough to choke on. Just small corrections, short nods, and movements that almost worked. You didn't trust this - or him, for that matter.
The next day, you were on the side of the studio, Mr Lee's voice boomed through the open space with instructions to the others. You were practising turns with Mingi, his hands warm on your waist, but never staying there long enough for you to enjoy the feel of it.
You felt the eyes Mr Lee set on you, his gaze basically burned against your nape. Whenever you stopped a turn, you looked at him and saw a specific glint in his eye, which never meant anything good for you. He felt ready to turn your life upside down again.
"Switch partners," His voice made you freeze, snapping your head in his direction. He was still looking at you, which meant that the instruction was meant for you.
"I'm sorry, what?" you barely choked out. Even Mingi's hands stayed on your waist in shock.
"Yunho, Jiwoo, come here."
Oh no.
Now the two of them stood in front of you and Mingi. The other two students were just as shocked. "You do the same thing now but with other partners." He explained, and Mingi's thumb caressed your waist softly, and you fucking hoped that movement was done unconsciously. "Get to it, we don't have all day."
Yunho stood in front of you with a little flush on his cheeks and fidgeting fingers. "So uh-" his voice cracked, "-partnered turns, right?" you nodded in response, the saliva burning and staying lodged in your throat as you tried to swallow, weight shifting from one leg to the other.
His hands were bigger than Mingi's, more slender; when you finally feel comfortable with Mingi,Mr. Lee had to make it difficult again. Despite the initial awkwardness, Yunho's hands were firm around your waist as you turned. Your jaw felt tight, calves burning in an addictive way that made you fall in love with the sport at first. There wasn't anything to mess up in turn like this. But it still didn't feel right.
Maybe the professor heard that thought form in your head with the way his eyes still shone. "Okay, now both of you try the actual dance." All four of you froze again. What was the point of this? Mr Lee's hands crossed in front of him, watching you with careful eyes. "Same combination," He immediately started the music, leaving no room for argument.
You stepped back hesitantly, the music barely made it through the loud pounding of your heart. You saw the way Yunho forced his body to move into position, eyes meeting yours for a second before you had to move.
Your body was screaming at you just like the first time you danced with Mingi. He wasn't there to meet you in the middle again; you had to correct yourself. Maybe that unspoken familiarity formed with Mingi, too. Yunho wasn't a bad dancer; he was always where he needed to be. Hands exactly how they are supposed to be, almost textbook perfect.
But your body was hesitating again before every move, not knowing where to go.
"Again." Mr Lee's voice cut through the violins.
You swallowed again, forced to think about your next move and focused on the count, alignment. You panicked as the lift came, faltering for a second. But Yunho was fast to catch up, adjusting quickly. But it wasn't smooth; you could feel his effort in it.
"Good," Mr Lee said. Your head whipped to him with force, eyebrows drawn together to the point where it hurt. Good? This was good? You never once before heard him say anything was "good" before. Especially not to a move that was mediocre at best. Your chest felt tight- too tight.
Mingi and Jiwoo were watching, their chests heaving as they struggled to catch their breath, their faces holding pained expressions. You wish you could've seen how they danced. Did Jiwoo stand exactly where she was supposed to? Or did Mingi also have to adjust? Did she also hesitate?
You felt a sharp pain in your head. Eyes snapping from Mingi to Jiwoo with haste that made your stomach churn. Air was getting harder to force into your lungs with each passing minute. You weren't staying late tonight, no matter what. You needed to get out of there fast.
It might have been a coincidence or pure luck, but Mr Lee was saying his usual closing monologue. You were out of there as soon as possible. Not even noticing you basically ran home until you were in your room with your back against the door.
Your feet still hurt, but you barely feel them over the pain in your head and stomach. Next second, you were hiccupping with choked tears escaping. Why did you even think you could do this without Ikhyun? How come you never noticed the imperfection of your moves before? Have they always been there, carved deep into you? Maybe that's just who you were.
It was selfish of you, like Mingi said. You should've dropped the idea of Varna that morning you read the texts - maybe earlier, when you applied first with smiles on your face with Ikhyun. How come nobody ever told you this? Maybe you weren't the dancer you thought you were. The thought didn't settle. It scratched at the inside of your skull, repeating, reshaping, getting uglier each time.
You didn't sleep much. Or maybe you did - it didn't feel like it. Every time you closed your eyes, you were back in the studio, half a count too late.
The next day, you were waiting for him in the studio, already warming up, stretching, staring in the mirror with someone so hollow and zombie-like staring back. The warming up you were doing was more muscle memory than thought-through. The door behind you opened with force, but you didn't have it in you to look who it was. Too distracted by the still screaming thoughts.
"You're early." He was stunned, dropping his bag down in his usual spot.
You hummed back in response, staring out of your head without anything to actually look at. You could feel him looking at you longer than usual. As if he was waiting for something - a comment, a jab, anything that sounded like you. But you didn't give it to him.
Your hamstrings stretched as you lay your weight on your leg. The barre creaked as he leaned on it, breaking the silence that settled over the room. The studio has an eerie feeling to it in the morning, with the cold air that travels through the windows and makes goosebumps break out on your skin.
Soon you felt you had to dance; however, you didn't feel ready, yesterday was still too recent in your mind. You reached for your bag, taking the new pointe shoes out, you had already somewhat prepared for today.
"New shoes?" Mingi's eyes were nearing his hairline, and you nodded. He knew from being your classmates for three years now that you didn't change shoes often; you actually dreaded changing them. "How come?"
"The last ones are…" ruined, to say prettily. You didn't notice your feet hurt yesterday because you ran home in them, forgetting to actually take them off in the overwhelming haste. It's a shame, though, you just replaced them not too long ago. "-They had the ribbons sewn in all wrong." The words died down in your throat, feeling bitter in your mouth.
Something unreadable passed in his eyes, and his head cocked to the side. He was looking at you, taking in your half-dead appearance; something unreadable passed in his eyes. He cocked his head, tracking your half-dead appearance with a scrutiny that made you wonder if he’d seen you bolt out of the studio the day before with your pointes still tied to your feet.
"Alright," he clapped his hands together, and saw you flinch subtly at the loud sound - fuck, it's worse than he thought. "Where did we leave it off?"
You were totally out of it as you danced. You were focused, yes, but he saw that you were too focused on certain things. Like the distance between you before the lift, or the placement of your hands on his shoulder. He even saw the little snarl on your lips as you were half a count behind. He let it be; everyone had bad days - maybe you had more than the average person did - but you weren't even friends for him to ask about it.
More like… beneficial partners? No, he didn't benefit from this in any way.
You didn't even say goodbye when you left. Didn't think much of it either, just that it didn't matter. After all it was just practice. But it wasn't just anything.
He was still standing in front of the mirror, repeating some steps and pirouettes that didn't seem good enough for him, and you just… left.
—
For a ballet dancer, shoes are as essential as a pencil is to an artist. Each dancer has their own preferences, methods for using, breaking them in, and customising them. They sew in the ribbons, make the boxes harder if needed; they use everyday items, like Super glue, markers, nail polish - whatever you can imagine, as mundane as possible. They are the most delicate aspect for a ballet dancer because a good pair of shoes provides a solid foundation. But what happens if there's nothing to ground you?
—
Today was one of those days when you had a few free hours before Mingi finished and needed to meet you at the studio. You needed calmness, some quiet in those hours. You needed to be alone.
Some classical music was playing in your headphones as you sat on your bed and looked around the bedroom. Eyes drifted across the shelves. Trophies, medals, and old shoes you kept for- just because. No books you've chosen, no hobbies, no mess. Just a clean room, nothing but ballet. Because what were you without ballet?
The thoughts hadn't quieted one bit, even when you stood in front of the mirror, Mingi's arms around you. Nor did they in the next few weeks. You became softer, no snapping remarks or anything to give him. No words for him, actually, you barely talked.
Considering all of your setbacks, you were doing amazing - both of you. But despite the progress you'd made together, there was still that lack of trust, that undeniable bond only years of being partners could forge, and that hell of a tension was suffocating. Because his hands felt electric on you. Every touch lingered longer, and you found yourself resenting the moments they actually stopped.
You correct more steps and moves for yourself, so he doesn't have to do it for you. So you don't have to feel the humiliation of not knowing a basic step - but also, you don't want him to think less of you. You're the supposed best in this school so act like it. You want- no you need Mingi to believe you are a good, the best partner.
So fake it 'til you make it, right?
But you weren't sure anymore if you were getting better - or just better at pretending.
Mingi took a breather after you'd done the whole dance twice. His eyes never left your figure as he crashed down in front of the barre, taking a few sips of water. You still stood there - dancing and practicing one particular turn that you couldn't get on point with yourself with.
"One, two- ugh, fuck." You mumbled under your breath, the bitter taste of dissatisfaction settling deep in your throat. The studio only gave comfort to you and him in these late hours. Your eyes snapped to his sprawled-out figure as he watched you with piercing eyes. He was biting the inside of his cheek, something unreadable passing in his eyes.
When he finally stood beside you again, his chest was not heaving as hard as it had been before. He was staring in the mirror, hands never finding their place on your waist, the music was already past your queue. Your eyebrows etched together as you looked at him, "…What?" you snapped, more snappy than you wanted to.
Your eyes followed his gaze to your feet, where they were shifting the weight from one leg to another. Your eyes lifted back to find him staring at you. "Are you nervous?" His hands tensed awkwardly beside his body.
"No- what- why would you think that?" There was a bite to your words, nose scrunching in distaste and confusion.
"You're shifting."
"Yeah, and?" He didn't mean to leave the silence that long.
"Every time before a lift - left to right - and you don't even notice it." His hands motioned animatedly with his words, punctuating this habit deeper with every word. Making your stomach drop, because now that he said it, you noticed it.
Heel to toe, heel to toe. Preparing, bracing yourself.
You heard it as criticism first. Not concern, and not quite an observation - just another thing you were doing wrong and he had to point out. "'m just adjusting-" Your jaw tightened before you even finished the sentence. As if you said it confidently enough, maybe it would become true.
"No," he shook his head, "you just don't trust the timing." You just don't trust yourself. The studio felt hotter, smaller. Louder, even though the music had already stopped - and so did your shifting.
"I-I know the timing, I have been dancing for years." Your words are still sharp. Wonder who you are trying to convince, him or yourself.
"Yeah," he ran a hand through his hair as his jaw tensed. "You have."
His words didn't feel like validation, it felt like anything but that. "Then what's your point?" you pressed, already knowing you wouldn't like the outcome, legs already moving your weight - but you stopped it mid movement.
"You're not dancing what's supposed to happen," he breathed out, voice lower than before and softer, "But what you think will go wrong."
The more he spoke, the less oxygen you had in your lungs, and it was crushing your chest - snapping something, so suddenly you even forget there was an option to breathe. Because he wasn't wrong, and that made it even worse.
"I'm not-" Your voice cracked, and you hated how weak you sounded. "I'm just trying not to mess it up."
"I know." He responded, too sincere, too soft.
You turned away from him, hands going to your hair, your temples - anywhere but him. Your weight shifted again without meaning to. Heel. Toe. Heel-
"Stop,"
You froze, one leg on point, the other flat on the ground. "All I'm trying to say is, you don't even realise you're doing it." Your throat felt tight, heartbeat loud in your ears, almost louder than his reassuring, soft-spoken words. "I just told you," he continued, still as patient as ever, something he wasn't usually with you, "and you still did it again."
Your vision blurred before you even registered the tears. The tears came all at once - sharp, sudden, impossible to stop. You turned away immediately, wiping at your face as if it offended you, as if crying itself was the failure. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. "This is stupid."
You hated that he saw this. Hated the fact that it was him, of all people, standing here while you fell apart. For a second, you almost told him to drop it. To leave it alone, to leave you alone. He didn't move closer, didn't try to comfort you with touch. But he was there, eyebrows drawn together, hands still tensed next to him. "You're relearning," he said after a moment.
You let out a bitter laugh. "Feels more like unlearning everything."
"Yeah," he shrugged lightly, though his eyes didn't leave you, "that's usually how it works." He sighed, flexing his fingers a little before speaking up again, "You relied on him," he stated matter-of-factly, but not unkindly, "That's not a bad thing." Your chest tightened at the mention, nails biting into the skin of your palm. "But now you can't, so you notice everything you didn't have to before."
He finally let silence settle over the studio again, but now it wasn't suffocating, just still. It lets the thoughts consume you. "I hate it," you admitted, eyes on the floor, not daring to look even in his direction.
"You're better like this."
"What?" Your head snapped up, and your expression soured quickly because it didn't feel like a compliment. It felt like being stripped down to something unfinished and told to be grateful for it.
"You hesitate," He said, gesturing slightly, "you overthink, you mess up the count-"
"Wow, thanks-"
"But you know why now." That was quick to shut you up. Words got stuck in your throat as you watched him, teary-eyed. He tilted his head slightly, smile low, playful on his lips as he asked, "Again?"
You nodded, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands with haste. Quickly shaking off your legs and hands, cracking your neck left to right. "Yeah," you gulped down the tears that didn't have the place to escape now. You didn't feel ready - but you stepped in anyway.
It didn't click all at once.
Some days, you catch yourself. Some days you didn't, and some days, you didn't even try.
But then also… You moved with more ease; the tension didn't fully leave your shoulders or moves, but you caught yourself more frequently in the bad habit. If you hadn't, Mingi tilted his head with a pointed gaze on your feet, one eyebrow cocked, making you chuckle every time. Less panic, and fewer moments where your body locked up completely.
You stayed longer one day. The professor was about to leave, too, but he sat down beside you.
"How is it going?" Mr Lee asked, with an unreadable expression on his face.
The words were stuck in your throat. Because, how was it actually going? Mingi made you doubt every step, relearn the basics. Make you want to join first-year classes again to learn everything from the start. Slowly making you realise what you had with Ikhyun wasn't perfect.
You were just lost in the haze of this whirlwind around you, which stopped you from questioning your knowledge and precision. Because if it got you golds, then there wasn't anything to evolve. You reached the top. There is nowhere to develop further.
"Well," you tried to say, but it sounded more like a question. "It's different." His eyes were on your forearm, where you started unconsciously rubbing it with your hand. Legs ready to place your weight from one to the other, but you stopped the motion. "He- he's making me question everything I've stood by before."
He nodded, directing you to continue and pushing you to make this realisation by yourself.
"With Ikhyun, everyone was sold on our connection and- and chemistry, not our skills." His head tilted disapprovingly, "I'm not saying we didn't dance well - I mean, I am - but we could've danced worse and still have gotten podium." you stammered.
"We lacked awareness of our imperfections." Your voice was low, barely above a whisper. "We- we trusted each other too much that we lost the meaning, the art in ballet."
Mr Lee smiled widely as he looked at you, proud of your realisation, before his expression dropped back to that similar stoic one. His hand ran through his silver hair before he stood up and nodded. "Alright." He took a glance around the room, nodding one to your left, before he left.
You haven't even registered that Mingi still sat in the otherwise empty studio with you. But you stayed where you were - by the barre, stretching a little longer than necessary, retying ribbons that didn't need fixing… thoughts storming in your head.
You didn't want to leave first. Didn't want to think about the walk to your car, the suffocating, different quiet that waited there. The one in here felt comforting, like an embrace.
Mingi was doing the same thing in his own way. Not stretching - just… taking his time. Folding his towel, unfolding it again. Taking another sip of water, he clearly didn't need. Breaking the silence occasionally.
Eventually, you stood, slinging the strap over your shoulder with more force than necessary, already heading for the door before your thoughts could catch up. Mingi held the door open for you. When did he even stand up? A small smile grazed his features as he looked at you, motioning for you to go first.
Your synchronised steps were loud against the tiled floor of the hallway. Echoing through the empty, cold space. He was a breath behind you, not too close - but not too far behind either. The moon was already up in the dark sky outside. Mingi opened the door with his shoulder, and you immediately felt the absence of your jacket.
Your steps slowed for half a second - barely noticeable - but he caught it anyway. You saw it in the way his gaze flickered to your arms, then away again. He didn't comment, just adjusted his pace to match yours.
The parking lot was quieter than usual. A few scattered cars, dim lights casting long shadows across the pavement. Your keys clinked in your hands as you walked towards your car. He was still walking with you, silently. Most people would've peeled off by now. Said something, left, made it obvious.
Something he has been doing lately - this silent support. But you couldn't put a start to this, you didn't feel it, and lately you just began to expect it. If it was for a lift or a conversation with the professor, he was there like a pillar - quiet, unmoving. But his presence was enough for you to be aware of everything, and it somehow grounded you. It was strange - how nothing felt fixed, but something felt… quieter.
You reached your car, slowing as you fumbled with the keys a little more than necessary. Your fingers felt clumsy all of a sudden, as if they didn't quite belong to you. You looked over your shoulder when the car finally opened with a low flash of lights. "…Do you need something?"
He pursed his lips, head shaking in response. His hands were in the pocket of his hoodie, his lips pulled into a half smile, "Can't I accompany you to your car?" his smile was full now, teeth on display. "It's dark outside." He motioned around animatedly, "Someone could've kidnapped you."
The sound of your chuckle felt foreign, "Such a gentleman, Song," he shrugged, rolling his eyes playfully.
He was still standing beside your car when your fingers hovered over the start button. He didn't look at you when he said it, "Text me when you get home." The words came out so casually that it took you a few seconds to register them.
"What?"
"So I know you didn't crash."
"Aaah," Your smile widened, nodding at him as you blew out a breath. "I will, then." You barely believed the words as you said them. Mingi was already turning away, walking towards his car.
You didn't drive off immediately. Through the windshield, you could still see him - walking away, hands still shoved into his hoodie pockets, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold, but he didn't look back.
Before you could think better of it, your hands reached for your phone, opening the chat with Mingi.
You
got home
You stared at the way his car's headlights lit up the almost empty parking lot. Your lips pressed together, put your phone down, then drove out.
Your phone buzzed ten minutes later, at a red light. But you withstood the desire to look at it until you were already in the driveway.
Mingi
liar
You stared at the screen longer than you should've, and a breathless chuckle came out. And you noticed how your cheeks hurt from smiling all the way home.
You
Okay, I am for real home now.
Mingi
didn't crash?
You
Nope
We still have to practice tmr
Mingi
:(
thought i could get away w it
You
Damn you hate me so much?
Mingi
you know it
You stared at the messages, with your bag on your shoulder, keys in hand, but still sitting behind the wheel. The screen went dark with a click as you got out. But another message chimed from it when you were kicking your shoes off.
Mingi
goodnight y/n
You
Goodnight Mingi
—
Ballerinas wear specialised ballet costumes - particularly tutus - to facilitate unrestricted movement, showcase technical musculature, and enhance storytelling. These costumes, ranging from classical stiff tutus to flowing skirts, evolved to make movement look effortless, highlight precise lines, and transport audiences into the performance's world. Because ballet isn't just about dancing well - it's about making it look effortless. And sometimes, if you wear it long enough, you start to believe it.
—
Last night, when you went to sleep, you didn't think the house next door would pick that day to throw the biggest party in the neighbourhood. So when you woke up to the sound of your mother's voice instead of the alarm, you already knew the day would be unbearable.
You were awake - technically - but nothing about it felt real. Your mom noticed the second you stumbled into the kitchen, twenty minutes later than you were supposed to be out the door. She didn't even comment. Just grabbed her keys and jerked her head toward the door.
Those thirty minutes spent slipping in and out of consciousness in the car did more damage than help. Your head knocked lightly against the window every few minutes. You felt like a zombie, and probably looked like one too - if your mom's chuckle was anything to go by.
The classes blurred together; your notes were gibberish, words slanting into each other like they didn't want to exist either. Next class was practice, and by now you were sure you wouldn't survive it.
It was honestly a miracle that you could tie the ribbons of your shoes- they were all crooked, and pointing in every direction, but they were on you at least, weren't they? Mingi was trying to suppress a smile when you walked towards him or dragged yourself there rather.
"Rough day?" You didn't need to look at him to see the way he was smiling now. You just groaned in his direction, standing in front of him, ready to dance. But even standing felt wrong - like your weight wouldn't settle properly. This was a new low, even for you.
The rest of the class passed by with Mingi laughing. You even got a half smile from Mr Lee. You weren't there enough however, to notice the anxious shifting of your legs, but you would thank Mingi the next day that he didn't point it out.
At the end of class, Mingi stood tall above you as you fought off your pointe shoes and wrestled them into your bag. He opened the doors for you because he was pretty sure you would've walked into them if he didn't do so.
The next surprise was not finding your car in its usual place. The realisation hit slowly, then all at once. "Shit," you groaned, stopping mid-step. Mingi froze beside you. His head snapped toward you. "What?" past you, to the space where your car should've been. You didn't even bother explaining. Just dragged a hand over your face and reached for your phone, already pulling up your mom's contact.
He resumed walking, just like that. Your head snapped up, watching his back as he moved ahead like nothing happened. Fucking asshole. You couldn't suppress the sigh that came from you as you pressed the phone to your ear- "You coming?"
Your head jerked up again. He was already a few steps ahead, looking over his shoulder at you, brows slightly raised like this was obvious. He reached out to his passenger door, opening it before he walked to the driver's side to sit in.
You blinked at him, still halfway stuck between dialling your mom and processing the fact that your car wasn't there. "…With you?" you asked, slower than usual.
He raised an eyebrow as the car's headlights lit up, "No, I just like asking questions."
You huffed, rolling your eyes as you shoved your phone back into your bag. "You're insufferable."
"Get in." There was no room to argue. Not with your brain lagging two steps behind everything. Not with the cold creeping under your thin clothes. His car was already hot. The leather seats felt like heaven against your skin, already making your eyes droopy, combined with the heat. Your head tipped back against the headrest, eyes closing just for a second…
"Hey," You felt the light tap on your thigh. Your eyes fluttered open, and he was closer than you expected. His whole body was turned towards you, with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the middle console, hovering just above your legs without actually touching them. Your eyes rested on his hand, how you still felt where he had touched it a few seconds ago. As if staring at it will make it come back. "y/n, seatbelt."
He huffed out a breath that sounded awfully like a laugh, and watched you as you fumbled with it. After a few seconds, he reached over, "I got it." his hand brushed yours as he clicked it into place. Hand settling into that same spot it had been in before. Not quite touching but still there.
His gaze flickered up - not to your eyes at first, but your face. Your mouth. Then finally, your eyes. "Are you always this useless when you're tired?" he asked, voice quieter than before.
You let out a soft scoff, but it came out weaker than you meant it to. "Shut up." For a second, you sat there, both of you too close to one another. Eyes on each other's faces, with the low hum of the car mixing with your heartbeat in your ears. But then he pulled back, clearing his throat, eyes on the mirror as he started reversing out.
"Don't fall asleep," he muttered, "'m not carrying you inside."
You swallowed, forcing your gaze out the window, even though your reflection stared right back at you. "Wouldn't dream of it," you mumbled back through pursed lips.
The drive already felt too steady, too quiet, because both of you were too aware of the distance between you. You were fidgeting with your hands in your lap, looking around, but not daring to glance in his direction.
Because if you would, it would all feel real somehow.
Your eyes remained locked on the outside scenery for the time being - or until your eyes stayed shut for longer than what could be considered a blink, and half a second longer every time, until the combination of warmth from the vents and the slow music on the radio basically screamed for you to close your eyes.
And you totally could, right? You wouldn't fall asleep, but with your eyes closed, you wouldn't have to worry about where to look.
When you next opened your eyes, for a second, you didn't move. There was a dull panic in your chest. That disoriented, floating feeling of not knowing where you were or how much time had passed.
It took you a few seconds to register where you were. Still in Mingi's car with him sitting completely relaxed behind the wheel - thighs spread wide enough to graze the gear shift, one hand resting on the windowsill while his knuckles pressed against his lips. Is pouting his default? He was lazily scrolling on his phone as you watched him.
Your eyes slid to the dashboard eleven-fifty pm. Oh my god. Did he seriously let you sleep in his car for hours? As you were wiggling in your seat, he looked at you, rolling his shoulders as he said, "Good morning, princess."
Your cheeks heated with the nickname before you could even register that he meant it in a derogatory way. "Did you let me sleep in your car for three consecutive hours?" You semi-yelled, as much as you could after waking up.
He looked at you deadpan, "I told you I wouldn't carry you in," he said as if it were obvious.
"And your solution to that was driving up to-" you looked outside the window, was just a random parking lot? "-to wherever the fuck we are, instead of waking me up?- because that is what a normal person would do, by the way."
"Whoa, hold your horses, sleeping beauty, do you always get feisty after you wake up?" His hands came up in front of him protectively, and a small smile tugged at his lips. "And by the way, did you finally get enough sleep? Maybe not, but we're one step closer, and also by the way, did you know you talk in your sleep? Because you do, and it's fucking creepy." He was mocking you now. That fucki-
You scoffed while closing your eyes, trying to bite back any remark with little to no success. "You're unbelievable."
"So are you." You let out a loud groan at that, but your cheeks were still warm. Even though he turned the heating off, but not the radio, it still played random songs you fell asleep to.
You really hoped you didn't actually talk in your sleep. Who could know what things unconscious you aired, as if it were Mingi's business.
You couldn't help but wonder, this is the same man who acted like an ass with you randomly, and also who let you sleep in his car. The same guy who challenged your every word, but also helped you when something was wrong, and he was the person whose touch you didn't want to leave your body. Well, that is a discovery, and even thinking it felt wrong.
"So uh," he put his phone down with a little thud on the middle console, "You hungry?"
"Mingi, it's almost midnight."
He raised an eyebrow, "And?" his lips pursed, "Does the absence of the sun in the sky take away your appetite or?" Why does his sassiness have to be funny? You licked your lips as you collected your composure, but you smiled anyway.
"Alright, what you got on your mind?"
Turns out, it wasn't just a random parking lot; it was next to a seven eleven. The store run was fast; you were back with your desired items in the comfort of his car in a few minutes. And as you munched on your samgak kimbap, you tried not to think about the way his body pressed against yours between the aisles, and the ease with which he pressed his card to the reader when you tried to pay.
He even had the biggest smile on after, that smug bastard.
He was looking out the window and drinking his banana milk when he suddenly asked, "What do you think is the most elite flavour?" and it was safe to say you were shocked, so much so that you choked on your food.
"What are you even talking about?" Your laugh was loud in the car, body almost folding in half with the intensity.
His eyes were shaped into half crescents with his big smile, "What? I'm serious."
You needed a few minutes to be able to talk without bursting out laughing again, "Of what? In general?" He hummed a yes back. You pretended to ponder the question with your finger on your mouth, which he rolled his eyes at. "For sweets, I think vanilla, for savoury, I'd say… I don't know cheese?"
His features twisted into visible disgust. "You're so weird."
"You asked me for my opinion!"
"Yeah, and it's fucking disgusting!"
You scoffed, scrunching up the wrapper of your food in your hand, "Okay, then what do you think is the best flavour?"
"Mint choco, and tofu."
"Tofu doesn't even have a taste! And mint chocolate is like the worst of them all!"
"You just can't believe my opinion is superior to yours." He shrugged.
One day, after the competition, you were going to strangle this man with your bare hands. You didn't reply to his last comment; you were sure neither of you would like it. So you just let the quiet take place, and ate your remaining food in silence.
Until you had a thought, "What the hell did you even do until I was asleep?"
He had a spoonful of pudding in his hand when you looked at him. "I drove around for a while," He said as if it was the most normal thing in the world, "Then I parked here and scrolled on my phone."
You nodded faux-amusedly, "Tough."
"I mean, what would you do if I fell asleep in your car?" Well, now that's a real question.
"First of all-" You pointed one finger up, just as he mocked those words in a high pitch, "I can't think of a scenario which would result with you in my car. Second of all, I would wake you up?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That is the obvious answer, sorry for wanting to be a good person," He waved you off with an eyeroll. His eyes will literally roll out of his head at this rate.
The time after was cut short after a message from your mom. But this turned into a habit - not the part where we were horribly exhausted, and fell asleep in his car, but the driving around and talking one. It wasn't immediate, although. The first few times felt accidental. As if neither of you wanted to acknowledge that it was becoming a thing. As if it would stop, or break if either of you pointed it out.
He always had a random question he would ask you and make you laugh until your stomach hurt - the Mingi special of the day, if you may. It felt good, domestic even. You still bantered; you did it a lot. But you finally smiled at the end instead of letting it ruin your day.
And seeing you together didn't seem strange to the students at the school either. Everyone got used to it, so much so that even the paper that wrote Ikhyun's article got word of it.
The fallen prodigy and the replacement prince
So unique. They even had a picture of you with him coming out of the studio attached. Sometimes journalists go off the rails. But you didn't think it was worth your attention, nor did you mention it to Mingi.
Mingi
did you see this?
link attached
You
Yeah, but I didn't read it
Mingi
"While Ikhyun might have left abruptly, his 'for life' companion seemed to find a replacement quite fast."
who are these people
You
Exactly why I didn't read it lol
Mingi
🙄
Texts became regular too, and not just the "where are you" or "I am ready to start if you come" but more ordinary ones too. As much as you can call this ordinary.
Mingi
you still like ur things vanilla flavoured or did you grow up?
You
Do you still like choco mint flavoured things, or did you develop tasting buds?
Mingi
this was a yes or no question btw
You
Yes, I do.
So it was safe to say, the picking spread to a form that could be read again.
You didn't notice it at first - or you just choose to ignore it deep down - the way your shoulders relaxed more, the way your replies came faster or the way you didn't dread practice as much, almost as if you were looking forward to it.
…But the girls noticed did, via you smiling an odd amount at your screen. "What'chu smiling about?" Dahyun leaned over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of said thing. But you were fast to lock it and place the phone next to your tray.
"Nothing special."
But Jiwoo's eyes were on the other culprit across the cafeteria - also smiling at his phone, which made you feel this weird thing in your stomach. Her eyes locked on Dahyun's and explained all of it with a slight nod in his direction, with a knowing smile on her face.
"Yeah, or no one…" Jiwoo said, and you hit her arm lightly.
"Stop," You dragged the letters out as your cheeks heated, "It is nothing." But then your phone lit up with a notification.
Mingi
wanna dip?
Your hand hovered over the screen, just so you could close it if any prying eyes found it. "But I gotta go practice, now," One of your legs was already off the bench, bag in your hands as you stood. The girls watched as Mingi also stood from his table, and Jiwoo found his eyes colliding with Yunho's just as he shook his head slightly.
A smile pulled on her lips as she muttered, "Unbelievable," to Dahyun.
In front of the mirror, his hands already found your waist, after warm up - just as always. With that practised ease that crept in over the last week. You felt as if you had the lead back over your dancing more every day. That certain ground that got ripped out, you started rebuilding it - but now not in pretend, in faux perfection, but in a real way that still left you specifics to perfect, but you now knew what to improve. And you wanted to be better.
With this newfound mentality, practices also became harder in one way.
You weren't only hyper aware of what you needed to do better at, but also his touches. Those lingering touches, and when your breathing was synchronised, after the music ended - especially when you were way too close to each other, with his warm hand wrapped around your torso.
Today was no different. Every touch felt energised; they lit you up as you danced. And as the music ended, he was close again, too close. So much so that if you even lifted your head just a little bit, your lips would touch.
As you saw his eyes look down to your lips, you knew he was thinking the same thing. You felt it too, because his hold got tighter on your waist. You felt his every exhale on your cheeks, the way it fluttered when you leaned just a breath closer. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, with that rush that couldn't quite be named but was always present with him.
But then the music started again, breaking the moment - although neither of you moved for a second too long, a second when it could no longer be denied. The "what ifs" started in your head, loud and overpowering every previous thought, but not loud enough to make your ears skip his voice.
"Again," His voice was raspy, deep, and also quieter than before. And you just danced, from the outside, everything looked the same, but both of you felt the change.
And after you buckled your seatbelt in his car, you mumbled quickly, "Can't stay out today." you didn't even throw your bag to the rear seats, but let it rest in your lap. "I got- something at home."
He didn't question it, no usual banter about the way you stuttered or how you clearly just made that really bad excuse up. He just replied with an "Alright," and dropped you off at home.
—
Spotting is a crucial ballet technique used during turns to prevent dizziness and maintain balance by focusing on a single point. The dancer isolates the head from the body - holding their gaze as long as possible before snapping it back into place with each rotation. It keeps everything controlled and predictable. But that only works if you know where to look. Because the moment your focus slips, even for a second, the world doesn't just blur - it spins.
—
You groaned into your pillow as you rolled to your stomach. Your phone rested next to you, with one specific contact, that was your lifeline for years - your anchor. But as time moved on, so did your relationship. But now everything felt weird, new.
You wanted to talk about it because if you needed to think about it in the comfort of your room alone, you would cry. Fuck it.
That familiar screen lit up as you pressed the call button, and it didn't even take him five seconds to respond. "Hello?"
"Hi, Ikhyun, how are you?" When did talking to your best friend get this hard?
"I'm… managing," He chuckled at the other end. You could see his half smile in front of you. "What's up? Why'd you call?"
"Just wanted to talk," your voice was muffled from your hand, your face rested on. "We haven't talked in a while, Hyun."
He hummed before asking, "How is uni?"
The words were on the tip of your tongue, "You know, same old." But instead you said, "Tiring," after a little pause. "We practice every day, more than before. We… We even started hanging out after."
"y/nnie, that's good," His tone was higher in a way it always got when he was happy. "I'm glad you guys get well."
You snorted when he said that, "Yeah, maybe a little bit too well."
"What do you mean?" He chuckled, but his tone felt more serious.
You hesitated a bit, or rather gathered your thoughts. "It's just- different, you know?" He didn't reply, just let you finish. But how were you even supposed to explain this? The way your chest tightened, the way your thoughts wouldn't sit still or the way everything felt louder around Mingi. "Practice goes… Well. But then the minute the music ends, I don't know how to act."
He hummed, his eyebrows probably gathered at your words as he tried to piece them together, "You'll get used to it." His words felt easy, "It's just the new partner, it takes time to adjust." His chuckle made your hold tighten around your phone, "You're probably just overthinking it."
You turned to your back, phone abandoned on the pillow next to you. Overthinking. Yeah, it was possible, and would explain a lot of things. But this time it doesn't feel like it. It felt- feels real. "Hm, yeah, probably." You hummed, but your phone buzzing snapped you out.
Mingi
so
is that thing over now?
Your eyebrows furrowed. You murmured a small "What?" under your breath, but Ikhyun caught it.
"What did you say?"
"Nothin'."
You
Why?
Desperate to talk to me?
Mingi
how come every time i ask you a question you reply with one back?
A snort left your lips.
"y/n?" Ikhyun's voice pulled you back. "You still there?"
"Yeah," You responded quickly, clicking back into the call, and letting your phone drop back.
"You always get into your head like this," His tone was higher again, smile evidently on his face. "Especially about things that'll fix themselves."
You let out a quiet hum because normally, he would be right. As he always was - but this was maybe something else. Maybe you didn't say it right - or maybe… There just wasn't a way to say it."Yeah, I'm probably just tired." You said instead, voice lower now.
"Get some rest y/nnie," His voice softened. "Don't overwork yourself."
A smile pulled at your lips, even though he couldn't see it. "Hey Hyun?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
He chuckled as he responded with delight, "Always." The call ended with a soft tap of your finger. The chat with Mingi lit up your screen again.
You
Don't you like it?
Mingi
fuck off man
You
It's finished tho
Why?
Mingi
i have that drink that's horrible but you seem to like
and i refuse to carry it with me anymore
You
And what you're trying to say is?
Mingi
be outside in 10
Your fingers hovered over the screen, as you reread the messages - because this was new, and you didn't know if it meant good. You should've lied, thought of another excuse - you already did today, what else was there to lose?
But you grabbed your jacket anyway and waited for him outside. When he arrived, you slid into the passenger seat, immediately noticing two drinks sitting in the middle console. "Wow," he glanced at you briefly, before looking ahead, "No attitude today? Should I be worried?"
You shut the door a little harder than necessary, "Just give it a minute."
"Ah," He smiled satisfiedly, "There she is." You rolled your eyes at him, but it didn't have the same energy as usual. Neither of you spoke, just let this awkward silence settle over the car.
You heard him gulp before he started driving. He reached to the middle, shoving a drink your way, "Almost threw it out by the way," as you took it, his fingers brushed yours for a split second. Not as if it mattered.
"So dramatic," You muttered, unwrapping the straw so that you had something to do.
"You're the one who likes it," He shrugged, and for a second, your heart stopped. Are we still talking about the drinks? He might have seen the way you froze when he glanced at you. "That says more about you than it does about me."
A quiet huff left your lips as you took a sip, leaning back into the seat. The silence settled again, but heavier. You watched the scenery change outside the car, but it did faster than you were used to. Your eyes snapped to the speed indicator over a hundred kilometres per hour already.
"Are we late somewhere?" Your tone was chipped. He didn't really drive when you sat in his car, but when he did, he never went above the limit.
"No? Why?" He glanced at you, then his eyes dropped to your hands holding the edge of your seat to the point your knuckles turned white. You saw how his foot pushed the gas pedal harder. He had a smirk on his lips.
"Then why are we going way above legal?" He reached for his drink, and your jaw dropped for a second. "Just give me that." You snatched it out of his hands to open and place the straw in for him, then pushed it in front of his lips.
His eyes dropped down to it for a second, hands reaching for it before you swatted them away. He looked at you, smile still wide. Hands back on the wheel, "If you're gonna princess me for driving this fast, I might have to do it more."
You closed your eyes for half a second and took a deep breath, then said, "Look at the road, Mingi, not me and just drink." He chuckled but did as you told.
After you put the bottle back in the middle console, he spoke up, "So," he started, voice a little lower now, "what was so important?"
You stopped yourself before your eyes could widen. Right… that.
But it was as if you almost considered telling him. Maybe you should have, just 'Don't you remember?' But you didn't say it. It wouldn't even make sense because he is thinking about a family emergency or something along those lines- not you spiralling in your bed.
"Nothing," You said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. "Just uh, family stuff." How pretty is the scenery. But when you looked back, he was already looking at you.
"You're a terrible liar." He said simply, and your stomach dropped. You probably looked like a deer in headlights - but you surely felt as one.
"I wasn't lying."
"Right," He pulled out the syllables, but didn't press further.
He drove for a little after that. The speed indicator didn't go lower; maybe it even went a little higher. But you didn't dare actually to turn your head to look at it. The silence just felt too suffocating, and you both knew he caught you.
You reached another town - or another part of town - either way, you were way past the usual streets and familiar roads. He cleared his throat before he spoke, "So did you eat at this family function?" the words were mocking, almost harsh.
You shook your head - you didn't trust your voice right now.
His grip was tight on the leather of the wheel, turning toward the drive-through of the fast-food restaurant you didn't notice was right next to you. He got you both some fries and an ice cream - per your request.
The plastic spoon's clatter filled the car. You sat with your feet crossed under you, and your back resting against the door, turned towards him as usual. His body faced you also, but not fully.
He finished his ice cream first, but he didn't ask any random questions while he ate. In fact, he didn't even look up from his cup. His eyebrows were furrowed - deep in thought. You let the uncomfortable silence take hold of your lungs; it burned. It didn't burn as much as the idea of opening your mouth and saying something you didn't actually want to.
He might have noticed it - the ideas daring to tear you apart, or maybe the stiffness behind your movements. So he spoke up first - or at least tried to. Multiple times. He took a deep breath, opening his mouth as if he would say something, but hesitated and surrendered to the quiet in the last second.
When he finally seemed to put the thought together - or rather gather the bravery for it. He spoke up, "Do you always run?" What? The word landed wrong - too small for how tight your chest felt.
"What do you mean?"
"When something happens, your first instinct is to fly, run."
The questions made your tongue feel dry, and the car now felt ten times colder. You just stared at him wide-eyed, heartbeat loud in your ears. Because how could you respond to this?
He watched you for another second before he realised you wouldn't say anything. "Or is it just with me?"
"I don't- I- I just." You wanted to reply quickly, and maybe that was your fall. Exactly why the words came out ragged, mirroring the exact chaos in your brain without even finishing a sentence. You tried to piece a defence together, but his eyebrows lifted in quiet challenge, and the words fell apart in your throat before they could mean anything. His eyes stayed on you for a second too long - searching, waiting - as if he was giving you a chance to say it properly, to defend yourself. But you didn't. - His eyebrows dropped right back with a huff and a shake of his head.
"We have an long schedule tomorrow," His hands hovered over the wheel, "I'm gonna take you home." you saw as his jaw tightened, maybe with unsaid words, or just with the tension. But then his hand was already on the start button, not even waiting for your interval. But he knew you wouldn't say anything other than a murmured goodbye in your front yard.
The drive back felt slower, longer. Maybe it was because he was now driving within the speed limit. But something other than that, too. That unexplainable thing that lifted, but neither of you knew where to place it anymore.
The next morning, you didn't want to get out of bed, let alone get to practice. Thursdays were always the longest because you had a few normal classes, then ballet for three hours. After that, you could run to biology, and back to the studio after classes for another three hours minimum - or as much as your body lets you.
Mingi didn't call you out on anything. He didn't talk much during the first practice. Just a little, "Again," or groans came from his direction - towards you at least. He talked to Yunho, Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung with a wide smile on his face. He even made jokes that cost you expensive minutes of practising. Not like that could bother him at the moment.
The second he came back behind you, his smile gradually fell. His attention was there as always, maybe a little more than usual. But just so he could get his touches as short-lived as possible. They were precise, so you couldn't complain, but it hurt. The combination of these interactions made you more exhausted than a common practice would. And that biology class was just the cherry on top.
You tried pushing through the last hours, with more or less success.
You lost count more than once. Not because you didn’t know it - but because every time he stepped close, your focus slipped half a second too late. With the studio empty other than him and you, his focus felt suffocating.
You could hear his eyes roll as he murmured the "Again," behind you - it was sharper this time, closer. You turned, eyes closing a second too long to keep the words in that kept threatening to escape your mouth. But his hold on your waist tightened, "Wait-" his voice was hurried, "From here." his hand moved you back to your position. "Just this turn."
Suddenly, it felt as if someone had sucked all the air out of the classroom. There certainly wasn't enough in your lungs. Your eyes met in the mirror, and you signalled for the turn. He lifted you high. Your muscles strained in the posture, but you need to hold it- definitely not think about the warmth of his hands. Focus.
When he put you down, it was easy, soft. His hands stayed on your waist until he was sure you were stable. The two of you were too close now. The distance seemed like nothing with you now facing him. You looked up at him, his mouth open as he breathed heavily through it. When your gaze reached his eyes, he was already looking at you.
If you craned your neck even a fraction of an centimetre, your lips would touch. You could finally see if he was thinking about the warmth of your skin instead of the combination you were supposed to be executing. If he, too, felt how perfectly you fit in his hands.
But if he doesn't? What if he pulls away and looks at you as if you were crazy?
Maybe then he wouldn't be this close still. You could count his eyelashes. You can clearly see his moles - one on the side of his face, the other under his left eye. His hands were still on you, fingers flexing around you as if he were also contemplating, calculating his chances.
You should just let it happen. Consequences be damned.
Both of you leaned in. Your hands rested on his shoulders, and his pulled you closer, until you felt his lips brush yours. It was electric, just as every other touch you shared in the past few weeks - pulling, addicting.
But also, it was soft. Or at least soft until both of you got pulled into the rhythm. Finding that same accord, just like the one you find when the music starts.
Then it burned. The awareness pushed you away from him. Your hands slipped from his shoulders first, like touching him for another second would make this irreversible. But his stayed on your waist a moment longer - not tight anymore, just there, as if he also didn't quite know how to let go.
Everything felt wrong, too loud, too wide. You could hear the way the lights above clicked as the wind rattled the trees. You became too aware of everything to the point you felt raw.
His hands eventually dropped, and he cleared his throat, "Once more." It took you a few seconds to realise what he meant. But as he stood in position waiting for you, it clicked.
Your heart was loud enough to throw you off count, every time after it. Your breaths were shaky as you stood next to him, following the moves you should be doing, but your mind was elsewhere. His gaze seemed far away, too - both of you moved on muscle memory rather than actual thoughtfulness.
Your mind - minds apparently - revolved around where you touched, and where it lingered too long again. But neither of you looked anywhere near the other's eyes, which would mean something more than what you were ready for.
The practice got cut short. When you brought up going because you were tired, he easily shot you the idea of leaving without a second thought.
His car's engine echoed loudly in the otherwise empty parking lot. The tyres screeched as he drove out. He didn't wave to you, better off he didn't even look at you after you muttered out your excuse, "My mom's picking me up, we gotta go to grandma's." Your words were low, the same kind he already knew you used when you lied, but this time, he didn't argue. Maybe distance would be the best for both of you right now.
You still noticed how his jaw tightened when he gave you one nod.
The next day, it was as if the world tipped on its axis. Or maybe different people attended the school in your skin. An out-of-body experience, yet you did it all. You chose for it to be this way - or at least the silence after it.
He sat with his friends at lunch, just as usual. Laughed with his head thrown back, in that "I know people pay too much attention to me" way. It pissed you off to the point you texted him for it.
You
I'm pretty sure nothing Yunho could say is THAT funny
Mingi
i'm pretty sure the food isn't as bad as your scowl
also i can feel the way your stare is burning my head
can you stop pls im gonna have a bald spot
Dahyun and Jiwoo didn't even say anything about your furious typing. They just shared a look they usually had a lot of.
You
You already have one, that's what I'm staring at
Mingi
that's cruel princess
myb i should just call u cruella
You
You done?
Mingi
don't act so tough i can see ur smile
You
Then maybe you can also see that I'm waiting for you to finish so we can practice
Mingi
practice?
thought u were avoiding me again
You watched him shove his phone into his pocket before standing from the table. Yunho said something that made Wooyoung grin, but Mingi only shook his head once before walking toward you.
Every step closer made your chest tighten harder. As much as you wanted to play it off, the banter didn't have its usual easy rhythm. It felt charged - a thin wire stretched tight between you, making it impossible to tell where the joking ended, and the truth began, especially when he said, "You're distracting today."
"Then stop looking at me," You said in a sing-song voice without missing a beat.
He scoffed as he massaged his arms for a second, "Maybe stop giving me reasons to."
You couldn't think of a reason today for why he shouldn't bring you home. Not as if he believed yesterday's one. So when you sat beside him on the passenger seat, you felt like you could explode any minute.
Frustrated with him not calling you out on your bullshit yesterday. So you did what you did best. "You're in a weird mood today."
His finger tapped once against the wheel before responding, "Am I?"
You hummed back, "Mhm," your eyes on the phone in your hand, "You usually talk more."
"You usually lie less." There it is.
Your fingers tightened around the phone, "Oh my god, you're still hung up on that?"
"Well, you are making excuses to avoid me," He glanced at you briefly.
"I am not avoiding you."
"Right, so that's why you have something with your family every time something happens."
You scoffed, "What do you want me to do, Mingi?"
"I don't know, maybe act like kissing me didn't ruin your life?"
"You're acting like it meant nothing to you either."
You saw his reflection in your window, the way he was looking at you in that suffocating silence that somehow is always present in this car. Your eyes instead, focused on the University, through the glass. The lights were still bright in some classrooms.
His hand snapping to your jaw caught you entirely off guard - but not half as much as his mouth slamming down on yours. It was rougher than the day before, his jaw still tight with an unyielding frustration that effectively drowned out every unsaid word between you.
His eyes were dark when he pulled away. Something sharp flickered behind his eyes - frustration, disbelief, maybe something worse. "You really think that?" His voice came out quieter this time. Both of your chests rose unevenly yet somehow in sync, finding the same length even in distress. "You keep talking like I don't want this," he muttered.
Your lips still brushed when you answered, "Then stop acting like you don't care."
His laugh came out sharp, mocking. "You're unbelievable."
"You kissed me."
"Yeah," his fingers tightened against your jaw again, "because you wouldn't shut up."
You were the one to close the distance this time. Craving the plush of his lips on yours, moving with such fervour. He kissed just as he talked, with a bite and not afraid to hurt. His tongue moved against your lips, fingers tightening around your jaw.
The kiss felt messy in a way ballet never allowed you to be. No measured movements, no counts. Just heat and frustration moving to the surface in a way it didn't need words.
Your hands slipped into his hair without thinking - as if it was second nature - tugging hard enough for a low sound to leave his mouth. One that you let consume you.
"See?" he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and slick against your skin. "You keep acting like you’re scared of me…" He caught your lower lip between his teeth, and a high, breathless echo of his own sound escaped your throat.
"Because you don't give me a second to think," you shot back, though the words dissolved the second his mouth found yours again. He leaned closer over the middle console, one hand braced beside your thigh now, the other still holding your jaw as if he thought you would disappear if he let go.
The windows had started fogging slightly. The air felt too warm, too small. And suddenly you became painfully aware of everything again. The parking lot outside, your dance bag and cardigan abandoned in the backseat - the fact that tomorrow you would still have to stand in front of the mirror together and pretend this wasn't happening. You pulled back first this time, breaths shaky. "This is a bad idea," you whispered.
His eyes searched yours for a second before he laughed quietly in a tired, disbelieving way, "Yeah," he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek once. "Probably."
But rational thoughts never really stopped you, did they?
His mouth curled as he looked in your eyes, that sparkled - sparkled with need, with the inevitable outcome that both of you knew that you won't sober up enough in any scenario to stop.
Your hand found his that rested beside you, and slid it to your thighs and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. You saw as his tongue smoothed over his teeth, but he didn't move his hand. He tried to read your eyes, to see if you felt the same way he did.
Because maybe this is what you needed, to let the tension form into something physical, to a language both of you understood.
When one of your eyebrows lifted challengingly, that's when something broke inside him and freed a part that was raw with need. His hands slid under your legs, and he easily lifted you over to his lap, mouth already on yours the second your thighs touched his.
The movement knocked the breath from your lungs. One of your hands caught against his shoulder to steady yourself, the other still tangled in his hair as he kissed you as if he had been holding himself back for weeks and finally got permission to stop trying.
His grip tightened instinctively beneath your thighs, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between you. "You drive me fucking insane," he muttered against your lips, words roughened by the way he was breathing. He looked just as wrecked as you felt.
His hair is messy from your hands, and his lips swollen. Eyes dark every time they flicked down to your mouth, then dragged back up again, as if he couldn't decide where he wanted to look most.
And the worst part was how natural this felt.
As if all those nights in the car, all those lingering touches during practice, every argument, every stupid text, and every almost-moment had been leading here the entire time.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie as another kiss stole the rest of your thoughts away. Slower this time, more deliberate. Because now both of you finally understood what the other was asking for.
You felt every part of him as he kissed you. His thick, muscled thigh tensing under you, the feel of it dizzying, enough to make you feel as if you were underwater. He bit your lower lip again, pulling another embarrassingly loud sound from you.
His hand on your waist moved with a new purpose - to map out in a way he hadn't before. Because, yes, he had touched you before, but not in this hungry, all-consuming way. He hadn't let himself feel your silky skin under his palms. He only knew the calculated points he was supposed to hold you, so he wouldn't hurt you. But he had enough of it.
His hand traveled to the strap of your leotard, tracking the line of the elastic before smoothing over your collarbone, a hot, breathy kiss following the exact trail of his fingers. But he didn't push it further until your hand enveloped his, guiding him past that studied precision.
You lead his hand, moved without a second thought - straight to the strap, letting his fingers push it down the slope of your shoulder, in a feather-light touch. Your eyes were drawn to his face - his gaze that followed your bodysuit, basking in every new inch of skin that was bared to him.
Your chest rose with wild breaths, even as your breasts were exposed to the foggy air of the car, nipples pebbled. His hands glided from the curve of your chest down your waist, finally resting at your lower back, pulling you in to another kiss.
You moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his rough finger tips on your upper body. He moved with boldness to see which points made you squirm in his hands, which made you let out those delicious sounds he hungrily swallowed down. But never quite touching where you wanted him most.
You felt vulnerable. He was still fully clothed under you, while you had your camisole bunched at your hips; only your tights and wrap skirt remained.
The fog on the windows thickened around you, shutting the rest of the world out. But not enough to stop you from noticing the messages on your phone go off. There were a lot, blowing up your little bubble with him.
His lips hadn't stopped moving against yours, moving with haste, all teeth and tongue, as if he wasn't going to waste a moment now that he had his hands on you. His hand moved from your waist to reach for your phone, which you'd left on the passenger seat.
"Mind if I?" He motioned to it, and you couldn't stop the needy sound that escaped you.
"Jus' do it," your voice was muffled against his jaw as you kissed your way down, leaving little bites and marks all over his neck and collar bones. You didn't miss the way his breath hitched at that particular spot above his collarbones.
His hand's warmth moved down to your buttocks, kneading the flesh of them over your tights. It was feverish, the car was hot with your sighs and moans. He pulled you closer to him, seating you directly above the tent of his pants, both of you moaning from just the mere touch.
His sounds were all-consuming, addicting - you needed to hear them more. So you rolled your hips against his slowly with a wicked smile on your lips, appearing as soon as a dark and gravely tone left his mouth. His hands tightened against your flesh, leaving you with marks of this night for days to come.
You felt soaked; soaked in a way your panties became one with the fabric of your leotard, clinging to your swollen labia - the grinding only making matters worse; until you were certain the heat of you would burn right through the heavy denim of his jeans, leaving a ruinous, undeniable mark of exactly what he was doing to you
His eyes were dark, absorbing mysteriously, demanding everything you had left, daring you to let go of the last shred of your control. Let him do as he pleases, you're just there to feel; to feel the textured leather of the steering wheel pressing hard against your shoulder blades as he crowded you into it, his mouth finally taking total possession of your skin.
The breath that escapes his open mouth that hovers over your nipples sends shivers down your spine, making you arch your back - pushing your chest towards his face. His eyes are following every reaction, pulled- thrilled by them. He craves those pretty sounds, responses. You feel the warmth and wetness before you see it. Your head throws back with the contact, and you can feel him smiling smugly against your skin where he is lapping at your nipple.
He doesn't fully pull back before giving the other bud the same treatment, and you can't help the whine and immediate response of your hands reaching for his head to pull him back. "Where did those snarky replies get lost, hm, Princess?" His tone was raspy, dripping with that familiar, mocking arrogance. A fierce heat rushed to your cheeks as you tried to stare him down, but with your fingers tangled helplessly in his hair, it probably looked like nothing more than a plea.
You were reduced to a puddle in his strong hands, which were now moving down to your inner thighs. Drawing slow, barely there lines along your muscles, always getting closer and closer to the aching centre of you, but retreating to draw another sweet, caressing line on your upper legs. "Fucking- stop teasing me," you whined, eyebrows pulling together in frustration.
"Why?" He rasped, low. "You have another family gathering to attend?" Your eyes shut at his taunting tone, but then his finger finally found your throbbing clit, circling it with careful precision. "Gotta get to it then, huh?" A wicked smile wide on his face, "Wouldn't want you to be late."
The words had barely left his mouth before you felt the sudden, tight pull of nylon against your skin, followed instantly by the sharp, unmistakable sound of delicate fabric ripping. A breathless gasp left your mouth at the feeling. Your eyes snapped to his in your confused state.
"Sorry, Princess," He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, the words said in one quick breath against your mouth. "I'll buy you a new pair," Another kiss. "Someone's just really impatient." That smug motherf-
You didn't have time to finish the thought, because his fingers pushed your leotard and panties aside in one rough movement. His fingers then dipped into your wetness, spreading it to your clit, still teasing you. Testing your limits - and what little patience you had left - to a degree you hadn't known you were capable of enduring. Lewd noises paired with your moans fill the car as he toys with you.
When he finally pushed two fingers inside you, it felt like way more. Already too overwhelming after being denied pleasure for too long, from having the control ripped from your hands with a few sweet words whispered in your ears. Yet he still worked you open at a maddening pace, the heel of his palm rubbing against your bud lusciously.
The volume rise in your moans was enough to tell him he found your spot. You squirmed wildly in his lap, chasing the bliss until a hand on your hips anchored you with a rasped whisper, "Stop moving, baby," he drew circles with his thumb, "You wouldn't want me to stop, right?" You shook your head frantically, whining at him with your lips trapped between your teeth. "Then be a good girl and stay still for me."
The rough pads of his fingers gave you extra pleasure, that undeniable high coming closer and closer - so close you felt it on your tongue. Until his hands left your frame entirely. Right on the brink of ecstasy.
His name left your lips in a loud sob and sniffle. Tears you hadn't registered yet ran down your wet cheeks. And when you looked at him, you didn't see anything but that smug smile that seemed stuck on his face now. He didn't say anything before moving down to work on the metal zipper of his jeans.
His hips lifted, pushing down his jeans and underwear in one solid motion, shifting you in the process too. Your eyes locked onto the V-line of his lower abdomen, paired with a happy trail running down the middle. You felt his gaze on you, piercing, searching for a reaction. A reaction he caught instantly, mapping the way your breath completely hitched in your throat.
Your eyes rounded as his hard cock slapped against his stomach, angrily red, the head slick with precum that caught the low light of the car. The sound of his chuckle broke you out of your trance, raising your gaze to meet his.
His eyes were hooded, head thrown back against the seat. Pumping his shaft in slow, unhurried movements as he looked at you. His head tilted to the side, "Gonna sit on it, pretty girl?" he purred, still moving his hand in a deliberate pace, but tugged your frame closer. "Work for what you've been begging for, hm?" He looked so full of himself, you could feel it roll off from him in waves - yet you didn't have it in you to deny a single word.
You nodded in a barely there motion. Lifting yourself over his cock, you felt his hand guide you down. But it left the moment the head was inside you. You move slowly, slow enough for him to grab onto your hips and still you on top of him with only the head in. Reminding you in the most painful way that he was still the one in charge. You wailed and moved in his hold, trying to get some friction - anything. Because just a little movement would be enough to unravel you.
"Mingi," You cried out, high-pitched, grabbing at his shoulders, even going as far as sinking your nails into his flesh. But he only moaned at the feeling with his head thrown back. "Please."
"Can't understand you, pretty."
This man will be the end of you. The only man who could rip your awareness so far out of reach that you were reduced to begging. Begging for anything he would give you. "Please, Min-" You gritted out through your teeth, "Stop- already." your words were ragged with your breaths, chest heaving wildly.
These moments stretched into what felt like years. Braced against his solid frame, you had been forced to taste that agonising stretch without ever getting what you needed. His hold finally softened around your torso, letting you sink on him. The strain was everything. A heavy burning feeling in your sensitive nerves. your eyes rolling back in your head with every single centimetre.
He watched your face contort with overwhelming pleasure, adapting to his size with a long moan. You looked ethereal, lit from the low lights of the dashboard, hair all messed up and sticky against your temples. He let you find your own rhythm - let you work for your own pleasure in his sick, selfish yet so pleasurable way.
But he supported you, hands helping your thighs work, moving the weight of them - letting you get lost in the feeling. You didn't need much for that all-consuming whiteness to appear behind your closed eyelids, moving faster to reach your peak.
His moans increased in volume too; he whispered some sweet nothings in your ears, you were too gone to understand. Crushed beyond repair. You felt his cock twitch inside you just as you tightened around him, following you into the bliss, filling you up - painting your insides white.
You collapsed against his chest, which rose with heavy breaths. His arms holding you tight against him, caressing your sweat-tainted skin softly. "Everything's alright, Pretty?" You nodded against him, painfully unaware of your spot in the university's parking lot - fully blissed out and content in his arms.
—
Arabesque
/ˌærəˈbesk/
noun
A position in ballet where the dancer balances on one leg while extending the other behind them, creating a line meant to appear effortless and endless. It looks weightless from the outside - suspended, almost perfect. But no matter how beautiful it seems, a dancer can only hold it for so long before gravity reminds them where they belong.
—
Everything was sore. Every limb of your body felt strained in the way it usually did after hours of practising - nothing unusual in that - but rather in the fact that you woke up against a very firm chest.
"You really need to stop passing out in my car, Princess." He chuckled, low, chest shaking under your cheek. You just snuggled closer to the warmth, your face buried in the crook of his neck. The windows were still completely fogged over, sealing the two of you away from the chilly outside air. It had only been a few hours since you both had collapsed into each other, your bodies still tangled together on the reclined driver's seat. His heavy arms were wrapped securely around your waist, holding you in his lap as if it were the only place you belonged.
For a few blissful seconds, you just breathed him in. But the lingering thought of the time, or perhaps just the sheer habit of checking your phone, made you pull back slightly. Your phone was lying face down on the passenger seat, silenced long before things had gotten messy.
With a soft groan, you shifted on his lap, stretching your back to reach over the centre console. Mingi didn't let you go; his grip merely loosened enough for you to lean over, his chin resting lazily on your bare shoulder as his eyes blinked open, watching you with quiet, relaxed fondness.
You flipped the phone over and unlocked the screen. The sudden glare illuminated the cramped car, revealing frantic texts from Dahyun and Jiwoo just sent over two hours ago.
Jiwoo
oh my god, tell me you're awake
Dahyun
link attached
someone leaked the unedited video from the bar
Jiwoo
the audio is completely clear
look at the background
watch Mingi
Your breath hitched. Your thumb trembled as you clicked the link in the message, making sure the volume was set to a low so the sound wouldn't echo off the glass.
The video was shaky, filmed just a little further from where they stood - the exact night the scandal had broken and Ikhyun’s career had vanished. But unlike the blurry, chaotic clips that had circulated for months, this audio was crisp. You could clearly hear the mocking, arrogant voices of the male group members at a nearby table.
"...thought she was the untouchable prodigy, turns out she’s just a pass-around for the department..."
A sickening wave of ice flooded your veins at the sound of Kangmin. But before the familiar humiliation could completely swallow you, a figure slammed into the frame, completely shattering the table's glass drinks.
It was Mingi. He looked visibly tipsy, his posture loose but terrifying as he kicked a chair out of his way, stepping directly into the space of three guys. His recorded voice snarled through the phone speaker, deep, raw, and completely unhinged. "Say that again. Say her name again and see if you walk out of here on your own two feet."
You watched in absolute shock as Yunho, San, and Wooyoung desperately grabbed the fabric of Mingi’s hoodie, trying to haul him back. Mingi had thrown the first punch. He had started the entire thing. And it was only when the brawl escalated into total, violent chaos that Ikhyun had thrown himself into the conflict to protect the guy who was fighting for you - ultimately taking the fall that should have belonged to Mingi.
The phone nearly slipped from your fingers.
Every single muscle in your body snapped tight. Your spine straightened instantly, your thighs tensing against his lap as you went entirely, terrifyingly rigid.
Mingi felt the exact second your body locked up. The lazy, comfortable warmth radiating off him vanished in an instant. His arms tightened around your waist, his hooded eyes sharpening as he stared at the side of your face, his brow furrowing at the sudden, absolute terror rolling off you.
"Hey," His voice was raspy, the casual afterglow completely dropping from his tone. He nudged your shoulder with his chin, trying to peer into your face. "What's up? What's wrong?"
You couldn't answer. Your jaw felt completely wired shut, your eyes wide and pinned to the glowing screen where the pixelated, chaotic brawl was still playing out in a loop.
Sensing the absolute lockdown gripping your frame, Mingi’s gaze shifted from your face down to the phone clutched in your trembling fingers. He leaned in closer, his broad chest pressing flush against your back as he looked over your shoulder, his eyes tracking the video.
The phone speaker whispered out the muffled, violent audio again.
"...Say her name again and see if you walk out of here on your own two feet."
The exact second his own recorded voice cut through the quiet of the car, Mingi froze. The warm breaths he had been exhaling against your neck completely stopped. Every single muscle in his frame went just as rigid as yours, his arms locking around your waist - not out of affection this time, but out of a sudden, defensive reflex.
The screen flickered, showing Ikhyun throwing himself into the fray to drag Mingi out of the line of fire, the camera panning wildly as the table shattered.
Silence fell over the car. A thick, suffocating silence that made the fogged-up windows feel like a prison.
You slowly turned your head, your neck straining from the tension of the movement, until your eyes met his.
The fondness that had been in Mingi's eyes just moments ago was entirely gone. His expression had turned completely blank, his hooded eyes dark and unreadable. But the sharp, furious pulse beating against his jawline betrayed him. He didn't look away from your stare. He didn't even blink.
"You started it," Your voice came out as a ghost of a whisper, barely a breath against the cold air of the car. "It wasn't Ikhyun. It was you."
part two coming soon...
likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!!!!
yall be honest is the 3x3 moodboards out of style? I feel like everyone under the ateez fanfic tag does their images differently for their stories….. so should I resort to 1 image headers instead of a moodboard?
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ chapter warnings: profanity, drinking, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral f receiving, cum play, petnames, overstímulation, being fucked until ur unconscious, sort of exhibitionsim(?) - mile high club lessgo, grinding, fingering (f recieving), spítting, manhandIing, slight humiliation kink, marking/hickies, multiple orgasms, creampies, nipple sucking, nipple play, talking you through it, stretching/size kink, begging, unprotected sex (pls don't do it irl), some really angsty themes and heartfelt moments towards the end! i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t really talk like it’s that time period oops
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multi billionaire 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 madonna, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v, - and for the finale, I recommend ending it off by listening to easy lovers by piero piccioni♡
☆ a/n: the final chapter is here! *sobs* thank you for SO patiently keeping up with the series! perhaps i'm biased bc yunho is my fav but I just had to go a little more 'all out' for this story of his^^ please don't forget to reblog and i hope you enjoy...
☆ word count: 14k
m.list | pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
WHEN YUNHO MENTIONED A PRIVATE JET you expected something small, given the simple picture he painted.
As you’ve discovered these past few days, Yunho dramatically underestimates the word simple.
For him, simplicity meant reclining in the sleek cabin of a luxury jet almost forty thousand feet in the air, decorated with high-quality leather seats and glossy mahogany wood that shined as you were served chilled glasses of cabernet.
Thanks to an eventful night, you two were in an even better mood than usual, and that was apparent by the multiple refills of wine and champagne shared amongst other things such as teasing glances and flirty touches…
The day started off like any other adventure with your tall, handsome, and ridiculously wealthy employer. A morning in L.A, an afternoon in Vegas, followed by an evening wrapped up in starlit San Francisco— the city you took off from just now.
After receiving such lavish gifts which included shopping tours, yacht rides and an impressive visit to his personal vineyards, the CEO’s last gift to you was an opera performance you could’ve only imagined to experience in your dreams.
“It’s called La Traviata”, your polished and tuxedo-clad date spoke into the shell of your ear, just as you arrived at your destination earlier that night.
He had guided you up the white marble steps of the entrance, offering his arm to you as he stood tall and unfairly handsome against the crowd. Many other similarly dressed men filled the space. A whole sea of them stood with their wives— for some, their mistresses— flaunting expensive clothing and freshly botoxed faces.
In similar timing, an uncomfortable thought momentarily entered your mind:
Were you too, just another shadier and even more disposable reflection of these upper class elites?
You glanced over to stare at Yunho, lingering on the idea of how ridiculous it may appear to someone who knew you were a former Hollywood Boulevard stripper attending a high-society opera performance with her billionaire date.
However, the flash of anxiety disappears and reshapes itself as soon as you feel the intimidating stares and hear the hushed whispers. Gossip swirls around the crowd of esteemed guests who wondered about who you were— the lady in red accompanying their most well-known and eligible bachelor.
Yunho’s voice saves you from your worries once again.
“I think you’ll like tonight's performance,” he admits, softly calling to your name. He looks down, holding eye contact with you and only you, disregarding any other individual that distracts him from admiring your beauty under this antique chandelier tonight.
You’re reminded again of how easy you become lost with Yunho.
Lost in his world, even if it didn’t always accept you.
All it takes is a sweet look and you seem to fall right for his stupidly charming manners and protective presence. You smiled back nervously, the rubies embedded in the diamond necklace displayed on your collar bones, rising upwards as you inhaled to swallow back your nerves.
“There’s a lot of people here.” you muttered the obvious, biting your rouge coloured lips as you looked a little intimidated.
Yunho chuckles and holds onto your hand tight, leading you effortlessly.
“Let’s go find our seats then.”
The talk dies down as you arrive on the upper floors, a private balcony reserved with comfortable seats and complimentary opera glasses too.
You quickly turn to Yunho.
“You hate heights though,” you pointed out, brows furrowing.
The businessman chuckles, taking a seat and crossing his legs as you stand to admire the balcony.
“But they’re the best ones.”
When the curtains rise a few minutes later, revealing the opening act alongside booming orchestral music, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
It’s easy to become so immersed from the beginning, eyes glued to the stage for the next two hours as you sat the longest Yunho thinks he’s ever seen you go without fidgeting.
It felt too soon for the night to transition into what was now the final scene— the trembling voice of the baritone’s final words to his dying lover, as she succumbs to her tragic death in his arms.
Your heart pounds at the sight, the stage becoming blurry as the music grows stronger for the finale.
And all at once, the curtains close and the opera ends.
You clap the loudest out of everyone sitting near your area once it’s over, and Yunho is pleased nonetheless to see your vivid reaction to the performance.
Carefully, his hand slides over to hold your own.
“I believe you enjoyed it then?” he teases, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to you as you sniffle on the way to the elevator. An unforgettable ache settles in your chest from the beautiful tragedy, quickly nodding back with no other words to say except how beautiful it was as tears filled your eyes.
Your first introduction to the world of opera ended that evening with an arm latched onto Yunho’s, following the crowd out into the street of waiting cars and limousines.
“What was your favorite part?” Yunho asks, the corners of his mouth already raised as he wants to hear more of your thoughts, anticipating an enthusiastic response.
“God, it has to be the moment from the garden,” you gushed, your cheeks aching from smiling too much. “There’s no other scene that was more romantic!”
He wrapped his coat around you as you spoke on and on about the singing and the storyline, ensuring you weren’t cold as a night breeze swept past.
“Thank you, Yunho,” you turn to him and say once you finish, reaching the tips of your heels as you try to peck him on the cheek. He leans down to meet you halfway.
“I’ll never forget tonight.”
Your smile causes Yunho to exhale shakily, trying to calm his beating heart and come up with a proper reply back, before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
You do a double take to realize a brightly lit hotdog stand was running just across the street. He follows your line of vision.
“Let’s go,” you grinned, tugging on the sleeves of his suit without sparing him another glance. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Yunho chuckles, judging the dingy street food stand as his brows knit together in a rare display of stubbornness.
“Yes, but not for that.”
You almost scoff in his face. “Oh c’mon, Yunho,” you say, interlocking your hands together and insistently dragging him towards the mouth-watering smell.
“You said you were hungry!”
He had no defense against you.
When you reach the hotdog stand, the billionaire stands stiff beside you, hands tucked into his pockets in clear hesitation at the questionable sanitary conditions.
“Sweetheart,” he bends down, muttering into your ear whilst pointing towards the unchanged grill.
“That is not safe, nor fine dining.”
Rolling your eyes, Yunho watches helplessly as you step towards the vendor whilst fishing out a few bills from his own wallet in the pocket of the coat draped over you.
“Two hotdogs with a bit of everything on them, please,” you asked the man, glancing back to the billionaire with an excited smile.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little weiner, Yunho.”
He frowns, having kept his arms crossed since he entered the vicinity of the cart.
“I’m not scared,” he replies calmly. “I just don’t see why anyone would willingly consume something made… from here” he pauses, interpreting the picture of a giddy animated sausage on cart sign.
The vendor being a much older man, shuts your sweet date up with one good stare.
Two hotdogs in hand, you thank the owner sweetly and bring Yunho off to the side so you can eat. If he was skeptical at first, hopefully he’d be more convinced by the smell of caramelized onions and smoked sausage wafting through your noses as you handed him one.
He looks at the greasy foil.
“I can have my staff make you something on the jet. Something with actual nutritional—”
But you’ve already beaten him to it, taking your first bite of sausage and bun and drowning out his words as you smiled in bliss.
“Oh god,” you groaned dramatically, eyes shut as you consumed the satisfying food.
Yunho watches you carefully with reluctant amusement, one hand still buried in his pockets that has yet to unwrap the silver foiled hotdog.
Seeing how happy you were makes him reconsider.
All jokes aside, what was he waiting for? If the taste was that special to you, he wanted to experience it as well.
Yunho takes his hand out from his pocket and unwraps the foil, bending down to take a big, solid bite encasing sausage, condiments, and toppings.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you chewing slowly before your date reluctantly smiles with full cheeks, nodding his head.
“It’s good…”
You grin proudly, swiping a pickled jalapeno slice off of his hotdog.
“Not so bad, right?”
And just like that, you and Yunho shared a casual yet comfortable dinner before heading back onto the private jet. Two hot dog combos and many shared conversations later, fast food wrappers laid scattered across the glass table. A bottle of champagne and fresh white peaches present for dessert.
“So,” you grinned proudly, shuffling your bare feet closer on the seat as your heels laid discarded somewhere.
“I just introduced you to your first hotdog, then?”
The bowtie of Yunho’s black tuxedo is long gone, draped carelessly over the armrest, as the older man leans back into the leather seat. The dim cabin lights cast a soft golden hue across his jawline as he gestures to the mess on the table.
“I’ve had them before,” he corrects, like it’s a fact of deep importance that he’s not that bred in upper class luxury.
You suspected the opposite.
“Well the ones you had probably weren’t even real,” you argued with a roll of your eyes, imagining hor d'oeuvre cocktail sausages or something else ridiculous.
“If a ‘real’ hotdog comes from a dingy little stand on the corner of a street, then sure,” he says with a bite of amusement. “I'll let you educate me then.”
You hold down a smile. “See! You’re learning!”
Yunho shakes his head, revealing a full smile which tells you he’ll let you have this one.
Who knew this would be so natural with someone like him. That despite the expensive tours and shopping sprees, what fulfilled you the most these past few days was sitting here, barefoot, eating three-dollar hot dogs, discussing life and the events of your separate pasts.
It’s true that the world you're flying above right now belongs to people like Yunho. People with money, wealth, and unlimited freedom. But right now, up here in these clouds, it feels like this tiny corner of the sky belongs to you too.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks while sitting across from you, eyebrows raising as he takes another swig of champagne.
Your head rests against the fabric of the leather seat, eyelids shutting closed as you ponder.
“It'll be my last day,” you mumbled carefully, the clarity of your words catching you off guard the second they leave your mouth.
Yunho stills for a moment.
“That can’t be.” the billionaire murmurs back, holding his gaze on the rim of his wine glass. It doesn’t settle with him well either.
The cabin goes quiet all of a sudden. Empty, yet filled with realization neither of you wants to name. It was all according to your agreement.
Four days.
Eight thousand dollars.
That was the deal.
To think you’d place so much weight on a job that was always meant to be short-lived. It was hard to believe time had gone by so quickly.
Very soon, this fairytale lifestyle you’d been living with would disappear with a simple goodbye, and you and Yunho would return to your respective places in the world. Him, conducting meetings, flying in private jets, and bargaining billions over company titles, while you remained as a waitress, barely making enough to afford milk that was past its expiration date.
The chain of events set into motion the night that armed gunman tried to rob the convenience store, had led you somewhere you’d never imagined possible. Meeting Yunho, spending time with him—having him care for you so effortlessly and spoiling you with money, but also more warmth and tenderness than you knew what to do with— felt unreal.
You’ve spent your whole life yearning for someone like Yunho. But it's hard to consider whether someone like Yunho could ever need or be satisfied with someone like you.
Imperfections and all.
“I feel as though I still know so little about you,” he says, breaking your inner monologue as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Tell me, what was your past like? I’m curious to know what you were like in your early twenties” he grinned, amused at the thought of an even more bold and unafraid image of yourself.
You find yourself looking away.
Young, dumb, and dancing naked for money. That’s what you were doing in your early twenties.
“...I used to dance.” you responded with a tinge of hesitation, swallowing lingering discomfort down your throat that always followed when you brought up your past.
It wasn’t entirely a lie. You just left out the part that you danced to entertain people waving wads of cash that would keep you from resorting to worse situations awaiting you on the streets.
For you, and for countless girls like Miko you’d met during those nights at the club, it had all been about survival. You weren’t completely ashamed of your previous job, and that’s because it was more than just how others saw it and because you knew that it isn’t something anybody can do.
Sure, at first you thought the experience was manageable. Fun even. Though that was probably because you were young and uninformed. But with no real backup plan and no proper college degree, dancing was a way to get by. Convincing yourself the sore muscles, unfair treatment, and wandering hands were simply things you had to endure. As though your entire existence was for anyone’s taking, disposable and easily forgotten.
After obtaining your current job, you realized how important it was to make choices that didn’t force you to go back to that life.
“A dancer?” Yunho repeats. “I never knew you danced,” he smiled warmly.
“I work as a waitress now” you replied back, unknowingly picking at the nail of your thumb in habit. “It’s not much, but it’s better than what I was doing before”
It was at this moment you found yourself standing on the edge of something you didn’t know how to step into, words staying stuck behind your teeth. Telling Yunho about your past felt less like honesty and more like setting yourself up to be judged—like another lap dance you weren’t sure you had the guts to finish.
Yunho doesn’t rush you. He never does.
Instead, he studies you in that observative way of his. Like he already knows everything you can’t bring yourself to say. He exhales softly, standing from his seat to shift closer beside you, pulling a soft, folded blanket from somewhere.
Without asking, he drapes it around your shoulders, tucking it in as though he’s trying to keep you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Then, you feel his hand come up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch careful enough that it felt almost like permission.
“You know, people like to create stories out of what they can see.” His gaze drops for a moment, deciding how much of himself he can give you in return.
“In my case, it’s a bit ironic. Everyone sees the heir. The family name. The brand that can become just another financial asset…”
You stare back into his eyes, listening carefully.
“People think they understand the shape of my life just because they can name it.” Yunho states laced with a heavy tone.
“But what most people don’t see… is that I was adopted. And a lot of what I’ve been called—what I’m expected to be—was decided long before I even understood what any of it meant.”
His words hang in the air for a moment, unadorned and leaving you in a bit of shock. You think back to the conversation with the Chairwoman, the night Yunho had that business dinner.
“No one can learn much when they're surrounded with shadows, darling. But in truth, that’s all that Yunho has had up until now.”
“Business makes it worse,” he continues quietly. “Because it’s never really about truth. It’s about perception. About what people choose to believe is true. And sometimes that perception gets twisted—by ambition, by greed, and…” his words die off, knuckles clenching around the fabric of his pants as if he’s recalling a distasteful memory.
“... by people you thought would know better. Even family.”
There’s a brief pause, something heavier flickering behind his expression. You already know what he means by your conversation with Madame Choi.
She hinted towards something about Yunho's past, the strained relationship he had with his relatives clawing for the title of heir.
In an act of support, you reach and grab his shaking hand, taking it away from digging itself in him and interlocking fingers with his own.
It was your way of telling him you were here. That you were listening.
“I’ve always had people close to me try to take pieces of my life like it was just… up for claiming,” he says, more factually than bitter. “And I learned early that no one is really what they look like from the outside. Not completely.”
Panic settles in as you worry he's caught on.
Instead, his eyes return to you now softer, shifting the weight away.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m perfect. I’m telling you because I’m not. No one is.”
A small breath leaves him, like he’s releasing something he’s held for too long. Yunho leans closer, careful with what comes next.
“Y’know, I think everyone is deserving of a bit of grace. To be given another chance. Even that stupid boy, Choi San, who won’t let me buy his grandparents company” he jokes flatly, gaze flickering over your face when you let out a small chuckle.
He thinks he could crack a million more bad jokes if it means he’ll hear that sound again.
Yunho pulls you much closer, his nose almost hitting your own as he refuses to let your strict self-judgment distort the image you carried of yourself.
“So if you feel out of place, like you’re an imposter in this world, let me tell you I’ve been doing the same all my life. I feel as though I’m living a lie every single fucking day” he mutters, the two of you sharing breaths now from the close proximity.
Your breathing changes, feeling the warmth of his body close to your own.
The billionaire’s voice softens, keeping it steady.
“As someone who lies to live, and works among people who lie just as easily, I’ve learned to value authenticity. It’s not about what others think." he states.
"People will always see what they want to see anyway.”
Suddenly, his eyes flicker down to your soft lips, parting with a distinct type of desire. But he doesn’t kiss them just yet.
“And what I see is a very bright…”
First, a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Very beautiful…”
A kiss to your nose.
And he stops in front of your lips before whispering softly. The truth he's starting to believe in more than his painstaking business deal.
“...very special woman.”
Silence fills the space between you, the sounds of the plane engine whirring as you look into the eyes of the man sitting in front of you.
Yunho releases a small breath when you lean forward to collide your lips with him, connecting your mouths in yearning and full vulnerability. The air in his lungs is knocked out, hungrily reaching and grabbing at each other just to feel the sensation of your lips connecting in undwindling passion.
A squeeze and grope follow here and there with each other's bodies, tongues swirling with utter obsession.
Yunho immediately reciprocates your bold move by pulling your body closer to his, fighting a straining feeling that builds in the confines of his pants. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough for Yunho, so his two strong arms grip around your waist, pulling your lips apart momentarily in a surprised, breathy moan, as you’re now maneuvered to straddle thick, strong thighs.
“I meant everything I said,” he whispers breathily, a large hand coming to stroke the back of your head softly as the other grazes your face so you look at him properly.
“You are special."
An overwhelming sense of gratitude floods your emotions. You didn’t notice it at first, but fresh tears have escaped your eyes, coating your eyelashes as you look back at Yunho.
The older one brings a thumb to cascade over your wet cheeks.
“C’mon now, don’t cry sweetheart” he grins softly, feeling the need to protect yet also tease the sight of you becoming all teary eyed and begging for his touch.
He presses a quick kiss back to your lips once more, pulling back to whisper tantalizingly into your year.
“You haven't even taken my cock yet.”
That’s when you realize tears weren’t just dripping down your cheeks, but now also down your legs.
Yunho was determined to show just how hungry he was for you. Just how much he wanted to love you, to fuck you, to taste and share only the good things in life with the women he just met four days ago in a dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard.
That night must've really changed both your lives.
Whimpers escape your throat as you attempt to taste Yunho’s devotion. Your knees struggle to support your body weight, keeping you hovering over his crotch with carefulness not to sit down on the aching mound just yet, though you’re curious of the sensation it'll bring.
Yunho lets his hands settle around your waist, grip firm as he releases tension you were holding on to, pulling apart to finally give you both some breath.
“C’mon sweetheart. You can sit on it.”
He was starving for a taste of you.
“Yunho.”
Your breath hitches as his hands wander, pushing your thighs to relax and spread even more so your wet core settles over the gigantic mound of fabric hiding his leaking, hard cock.
“Fuck,” he stutters, his breath tickling your neck and he inhaled your scent deeply. He was unstoppable, he just had to feel you.
“I want you,” he mutters, coming out muffled against bare skin. “Want you so bad.”
You were no different. Pawing at the buttons of his crisp white shirt that was becoming wrinkled with every passing second you gripped and released the material, finding something to hold on to as your hips rocked back and forth slowly, nudging your leaking bud against imposing layers.
“Ah- Yunho-” you gasped, feeling him kiss the crook of your neck, his mouth growing wider and more insatiable as he trails further down, drool forming near the corners of his mouth.
Never of you had been this needy before.
“You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you sweetheart?” he groans, letting a large hand smack the flesh of your ass covered by your dress. A whine rolls off your tongue, echoing in the quiet passenger cabin as you nod fervently, disoriented sounds leaving you while clutching onto his shoulders to keep your soaking cunt attached to his pants.
Yunho brings a hand to slide over your shivering bare thighs, exposed to the cool air because of the small leg slit you had on the side of your dress. With every touch, the slit stretches wider in your position, making you weak to the billionaire’s greed.
He grits his teeth, staring at your breathless expression when he shoves your lace panties to the side and lets the long digits of his index, middle and ring finger slide against the slick of your cunt.
“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked.” he grunts, throwing his head back as his digits do all the work in opening you up for him. Then all at once, he dives all three in, stretching you out perfectly like no had ever done before.
You scream, overwhelmed by how full you already feel with his two thick fingers.
“Oh p-pleaseee- fuck! s’too much Yunho!” you pant like a whore, making him stretch his fingers even wider to feel you suck him in so lewdly.
“Slow down—”
“Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, his hips jutting up so he too can achieve some sort of relief. You notice, a hand reaching down, traveling through the tight web of limbs help him by laying your palm over his hardness. Just a simple touch and—
“Hands off.” Yunho quickly orders, bringing your hand away as he holds onto your wrist tightly.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he scolds, his business tone coming out as he orders you to only take his fingers, planning to save his cock for the one thing he wants most:
Your swollen, puffy cunt.
It’s incredibly unfair, how helpless you feel as his right hand pummels his digits faster into your hole, the sound of filthy squelching noises filling the room as he doesn’t even mind your cries of ecstasy.
“How many d’you think I’ve got inside you, hm?” he toys with you, getting off on your shaking body and quivering nub like the perverted CEO he was. You can’t even answer from the moans you’re releasing.
And here you thought Yunho was going to fuck you gently after all that talking.
“Fucking tight,” a breath escapes his lips without even knowing.
You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut.
It seems as though there’s been a huge misunderstanding on the type of man Yunho was.
The businessman won’t waste time treating you like the queen you were— showering you with gifts, bags, clothes, and jewelry that can make you start to think he wants to put a ring on you and have you carry his babies.
Which, with the way you’re taking him right now— quivering and crying out his name in broken little whimpers, even as his wrist starts to ache from how long he's been bullying his fingers in and out— he’s starting to genuinely consider it.
But you’ve been expertly deceived.
Yunho isn’t a gentleman. He’s one sick, obsessed bastard that longs to touch, finger, and fuck your gummy walls to a state of complete ecstasy.
“I… I really can’t hold on much longer—”
He loves that. Loves that you’re broken down to a mess of slick and sweat like this. He latches his mouth back onto yours as he feels you clench harder with every passing minute around his digits.
“Gonna cum for me? My sweet, sweet girl is gonna cum?- hah fuck-” he coos, holding back and focusing on making you spill first.
He was almost there. He just needed to make you cum first and prep you real good so you could take him raw.
“Yes Yes fuck- ngh Yes, Yunho–” you sobbed, too overstimulated to say anything else. Yunho releases the wrist he’s been holding onto since before, letting his hand come up to swipe some spit from his mouth before he shoves his wet fingers into the open cleavage of your dress, thumbing your sensitive tits with his drool.
Oh god, now he’s really done it.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.” he grunts in one final thrust.
That’s what sends you over the edge completely, shoving your cries and open mouth moans into the fabric of Yunho’s dress shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as your body convulses from the intense orgasm. Soft praises reach the shell of your ear.
“Look at you..” He coos proudly, kissing you gently on your cheek.
“Took my fingers like a fucking champ.”
You wince at the sudden emptiness as he pulls out, despite him trying to slide his fingers slowly for your sake.
You lean back to watch the man with tired eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine as Yunho maintains full eye contact while bringing his tongue out to lick at your slick. Closing his eyes and groaning pathetically at how sweet you tasted.
“Fucking pervert,” you exhaled, ignoring the deep laughs proudly leaving the CEO’s sweaty chest under his unbuttoned dress shirt.
It’s not long before the rest of the buttons are opened, revealing his toned chest as the top of your dress gets shoved down to spill out your soft tits for Yunho to latch on to.
“Yunho!” you reply in shock, not realizing how fast he was going to dive into them. “Slow down!”
“But I’m in love with your tits.” he confesses though it comes out muffled. As if justifying his hunger.
You’re still straddling Yunho’s thighs, though now, you’re in an awkward stage of being partially naked, partially clothed, with only the essential barriers out of the way for you to take his cock properly now.
He unbuckles his pants to free his member, letting the long, girthy tip slap you against your abdomen as your dress has become ruined with the way it’s scrunched so high to reveal your ass completely.
Yunho takes a hold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times. You watch him as he does so, a spark shared between you two just as he taps his tip against your puffy folds. He’s ridiculously proud of the way he’s prepped you so well for him.
“Ready?” he stills, taking a moment to hold back from the obsession to really make sure you wanted this. Wanted him.
You nod, grinning softly.
Long forgotten is the conversation you were going to have with him about your past. Now replaced with a bodily confession that was more important to you and him right now.
You figure you’ll tell him later…
“Just take me, Yunho,” you pleaded softly.
He smiles, kissing you again as he finally swats his cock in between the leaky opening.
All at once, you feel his incredible girth that you were waiting for this whole time, stretching you out, and throwing your head back as far as it would go.
You nod, eyes clasped shut at the delicious feeling you craved. No one could fuck you this good again.
“F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
Yunho keeps his strokes against your pulsating walls slowly but so precisely it drives you to the brink of insanity. And yet, he can’t seem to stop watching you in awe the entire time. The way you let out soft screams when he hits so deep, right in the perfect spot. The way your hair is let loose, messy and free while your back arches so sinfully yet beautifully.
Your body felt holy. A temple for him to worship.
And he's purring in your ear, telling you how good you are to him, how well you're taking his fingers and how beautiful you look taking them
The squelching sound from before comes back, even louder this time as it accompanies each skilful pump of Yunho’s cock instead of his fingers.
As you’re babbling upon his sheer length, Yunho clasps onto one side of your hips. Using the rest of the energy and strength he has in him, he helps you bounce on his dick, riding your godforsaken high through the shaking of your thighs.
You squeeze around him, making him curse wildly. It’s enough to also whimper from the stinging feeling that comes back each time.
“Please—”
You tense, feeling a familiar feeling creeping up on you.
“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers down at his face, looking up with his shirt open and a burning desire behind wild eyes.
“Yunho I’m not kidding, I’m g-gonna–”
He’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating sight of his cock drilling through your hole, having not taken his eyes from where you were connected. He already knows what you mean. How close you were to finishing. So he changes his pace, rutting relentlessly, hips snapping harder as he chases the view of your tits shaking in his face, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—yes.”
“Gonna cum?” He asks with baited breath. “Gonna let loose for me, my love?
You just whine, crying and bouncing and nodding and nodding because that was all you were capable of doing right then and there.
In a complete mess of sweaty limbs and hot, flushing cum, you both reach your pinacles. The pace turns slower, enough for you to hug Yunho closer and whisper words of chastisement for how rough he was with you. When Yunho calmly kisses you and asks if it was too much though, you can’t help but shake your head and sink your pussy deeper, showing him that you still loved every second of it.
Just as he’s about to grab a tissue from nearby and clean you up, a soft bleep of the intercom echoes a slightly discomforted voice, stilling only Yunho’s body who has enough consciousness to register the current situation. You're too far gone, using a small remaining amount of energy to grip onto the fabric of his shirt for dear life.
“Um—Mr. Jeong,” the pilot’s voice crackles awkwardly through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that feels far too long to be professional.
“We’ll be arriving at the hotel in about ten minutes, so I, uh…” another cough. “I ask that you please observe the seatbelt sign and fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for landing.”
A beat passes, raising your head to look drowsily up at Yunho when you hear a much quieter, comment from the pilot:
“And—um. My apologies for the interruption.”
A small smile creeps upon your tired face, relief washing over you as Yunho holds you close and reassures you.
“Don’t move. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise sounds as soft as he’s ever been. He leans forward and grabs a glass of water for you to take a quick sip from, followed by a cloth to clean your slick.
“I’ll give you everything, all the money I have,” Yunho mutters in a state of hypnosis, eyes glistening as he looks down at you lying against his chest so peacefully.
You wonder if your ears deceive you when you hear a quiet plea that borders on begging.
“Just stay with me longer…”
The last thing you remember is warmth.
And releasing a soft “Okay”.
When you come back to your senses, you find yourself stirring awake in a large, familiar bed, a vast cold area of mattress greeting you from beside. The empty sheets of cotton and silk surround you with a bare feeling of comfort as you squint at the clock on the bedside table.
Four am. And Yunho was nowhere in sight.
Your bare body shivers as you sit up and the covers fall down, exposing you to the empty room. Your head spins a little, probably from all the drinks you had earlier in the plane.
The plane.
Suddenly, it comes rushing back, the events that happened on the jet. Yunho’s confession — his way of telling you that you didn’t need to feel ashamed of yourself to him. The way you were going to tell him about your past and the reasons that led you to this point.
And then the sex.
Your core almost tingles at the memory with Yunho. Fucking you so good you passed out unconscious.
Sighing as you rubbed your temples, you reach for the nearest piece of fabric that could warm you up— his navy robe that sits on a chair nearby.
The soft material weighs you down, it's sleeves clearly too big for you but not minding much as you step over the soft, carpeted hotel floor. When you shuffle out of the room and down the steps to the first floor, the wide city view through the windows captures endless buildings glowing against the night, showing a city that never seemed to need sleep at all.
Quite similar to someone you trying to find.
As if on cue, your body does a little jump back in surprise when you turn and catch Yunho leaning against the marble countertop of the open kitchen, bare chested as a pair of blue gingham pajama pants hung low on his waist.
“Jesus!” you muttered, squinting when you saw the tall man turn with what appeared to be a tub of half-eaten vanilla ice cream. The metal spoon was warm in his hands from grasping it for so long.
“Did I wake you?” Yunho replies calmly, paying you no mind.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
You sigh, gently paddling over cold tiles as your hands reach and grasp the ice cream like it was yours. You inspect the container, brows quirking.
Yunho lets you do as you please, as if everything belonged to you.
You sigh as the chilling taste of creamy rich vanilla hits your mouth, using his spoon to dig a shallow crevice in the melted dessert and feed on it.
“You didn’t wake me…” you pointed out, feeling the man dip his head into the crook of your neck and leave kisses all along the area. You shivered from his cold lips.
“What are you doing up so late?” You asked, enjoying your ice cream whilst Yunho enjoyed you, inhaling your soft scent once more.
“You seemed so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you” he mumbled. You smile quietly to yourself, realizing how this big, intimidating CEO of a powerful business corporation could easily mimic a lost puppy just by being in your presence.
“Yeah right. You probably just wanted this whole tub for yourself.” you muttered, feeling his lips turn upwards against your skin.
Yunho raises his head to face you properly, caressing your face as he focuses on your features. You swallow carefully as you ask the next question.
“What happened after we landed?”
His face is illuminated by moonlight. Yunho’s lips slowly grinned at the memory. “I cleaned you up, buckled you in, and we landed on the rooftop of the hotel where I brought you to my room to rest” he stated, bringing his right thumb to brush away the corner of your mouth as ice cream was left smeared. He brings it to his mouth, sucking the sweetness without breaking eye contact.
“Was I too much?” He can’t help but ask with caution, leveling with you as he gazes deep into your eyes. A look of concern flashes over his face.
You shook your head, amused by his protectiveness. He brings his arms to connect around your waist, hugging you closer to inspect the hickies littered all over your neck. He almost gets hard again from the sight and hearing your answer at the same time.
“Nope. I liked it” you assured him, whispering seductively to his ear.
You break into laughter as Yunho playfully tickles the sides of your body in response.
To be fair, your hickies weren’t that bad compared to his shoulder and back muscles left with various bites and scratches. Lingering evidence of hanging onto Yunho as he fucked you so well.
“Of course you did.” he sneers at you proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips as you swallow a bite of cream.
You both taste incredibly sweet, and you fear it’s not just from the sugar.
“Yunho..” you began as you pulled away, watching his eyes narrow in on your lips as he leaned forward in greed of another kiss. You stopped him as you put the ice cream container down the counter and rested your hands against his bare chest.
“Did you mean what you said on the plane?”
His eyes soften.
“Of course I did. I think you’re a very spec—”
“—Not just about me. But about wanting me to stay… longer?” you drawled out carefully, looking up at him for an explanation.
Yunho pauses for a moment.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you confess, breaking a wonderful illusion with realistic questions you knew you couldn’t just ignore.
Yunho furrows his brows.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he says, scanning your expression.
When you look down, refusing to meet his eyes, Yunho gently hoists you up to sit on the counter, coming closer to look at you as his hands lean against the kitchen countertop and cage you in.
“Talk to me, sweetheart” he pleads, his tone gentle and calm.
You inhale once and exhale quietly, waiting with baited breath to think of how you wanted to say this.
You slosh the spoon around in the tub of melted ice cream beside you, searching for a distraction.
“I really don’t think I belong here,” you uttered softly, reality hitting you.
Your thoughts are elsewhere—back to the history of judgement and outcasting you’ve experienced from so many people when they found out you were formerly a stripper.
How easily affection can be conditional.
Like the moment they all learned the truth, you stopped becoming human and started becoming temporary. Disposable. Something to indulge in quietly, then look down on openly.
Your own family, friends back home, even previous partners as well.
The worst thing about it was that they’re right. In their eyes, how could you not be easily discarded?
You believe Yunho would eventually think the same as well.
Cause at the end of the day, all you were was an escort that was paid for the sum of four days, just to provide him with company and sex that was hidden in various contract terms, that could never actually amount to more than what was agreed upon.
He stills, as if he can listen to what you were thinking.
“But I think you’re exactly where you should be,” he says with such certainty.
Your heart clenches from looking up and seeing Yunho continuously shower you with this endless affection you didn’t deserve.
In habit, you begin to deny him first for your own sake. Refusing to get your hopes up as you tried to pull the billionaire from the outrageous idea.
“I’m not,” you swallowed back, shaking your head. “I-I’m really not because if you realized what I’ve done, Yunho, you’d feel disgusted like any other-”
“Why should it matter where either of us are from or what we’ve done?” he protests, not holding back.
“We’re together now, aren’t we?”
You exhale uncomfortably from his words. Probably because you know he’s being so sincere with you like he's always been, even when you haven’t done the same with him.
Yunho takes the ice cream carton from out of your hand, placing it gently on the counter and slotting his body in between your spread thighs. You gasp, flinching when the cold marble comes in contact with your skin.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
It's not long before Yunho is eating you out, bare ass against his kitchen counter, grabbing onto cold marble for support as his jaw opens and closes with feverish tasting.
The conversation can’t slip away like this again!… you plead, brain fogging as Yunho presses compliments against the skin of your thighs.
“Don't bring yourself down, love.”
He pulls back, smooth, strong chest rising and falling as he captures the image of you spread out for him, moonlight catching on your wet, shiny bud as he gathers something in his mouth.
You jump when a forceful contact hits your sensitive mound.
Yunho just spit a dollop of saliva onto your pussy, watching with baited breath and pure obsession as it drips down your slit and into the deeper crevice. He shudders when your hole instinctively sucks it in.
Fucking. Hell.
“Yunho...” you muttered with a firmer voice, trying not to let your temptations distract you from what you’ve been meaning to tell him.
If he has to hear the truth, it needs to come from out of your own mouth.
A faint ringing noise echoes from across the marble counter, a corded telephone echoing as a call comes through.
You look up, neck straining as you question the ringing so early in the morning.
“S’fine. Probably just front desk” he hushes, closing his eyes as he laps up your juices, his arms bulging as he grips your thighs open to prevent them from closing.
“Shouldn’t you answer it still?” you squirmed, moaning as Yunho shook his head, causing his sharp nose to brush against your nub too.
“Nope.” he mumbles, utterly lost in between your legs. It just doesn't sit right with you still.
“YUNHO” you breathed out loudly, finding the strength to push him back and grasp his wet chin, staring back at pussy-drunk eyes.
“I think you should answer it” you huff firmly, growing weak when he sighs and pecks you on the mouth, sharing the taste of slick.
With a groan, his long upper body reaches for the phone, picking it up as he presses one last chaste kiss to your lips, sliding his hand on your spread thighs to grope you in the ass.
You slap him hard, yelping as he smirks evilly and brings the receiver to his ear.
“Jeong Yunho speaking”, eyes never leaving your own as he continues to kiss your legs.
You shuffle, biting your lips at the ticklish feeling, unaware of the storm waiting on the other end of the line.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
It was his lawyer, Patrick. And he sure didn’t sound as happy Yunho was at the moment.
“Busy” he hums, continuing to tickle you with his obnoxious kisses.
You scold him, softening when he intertwines his hand with your own.
“I can tell.” His lawyer’s voice comes out flat, hiding a grim, menacing tone. Papers shuffle aggressively through the speaker.
“Tell me something, Yunho—was this weekend supposed to secure the Marinex corporation, or was it supposed to become a vacation?”
Patrick has finally earned his attention because Yunho’s expression immediately cools.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Patrick says bluntly. “You skip one of the most important acquisition meetings this quarter, leave the Choi family sitting there questioning whether you’re capable of rebuilding their company, and suddenly nobody can get a hold of you.”
Your smile leaves as you watch his expression fade, clutching Yunho’s robe closer to your body.
The CEO straightens slightly, forgetting his playful demeanor and replacing it with his business side he had coexisted with for all of his adult life.
“I’ve talked to their grandson,” he argues. “The contract wasn’t finalized because of hesitation on Mr. Choi’s part, not because of me. I clearly pushed the agenda that we could rebuild his family's company and remake it into something triple the price he was offering–”
“No, Yunho” Patrick cuts him off coldly. “His grandmother made him hesitate because they think you’ve become distracted.”
A tense silence follows.
“And we both know why.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens.
“It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?” Patrick mocks condescendingly into the phone.
His eyes flick toward you instinctively. You stare back, a lump forming in your throat.
“Patrick,” he warns quietly, jaw clenching. But his lawyer continues.
“Well guess what? While you were off playing with your playboy bunny in Beverly Hills, the Choi family did their own digging.”
Yunho’s grip on the phone stiffens.
“And I think you’re going to want to see what they found.” With a sigh, Patrick leans into his office chair and lights a cigarette while speaking into the phone.
“I sent a package to your suite and had them leave it on your kitchen counter.”
His eyes dart toward the thick brown file that’s gone unnoticed, sitting by itself on the edge across from you both.
Your eyes slowly followed, grasping Yunho’s arm carefully as an ominous feeling fell upon the room.
“Yunho, what is it?”
He leans forward and turns the cover.
The moment he opens the file, the air leaves the room. Photographs stare back at him instantly.
You beneath neon lights. Onstage. Lines of white powder served on your chest. Contorted into a vision of pure sex for hungry clients to see.
Patrick puffs out a cloud of smoke as his voice lowers.
“She’s a stripper, Yunho. You paid eight grand to let some washed up, crack-whore stripper spend the weekend with you.” Patrick snickers, venom laced in his voice.
It all comes crashing down in an instant.
Because no matter how warm Yunho had made you feel, the truth of who you were finally followed you here too.
And suddenly, you feel so entirely exposed. Even while wearing a robe with his initials on it.
The carton of sticky vanilla ice cream somehow becomes spilled upon the marble countertops, leaving one giant mess.
At least this one could be solved. Your’s was a bit more complicated to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yunho states quietly, calling out your name.
It’s frightening how calm he is. Not a single expression of disgust, resentment or anger building upon his face despite knowing how badly he must want to throw those awful photos in your direction.
Yunho would never. He’s too good for that.
His question cuts deeper than it should. Typically, you would have retaliated with a bit more emotion. Confess with tears and beg for forgiveness as you explained your reasons.
Instead, your laugh comes out hollow. This was the end of your contract either way.
“Would you have looked at me the same if I did?”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s not what I asked—”
“You didn’t know,” you interrupt, stepping back from him. “That’s the only reason any of this worked.”
Yunho exhales sharply, rubbing a hand across his jaw as the remaining pressure from the call still hangs over him like smoke.
Patrick's quiet threat was more than just targeted to you. His words also held importance to that fact that if Yunho wanted to secure his highly expensive grand scheme of business relations he’s been building upon since his parent’s death — particularly by avoiding a news scandal with a former stripper— he would have to pull himself together and take care of his image with Marinex corporation first, as they had the upper hand in this case. And that meant surrendering to the Choi's.
“You liked me because you thought I could help you play it safe.” you fought back. "To relieve your needs and make you feel better."
“This isn’t about that.”
You look at him in disbelief. “Then what is it about?”
“The Marinex deal has completely fallen apart,” he says, frustration finally slipping into his tone. “Patrick’s losing his mind, the board’s probably already heard about this, someone has been investigating you, and now that bastard San is probably reveling in the fact that he’s gotten the best piece of dirt on me to give the press if I don’t—”
“So I'm the dirt.” you realize.
Yunho’s expression shifts slightly. The room falls silent again.
He sighs, rubbing his face as he retracts his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” you mutter. “You’re just trying not to say it directly. Just admit it Yunho. I fucked it all up. Your business deal, your family image–”
“Fuck the image!” he barks as he steps towards you abruptly. “If anything, I want to know exactly why you hid this from me.” His eyes widening as he grasps your wrist.
“Clearly you’ve debated telling me even before I asked about your past, meanwhile I told you my own fucked up story with complete truth” he breathes heavily.
“When you told me you ‘danced’ —jesus christ— I thought it meant at parties or events!” Yunho states in disbelief.
“Well that’s not exactly a lie, Yunho.” you spit back, tears forming in your eyes.
“I did dance. I just did it in heavy ass stripper heels and not pointe shoes.” you snapped, standing straight as you walked closer to his face. It’s dangerous how much he’s letting you run your mouth at him.
“Why? Does that turn you off?” you challenged. “Do I make you disgusted? As if you’ve I’m used goods?” you plaster on a fake smirk as painful tears release from your eyes.
The vein on the side of Yunho’s neck bulges as he clenches his jaw, hands coming to rest on his hips as warns you in a tone you’ve never heard him use before.
“Stop that. You can be a real piece of work when you’re angry, you know that?” he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the glass window of the city skyline. Slivers of gold and orange dance around the nightly blue as dawn begins to break, signaling the day has only just begun.
Yunho’s chest rises as he stares at you, confliction flashing across his face before frustration wins again.
“You think this is about me being disgusted?” Yunho breaks bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “You really think that’s the part I care about?”
“Well what else could it fucking be?” you fire back immediately.
“It’s the fact that you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth!”
The room falls silent with thick tension. You even have to look away for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
When you begin to understand how Yunho feels, a wave of indignation washes it back.
“Do you think it was easy for me?” You grit as you turn your head back. “The times I felt like I had to be someone else just to be in the room with you?” you raised your voice, fresh hot tears streaming down your face.
The CEO blinks softly, guilt filling his chest.
You shake your head, walking away from the conversation and towards the bedroom to retrieve your things. You’ve had enough of Beverly Hills and stupid high society.
But Yunho still follows, hot on your trail.
“No. I never wanted you to change. I wanted you. And if I ever made you feel that way…” he begins, clenching his fists as he owns up to his mistake.
“I’m sorry.” he apologized, wanting you to look at him. But you couldn’t handle his apology, nor the painful fact that it came so easily for him. That unlike any other partners you’ve previously had, Yunho was the first to chase you after hearing you were a stripper, providing the bare minimum and more.
With embarrassment, anger, and your dignity on the line, you rush to grab your items, looking for the worn out bag you arrived here with and ignoring the boxes of luxury clothes and shoes Yunho gifted you this weekend.
“Listen to me” he states, frantically calling for your name to set the record straight,
“I’m not angry because you’re a stripper. I’m disappointed because you lied.” he emphasizes, using a tone of voice that makes you want to barf from how grown-up it is.
Perhaps it was also because secretly, deep down in your heart, you know that what Yunho is saying is far more productive than the childish show you’re putting on right now, hiding and running away with embarrassment of getting caught.
“You looked me in the eye and told me you were a dancer.” he states, pointing a finger at you as he lays down the facts. “You built a version of yourself just to keep me from seeing the real you.”
“Well, of fucking course!” you snap, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because this is what always happens! News flash, Yunho, this is LA. People lie here all the time. They sell whatever version of themselves they need just to claw their way higher up the chain.”
Your gaze hardens as you step closer to tell him.
“And I’ve seen you do the exact same thing.”
Yunho stiffens, towering over you as he watches you suddenly shove off the suffocating robe to change into your panties and underwear laying on the ground beside him. Not caring if you have to change in front of him mid-argument.
If anything, the arguments just come hurdling back even stronger this time.
“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He presses, voice rising.
“Oh come on, Yunho. You think the corporate men of America are any different than what I did? That dancing naked is any different than the bullshit you put on everyday while pretending you’re doing something noble and important? You screw people over for their money! You’re a capitalist dickface that attacks smaller businesses!”
“If you even understood a fraction of the things I’m responsible for — the companies that depend on my management of their shares, the people that work for me—“
“ —And I would know because I was one of them.”
A look of hurt flashes across his face.
“You meant more than that.” He responds quietly.
You bite down on your lip, scoffing.
“If I meant more than that then why are you angry at yourself then? Why are you holding back on the blame you want to put on me for ruining your deal and for scandalizing your entrepreneur image?” You’ve reached a tipping point. A point where you find yourself spiraling with anger and resentment at both Yunho and yourself.
“Just admit it, Yunho. I’m disgraceful. I’m the one who’s embarrassing. A liar for trying to survive in a world that was always meant for people like you.”
His voice is strict, calling for your name to slow down and listen to his words but you don’t.
Your bra strap snaps against your skin as you adjust it aggressively, looking around before snatching a random slip-on dress from the pile of clothing to wear as you collect your bag and leave the room in a hurry.
Shouts of your name echo again.
Yunho rushes behind, taking far fewer strides than yourself to keep up with the pace.
“I get that you think there's a difference between someone like me and you. That there are different titles we are associated with in society.” he says as you roll your eyes.
“But that’s not what I saw during the time we spent together. I always tried to treat you equally.” he points out.
“I told you things. Things I’ve never told anyone else. You made me feel like I could trust you. But then I find out you’ve been keeping this part of you locked up like it’s something ugly. Like you’re something ugly—“
“Because I am, Yunho! What is the point? That I took my clothes off for money before I ever let you touch me? That I didn’t fit the fantasy?”
He runs his hands through his hair, trying to reason with you through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you I don’t fucking care about a fantasy! I care about you. Your safety, and the fact that you looked me in the eye and didn’t trust me with the truth. That I’m just one more guy you had to perform for.”
You exhale with a shaky breath. How could you tell him right here that that was the problem. He’s turned into someone with far more value than the guys of your past. It was too much to imagine how he’d react to that piece of news in this situation as well.
Shaking your head as you walk away overwhelmed from the conversation, a hand suddenly reaches out and grabs you with a solid grip. Yunho pulls you to look at his face properly, practically seething as frustration wears his serious expression down.
“When someone older speaks to you, you listen, do you understand?” he mutters quietly, holding firm but not hurting you.
You look up stunned. Your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill as you immediately throw his hands off of you.
“You don’t get to act as betrayed as you are right now. You have no idea what people become the second they hear what I was.”
Yunho’s expression hardens, but not in anger this time.
“And you decided I’d become one of them before even giving me the chance not to.”
You can see the conflict in his face now—the exhaustion, the pressure, the disbelief at everything unraveling all at once. But instead of comforting you, the hesitation only confirms your fears.
Your chest tightens painfully. Sighing as the hot, molten anger melts to reveal the cold truth you always come back to after surviving in this world and by forgetting your fairytale books.
“You paid for four days, Yunho.” you force a sore voice out.
“That was all this was ever supposed to be.”
His eyes slightly widen in alarm when you throw the towel into the ring.
“Don’t say it like that. Don't do what I think–”
“But that's exactly it, Yunho. I’m not gonna do anything.” you say, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you turn. You reach for the door handle despite his calls of your name.
“We’re not done with this conversation!” he swears, eyes glistening as he holds back tears in panic. But you ignore it all.
“You know the worst part?” you begin, voice breaking as you finally tell him through quiet sobs.
“I really did want to tell you. A hundred times, I really did. And I’m sorry Yunho, but every time I looked at you… I panicked.”
“Why?” Yunho immediately asks as he walks further, tears falling as the stupid facades you’ve both put up with now crumble. “Fear of money? Of being disposed of?” He answers, guilt shooting through his heart at the flawed way he’d been living. The companies he's broken down. The people he’s cornered for their titles and shares.
Money meant nothing to him anymore. Not if you were threatening to leave.
But it wasn’t any of those things.
“It’s because you started to make me think I wasn’t disposable.” you responded back, staring at the man in front of you. Your expression softens.
“I don’t know how to be someone who gets chosen, Yunho, because being chosen doesn’t last forever. You could spend the rest of this month with me and still find that you grow tired of me, and things would fall apart just as easily as this contract was formed.” you predicted through bitter tears.
Then why don't you let me choose you forever? Yunho asks himself.
In reality, he should’ve said it out loud to you, but he too was clouded with fear. Fear of moving too fast. Of being too sudden and scaring you with a hasty decision that didn't read the room or considered you.
Your body moves first, inching closer to the door.
He calls your name firmly, trying to stop you. For a second, you almost do. But looking back to see Yunho standing with his hands by his side — revealing momentary hesitation, as if contemplating what move he should make next — that tiny moment of hesitation makes your heart sink completely.
So you walk past him, rushing a goodbye and leaving the penthouse in silence as Yunho remains the only one standing.
Alone. Back to how it was before you entered his life.
LA was one of the stranger places to call home.
It wasn’t always welcoming, but it wasn’t completely foreign either. Years of survival had changed the bright-eyed, determined young woman you were when you first arrived, to slowly adapt to the fast-paced life that brought more disappointments than fairytale stories.
Perhaps that’s why you felt the need to cut your story so short. For a city filled with people chasing dreams so desperately, it was important to know when things have gotten out of hand.
Back in your run down flat shared with your roommate Miko, you realize how long four days can feel when you've been away.
Her cheerful greeting dies down when she sees blotchy eyes and your front lip quivering as you barely make it through the front entrance, holding only your run down bag in hand, pockets empty of any type of money or compensation.
You left the gifts back at the penthouse. You couldn’t bring yourself to take anything that would remind you of what happened.
“Oh, honey…” your roommate hesitates, carefully coming to catch you as you collapse onto your knees when the door closes. The stream of tears follows quickly.
“I left him...” you mumbled softly in choked cries.
Your best friend reassures your heartbreaking sobs by patting your back in slow beats, shushing you despite your eyes continuing to water and seep into the old t-shirt she woke up in.
“It’s okay, honey” she softly mutters, not having to ask too many questions to know why you were in such a state. She takes a quick inhale and sighs, trying her best to convince you.
“Everything will be okay.”
But you couldn’t find the courage to imagine it would be. How could it? When you feel as though you’ve made a sacrifice for Yunho — to better his life and free him of your messy past — that puts your own affection and liking for him on the line.
“But you don't get it, I left him, Miko” you hiccuped, eyes puffy as you pulled back to emphasize the word to her face. “I was the one that couldn’t stay after seeing him react to my past. If only you saw the look on his face, fuck- h-how shocked he looked and how tired I felt of feeling like I was in the wrong to have stepped into his life and–”
“Hey, shhhh. It’s okay.” Miko tries her best to calm you down, carefully helping you up from the floor and guiding you toward the couch with peeling leather cushions. She wraps a blanket around you, the one you both stole from a laundromat months ago because neither of you could afford heating.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” she asks with a pointed look.
You shake your head immediately, watching as she doesn’t change her expression. Then you nod, breaking slowly once again.
“He looked at me like…” Your throat tightens.
“Like he wanted me to stay.”
“Then why didn’t you?” your roommate asks utterly bewildered, brows pulling together slightly. “I thought everything was going amazing?”
“His lawyer told him about me being a stripper. He beat me to it. And once the conversation started, I realized how much of his life could change because of the picture I painted for him. Of someone who definitely didn’t belong in his world,” you recalled painfully.
Miko pulls back.
“But did you stop to think how much your life changed after meeting him? The positive things that came out from the both of you being in this relationship?”
"There was no relationship. It was just business." you say sounding like you were trying to convince yourself more.
You raise your head to look at her crossed arms. Your roommate's image defensive as she sighs with a shake to her head.
“Listen carefully babe. What I’m trying to say is that careers are able to be rebuilt. Money ultimately comes and goes. But that connection? The one you told me over the phone that you shared with him? The way you said he looks at you? Now that doesn’t just come from nowhere.”
She helps you recognize that regardless of what happened towards the end, the past four days with Yunho had to have meant more than just business to the both of you. Especially with the way Kumiko thinks Yunho was trying to hold on to you based on your retelling.
“He still hesitated.” You dismissed her. “It was only for a second, but I-I knew what that look could mean–”
Your roommate sighs in response, rubbing her temples at your somewhat hasty and stupid actions.
Your cries of frustration come out miserable. “Okay whatever! I know how it sounds like because normal people hesitate all the time, right? But with him, Miko…” You wipe harshly at your face, reminding yourself that Yunho hardly ever hesitates.
"He probably felt the exact way I predicted he would feel towards me. Regret. I just couldn’t stand it staying there and waiting for his say on anything else. If I was actually 100% worth choosing or not.”
Miko’s judgement softens as she raises her brows.
“Well damn.”
A breath escapes you, leaning back against the seat as you shut your eyes in fatigue.
Miko eventually reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, the same way she used to after exhausting late-night shifts when the two of you would stumble home with aching feet. Her voice is smooth. “For someone terrifying enough to make grown men cry, he sure made you cry a lot too.”
“It feels exhausting...” you responded, biting the inside of your mouth.
“But…” She emphasizes, glancing toward the apartment window that reveals early morning sunlight to peeking through.
“Isn’t that what love is?” she tells you, making you open your eyes to look at her properly.
“You loved him. I can tell because it's written all over your face and explained through the way you acted.”
The ache in your chest sharpens instantly.
Loved. Past tense.
You don’t want to correct her. You find it would be easier to just shut out the part of yourself that repeats perhaps you still do love Yunho.
The rest of the morning is taken to lay around at home, swallowing down all your emotions and thoughts of regret by rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, hoping to find some sort of leftover alcohol to help. Kumiko warns you about daytime drinking, but she decides to leave you in peace as she heads off to her day job.
“Listen, I know you’re wallowing in your pain right now, and I completely support it, but I left Hime with the skinny convenience store kid for him to watch when I was gone.” she confesses, putting in her left earring as she shows up in her waitress outfit.
You stop rummaging through the pantry and look up in her direction at the mention of the scrawny black cat.
“Will you do me one favour and pick her up? The kid's probably done with his night shift about now.” she comments hesitantly, looking at her watch.
Through the pile of food items, you barely manage to shove a weak thumbs up in her direction, saying nothing more as you can’t find the energy to do so.
All you can do is sigh, standing up properly to grab a t-shirt from your room to change into. Kumiko rushes over and hugs you from behind as you walk, trying to cheer you up in her usual, clingy fashion.
“Thank you, I literally love you and promise to bring leftovers for you on the way back.” she says, knowing that it was a usual routine of yours that always made you feel a bit better. Yet still, her expression falters when she sees you're unable to give a full smile.
“Give it time, honey” she pats your back, wishing you rest.
"Give him some time too."
She hands over the keys and wipes a few stray tears from your puffy eyes when you mumble back unconvinced.
“I highly doubt it.”
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you wander through half-empty aisles in the dingy convenience store on Hollywood Boulevard, exhaustion still sitting heavy in your chest from the breakup hours earlier.
It’s unusual to find yourself here so early. Usually you’re visiting during midnight hours, when you’ve finished your night shifts.
Just outside, the city of LA has barely awakened. Police sirens echo somewhere in the distance while the sky hangs in that pretty orange-blue color with a smell of burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes lingering in the air.
It’s funny, you think as you grab the cheapest can of beer out of the back fridges. Out of all the places you could’ve gone to after leaving Yunho, you ended up here— back where you first met him.
Your fingers curl around the metal can, the lukewarm aluminum far from cold enough for your liking as it brushes against your skin. Exhaustion drags through your limbs while you sluggishly make your way to the checkout counter, placing the single drink onto the table with a quiet clink.
“It’s not even noon, y'know," Timothy comments dryly, the teen boy yawning as he still helps you checkout. After pressing a few buttons on the cashier, he peers outside the window, looking out for the next employee to swap with him.
“Surprised you didn’t grab the half-priced milk this morning,” he comments, absentmindedly brushing through the dark fur of Hime as she sits atop the glass checkout counter, peacefully enjoying her final few minutes with him before his shift ends.
"Your cat practically hangs near the milk section every time she's here."
You shut your eyes, cursing quietly under your breath as a frustrated groan leaves you. With your chest still heavy from everything that happened this weekend, you realize you haven’t been paying attention to anything around you at all. Not even to the fact that you have to feed your cat, and not even when the bell hanging on the doors chimes, signaling another person has come in.
“One second,” you mumble with your back to the part-timer, walking towards the half-priced refrigerated goods section to grab the carton you always purchased.
The fridge doors hum softly as you pull one open, leaning down as lukewarm air brushes against your flushed face instead of the cool chill you were waiting for.
“Seriously, you guys need to fix the thermostat in here or someth—”
The words die instantly in your throat the moment you straighten back up.
Because the moment you lift your gaze, a head of messy jet-black hair and a Burberry coat come into view near the register.
Your breath catches instantly.
Yunho’s hair is disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead like he’d been dragging frustrated hands through it all morning. Dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes as exhaustion is written plainly across his face while his coat hangs off him carelessly.
The state of his eyes catch your attention the most. Red-rimmed and restless. Desperate in a way that makes your stomach turn.
You doubt you look much better yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. The buzzing sounds of the fridge and freezer sections feel so deafening. But if anything, this hurts more than yelling ever could. To stand here in complete silence with someone who once knew almost nothing about you and now knows too much.
When your name leaves his mouth, you swallow hard, instinctively taking a step back until the refrigerator door presses cold against your spine.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief, though the question sounds far more accusatory than angry.
Yunho exhales heavily through his nose. “I caught your roommate before she left your apartment.” he responded, eyes never leaving yours for even a second.
“She said I'd be able to find you here.”
You shut your eyes briefly, silently cursing your friend for being too honest for her own good.
Before he can answer, you hurry toward the checkout counter, desperately needing something else to focus on besides the look in his eyes. Your fingers fumble for a crumpled ten dollar bill before abruptly dropping the carton of milk onto the counter hard enough to make poor Hime jump at the vibration beneath her paws.
“Keep the change,” you mutter quickly, shoving the bill into Timothy’s hand before reaching over to gather Hime against your chest and collecting your purchases.
The feline lets out a small confused meow, Yunho stepping closer.
“Please, let me say something” he calls your name softly, shortening the distance and immediately making you set the drinks back down with a sharp clink.
The cat watches in silence as she’s put down back onto the counter as well.
“What is there even more to say, Yunho?” you retort back. “I’ve said everything I needed to and left your life so you could fix this mess I made and forget this even happened.” you break, reaching a tipping point when you remember the sacrifice you made to move on.
But for him to come back so quickly, to go out of his way to find you back here in this area of town makes it so much harder.
“But I haven’t told you everything I wanted to say,” he argues firmly, brows furrowing as he walks closer.
“I fired Patrick and canceled the Marinex deal,” he reveals.
When you ask him in utter disbelief why he did such a thing, his response only comes back even stronger with disposition.
“Because last night I held you in my arms while you told me you’d stay, and then this morning you disappeared like I imagined the entire thing up,” he recalls, his voice breaking at the edges now, disbelief bleeding into more raw, unguarded emotions.
“I realized I needed to get rid of the people that were in my way. The things that were preventing me from what I really wanted," he explained.
"Which is you.”
Your throat physically burns. “Well,” You bite back, clenching your fists. “Don’t you know people say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk and fucked until unconsciousness?”
The young cashier standing only a few feet away, blinks between the two of you awkwardly. Yunho doesn’t even spare him a glance, nor does he react to your attempt at deflection. Your sharpness and effort to maintain a distance is just absorbed quietly with unflinching patience.
“You're not allowed to erase us like that,” Yunho demands, steady despite everything he wants to say. “Because I remember exactly how you looked at me when you said it.”
Very slowly, Timothy sinks back behind the counter, giving you some space.
Your jaw tightens instantly, sighing loudly.
“Yunho, you can’t just—”
“No.” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m not doing that again. I’m not leaving just because you’re scared. I spent the last few hours thinking about everything you said to me. Reanalyzing the past four days we spent together in this fucked up proposal I offered you where I exchanged your comfort and presence for money. And I realized what you said about LA was true. People sell pieces of themselves every single day just to survive. They lie. They cheat. They pretend to be things they’re not. I probably do it best. But you? All you did was survive without becoming cruel. You did what you had to do when nobody else was there to save you. And even after everything, I can't believe you can't even realize that you’re still kind. Still smart. Still brave in a way I don’t think you even understand.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a strained breath that sounds like pure awe laced with disbelief. "You do realize you threw yourself in front of an armed gunman for two other people, right?” he asks incredulously as he refers back to the first night you met.
Your mouth goes dry. Stunned silence makes you unable to retort back with any response this time.
“So I’m telling you this for the last time because you deserve to know.” he says firmly.
“I don’t care that you used to strip. I don’t care who touched you before me or what job you have or what anybody else thinks they can call you. I don’t care who you had to become to survive before me. I care about who you are when nobody asks anything from you. The person you are now. I care that somewhere along the way, it somehow got into your pretty little head that surviving something difficult could make you any harder to love.”
Tears finally spill down your face. No one has ever looked at the ugliest parts of your life and treated them like wounds instead of evidence.
Yunho notices your expression crumble and immediately wraps his arms around you.
You never knew how meeting this man would’ve changed you. In front of him, you wanted to be the absolute best version of yourself. To please him in return for the gentle love he offered to you so easily and humbly. But now you understand it was because there was no extent to his affection for you. For someone you couldn’t imagine a future together if he found your secret past, he’s proved wrong by coming back for you. To tell you properly face to face that he still wanted you.
As he daringly encases your body within his arms, Yunho embraces you in a firm yet gentle manner.
“How could I not be scared when I didn’t know how to believe you?” you admitted, muffled against his strong chest as hand cradles the back of your head. His heart breaks at how easily you turn your pain inward and how quickly you become your own sharpest critic.
“Will you believe me if I tell you that I love you?”
It leaves him so simply this time. No hesitation present. It’s not needed when it’s his pure, unfiltered truth.
You pull back shakily, looking up at him.
“Y-You can’t just love someone after four days!” you shake your head, though your heart races from reciprocation.
Yunho scoffs faintly, looking down at you as you stumble over your words.
“We had a contract, a deal that—”
“I love you not despite your past and not because I pity you, but because I just do.”
For many years, he’d drowned life under business calls, endless contracts, and nights spent in boardrooms instead of surrounded by warmth. The idea of love was so distant in the CEO’s mind. But with you, it was as though a whole new life was restarted.
His eyes glisten as rays of morning sunshine poke through the dirty glass windows.
A soft exhale escapes you through your tears, the words finally cutting through all your resistance that he’s chosen you. That he’s already chosen you long before you were brave enough to accept it.
Yunho brings his lips down to share a slow, grounding kiss. Not like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, because the second your hands grab the front of his jacket closer, you melt completely.
The mild can of beer and weird-tasting milk slips forgotten on the checkout table behind you as hands rest steady around your waist, pulling you against him like he’s terrified to lose you again. Hime meows softly, licking her fur as if entirely unimpressed by the emotional collapse happening nearby.
Outside, sirens still scream somewhere far down the street.
Inside the tiny convenience store, under flickering fluorescent lights, a horrified expression clouds Timothy’s face behind the aisle of potato chip bags.
It doesn’t matter. Because when the two of you finally pull back, tears still caught in your lashes, you say something quieter and far more important than any billion-dollar deal signed by a man like him.
Yunho always had money. He just never had someone who could give him something even more valuable.
“I love you too.”
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
“Have you got everything?”
You nod, nervously sucking in a deep breath as you gripped the straps of your tote bag. The newly purchased textbooks felt heavy in your grasp, their covers glistening with newness. But that didn’t intimidate you as much as you thought it would.
It served as a firm reminder of why you were here and why you wanted to do this.
“Notebooks, pens, pencils?” Yunho lists, brows furrowing as the billionaire himself gets nervous for your first day of university. “Did my chef make you your lunch like you wanted her to?”
You nod, feeling so loved and well prepared thanks to your fiance’s care. “Mhm.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he pulls you in and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding himself that you were.
“Don’t be too nervous making friends, everyone is going to love you. If anyone says anything to hurt you, you have my legal teams number plus a list of all the top lawyers within the county-”
“Yunho,” you gently called out.
The corners of your mouth lift as you reassured him by interlacing his fingers within yours.
“I’ll be fine.” you smiled, nervous but still nonetheless excited to go back to university and finish your studies like you always wanted to. The new support system around you brought the courage to pursue a higher degree than just a highschool diploma.
Yunho watches his fiance standing in front of him, an excited smile on her cheeks as bright eyes look up at him. He has half the heart to just ditch the office and spend the whole day with you on campus, not wanting to spend a single second apart. But seeing as other students independently walk pass on their way to class, he simply caresses your face.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you finish, alright?” he promises softly. “I want to hear everything about your first day.”
You nod and grin.
“Have a good day at the office.”
“Have a good day at school.”
And with one last kiss, full of warmth that lingers long after it ends, you finally slip from his arms and take your first steps onto the fresh green campus grounds. It may be nerve-wracking, but it’s not frightening.
Because even as you move forward on your own, you know someone who loves you is still there behind you.
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