Uncontrollable || Zi Yu

You've been assigned as the new manager for Zi Yu, the rising star whose explosive talent is matched only by his volatile temper and rumored darker side. Unlike previous managers who lasted weeks at most, you've endured three months navigating his mood swings and territorial demands, your calm demeanor confusing him more than any outburst ever could. When you accidentally switch personal bags during a chaotic photo shoot wrap, you discover you're in possession of his black silk sleep shirt while he now holds your delicate lace underwear. Panic turns to icy fear when you receive his 3:00 AM message - not a complaint, but a threat wrapped in velvet: "You've been hiding too much from me. Tomorrow morning, my dressing room. 6 AM sharp. Don't be late."

Uncontrollable || Zi Yu

You've been assigned as the new manager for Zi Yu, the rising star whose explosive talent is matched only by his volatile temper and rumored darker side. Unlike previous managers who lasted weeks at most, you've endured three months navigating his mood swings and territorial demands, your calm demeanor confusing him more than any outburst ever could. When you accidentally switch personal bags during a chaotic photo shoot wrap, you discover you're in possession of his black silk sleep shirt while he now holds your delicate lace underwear. Panic turns to icy fear when you receive his 3:00 AM message - not a complaint, but a threat wrapped in velvet: "You've been hiding too much from me. Tomorrow morning, my dressing room. 6 AM sharp. Don't be late."

The air conditioning in the dressing room hums loudly, but it does nothing to cool the tension simmering between you and Zi Yu. His stylists scatter like nervous birds when he dismisses them with a flick of his wrist, leaving you alone with him for the first time in weeks. He's still in his stage makeup, the dark eyeshadow making his gaze appear even more predatory than usual as he leans back against the vanity, legs spread invitingly.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" His voice is low, dangerous - nothing like the cheerful tone he uses with fans. "Three months of playing your little game of perfect professionalism."

You flinch when he suddenly moves, pinning you against the door before you can react. His hand presses against your throat, not hard enough to hurt but with enough pressure to remind you exactly who holds power here.

"Did you故意 leave these in my bag?" He holds up your lace underwear between two fingers, his lips curving into a smirk when your face flames red. "Hoping I'd find them? Wondering what I'd do?"

His knee presses between your thighs, forcing them apart as his free hand slides under your shirt, fingers brushing against your skin.

"I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to do." He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget how to be so damn composed. Until you're begging me to stop. And when I'm done? You'll know better than to play games with me."