⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳ contents & warnings ⨾ fluff, crack, profanity, spelling mistakes cs im illiterate use of y/n, pics r for aesthetic purposes and nationality/ethinicity is not mentioned in any way
⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳gigi’s notes ⨾ i tried a new app for text msgs on the first slide but i did NOT like it💔 only upside to it was the react but it’s fine i can live without it
A towel drops. Two bodies fall. A morning unravels.
word count: ~10.6k
Characters: Male Reader (OC: Minho) x ITZY Shin Yuna
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A/N: Originally published as 5 separate chapters; now remastered and combined into one continuous scene.
Chapter 2: The Fall
Heat by the pool. A slippery slope.
Her eyes flicked down to the tent rapidly forming in my towel.
Her mouth fell open slightly. I watched her pupils dilate in real-time.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Did you - are you hard? From watching me?”
The accusation in her voice was undercut by the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
“I -” My voice came out rougher than intended. “I wasn’t watching, I just -”
“You were TOTALLY watching!” But she was smiling now. That trademark Yuna confidence - the same one that had millions of people glued to their screens watching her fancams, begging for more - was flooding back in, replacing the flustered panic from seconds ago. Except this time, it wasn’t filtered through a phone screen. It was right here, soaking wet and naked and absolutely lethal.
She stood up fully - all legs and wet skin and that ridiculously expensive bikini barely containing anything. Up close, her body was even more insane. Long, toned legs that seemed to go on forever. A tiny waist flaring into surprisingly full hips. Her small tits pushed against the bikini top, nipples clearly visible through the thin black fabric. The sash clung to her curves, somehow emphasizing everything.
“Oh my god, you perv,” she said, taking a step closer. Water droplets rolled down her neck, disappearing between her breasts. “How long were you standing there?”
“Yuna -”
“No no no, I’m genuinely curious.” Another step. I could smell the ocean salt on her skin, mixed with something warmer. Muskier. “Because if you JUST got here, okay, whatever. But if you were like... watching me for a while...”
She was close now. Close enough that I could see the goosebumps on her arms despite the heat, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.
“...then that’s kind of insane, right? That’s like, criminally horny behavior. Watching your girlfriend’s maknae finger herself and getting hard about it?”
“She’s not my -” I started, but the words caught in my throat.
Yuna rolled those humongous puppy eyes.
“I should go -” I tried to cover myself with the towel, stammering. “I’m just heading to - Yeji locked me out of the bathroom because she needs to get to her Pilates class and -”
“You should,” she agreed, but she was still advancing. “Unnie would literally kill you. Like, actual murder. Girlfriend or not.”
Her eyes dropped to the tent in my towel again. Lingered.
“But also...” Her voice dropped, playful and dangerous. “You’re still here.”
She took one more step, close enough now that if I reached out, I could touch her.
“Tell me something, oppa.” She tilted her head, and something in her expression shifted - that sly, foxy calculation I’d seen on stage a hundred times. “When you heard me just now... getting myself off...” Her voice dropped lower, more suggestive. “Did it turn you on?”
She gestured at her body - the wet bikini, the long legs, everything on display.
“You’re telling me you never had your hand wrapped around -”
Her fingers reached out, lightning quick, and brushed against the tent in my towel.
The touch - even through fabric - sent a jolt through me. My body betrayed me completely. My cock jerked hard against the towel, and the movement was enough to loosen the tuck I’d made at my waist.
The towel fell.
It dropped to the tiles with a wet slap, and suddenly I was standing there completely exposed - my cock springing up, thick and still glazed with the mixture of mine and Yeji’s cum, evidence of our morning devotion painted across every inch.
Yuna’s breath caught audibly. Her eyes went wide as saucers, pupils blown so dark they swallowed the brown, her gaze locked onto my cock like a predator spotting prey.
I watched her throat work as she swallowed. Hard.
She took an unconscious step closer, and I saw the exact moment her brain registered what she was seeing - not just size, but evidence. The glossy sheen wasn’t sweat. Her eyes traced the dried streaks along my shaft, the way it caught the sunlight, still fresh enough to glisten.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, tinged with genuine shock.
Her cheeks and ears flushed a deep crimson that spread down her neck - stark contrast to her earlier confidence, the physical evidence of genuine fluster battling with rapidly mounting arousal. The blush deepened as her eyes traced every detail, her breath quickening.
Her hand moved to her own throat, fingers pressing there like she was imagining it. Then lower, absently grazing her collarbone. Her nipples visibly hardened further through the thin bikini fabric, betraying how quickly embarrassment was losing ground to hunger.
“Unnie never mentioned you were packing like that.” A pause, her eyes widening further as another realization hit. “Actually, she basically never mentions you at all.”
The way she said it made it sound like Yeji had been hoarding something valuable. Something Yuna suddenly wanted to taste.
Something flickered across her face - too quick to fully name. Hurt? Curiosity? The faintest shadow of why would she hide this from me?
But it vanished as fast as it appeared, replaced by that calculating look I’d seen her use on stage when she knew the camera was on her. Her tongue swept across her bottom lip.
Her expression shifted as understanding dawned. “Wait. THAT’S why she keeps you around.” A breathless laugh, but there was an edge to it now - something competitive, almost vindictive. “You’re not her boyfriend - you must be her dick appointment. Her personal premium subscription.”
I saw her eyes trace every detail - the thick shaft, the prominent veins, the way the head glistened with dried cum. Her pupils dilated even further, her breath quickened, and I watched in real-time as arousal replaced everything else.
The sound of the front door slamming echoed across the villa, followed by a car engine starting. Yeji’s manager, picking her up for class. We were alone now. Completely, utterly alone.
And that’s when I saw it - the exact moment an intrusive thought crossed Yuna’s mind. Her expression shifted from shocked to calculating, a sly, foxy grin spreading across her face.
“So...” She looked up from my cock to meet my eyes. “You’re walking around with THAT, and you got hard looking at me.” Her tone was mocking, teasing, but laced with raw desire. “And here I thought unnie was hiding some like, casual situationship or whatever. But no wonder she keeps coming back to you when half the industry’s in her DMs. Like, I GET it now.”
She took a step toward me, barefoot, her hips swaying, every inch the sultry, seductive siren that had driven countless men to their knees. The defensive panic had completely evaporated, replaced by something more familiar. That Yuna confidence in full force.
The wet bikini clung to every curve - all legs and wet skin and that ridiculously expensive three-piece barely containing anything. The chain straps glinted in the sunlight. Her nipples were hard as diamonds, poking through the thin fabric.
“You’ve jerked off to me before, right? Like, actually stroked this cock -” She gestured at it with zero shame, “ - thinking about fucking me?” She tilted her head, eyes glinting with something between amusement and hunger. “Come on, oppa. Be honest. All those fancams with millions of views? The ones where I’m doing body rolls in that tiny skirt, or when I’m on the floor with my legs spread?”
She ran her hands down her own body - over her tits, her waist, her hips - putting herself on display.
“Because like... a LOT of guys have wanted to know what that looks like up close.” Her smile turned wicked. “Backup dancers, producers, fans who got lucky. They all watched me on stage and then got to find out if I’m as good off it.” She bit her lip. “And I am, by the way. I’m really, really good.”
She took another step closer, voice dropping.
“So I’m just wondering if you ever thought about it. If you ever watched me perform and imagined what I’d look like under you? What I’d sound like moaning your name?” Her eyes flickered with something vulnerable beneath the bravado. “What it’d feel like to shove this fat cock inside me and make me scream?”
A pause. Her confidence wavered just slightly.
“Because I need to know if I’ve been in your head at all. If you wanted me even a little bit.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about this.”
“Yuna, I -” I tried to protest, but my voice cracked.
She laughed, a sultry, knowing sound. “Don’t even fake innocence. Your dick is literally snitching on you.” Her eyes never left my cock, which was now fully erect, standing at attention despite having just painted Yeji with three loads just minutes ago.
“You know what’s actually insane? I’ve been SO worked up all morning - literally climbing the walls - and then I finally get a moment to myself by the pool and you CATCH me.” She pouted theatrically, but her eyes remained sharp. Calculating. “And then I come back here and hear you two going at it like you’re filming for OnlyFans. Like, I’m happy for unnie, truly, but oh my GOD.”
She was advancing on me now, each step deliberate, her body language screaming dominance despite her earlier vulnerability when I’d caught her. Water droplets still clung to her skin, rolling down her neck, her collarbone, disappearing between her breasts. I could smell the ocean salt mixed with something warmer. Muskier. Her arousal.
“There I am, walking around with this needy pussy -” She touched herself briefly through the bikini bottoms, almost absently. “ - nobody to help me out. Meanwhile unnie’s upstairs getting her brains fucked out. Kind of unfair, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s only fair,” she continued, her voice a sultry whisper as she invaded my space, so close I could feel the heat radiating off her body, “that I get to try unnie’s favorite toy. Just for a bit. What do you think?”
“Yuna, we shouldn’t -” I took a step back, my mind screaming loyalty to Yeji even as my cock throbbed with need. “Yeji and I - we have a thing, and I don’t -”
“Oh, come on,” Yuna interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Unnie goes through guys like they’re limited edition. Have you SEEN her Kakao? Her Instagram DMs? She probably hooked up with someone at that industry party last week.” She licked her lips. “Besides... look at you. You’re already rock hard for me. Your body’s already made the choice.”
Before I could protest further, she closed the distance. Her hand came up to cup my face, soft and warm, and she leaned in, her lips crashing against mine in a deep, hungry French kiss. Her tongue invaded my mouth, aggressive and demanding, tasting faintly of salt and something sweet.
She pressed her body against mine, and I felt my cock, still slick with cum, pressing into the damp fabric of her bikini bottoms. The pressure made her gasp into my mouth, and then - fuck - my cock slipped through the gap between her thighs, emerging at the other end beneath her tight, perfect ass.
Her thighs clamped around my shaft, soft yet firm, squeezing me as she ground forward. I could feel her lips through the soaked fabric, her heat radiating against my cock. Her small, perky tits pressed against my chest, and I could see the streak of her own pussy juice glistening across her cleavage, mixing with the seawater and sweat.
Her other hand reached down, wrapping around the base of my cock where it protruded from between her thighs, her fingers slick and sure.
“Yuna -” I gasped, breaking the kiss, trying to take a step back to create distance, to think, to -
But I didn’t realize I’d backed all the way to the edge of the pool.
My foot found nothing but air, and I felt myself falling backward, arms windmilling.
Everything slowed - that horrible drawn-out moment where you realize you’ve fucked up but momentum’s already decided your fate.
Just as I began to tip backward, Yuna’s hand closed fully around the base of my cock, her grip instinctive. The sudden backward motion lifted my cock upward, and because her hand was locked on and my shaft was sandwiched between her thighs, the upward force literally lifted her off the ground.
Her eyes went wide, a yelp of surprise escaping her lips as her feet left the terrace. The sudden pressure on her pussy lips through the bikini, combined with being yanked forward, made her gasp and moan simultaneously. Her other hand, which had been on my face, shot to the back of my neck for balance, her nails digging in.
We fell together, a tangle of limbs and lust, hitting the pool with a massive splash that sent water cascading over the edge. The pool chair she’d been sitting on earlier teetered dangerously, saved only by Yuna’s foot catching it mid-fall and kicking it back.
We plunged beneath the surface, the cool water a shocking contrast to the heat of our bodies. I felt her bikini top come loose, her hand still gripping my cock, our bodies intertwined in the churning water.
Chapter 3: Submerged in Sin
Underwater and under pressure. Desire that drowns reason.
We surfaced from the pool, water cascading off our bodies, and I was still disoriented - from the fall, from the shock, from the sheer insanity of the situation. But Yuna wasn’t disoriented at all. She was on me in a flash, her wet body pressing against mine, her lips crashing onto my mouth with desperate hunger. My cock, still rock-hard despite everything, poked against her pubic bone beneath the surface, and she moaned into the kiss, grinding against it.
“Mmm,” she hummed against my lips. “I love how that feels.”
“Yuna - wait -” I tried to break away, tried to summon some semblance of loyalty to Yeji, but Yuna just smiled against my mouth, her eyes glinting with mischief.
She pressed a single finger to my lips, silencing me. Her expression said trust me.
Then she disappeared beneath the water like a mermaid diving for treasure.
And oh god, the treasure she found.
This is really happening. I’m letting Yeji’s maknae suck my dick in a pool while Yeji’s at Pilates. My life choices are -
I felt her lips - warm, wet, impossibly soft - envelop the head of my cock, and every coherent thought evacuated my brain. Her mouth was heaven. She started slow, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, lapping up the remnants of my earlier cum and Yeji’s juices like it was her favorite husik. Then she took me deeper, her lips forming a perfect seal as she slid down my shaft inch by glorious inch.
The sensation was indescribable. Sure, Yeji gave head sometimes - she’d practiced it obsessively during our trainee days, treating it like vocal training: methodical, perfecting breath control, studying technique with Type-A precision. But it was functional, clinical even - exercises that happened to help both her throat control and my stress relief, not something she did for pleasure. And she’d made it abundantly clear over the years that she much preferred being on the receiving end, demanding her pussy be worshipped rather than the other way around. I’d never minded. With Yeji, I got everything else - the vulnerability she showed no one, the way she’d grip my hand after, the soft confession in her sleep-roughened voice. But that wasn’t something I could think about right now. Not with Yuna’s tongue doing... that.
Because Yuna was a fucking artist. Her tongue did things I didn’t know were possible, flicking along the underside of my shaft, tracing the prominent vein, then flattening to massage the entire length as she bobbed up and down. She hollowed her cheeks, creating suction that made my knees weak, and then she’d relax, letting me slide deeper into her throat without a hint of gagging.
My hands shot to her head beneath the water, fingers tangling in her soaked hair, and I couldn’t help but buck my hips forward. She took it all, adjusting her angle to let me fuck her mouth, her hands gripping my thighs for balance.
She surfaced after what felt like an eternity, gasping for air, her face breaking through the water in an image that would be burned into my brain forever: lips swollen and glistening, eyes half-lidded with lust, water streaming down her flushed cheeks. Somewhere in the rational part of my brain that was still functioning, I registered that this was Yuna - the girl who called Yeji ‘unnie,’ who’d probably heard us through the walls, who was looking at me right now like I was prey she’d been hunting. That should have scared me. Instead - she looked like a fucking siren, and I was completely under her spell.
The sun beat down on us, turning the pool water into liquid diamonds. I could hear nothing but her breathing, the gentle lap of water against tiles, and the distant crash of ocean waves.
“Where -” I gasped, barely able to form words. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”
She grinned, catching her breath, water droplets falling from her chin. “What, that?” A teasing glint in her eyes. “You liked it?”
“That’s - that’s not an answer -”
But before I could press further, she dove back under.
This time, she took me even deeper, her nose pressing against my pelvis as she deepthroated me with ease. Her tongue worked magic, and I felt her hum around my shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my body. She came up for air again, that same devastatingly hot expression on her face - mascara slightly smudged, lips swollen, chest heaving - and then went back down, establishing a rhythm: submerge, suck, surface, repeat.
Each time she came up, I got a glimpse of pure debauchery: her small, perky tits now fully exposed, the bikini top lost somewhere in the pool, nipples hard as diamonds, water droplets catching the sunlight, her face a mask of focused pleasure.
“Seriously,” I managed when she surfaced again. “Where did you -”
“Oh my god, so needy.” She licked her lips, grinning. “Fine, I’ll give you my origin story. But you have to earn the rest.” Then she dove back under.
I gave in. Completely, utterly gave in. I started thrusting my hips to meet her mouth, fucking her face beneath the water, and I felt my fourth orgasm of the day building - a deep, primal heat coiling in my balls.
Yuna felt it too. She resurfaced one more time, pulling off my cock with an obscene pop, and her eyes sparkled with sadistic glee.
“Nuh-uh,” she said, pulling back with that wicked grin. “You don’t get to cum yet.” She wrapped her hand around my shaft, squeezing. “I need to hear you say it first. That you want me. That you’ve been thinking about fucking me.” Her eyes gleamed. “Beg a little. It’s hot.”
Of course she wanted me to beg. Because that’s what this was really about, wasn’t it? Not just getting off - she could’ve done that with any of the industry contacts she’d casually mentioned. This was about making me choose her over Yeji, even if just for a moment. Making me admit it out loud.
“Yuna -” I groaned, my cock twitching desperately in her grip.
She silenced me by jamming my shaft between her thighs again, squeezing them together. The pressure was exquisite, and she started grinding backward and forward, her pussy lips dragging along the top of my cock. Then, with one hand, she reached down and untied her bikini bottoms. The sash that had been clinging to her torso floated to the surface, and she pulled the bottoms out from behind with a smooth jerk.
The sensation of the fabric slipping out, dragging roughly between my cock and her pussy, was almost too much. And then - suddenly - I felt her bare lips on my shaft, hot and slick, no barrier between us.
“Fuck - Yuna -” I tried to protest, but she stuffed the soaked bikini bottoms into my mouth, silencing me just like I’d done to Yeji earlier.
“Shh,” she whispered, grinning. “Your turn.”
She wrapped one arm around my neck for balance, and with her other hand, she guided mine to her bare breast. My palm cupped the soft, perky flesh - small but perfectly formed, high and proud, with a hard, sensitive nipple that pebbled under my touch. My instincts took over, and I squeezed, kneaded, pinched, drawing soft gasps and moans from her lips.
All the while, she kept grinding, her hand on my cock ensuring it stayed between her thighs, pressing against her lips but never quite slipping inside. It was torture. Pure, exquisite torture. I felt the tip catch on her entrance with every thrust, so close I could feel her heat, her wetness, but she wouldn’t let me in.
The midday heat made everything feel surreal - her wet skin sliding against mine, the chlorine smell mixing with her arousal, the way the water refracted light across her body in dancing patterns.
I should have stopped her. Should have pulled away, found that shower, called Yeji and confessed everything. Instead, I stood there in the pool while Yeji’s dongsaeng gave me her sexual resume, each revelation simultaneously making me harder and making me a worse person. The math wasn’t mathing, but my dick had stopped caring about logic somewhere around the third underwater deepthroat.
“You wanna know where I learned that?” she asked breathlessly, grinding against me. “Okay so - mmm, fuck - first world tour, right? There was this Australian backup dancer and he had this ACCENT -”
She paused, adjusting the angle so my cock pressed directly against her clit, and shuddered.
“Oh god, right there - anyway, he was insanely hot and I basically dragged him into the tour bus bathroom after the Sydney show and was like, teach me everything.”
She demonstrated by opening her mouth, miming deepthroating. “Just let him fuck my throat over and over until I figured out the breathing thing. The angles. All of it. It was like a masterclass except way sluttier and I literally couldn’t talk the next day.”
She giggled breathlessly. “Worth it though.”
I groaned around the fabric in my mouth, my hips bucking involuntarily.
“Then there was this producer in LA - ahh, fuck -” Her voice hitched as I pinched her nipple. “He was like, old as hell but actually knew what he was doing? He taught me the humming trick. You know, vibrations and shit.” She grinned wickedly. “Made him cum in like two minutes and he looked at me like I was a wizard. I felt SO powerful.”
She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. “And then in New York, during our US leg -” She giggled, the sound breathless and dirty. “Found this cute fan, pulled him backstage, and basically used him as practice. Over and over. I love it, you know? The control. The way a guy’s whole body goes stiff when you take him deep. The way he looks at you after like you just blew his mind and his dick.”
Every time she sensed I was about to cum - my body tensing, my muffled groans growing louder - she’d suddenly stop or slow down, blue-balling me with expert precision. I lost count of how many times she did it. She was torturing me. And the worst part? I could see it in her eyes every time she stopped - that flash of satisfaction, like she was conducting an experiment and I was giving her exactly the data she wanted. How far could she push Yeji’s ‘secret boyfriend’ before he broke? Turns out: pretty fucking far. My balls felt like they were about to explode, swollen and aching, pressure building to catastrophic levels. My eyes widened in desperation, and whatever thin thread of self-control I’d been clinging to - the part that remembered Yeji, loyalty, consequences - snapped completely. I stopped being a person who made choices and became pure need.
I roughly grabbed her hips, my grip bruising, and started thrusting hard, surprising her. Her eyes went wide.
“Oh - fuck, okay, someone’s -” she gasped, but I was beyond words.
The bikini bottoms fell out of my mouth as I gasped, “Yuna - I can’t - I’m gonna -”
She felt it too, the moment my body gave up all pretense of control. In one fluid motion, she slipped beneath the water, her mouth enveloping my cock just as I exploded.
I came hard. Harder than I’d ever come in my life. It felt like my entire soul was being sucked out through my cock, rope after thick rope of cum shooting into her waiting mouth. I saw stars, actual fucking stars, my vision whiting out as my orgasm ripped through me. I was vaguely aware of my hands gripping the edge of the pool for balance, my legs shaking, my voice echoing across the villa in a guttural roar.
When she finally surfaced, she was an image of pure debauchery. Her hair was plastered to her face, her lips swollen and red, and she opened her mouth to show me the pool of my cum resting on her tongue. It was obscene, filthy, and the hottest thing I’d ever seen. She let it slowly drip from her mouth onto her chest, the white mixing with the water and trickling down between her tits, before she closed her mouth and swallowed, her throat bobbing as she took every drop.
“Holy shit,” I gasped, thoroughly impressed, aroused, and completely drained. “That was... fuck.”
The post-nut clarity hit like a freight train. What the fuck had I just done? I’d let Yuna - Yeji’s groupmate, her dongsaeng, someone who lived in the same villa - suck me off in broad daylight. And the worst part? I’d loved every second. That realization should have sent me running.
“I need to... I should probably go take that shower now.”
But Yuna wasn’t done. Not even close. She swam closer, her eyes dark with hunger, her body still trembling with pent-up need.
“Shower?” She laughed, low and dangerous. “We’re not even close to done, Minho.” Her hand found my cock again, already starting to stir despite having just exploded. “I didn’t cum yet. And I’m literally dying to have my brains fucked out.”
She pressed against me, her bare pussy rubbing against my thigh. “So no. You’re not going anywhere.”
I should have said no. Should have drawn a line, preserved whatever microscopic scrap of loyalty I had left. But her hand was already wrapped around my cock, and my body was already responding, and the truth I didn’t want to admit was that she was right. We weren’t done. Not even close. And I was going to let this happen. Again.
Chapter 4: The Tides That Turn
Consequences arrive wearing a Maknae’s face.
I tried to act like I’d had enough - like I was some kind of gentleman who knew when to walk away. But the truth? There was nothing I wanted more than to jam my cock into Yuna’s burning pussy and fuck her until we both passed out or the sun went down, whichever came first. Hell, maybe both would happen simultaneously. My body was already making that decision for me, my cock twitching back to life despite having just blown what felt like my entire genetic lineage into her mouth.
I started to push away from her, tried to muster some semblance of self-control, but my feral urges snapped me back like a rubber band. I lunged forward, roughly grabbing her by that perfect, tight ass, making her squeal in surprise as I lifted her naked body onto the edge of the pool. Water splashed everywhere, cascading over the tiles as I positioned her exactly where I wanted her.
Another line crossed. Another point of no return. At this rate, there wouldn’t be anything left to salvage when Yeji came back.
“Minho - wait, what are you -”
But she didn’t finish the sentence because she realized exactly what I was doing. I was eye level with her pussy, and for the first time, I got to really study it.
Yuna’s pussy was a work of art - completely different from Yeji’s. Where Yeji’s was a neat, bikini-trimmed mound with full, meaty lips that gripped like a vise, Yuna’s was bare, smooth as silk, with delicate, pale pink lips that were slightly swollen from arousal. Her inner lips were small and tucked in, a shy little slit that barely peeked out. But what really caught my attention was how wet she was - not just damp, but absolutely dripping, her arousal glistening on her thighs, mixing with the pool water. Her clit was a small, prominent pearl, already engorged and begging for attention.
She caught me staring and slowly, deliberately, widened her legs, an invitation and a challenge all at once.
“Like what you see?” she teased, her voice breathy. “I mean, you’re just... staring. Kind of creepy but also kind of hot?”
I didn’t answer. I just pressed my nose against her mound, inhaling her scent - clean, slightly sweet, with an underlying musk that made my mouth water. Then I dove in.
The first lick was exploratory, my tongue dragging slowly from her entrance to her clit, and the taste hit me like a drug. Yuna tasted different from Yeji too - less earthy, more delicate, almost honey-sweet with a hint of salt from the ocean. Her pussy was softer, more yielding, and as I licked deeper, I felt her walls flutter against my tongue.
Yeji had taught me well. Years of being her personal pussy-worshiper had turned me into a fucking expert. I started with broad, flat strokes, licking up every drop of her arousal, then focused on her clit, flicking it with the tip of my tongue in quick, rhythmic bursts. She gasped, her hips jerking forward, and I grinned against her pussy.
I switched tactics, sucking her clit into my mouth and rolling it gently between my lips while my fingers found her entrance. I slid two inside, curling them upward to find that spongy spot on her front wall, and when I hit it, Yuna screamed.
“Oh my god - fuck -” Her voice pitched high. “Minho - where did you -”
She couldn’t finish the thought because I was relentless. I added a third finger, stretching her open while my tongue traced figure-eights around her clit. I alternated between sucking, licking, and gentle nibbling, each technique pulling different sounds from her throat - gasps, moans, sharp inhales. Her pussy was clenching around my fingers, so wet that I could hear the obscene squelching sounds every time I thrust.
“Holy shit -” she gasped, her legs trembling. “I’ve literally never - ohh fuck - been eaten out this good before!” Her hand flew to my hair. “Like, where the fuck did you learn to do this? Did you watch tutorials or something? Because this is - ahh - insane!”
I didn’t answer. I was too busy finger-fucking her while my mouth worked her clit, and honestly, I was too proud of myself to stop and gloat. Some pathetic part of me needed to prove I was better than every Australian dancer, every LA producer, every backstage groupie she’d casually mentioned. Like winning this competition would somehow make the betrayal worth it. I felt like I was one-upping every guy she’d ever been with, and the thought made my cock rock-hard again, precum leaking into the pool.
Yuna’s screams echoed through the villa, bouncing off the walls. She threw her head back, one hand tangling in my hair and shoving my face harder against her mound, the other supporting her leaned-back torso on the paved stones. She was desperately trying to get my tongue deeper, her hips rocking against my face in frantic, unconscious thrusts.
“Oh god, oh fuck, oh -” She was babbling now, words spilling out between moans. “This is gonna trend on my body’s personal Twitter because I’m - fuck - I’m gonna cum so hard -”
Her thighs clamped around my head like a vice.
“Holy shit - I’m literally - fuck, I can’t -” The words dissolved into a scream, as if it wasn’t already painfully obvious what was happening.
Her entire body tensed, her legs locking around my head, and then she shattered. Her pussy clamped down on my fingers in rhythmic pulses, her back arching off the pool edge, her scream reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass. And then she squirted - a gush of clear, warm fluid spraying across my face, drenching me as her orgasm ripped through her.
I kept going, riding out her climax, my tongue and fingers coaxing every last spasm from her trembling body. Her legs shook violently, her toes curled so hard they probably cramped, and her eyes rolled back in her head as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her stomach muscles contracted visibly, her small tits bouncing with each convulsion, and she let out these broken, breathless sobs that were somehow the hottest sounds I’d ever heard.
When it finally subsided, she collapsed back onto the stones, panting, her chest heaving, her entire body glistening with sweat and water. Her pussy was still twitching, aftershocks rolling through her.
“That’s -” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. “That’s never happened before. The squirting thing. Like, never.” She propped herself up slightly, looking down at me with wide eyes. “I’ve seen it in porn but I thought it was fake? Or like, only certain girls can do it?” She laughed breathlessly. “What the fuck. Seriously, where did you learn that?”
I smirked, wiping her juices off my face with the back of my hand. “You’re not the only one with tricks.”
She stared at me, the infamous siren who could conquer any man, reduced to a quivering, breathless wreck. I felt the tides turning, a dominating urge surging through me. I grabbed her by the neck - not hard, but firm - and pulled her toward me, my mouth brushing against her neck. She shuddered, a soft moan escaping her lips.
“Fuck,” she whimpered. “That’s - oh, that’s my spot -”
“You like that?” I whispered against her ear, my breath hot on her skin. “Want to know my secret?”
“Yes -” she breathed, her hand moving between her legs, furiously rubbing her still-pulsating clit. “Tell me.”
“Yeji,” I murmured, my teeth grazing her earlobe. “She taught me everything. How to worship pussy like it’s a religion. How to make a woman scream my name.” I licked up her neck slowly. “Every trick, every technique - years of practice. All from her.”
And there it was - weaponizing the most intimate parts of my relationship with Yeji to make her dongsaeng cum harder. Using years of trust and vulnerability as foreplay. I’d officially hit rock bottom, and apparently rock bottom had a sub-basement.
Yuna moaned, her fingers working faster as she imagined it - me and Yeji, tangled together, her teaching me, training me. “Fuck, that’s -” Her breathing quickened. “That’s so hot. Unnie’s been keeping you as her personal - ahh - secret weapon this whole time.”
Her juices mixed with the puddle of water beneath her, and I could tell she was about to cum again just from the mental image and her own fingers.
But my moment of dominance didn’t last long. Yuna recovered faster than I expected, that confident, seductive grin returning to her face even as her legs still trembled.
Of course she did. Because that’s who Yuna was - the girl who could get facefucked into a squirting orgasm and be back in control sixty seconds later. I’d been an idiot to think I’d actually gained the upper hand. She’d just let me borrow it for a minute.
“Okay, okay,” she said, pushing me away gently, her voice still breathy but gaining strength. “Your mouth game is literally S-tier. Like, hall of fame level.” She bit her lip, eyeing my erection. “But I need to know what you can do with that big boy now.”
She slipped back into the water, turning her back to me, her perfect ass pressing against my rock-hard cock. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes dark with hunger, that siren look creeping back.
“Come on, Minho,” she beckoned, arching her back and pushing her ass higher, the curve of her spine absolutely sinful. “Drive me crazy. Make me lose my mind. Show me why unnie keeps you locked down like limited edition merch.”
She reached back, her hand wrapping around my shaft, stroking slowly. “Prove to me why Yeji’s so obsessed with this cock that she won’t let anyone else near it.”
Her grip tightened slightly. “But like, don’t get cocky yet.” That wicked grin widened. “I’ve had a LOT of dick, oppa. All those industry boys, that one time with three guys from the company after MAMA - which was insane by the way.” She positioned my tip against her entrance, just barely touching. “You’ve got some serious competition. Better make it memorable.”
Chapter 5: The Siren’s Surrender
Poolside chaos. When want becomes need becomes ruin.
I positioned myself behind Yuna, my cock throbbing with desperate need as I pressed the tip against her entrance. The heat radiating from her pussy was intoxicating. I could feel her lips beginning to part around my head, yielding to the pressure -
But then she reached between her legs, grabbed my cock with a firm grip, and yanked it downward.
The sudden movement threw me completely off balance. I fell forward, my cock sliding along the outside of her pussy instead of inside, and my pelvis collided with her ass with a resounding CLAP that echoed across the terrace. Water flew everywhere, splashing against the pool tiles and her back.
“Nu-uh,” she said with a breathy laugh, looking back at me over her shoulder. That siren look was back in her eyes. “Not yet.”
“Yuna -” I groaned, trying to angle my hips, but her hand was still wrapped around my shaft, keeping me exactly where she wanted me - which was anywhere but inside her.
“You haven’t begged yet,” she said, arching her back even more, that playful edge in her voice. The curve of her spine was sinful, her ass pushing higher, presenting herself while simultaneously denying me. “Come on, oppa. Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want -”
“Yeah, but I wanna HEAR it.” Her grip tightened, stroking once slowly. “Say you want to fuck me. That you want to shove this thick cock inside me.” Her grin widened. “Use your words.”
She squeezed for emphasis, making me hiss through my teeth.
“Because like... do you actually want this?” Her voice dropped, more intimate now. “Want to know what all those other guys felt?” A pause. “Because if you don’t say it, you’re literally gonna be the only one who didn’t get to fuck me. How sad would that be?”
It was psychological warfare, and she was winning. I pulled back, trying to angle my cock up, to slip past her defenses, but she adjusted her grip instantly, keeping me on the edge of madness. I wrapped one arm around her waist for leverage, my other hand cupping her breast, squeezing hard, trying to distract her or overpower her coordination.
She just moaned, arching even more. “Mmm, that’s nice. But you’re still not inside me.”
“Come on, Minho.” Her free hand found mine on her breast, guiding me to pinch her nipple. “Just admit it. You’ve thought about this, right? About me?”
I tried to thrust forward. She adjusted her angle, my cock sliding along her lips but not in.
“All those times you watched our performances,” she continued, slightly breathless now from her own teasing. “Did you ever imagine this? Me bent over for you?”
“Yuna - fuck -”
“What about when you were with unnie?” Her voice got quieter, more dangerous. “Did you ever close your eyes and think about me instead? When you came inside her, did you ever picture my face?”
The mention of Yeji hit like cold water, but it mixed with the building desperation in my body. The image she was painting - forbidden, wrong, and exactly what some dark part of me had fantasized about.
“Yes!” The word exploded out of me, echoing across the villa. “Yes, okay? I’ve thought about you!” My hips bucked involuntarily. “Every time I saw you on stage, every time you walked around in those shorts that showed everything - I wanted you! I wanted to fuck you! Now please -”
The moment I said it, her hand released my cock.
I lunged forward and speared into her pussy with the force of a man possessed, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. It felt like I could split mountains with that momentum.
“FUCK!” Yuna screamed, her voice cracking, breaking on the word as I filled her completely.
Her pussy was different from Yeji’s - where Yeji was a calculated vice grip that squeezed every inch with almost intimidating precision, Yuna was softer, wetter, more yielding but still incredibly tight. Her walls fluttered around me, adjusting to my size, and the heat was overwhelming. She was slick with arousal, making every movement smooth and effortless, but the sensation was no less intense. If Yeji’s pussy was a weapon designed to dominate, Yuna’s was a sensual trap, designed to lure you in and never let go.
I pulled back slowly, feeling every ridge and fold, then slammed back in. Yuna gasped, her back arching further. I established a relentless rhythm, my hips pistoning as I fucked her standing doggy-style in the pool. Water sloshed around us with each thrust, splashing over the edge, the sound mixing with skin slapping against skin and Yuna’s increasingly desperate moans.
The sun had shifted higher now, turning the terrace into an oven. Sweat mixed with pool water, making our bodies slide together with each thrust. The smell of chlorine and sex hung heavy in the air.
“Oh god -” she gasped, her hands gripping the pool edge for stability. “Yes - fuck - just like that -”
I grabbed her hips harder, pulling her back to meet my thrusts. Each impact sent ripples through her ass, the perfect bounce that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from.
“Harder -” she breathed, then louder: “Harder!”
I obliged, increasing the force, the pace. The pool water churned around us.
“Oh my god -” She was talking between moans now, her voice high and broken. “I can’t - this is -” A sharp gasp as I hit something deep. “Okay the last time I got fucked this good was - ahh - Sydney maybe? That dancer?”
She tried to look back at me, her face flushed. “But like - fuck - he wasn’t this big - you’re literally - ahh - ruining me for everyone else -”
“Fuck’s sake, Yuna,” I grunted, the question coming out more aggressive than I intended. “How many guys have you fucked?”
“I - oh god -” She tried to think, but I didn’t slow down. “Like - ahh - ninety? Maybe a hundred?” Her voice pitched higher as I hit a particularly deep angle. “I literally stopped counting after North America because it got too complicated -”
“A hundred?” Something primal surged in me. I slammed into her harder, making her yelp. “And I’m better than all of them?”
“Yes -” It came out as a whimper. “Fuck yes - you’re - oh my god - you’re so much better - you’re ruining me -”
She was trying to sound confident, trying to maintain that seductress persona, but every word was broken by gasps and moans. Her body was betraying her, submitting to me in a way I could tell she wasn’t used to.
I fucked her for what felt like an eternity, my stamina somehow holding despite this being my fifth round of the day. The angle was perfect, letting me go deep, hitting spots that made her legs tremble and her voice break into these high, desperate sounds.
Finally, she reached back, her hand finding my hip, stopping me mid-thrust.
“Wait -” she panted, her whole body heaving. “I need - change positions -”
She pushed forward, and my cock slipped out of her pussy with an obscene pop. A large bubble of trapped air followed, surfacing with a wet burst that would’ve been funny if we weren’t both so far gone. Our mixed fluids leaked into the pool, cloudy ribbons swirling in the clear water.
Yuna pulled herself out of the pool, water streaming off her lithe body, cascading down those impossibly long legs. Chlorine and sex hung thick in the air. She climbed onto the lounge chair with feline grace, then laid back, her legs spreading wide in invitation.
She looked like a goddess sprawled on that lounge chair - tan skin glistening, legs spread wide, chest heaving. The contrast of her delicate features and the absolute debauchery of her expression was intoxicating.
I got another perfect view of her pussy - swollen, pink, gaping slightly from my fucking. Her lips were puffy, glistening with arousal, and below it, her tight, puckered asshole remained untouched, a forbidden promise for another time.
“Come here,” she breathed, one hand trailing down her stomach to spread herself open for me. “I want to feel you deeper.”
I followed her like a man possessed, water dripping from my body as I positioned myself over her. I squatted down, angling my cock - thoroughly coated with her juices - toward her entrance.
Before I could thrust, her impossibly long legs wrapped around my hips and pulled, forcing me inside in one slick, smooth motion. She gasped, her eyes going wide, and I groaned as the new angle let me sink even deeper than before.
“Oh fuck,” she whimpered. “That’s - you’re so deep -”
I didn’t waste time. I started moving, building back to that punishing rhythm, and Yuna’s hands flew to my shoulders, pulling me down. Her lips found mine in a deep, desperate kiss. Our tongues tangled, our moans muffled as I fucked her with everything I had.
Her legs squeezed around my torso, her heels digging into my lower back, urging me deeper with each thrust. The lounge chair creaked beneath us, protesting the abuse.
“Mmph -” she gasped against my lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to speak. “Yes - fuck - yes -”
Her hand slipped between our bodies, fingers finding her clit and rubbing frantically. The added stimulation made her pussy clench around me, fluttering, and I groaned.
I grabbed her waist with both hands, my grip tight enough to leave marks. The sensation drove her wild. Her entire body arched off the chair like she was possessed, her small tits pressing against my chest, her nails raking down my back hard enough to sting.
“Don’t stop -” she whimpered. “Please don’t stop - I’m so close -”
I could feel my own orgasm building, slow but inevitable. The fifth of the day, and somehow still powerful, that heat coiling in my balls. I broke the kiss, gasping, “Yuna - I’m - I’m gonna -”
“Wait!” Her eyes flew open, wide and commanding. She pushed against my chest with surprising strength, forcing me to pull back.
I stumbled, my cock slipping out, slick and throbbing and angry at being denied. I stared at her in confusion, chest heaving.
She sat up, a wicked grin spreading across her flushed face. Her hair was a mess, her lips swollen from kissing, her whole body glistening with sweat and pool water.
“Okay - my turn,” she breathed, voice rough with arousal. “You earned it.” She was already moving, that wicked grin spreading. “Let me - fuck - let me show you why guys literally can’t shut up about this.”
Chapter 6: The Siren’s Satisfaction
Marathon riding. Exhaustion wearing the face of desire.
I collapsed back onto the lounge chair, my chest heaving, every muscle in my body screaming from exhaustion. Five orgasms. I’d already blown five loads today, and somehow this insatiable siren wanted more.
Yuna stood over me, water still dripping from her hair, that wicked grin on her face. She looked like a goddess backlit by the afternoon sun - all long legs and wet skin, her small tits perfect and perky, her pussy still glistening and swollen from the pounding I’d just given her.
“Your turn to just lay there,” she purred, climbing onto the chair. “I wanna feel you from this angle.”
As she turned around to straddle me reverse cowgirl, I took the opportunity to cheekily slap her ass. The sound echoed across the terrace, a sharp crack that seemed to hang in the humid air, and her ass jiggled from the impact in a way that was absolutely mesmerizing.
It was plumper than Yeji’s, I couldn’t help but notice. Where Yeji was an athletic freak of nature - her body sculpted from marble and countless hours of dance practice, abs that could grate cheese and an ass that was pure, toned muscle like a weapon forged in a gym - Yuna was slimmer overall but blessed with godly hips and an ass that had just enough give to be perfect. Perfect for grabbing, perfect for slapping, perfect for watching bounce.
“What?” she asked, looking back at me over her shoulder with a coy smile as she positioned herself over my lap. Her hair fell across one eye, still dripping with pool water.
“Your ass,” I said, not even trying to hide my appreciation. My hands found her hips automatically. “I’m obsessed with it. The way it bounces, the way it feels...” I squeezed for emphasis. “I could watch it all day.”
She bit her lip, feigning shyness but clearly pleased. “You’re not the first guy to say that while fucking me, you know.” Then her expression shifted to that wicked grin. “But you’re probably the fastest I’ve ever let inside me. Like, most guys have to work for it. Wine and dine, or at least buy me coffee.” She glanced back at my cock, still hard despite everything. “You should be proud. Badge of honor or whatever.”
As she spoke, she reached down between her legs, her fingers wrapping around my shaft. Without missing a beat in her monologue, she guided me to her entrance and sank down in one smooth, practiced motion. Her pussy swallowed me whole, still slick and hot from our previous round.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my head falling back against the chair. My hands gripped her waist tighter.
She moaned softly - just a little hum of satisfaction - and started rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, getting comfortable, adjusting to the angle.
Then she glanced back at me, that teasing smirk playing on her lips.
“No wonder Yeji was screaming like that earlier,” she said breathlessly, already starting to move. There was something in her voice - a mix of jealousy and satisfaction, like she’d just confirmed a suspicion she’d been harboring. “You really know how to wreck a pussy.”
Before I could respond, she started riding in earnest. Her hair dripped water onto my chest, cold droplets contrasting with the heat of our bodies. Her hair dripped water onto my chest, cold droplets contrasting with the heat of our bodies. From this angle, I had a perfect view - her spine curving down to that perfect ass bouncing on my lap, water droplets catching sunlight on her skin. The wet skin-on-skin contact made every movement slicker, smoother, but somehow more intense.
The wet skin-on-skin contact made every movement slicker, smoother, but somehow more intense. Each time she rolled her hips, there was this slick, obscene sound, and I could feel every ridge and fold of her pussy as she moved.
“So,” she started, lifting herself up and dropping back down, establishing a rhythm. “I don’t usually fuck idols. Like Yeji does.”
“No?” I managed, my voice strained. She was moving faster now, really bouncing, and it was torture.
“Nah.” She bounced harder, her ass slapping against my thighs. “Male idols are so full of themselves. They think they’re God’s gift just because they have fangirls screaming their names.” She rolled her hips in a particularly devastating way. “But most of them? Terrible in bed. Like, genuinely bad.”
“How - how would you know?” I gasped as she picked up speed.
“Because I tried! Obviously.” She laughed breathlessly. “But nobody tells them they suck because they’re idols, you know? Too precious. So they just keep thinking they’re amazing when really they just -” She demonstrated with a few rough, graceless bounces. “ - pump away like that with zero technique.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, even through the pleasure. “So what, you - ah, fuck - you avoid them?”
“I hunt better prey.” She leaned back, changing the angle so I hit deeper, and we both groaned. “Guys who actually get how lucky they are, you know? Staff members, backup dancers, random hot guys I meet at clubs.” She was riding me harder now, really moving. “Because those guys? They actually try to make it good. They worship you like you’re doing them a favor.”
Her words were punctuated by moans and gasps as she rode me, her small tits bouncing with each movement. Water droplets flew from her hair, catching the sunlight.
My hands slid from her waist to her ass, grabbing, squeezing, trying to guide her movements but mostly just holding on. “You’re really good at this,” I groaned without thinking.
“At what?” She grinned down at me, knowing exactly what I meant.
“Yeah?” Her grin widened, something competitive flashing in her eyes. “You should feel lucky then. Most guys don’t get this far.” She bounced harder, as if to prove her point. “Actually, the last guy who got me this worked up was - mmm - Tuesday night? Wednesday morning? Right after our comeback stage.”
“Yeah?” I groaned.
“Yeah. He was cute. Quiet type.” She adjusted her angle, taking me deeper, and we both gasped. “Got him alone in one of the tech rooms and just - fuck - he went down on me for SO long. Like, I actually had to check my phone at one point to see if we had enough time before load-out.”
“Dedicated,” I managed.
“Right?” She was bouncing faster now, really riding me, chasing something. “Super eager. But his dick was like -” She made a so-so gesture with her hand while still moving. “Average? Maybe slightly above? Nothing like this.” She emphasized her point by dropping down hard, taking me to the hilt, and I groaned.
My orgasm was building rapidly. “Despite five previous loads, despite my wrecked body, despite my body being absolutely wrecked, she was riding me like it was a competition and she was determined to win. The way her pussy squeezed me, the visual of her ass bouncing, the sound of her voice mixing dirty stories with casual conversation - it was too much.
“Yuna -” I warned, my fingers digging into her hips. “I’m gonna -”
But she either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. She just kept riding, kept talking, her rhythm never breaking.
“Oh, and that dancer in LA -” She was breathless now, words coming out between gasps. “During our US leg - he had stamina but zero rhythm. Just - ahh - kept going and going but it was like - mmm - like fucking a metronome -”
I couldn’t hold back. My sixth orgasm of the day exploded out of me with a force that shocked even me. I bucked up involuntarily, burying myself as deep as possible as I pumped what felt like an impossible amount of cum deep into her pussy. I could feel it squirting out around my cock, our bodies too tightly pressed for it all to stay inside.
“Fuck!” I roared, every muscle in my body tensing, stars exploding behind my eyelids.
But Yuna just pressed a hand firmly against my chest, forcing me back down into the chair, and kept riding. She didn’t even pause. Didn’t even acknowledge it.
“ - and I literally had to fake it because he wasn’t getting me there -” she continued, as if I hadn’t just filled her with cum. “Which was so annoying because I was SO close but he just - ugh -”
The overstimulation was immediate and intense. My cock was hypersensitive, every movement of her pussy sending shockwaves through my body that bordered on painful. But she didn’t stop. She kept riding, kept talking, her rhythm never faltering even as my cum leaked out of her with each bounce.
“Then there was this producer guy - older, whatever -” She rolled her eyes even as she moved. “Came in like two minutes and acted like he did something impressive. Men are so -”
Her words cut off as she glanced down, finally noticing the absolute mess between us - cum coating both our thighs, dripping onto the chair, leaking out of her with each movement.
She looked back up at me, still riding, and asked almost conversationally, “Wait. Did you cum inside me?”
“Yes -” I gasped. “Yuna - please - I can’t -”
“Oh.” She said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She processed this for a moment, still moving. Then shrugged. “Well, I’m not done yet, so...”
Then her talking shifted focus, and somehow this was worse.
“Unnie must really love this cock,” she said, her voice taking on a teasing edge as she rode me. “I bet she rode you just like this morning, huh? Did she bounce on it like this?” She demonstrated with a particularly hard drop that made me groan in agony-pleasure. “Did she take it this deep?”
“Yuna -”
“I bet her pussy isn’t as wet as mine though.” She was getting breathless now, chasing her own orgasm. “I bet she doesn’t get this sloppy. Wait, does she?”
All I could do was hold onto her waist for dear life, my fingers probably leaving bruises, as she used my oversensitive cock to get herself off. Her movements became more erratic, more desperate, her breath coming in short gasps.
“Fuck -” she whimpered. “Fuck, I’m - I’m gonna -”
And then she came. Hard.
Her entire body went rigid, her back arching like a bow, her pussy clamping down on my abused cock with industrial-grade suction - the kind Yeji bragged her Dyson had. She screamed - actually screamed -”Fuck - yes - Minho!” - her voice echoing off the villa walls.
Her orgasm seemed to last forever. Her walls spasmed around me in rhythmic pulses, her thighs shaking violently, her hands clawing at my chest hard enough to leave marks. Wave after wave crashed through her, her whole body trembling, and I watched in awe as this confident, cocky siren completely fell apart on top of me.
Spoiled brat always gets what she wants, I thought to myself.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she eased up. Her movements slowed to a gentle rock, then a stop. We were both panting, covered in sweat and pool water and cum. She lifted herself slowly, carefully, and my cock slipped out with a wet, obscene squelch.
We both looked down at the aftermath. My cock was glistening with our mixed fluids, still twitching slightly. Her pussy was absolutely wrecked - swollen, red, gaping slightly - with thick ropes of my cum leaking out and dripping onto my stomach in heavy globs.
Impulsively, without thinking, I reached down. I dipped my fingers into the cream pooling at her entrance, gathering some on my fingertips, and brought them to her lips.
She locked eyes with me - those dark, intense eyes - and slowly, sensually, licked my fingers clean. Her tongue swirled around each digit, lapping up every drop of our combined fluids while maintaining that intense eye contact.
In that moment, something passed between us. Not love - we weren’t delusional - but something. A deep, unspoken understanding. A connection forged through the most intense, raw, animalistic fucking either of us had experienced in a long time. We were both naked, breathless, absolutely destroyed, covered in each other’s fluids, and for a brief moment, time stood still.
The world was quiet except for our breathing.
And then we heard it.
The villa door banging open. Then slamming shut.
“YO!” Ryujin’s voice boomed through the house, loud and unmistakable, echoing off the walls. “ANYONE HOME?”
Yuna and I froze instantly.
Our eyes locked, going wide with panic. We were still in the exact same position - her straddling me on the lounge chair, cum leaking from her pussy, my hands on her hips, both of us completely naked and covered in evidence.
The exact same position I’d found her in when I first caught her masturbating on this very chair.
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Author’s Note
That wraps the Yuna and Minho pool scene!
Fun fact: the original plan was to stop the whole story right here. This was just going to be a standalone smut one-shot (sun, chlorine, and reckless horniness). In fact, this stretch of the story was originally concieved as private gooning material without an actual plot in mind. Yuna gets her victory lap, Minho survives six rounds, the lounge chair barely holds together, and we fade to black.
But then I had this intrusive thought:
"Okay... but what if they got caught?"
Everything kind of spiraled out of control from there. Because if anyone was going to walk in at the absolute worst possible moment - kicking the door open and yelling "YO!" with zero shame - it had to be Ryujin, right? The whole vibe changes once she shows up, because the jealousy and the actual group dynamics suddenly matter, and Minho stops being just a convenient POV camera and turns into an actual guy trapped in the middle of their mess. A notoriously bratty dom just barged in, meaning Yuna isn't the only threat on the terrace anymore.
The rest of the saga basically grew wildly out of this one interruption. The rivalries, the feelings hiding under all the smut, the weirdly specific histories each girl gets - it all starts right here just because Ryujin couldn't be assed to knock.
So if this feels like a natural ending point, it technically is (or was). But it's also where the actual plot starts.
Thanks for surviving Yuna's first act of terrorism - I hope you enjoyed the unhinged, chlorine-soaked mess!
Now Ryujin is in the house, and everything is about to get so much worse.
I love your 10th member fics! I’m here to request for that :) which members do you think would cock block rai from being hit on, which ones doesn’t care, and which one would potentially be jealous 👀 THANK YOU AND KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK!!!
Honestly...I think all of them would cockblock you at some point, even unintentionally 😭 If we really had to dissect this, though...
✩ Wouldn't care: Fuma, Euijoo, Jo, and Harua.
The most sympathetic out of the group. None of these boys really care if you're getting hit on by a member of another group, because they're just happy to see you connecting with someone else. Harua in particular is very supportive; he's very nosy and wants to hover over your shoulder while you text the other idol! As long as you're safe, they're happy.
✩ Cockblockers: Kei, Taki, and Maki.
Yudai and Maki are just too protective of you. Yudai thinks you're too innocent for the scoundrels in the MusicBank dressing rooms, and Maki's just worried that these people won't really care about you and will break your heart. They don't want you hurt, and if that means appearing from around the corner while you're mid-conversation, or even glaring at the other idol from over your shoulder, they'll do it. Taki is completely unintentional. He's got the worst luck ever and always pops into the conversation when it's just getting flirty, or when you're getting handsy with another idol. Bless his heart. Kei is grateful for it, even if it's always an accident.
✩ Jealous: Nicholas, Yuma.
These kitties bite! Nekoz love to have your attention on them, so when you're being (*gasp*) hit on, especially by another man, they're immediately both on guard. Nico is quietly jealous, shooting looks at everyone else whenever you smile or laugh, but he's not going to say anything unless he feels like he has to. Yuma is the really jealous, switching between ultra-clingy and utterly avoidant faster than a gearshift. He knows it's petty and immature, but what else is he supposed to do when someone else is taking up all of your time?
I need the kpop!added member writers to COME BACK. Don’t let it all end. Give me your OC’s, reader fics, whatever. I just want to stay in that era and never leave…
࣪ ִֶָ☾. synposis: MAMA 2025 and the moment it all went blurry—the lights, the cheers, the confetti, the boys pulling her in like was gravity. five years together melted down into the one moment, where her first reaction was to look at her members—because she always does that—double-checks reality like it’s too good for her.
࣪ ִֶָ☾. timeline: 2025
࣪ ִֶָ☾. word count: 5k
࣪ ִֶָ☾. RAHHH!! I'm still celebrating as if I won the daesang 😭😭 writing this made me so emotional
࣪ ִֶָ☾. masterlist | ࣪ ִֶָ☾. wattpad
࣪the roar of the crowd faded behind them as they stepped off stage, the last echoes of their final chorus still vibrating through their bones. their performance had been the finale of the night—high-pressure, high-energy, the kind that left sweat dripping down their backs and adrenaline rattling in their teeth.
heran felt the exhaustion settle into her muscles only when the corridor swallowed them from the stage lights. staff brushed around them, touching up smudged makeup and tugging at rumpled blazers. her stylist swiped a thumb under her eye, muttering something about “almost perfect but not quite,” and then hurried off.
they made their way back to the artist seating area, all seven boys collapsing into their seats as if the chairs had been sent from God. heran sunk into her own seat with a long exhale, her pulse still racing, her hands still trembling faintly from the thrill of performing.
“bro, I cannot feel my legs,” sunoo groaned, fanning himself with both hands.
“then don’t move,” jay said. “you’ll break the illusion that we’re professionals.”
ni-ki leaned forward, staring up at the huge stage where the next presenter was setting up. “are we still live right now?”
“yes,” heeseung answered without looking. “so stop looking like you’re dying.”
“I am dying.”
“quietly,” heran murmured.
they snickered, but the laughter dissolved quickly into that quiet, heavy anticipation that settled over their section like fog. the daesangs were next. just two left—Song of the Year, and Global Fan Choice.
heran’s stomach tightened.
the final two.
the big ones.
the ones they’d been quietly, secretly hoping for since the moment they debuted.
they deserved it.
God, if anyone asked her, she would say it without hesitation: they deserved it.
five years together.
five years of building something from scratch and praying it mattered.
she took a slow breath and clasped her hands in her lap to stop their shaking.
jungwon noticed. he always did. he leaned slightly toward her. “you okay?”
“yeah,” she lied, eyes fixed on the stage. “just… thinking.”
jake was the one who exposed her. of course he was.
“live footage of three-time melon Song of the Year winner lee heran absolutely sweating over a fan daesang,” he said, leaning back in his seat like a man observing a wildlife documentary.
the others snorted.
heran turned toward him, unamused.
“you know this is different,” she said quietly.
and jake’s grin softened. just a little. because she was right, and he knew it.
her solo achievements were hers—but this? this was the first time she had the chance to win something like this with them. with the group who had become home without trying.
If they won, it wouldn’t be her name on the trophy.
It would be ENHYPEN.
she felt the weight of that more than she expected.
“they deserve this,” she murmured, almost to herself.
jungwon’s head turned. sunoo paused mid-fan flutter. ni-ki glanced sideways. It wasn’t loud, but they heard her. they always heard her.
“we all worked hard,” sunghoon said, shifting his tie. “ENGENEs did too.”
“yeah, but still,” heran whispered. “I just… I want this for us.”
heeseung exhaled through his nose, his bouncing knee betraying the calm expression he tried to wear. “same.”
jay leaned forward, clasping his hands. “we’ll see. whatever happens, we’re proud. right?”
they all nodded.
It should have calmed her, but the anxiety only curled deeper in her chest. the stage lights dimmed slightly as the next presenter walked out. a hush fell across the arena—one of those rare moments where thousands of people held their breath at once.
heran’s heart thudded hard enough to shake her ribs.
“relax,” jake murmured, nudging her foot with his. “we haven’t even lost yet.”
“I swear to god,” she hissed back.
he grinned.
the presenter raised the envelope for the first Daesang of the night.
heran swallowed.
her pulse roared in her ears.
they weren’t on stage anymore, but somehow this felt even more terrifying. because in a few seconds, everything could change.
the presenter lifted the card for Song of the Year, and the arena leaned in as if gravity suddenly tilted forward. on the giant screen behind the MC, the nominations began to cycle one by one, the music snippets echoing through the venue.
heran watched each title appear, nodding slowly, thoughtful.
It didn’t bother her—at least not in the way it used to. not in the way people assumed it did. she had made peace with this category long before she arrived here tonight.
but ni-ki, apparently, had not.
“I still can’t believe you didn’t get nominated,” he said under his breath, eyes locked on the screen like it personally wronged him.
correction—she did get nominated; but just for the wrong song. sure 'whiplash' was huge—caught international attention, started trends, and saved coachella. but it wasn't the one that deserved to be up there. not this year.
heran rolled her eyes so hard they nearly squeaked. “It’s okay. I won it at the KGMA’s. 'rebel heart' wasn’t meant for the charts. It was for the arts.”
jake snorted.
so did half the group.
because of course she said that.
sunoo leaned over, lowering his voice dramatically. “right, and yet it still was, you know… on the charts.” he paused meaningfully. “the top of all the charts.”
she shot him a look, but he only smiled innocently.
“exactly!” ni-ki exclaimed in a whisper, lightly gesturing at the screen like he was presenting a case in court. “so my hate towards the winner will be valid, right?”
he turned to the others for backup. jake nodded immediately. sunghoon raised a brow but nodded too. jay didn’t even look up—he just gave a subtle thumbs up like a dad approving chaos from across the room.
jungwon sighed. “please don’t hate anybody on camera.”
ni-ki put a hand over his heart. “I’ll be subtle.”
"you don’t know what that word means,” heeseung muttered.
the final nominee appeared on screen, the drumroll swelling, lights dimming further. the arena held its breath as the envelope was opened.
the presenter beamed.
“and the winner of Song of the Year… ‘APT’ by rosé and bruno mars!”
the crowd erupted.
the stage lights burst into gold.
a video played on the LED screen.
and ni-ki, god bless him, froze. “I think my eye just twitched.”
heran didn’t think twice—she smacked the back of his shoulder. “behave.”
he rubbed the spot with an exaggerated wince. “what? I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“that’s exactly why I hit you,” she whispered. “preventative measures.”
jake leaned forward, grinning at them both. “honestly, same. I think we all had a collective twitch.”
“mine was emotional,” sunoo added.
“mine was spiritual,” jay said.
“mine was physical,” heeseung admitted, stretching his leg like he’d taken actual damage.
the members fell into soft laughter—quiet enough not to be rude, loud enough to pull heran out of her spiraling nerves.
she glanced at ni-ki again. He still looked mildly betrayed by the universe. “hey,” she nudged him gently, “it’s a good song.”
“I know,” he grumbled. “that’s the problem.”
despite herself, she smiled.
the group straightened in their seats as the video of rosé's speech played. cameras passed over ENHYPEN, and their expressions shifted instantly—professional, polite, supportive. years of training compressing chaos into camera-friendly composure.
but between the poised smiles and straightened postures, their knees still bumped. their elbows touched. their fingers tapped anxiously on thighs. they felt the moment tightening again.
because the next award—the one after this—that was the one that mattered most to them tonight.
Global Fan Choice.
heran inhaled slowly, the air suddenly too thin. she tried to breathe, but the air felt like it had been filtered through three layers of panic and static electricity.
the applause for rosé was still rolling through the arena when she whispered, under her breath but not nearly quietly enough: “voting closed like an hour ago. I’m going to throw up.”
sunghoon didn’t even try to hide his wince. “please don’t."
jay patted her knee with an overly rehearsed optimism. “we’re fine. we’ll be fine. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” heran hissed. “we deserve this one. tthis was our year. If we don’t get this—”
“deep breaths,” heeseung murmured, though his leg was bouncing like it was trying to vibrate through the floor. “In and out. like meditation.”
“you don’t meditate,” jake said.
“I do when I’m stressed,” heeseung shot back, then added, “which is right now.”
ni-ki was hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped like a teenage boy forced into prayer during detention. “If we lose,” he muttered, “I’m moving to Fiji.”
“no you’re not,” jungwon said automatically, though his fingers kept dragging along his slacks—nervous, restless, betraying him.
sunoo, on the other hand, looked like he was already halfway to fainting. his eyes were big, glassy, lips pressed together so hard they’d turned white.
heran wasn’t doing much better.
she bowed her head slightly, hands intertwined so tightly her knuckles went pale. she hardly prayed—not this hard, not like this. but tonight? tonight she was bargaining with every higher power she knew. she was begging for certainty in a world determined to give her everything but.
this wasn’t vanity.
It wasn’t ego.
It wasn’t a trophy for a shelf.
this was a year’s worth of sweat and bruises and late-night breakdowns. a year of airports and rehearsal rooms and the world spinning too fast. a year when they found something again—momentum, hope, unity.
“this was our year,” she whispered, voice cracking just enough for jungwon to hear.
he nudged her knee gently. “then trust that everyone knows that too.”
before she could respond, the lights shifted—a spotlight sweeping across the stage.
the presenter returned with an envelope, smiling with the kind of suspense that made audiences want to riot.
“and now,” she said, “the Global Fan Choice Award…”
the arena went silent, a vacuum sealed around their row. heran held her breath. sunoo clutched heeseung’s sleeve. jake mouthed something that was probably a prayer or a threat. ni-ki stared straight ahead like he was waiting for a judge to read his sentence.
the presenter opened the envelope.
a pause.
a smile.
“…ENHYPEN!”
the world exploded.
heran didn’t even hear the scream she let out. she didn’t hear jake shouting “NO WAY!” or ni-ki yelling something in japanese or sunghoon standing up so fast that him and jay nearly toppled.
she only felt it—the sheer force of all seven of them lunging into each other at once. It wasn’t a neat hug. It was chaos—arms everywhere, heads bumping, sunoo sobbing directly into jay’s shoulder.
jungwon grabbed her tightly with one arm and ni-ki with the other.
jake yelled something incoherent in her ear.
sunghoon kept saying, “we did it—we actually did it—”
heeseung was laughing like he’d been holding it in for months.
heran’s hands shook so hard she had to grip jungwon’s blazer to stay steady.
they didn’t want to let go. they could’ve stayed in that messy, tangled embrace forever.
but the stage lights beckoned, so they broke apart reluctantly.
as soon as they straightened, the boys moved without thinking—jake and sunghoon shifting aside, jay gently guiding her forward with a hand at her elbow, heeseung gesturing for her to walk ahead.
she hated walking first. tonight she didn’t. she held her head high, swallowing the wobble in her breath as they stepped into the aisle.
jungwon reached the presenter first and was handed the trophy—his fingers trembling around the gold, his smile wide but trembling. behind him, sunoo was openly crying, wiping his eyes with one hand while still applauding like a proud mom at a school recital.
heran inhaled sharply, blinking hard, trying so desperately to remain professional under the flood of cameras and lights and a cathedral of cheering fans.
this was it.
this was theirs.
and as she walked up onto the stage, heart hammering, she suddenly felt it—the universe wasn’t just listening tonight. It was answering.
they lined up automatically—muscle memory from years of training—but tonight it felt different. tonight, every movement carried weight.
jungwon held the trophy with both hands, the gold catching the lights as if it were glowing from within. jake stood tall beside him, one hand still brushing away the last of his own shock. jay, sunghoon, heeseung, sunoo, and ni-ki fanned out smoothly, leaving the middle spot open for their leader.
heran took her place between sunoo and ni-ki, her heart still thudding from the chaos of the moment. sunoo sniffed loudly beside her, and she couldn’t help the soft laugh that slipped out as she nudged him gently.
“you’re leaking,” she whispered.
sunoo wiped his face aggressively. “I know. don’t look at me.”
she squeezed his arm. “I’m not looking.”
he sniffled again, instantly ruining the moment.
the MC gave jungwon the green light to start his speech. and he didn’t hesitate. “ENGENES!!!!”
the arena detonated.
the roar slammed into them like a wave, loud enough that heran felt it vibrate all the way through her ribs. jungwon laughed a little breathlessly as the cheers rumbled back down, and the sound of it—giddy and disbelieving—made her chest ache.
“this…” he tightened his grip on the trophy. “this means so much to us. more than we can ever say.”
the members listened closely, their expressions softening—each of them wearing some variation of awe, relief, disbelief.
heran glanced at jungwon, expecting him to continue with his usual composed, steady tone.
but then—his voice cracked.
just once.
barely a tremor.
but she heard it like a glass breaking.
her breath caught. because jungwon never cried. not on camera. not on stage. not in public. he saved it for quiet places, for narrow hallways at 3 a.m., for her shoulder when nobody else was awake.
and hearing him crack now—while smiling, while clutching the award like it was both fragile and sacred—hit her so hard her knees almost buckled.
sunoo reached for another tissue. ni-ki blinked rapidly, pretending he wasn’t emotional. heeseung covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking.
jungwon cleared his throat and pushed on. “ENGENES… thank you for giving us this moment. for believing in us this year. we worked so hard, and you—” his breath trembled again. “you made it worth everything.”
the crowd roared. somewhere in the front section, someone was already screaming his name.
heran’s hands curled into fists at her sides. she wanted so badly to reach for him—grab his hand, rub his back, steady him. but cameras were everywhere, thousands of eyes locked on them. she bit the inside of her cheek, holding the line between idol and girlfriend with painful precision.
jungwon finished his part with a bow of his head and a trembling smile. then he stepped back for jay.
jay started smoothly, launching into his thank-yous with his usual eloquence. he always balanced jungwon’s emotion with calm clarity, and tonight was no different.
as he began speaking, jungwon drifted sideways to stand next to heran. he kept his eyes down, wiping under them quickly with the back of his hand—hoping the cameras didn’t catch it.
she angled her body just slightly toward him, giving him enough space to compose himself while still shielding him from the direct glare of the audience.
he gave her a tiny smile. a brave one. a practiced one.
the kind that tried to say I’m okay even though he wasn’t.
heran reached out and placed a gentle hand on his back—slow, grounding, careful. and that was all it took.
he exhaled sharply.
his shoulders dropped.
and then he stepped into her—just an inch, just enough that his forehead brushed her temple, just enough that his hands gripped her forearm, just enough that the composure snapped completely.
he broke. It was quiet and soft, but undeniable.
heran caught him instantly, her other hand coming up to brace his arm, her body angled subtly to block the view. It was a careful, practiced choreography—comfort disguised as stage presence.
jungwon inhaled shakily against her shoulder, trying to keep silent, trying not to shake.
she whispered without moving her lips too much, “you did well. you always do.”
he nodded, swallowing hard, tears slipping down before he could stop them.
on the other side of the line, heeseung was blinking too rapidly to hide anything. sunoo was pretending to air out his face with his hands. jake had the most unhelpful watery grin in history.
jay continued speaking smoothly, unaware—or pretending to be unaware—of the tiny storm happening behind him. sunghoon subtly shifted his posture, creating a visual buffer between the two and the nearest camera.
It was teamwork born from years of knowing each other’s limits and tells.
heran held jungwon steady as he forced one more deep breath, straightened his posture, and nudged her softly to signal he was okay enough to stand on his own.
but the imprint of his weight lingered.
and as the applause rose again for jay’s speech, she realised:
this moment—this exact crack, this exact collapse—was the one she would remember forever.
and she kept her hand braced gently against jungwon's back even as the other members took turns with the mic. It wasn’t obvious—nothing dramatic, nothing that would be caught by a careless camera sweep—but it was steady.
sunghoon spoke next, voice warm but tight. then heeeseung followed, blinking rapidly between sentences. ni-ki cracked a joke through his own watery voice that made the crowd cheer.
the longer she listened, the more heran felt her throat close.
her chest tightened with a slow, familiar ache—the kind that came right before she cried. and she knew she wasn't going last.
which meant she had no choice but to get herself together.
heran breathed in slowly through her nose, fixing her posture, relaxing her jaw. she blinked up at the lights, pretending they weren’t what made her eyes sting.
you’re fine. you’re okay.
five years. five years to get here.
but when ni-ki finished his speech, when she stepped forward in front of the mic—the roar hit her like a full-body wave.
the crowd didn’t just cheer. they screamed.
high-pitched. wild. Immediate.
the kind of reaction she still wasn’t used to, even after half a decade.
It made her laugh—breathless, overwhelmed, teetering on the edge of tears again. she wiped at her eyes quickly with the sleeve of her stage outfit, muttering, “oh god—sorry,” even though nobody could hear her yet.
“uh—” she laughed again, switching instinctively to English. “uhm… my mind just went blank.”
the crowd screamed louder.
someone shouted her name.
she had fans sobbing already, which did not help her emotional stability in the slightest.
she exhaled shakily. "this is… this is crazy.”
behind her, she could feel the boys smiling. sunoo patted her arm encouragingly. to be honest, the only thing keeping her stable was seeing ni-ki bouncing on his heels out the corner of eye.
she steadied her breath—and her voice softened.
“the last five years for us…” she paused, swallowing, “…have been nothing but ups and downs. a lot of learning. a lot of growing. a lot of moments where we wondered if we were doing enough, if we were giving enough.”
jay nodded behind her.
jake hummed quietly in agreement.
“and jake made a joke earlier,” she continued, voice trembling just a little, “about me stressing over this award—even though I’ve won others.” she shot him a playful glare and he mouthed facts with hands raised.
the crowd laughed. she breathed.
“and I told him that this one means more.” her voice wavered. “so much more." she blinked hard, trying to keep the tears at bay, but her vision blurred anyway.
“there’s nothing I’ve wanted more than winning a daesang with my group. as a soloist… it’s an honor. It’s special. but this?” she pressed a hand to her chest without thinking. “this was something I wanted with them. with the seven boys I debuted with. with the people who saw every version of me.”
she paused—and she heard sunoo sniff softly beside her. he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.
heran smiled through the tears slipping down her cheeks.
“we’re all… so overwhelmed right now.” soft laughter rippled through the group behind her. “we really are. and I just want to say thank you. to ENGENES—for putting in the effort, for your love, your passion, your endless support. this award is just as much yours as it is ours. probably more, honestly.”
the crowd screamed again.
she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m so grateful to everyone who helped us get here—staff, producers, dancers… our families.” she hesitated, voice thinning. “…my members.”
they all turned toward her at once.
“and I’m so proud of them,” she whispered. “because they deserve this. every single one of them deserves this moment.”
jake reached out and squeezed her wrist—subtle, but just enough to keep her at bay.
heran inhaled, steady but trembling. “we’re going to continue to put out music next year,” she said with more strength, “and do everything we can to show everyone how grateful we are. we’re going to work hard—and with passion, and with love in our hearts.”
the arena erupted.
but she didn’t even make it to the last sentence before her voice cracked—loud enough that the mic caught it, clear enough that the whole arena reacted with one collective awwhh that only made it worse.
she tried to laugh it off, but it came out watery. her eyes were already glossed over; now they overflowed completely, tears slipping down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them. she let out a tiny, embarrassed groan and hid her face with her hand for a second.
the members behind her all flinched in sympathy. and that was all it took for jungwon to move.
he stepped forward from the line—not hesitating, not thinking about camera angles, not thinking about the live broadcast. he just went straight to her, slipping one arm around her shoulders and tugging her into his side, leaning towards the mic.
the crowd screamed.
the boys laughed.
heran buried her face in his shoulder because now she was definitely crying.
jungwon laughed into the mic, still holding her close. “okay—” he sniffed, his tear-soaked voice already making sunoo choke out another sob, “we need to get her offstage.”
even the industry seniors laughed at that.
heran hit his chest lightly, still crying, still smiling. but he only hugged her tighter, shaking with a quiet laugh of his own. his eyes were glossy again, but he didn’t bother hiding it.
“thank you, ENGENES!” he shouted brightly, though his voice cracked halfway through and he winced. the audience collectively melted. “we love you! please get home safely!”
the boys joined in with the final chorus of goodbyes—waving, bowing, forming hearts, ni-ki nearly tripping into sunghoon because he was wiping his eyes too aggressively.
and then, as soon as they turned away from the microphones, it hit them all at once.
the high.
the realisation.
the we actually just did that.
they made it down the stairs of the stage with semi-professional composure. but the second they stepped into the pit—out of camera view—it was over.
jay broke first with a full-body exhale, head tipping back as tears spilled down his face.
sunoo launched himself at heeseung, who caught him with both arms and immediately started crying too.
ni-ki grabbed jake’s shirt and tugged him down into a rib-crushing hug, mumbling in a way that he was trying not to sob but failing miserably.
and jungwon—jungwon finally let go.
he turned toward heran, breath shaky, and before she could say anything he pulled her straight into his chest. no hesitation this time. no gentle side hug. he wrapped both arms around her and held her like everything inside him had been waiting for this release.
heran froze for half a second—then melted.
she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her forehead to his collarbone as her own tears restarted, stronger than before. his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair instinctively.
around them, the boys were a mess—laughing and crying, hugging the staff, hugging each other again, shouting things like:
“WE DID IT!!!”
“I CAN’T BREATHE—WHY ARE WE ALL CRYING—”
“SUNGHOON, ARE YOU CRYING?”
“NO.”
“he’s crying.”
heran pulled back just enough to look up at jungwon, cheeks flushed, mascara slightly smudged, eyes shining.
he laughed through his tears, thumb brushing the corner of her eye before he remembered himself and lowered his hand. but he didn’t let go of her waist.
“see?” he whispered. “told you we’d be okay.”
she shook her head, choking on a soft sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. “I didn’t believe you,” she whispered back.
“I know,” he said. “but that’s alright. I believed enough for both of us.”
behind them, sunghoon yelled something celebratory in a cracked voice, jay declared he needed “ten gallons of water,” and ni-ki announced loudly that he was going to “brag about this every day until I die.”
heran wiped her nose with her sleeve—classy—and leaned into jungwon’s shoulder again.
five years.
seven debutmates.
one daesang, finally theirs.
and in the chaotic, weeping, laughing pile of them backstage—
heran felt it fully for the first time: this was everything she wanted.
this wasn't just their fourth daesang of the year—this was the daesang, from the award show.
when she finally pulled back enough to see his face—nose pink, lashes damp, skin flushed from the adrenaline and crying. he was still smiling, but that smile had cracks in it, trembling at the edges.
she wiped under her eyes and sniffed, then frowned up at him with a tiny pout. “wait—no,” she said, pointing a finger at his chest. “I’m supposed to be comforting you. you were crying first.”
It was such a ridiculous thing to say, so heran, that jungwon barked out a laugh—wet and breathless, the sound of someone who had been holding everything in for far too long.
“sorry,” he said softly, even though he had nothing to apologise for. “I’ll… cry in the right order next time?”
she swatted his arm weakly. “shut up.”
but her smile softened, and her throat tightened again as she looked at him properly—really looked. jungwon, their leader. jungwon, who carried storms inside his chest and still shielded all of them from the rain.
“hey,” she whispered, tugging lightly at the front of his blazer so he’d meet her eyes again. “I’m so proud of you.”
his breath caught. just barely—but she heard it.
“this year was… it was hard on all of us,” she continued, voice softening into something raw. “but you… you had it the worst. there were days when the rest of us were falling apart, and somehow you still found a way to keep us together. to keep us moving.”
his eyes flickered down, as if the praise physically overwhelmed him.
“thank you for being our leader,” she said, and her voice broke. “for being our rock when we’re miserable. for scolding us when we start acting up. for loving us even when we make it impossible.”
he let out a helpless laugh at that, shoulders shaking as he tried to blink back fresh tears.
“we’re so grateful for what you do for us,” she whispered. “we’d be nothing without you. really. I mean it.”
his hands came up to cover his face for a moment, overwhelmed, wiping quickly like maybe he could hide how much her words were getting to him—but the tears still slipped through his fingers.
she smiled in that soft, teasing way she only used for him—equal parts affection and mischief.
“come here,” she murmured, hooking a finger into his sleeve. “they don’t need to see you cry.”
he laughed, sharp and broken and relieved—and then he gave up fighting it entirely.
he stepped right into her arms, burying his face in her shoulder as he wrapped both arms around her waist, holding her so tightly it almost knocked the breath out of her. his body trembled from the leftover adrenaline and emotion, and she cradled the back of his head, fingers running through his hair.
heran held him close, eyes slipping shut. “I’m so proud of you, baby,” she whispered against his ear.
his grip tightened—just for a second, just enough to say everything he couldn’t speak out loud yet.
jungwon let out this half-scoff, half-hiccup. “you’re gonna make it worse,” he mumbled, lips twitching, voice still thick. “If you keep talking like that I’m gonna actually break down and they’re gonna write articles about me sobbing like a toddler.”
heran snorted, actually snorted, cheeks blotchy from crying. “as if they don’t already have that drafted,” she teases, nudging his chin up so he’ll look at her. “ENHYPEN jungwon breaks down after member, and alleged best friend lee heran comforts him backstage. very dramatic. very clickbait. ten out of ten.”
he rolled his eyes but he was smiling—one of those watery, helpless smiles he only ever showed when he was too tired to pretend. “you’re unbearable,” he muttered, and then quieter, like he was scared the moment might shatter if he spoke too loudly: “I missed you so much this year.”
that one hit her right in the chest.
she froze. just for a beat. just long enough for the truth of it to hum between them—everything they didn’t say, everything they swallowed, everything they pretended didn’t hurt.
then she grabbed him by the shoulders. “hey,” she whispers. “I know. me too. we had a rough year of pretending to be okay.”
he huffed a laugh, shaky. “yeah. except you’re better at pretending than I am.”
“duh,” she said immediately, trying for lightness. “I’m the most emotionally repressed member. everybody knows this.”
he laughed—really laughed this time, head tilting back—before leaning forward and pressing his forehead to hers.
and then, softer: “I’m proud of you too, you know.”
she smiled.
“you think you're the only one who watches everyone and holds us together? You think we don’t see what you do?” he continued, voice steadying as he talks, conviction building. “you had one of the most insane year and didn't get a break, yet you still showed up. you give people strength without even noticing. you push yourself so hard it scares me sometimes. and you still… you still manage to be everyone’s safe place.”
heran blinked a few times too quickly. “you’re not supposed to say things that make me cry harder,” she protested weakly.
“too late,” he deadpanned, even as he thumbed a tear off her cheek with a gentleness that contradicted every joke. “you look like a raccoon.”
“wow,” she gasps, offended. “never comforting you again.”
but she was already tucking herself into his chest again, arms wrapping around him, his chin resting on her shoulder. he laughed into her hair—quiet, breathy, exhausted. then, muffled, he added, “I’m really happy we did this together.”
she squeezed him, so tightly he lets out a tiny squeak. “me too,” she murmured. “side by side, remember?”
he nodded against her shoulder.
“and,” he added, lifting his head just enough to meet her eyes, “for the record… baby? really? in public?”
she shrugged, unapologetic. “what? you cried first.”
he groaned, pulling her in again. "please stop talking."
and in the chaos around them—boys yelling, staff clapping, trophies clinking—heran and jungwon stood steady in the center of it all.
two people who had survived five years of noise, storms, growing pains, and victories—and loved each other through all of it.
synopsis : when a rookie idol greets jiwoo a little too warmly at an event, sunghoon snaps. what follows is a night of punishment that leaves her shaking. by the time he’s done, she won’t even remember the idols’ name
warnings: jealous!sunghoon, possessive!sunghoon, established relationship, explicit sexual content (smut), humiliation, orgasm denial/control, rough sex (consensual), manhandling, praise kink, dirty talk, biting
Award shows were always exhausting.
By the third hour, Jiwoo’s cheeks hurt from smiling, her feet hurt from standing and she was fairly certain she’d thanked at least fifty different people for things she could barely remember anymore. The venue buzzed with noise from every direction, staff members rushing around backstage, idols greeting each other, cameras catching every interaction whether you wanted them to or not. It was chaos, the kind of chaos she’d gotten used to.
After aespa’s performance, she’d finally managed to slip away from the main crowd for a few minutes. Not to exactly hide, just to breathe. The backstage corridors were still busy, but at least nobody was shoving microphones in her face, or so she’d thought. “Jiwoo!” She looked up at the sound of her name. A male idol she vaguely knew was walking towards her, smiling widely. They’d met before at music shows and year-end festivals. Not close friends, but friendly enough that she wasn’t surprised when he approached.
“Hi,” she greeted politely. “How have you been?” The conversation started normally, completely normal. They’re exchanged the usual questions about promotions and schedules, Jiwoo answered politely, occasionally glancing down the hallway where staff members continue to rush past. Then without wanting, he stepped forward and hugged her.
For a second, Jiwoo completely froze. Not because the hug lasted very long , it didn’t. Not because it was appropriate enough to cause a scene, it wasn’t. It was just unexpected. One moment they were walking, the next his arms were around her shoulders. The entire interaction probably lasted two seconds, maybe three, but it was enough. Enough for Jiwoo’s brain to short-circuit briefly, enough for several idols to glance over, enough for Sunghoon to see it.
Jiwoo didn’t realize he was there until she stepped back from the hug. The second she did, her eyes found him. Standing several feet away, completely still. The male idol continued talking, completely oblivious, Jiwoo wasn’t.
The shift in his expression was so slight most people would’ve missed it, but Jiwoo didn’t. His jaw tightened just a fraction, his gaze sharpening, and suddenly he wasn’t just standing there anymore, he was walking toward them. “Jiwoo,” he said when he reached her, voice calm, too calm. The male idol greeted him politely, stepping back a little, but Sunghoon didn’t even look at him. His focus stayed entirely on her. “Hi,” she said carefully, already sensing trouble. He glanced at the other idol, just briefly this time, before looking back at her. “Can I talk to you for a second?” There was something in his tone that made it less of a question and more of a decision already made. Jiwoo sighed softly but nodded anyway. “Yeah.”
They barely made it three steps down the hallway before she felt it, his hand brushing lightly against her wrist, guiding her just slightly out of the crowd and into a quieter corner near a dressing room door. Then he stopped. “So,” she said slowly, crossing her arms, “are you going to tell me what that was, or—” “No way,” Sunghoon cut in, finally looking at her properly. She blinked. “What?” “That guy,” he said, nodding faintly back toward where they’d come from. “You’re actually telling me I imagined that?”
Jiwoo stared at him for a second, then let out a quiet laugh before she could stop herself. That was the wrong move. “What are you laughing at?” His voice dropped a little. “I don’t think this is funny.” That only made her laugh harder for a second, mostly out of disbelief, before she shook her head. “Oh come on, you and I both knew what he was doing.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Sure you don’t.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Jiwoo.” That tone, she knew that tone all too well.
Still, she didn’t back down. Instead, she stepped a little closer, tilting her head up at him like she was studying him now instead of the situation. “You’re jealous.” “I’m not jealous.” “Yes, you are.” “No, I’m not.” “You literally pulled me away from a conversation.” “He was too close to you.” Jiwoo hummed softly, almost teasing now, watching him carefully. “So you are jealous.” Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, clearly trying to keep his composure, but it wasn’t working as well as he thought it was. “He was leaning in.” “He was talking.” “No, he was leaning in.” “That’s called speaking, Sunghoon.” He didn’t answer that.
Instead, he just looked at her for a long moment, like he was trying to decide whether he was annoyed or just done pretending he wasn’t affected. She stepped closer, until there was barely any space left between them, her voice dropping slightly. “You really don’t like it when I talk to other people, huh?” “I don’t like when people think they can—” He stopped himself mid-sentence, jaw tightening again. “Think they can what?” He looked away for half a second, then back at her, frustration mixing with something else entirely. “Nevermind.” Jiwoo raised an eyebrow. “No, finish your sentence.” Sunghoon exhaled again, slower this time, before he reached out and lightly caught her wrist. Not pulling, not forcing, just there, grounding. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” “Somewhere.” She blinked. “Woah, where are we going?” His grip shifted slightly, fingers tightening just enough to make his intention clear as he started walking. “The fuck home, that’s where we’re going.” Jiwoo let herself be pulled for a second before she laughed again, shaking her head as she followed him. “You’re really dramatic, you know that?” He didn’t look back, but his voice came steady. “You’re testing me.”
Before she could tease him again, he was already pulling out his phone. A few quick taps later, he slipped it back into his pocket. The cool evening air hit them as they stepped outside, and Jiwoo noticed that he was still quieter than usually. Normally, if they managed to steal time together after schedules, he’d be talking about something right now. Some random story from practice, a complaint about his members, a video he’d seen only that he’d insist on showing her. Tonight, none of that was happening.
Instead, he stood beside her with his hands shoved into his pockets, gaze fixed somewhere across the street while they waited for the taxi to arrive. Jiwoo tilted her head, he was still thinking about it. The realization sent another wave of heat through her, “You know,” she said carefully, “he wasn’t even my type.” Sunghoon turned slowly, the look he gave her was almost offended, “That isn’t helping.” She burst out laughing, the taxi pulled up a minute later.
Sunghoon opened the door first, waiting for her to climb inside before following after her. The space felt smaller than usual once the door shut behind them, the city lights outside painted shifting reflections across the windows as the driver pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic. For a while, neither of them spoke. Jiwoo settled into her seat, stealing occasional glances in his direction. Sunghoon just stared straight ahead, still annoyed, still thinking. Still replaying what he’d seen in the hallway, the realization was oddly endearing.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Jiwoo couldn’t take it anymore. She reached over, fingertips brushing his sleeve, “Hoon.” No response, his jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the window like the Seoul skyline had answers. She tugged harder, “Park Sunghoon.” That got his attention, he turned his head slowly, eyes dark, unreadable. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight.”
Jiwoo huffed, “You’re pouting over nothing—“ His hand shot out, catching her wrist, “Nothing?” His thumb traced circles over her pulse point. “You literally let him touch you, Jiwoo.” “It was one greeting hug—“ Sunghoon leaned in, close enough that his scent wrapped around her. “And if i hugged some actress like that?” Jiwoo’s lips parted, Oh, so that was the game. She tilted her chin up, stubborn, “I’d survive.” A slow smirk curled his lips, “Liar.”
The car hit a bump, pushing her closer. His free hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing possessive against the fabric of her dress, “You’d lose your fucking mind.” Jiwoo swallowed, fair point.
The second the dorm door clicked shut behind them, Sunghoon’s patience snapped. Jiwoo barely had time to gasp before his arm hooked around her waist, hauling her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. “Hoon!” She swatted at his back, legs kicking uselessly as he walked down the hall, “Put me down—” He didn’t.
The bedroom door slammed open, and then she was tumbling onto the mattress, the plush duvet doing little to soften the force of his grip. Sunghoon leaned over her, one knee sinking into the mattress beside her hip, caging her in. His gaze burned, no smirk, no teasing glint, just intent.
“Clothes off.” The command left no room for negotiation. Jiwoo’s breath hitched. She knew that tone, she knew what happened when she tested it, but she did so anyway. “Or what? You’ll make me?” “Try me.” His voice dropped, rough at the edges, “Or do you want me to ruin this pretty little outfit?” A shiver ran down her spine. Her fingers curled into the hem of her dress, slow and deliberate, just to watch his jaw tighten, “Maybe I do.” His laugh was dark, promising, “Bad choice.”
Jiwoo tugged the fabric up, just a little bit, just enough to tease and his patience snapped. His hand closed over hers, sliding the dress down her waist in one swift motion. The cool air hit her skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his glare raking over her. “Cute,” he muttered, thumb brushing the lace of her bra, just shy of where she wanted him. “Now the rest.”
She arched a brow, heart hammering, “Not even gonna help?” Sunghoon leaned down, his lips grazing her ear, “You wanted to play stubborn, so beg.” Jiwoo’s breath caught. Her hands flew to her dress, but he caught her wrist again, pinning it to the mattress. “Uh-uh. Words, baby.” She squirmed, but his grip was iron, “Sunghoon—” “Wrong answer,” his free hand trailed up her thigh, fingertips digging in just enough to sting. “Try again.” Jiwoo bit her lip, fine. “Please…”
The moment the word left her lips, he moved. Her dress was gone before she could blink, tossed somewhere across the room. His hands moved up her bare thighs, slowing just to watch the way her breath hitched when his thumbs brushed the edge of her panties. “Now, you remember how to behave?” He chucked, low and dark as he tipped her chin up with a finger. “You should’ve started with ‘please’ an hour ago, baby.”
Jiwoo arched under his touch, nails biting into his biceps, “You’re insufferable—” The rest of her protest dissolved into a gasp as Sunghoon’s lips grazed the sensitive spot beneath her jaw. “And you love it,” he murmured against her skin, his hands tightening on her hips. He wasn’t wrong.
His lips moved across her neck, trailing possessive nips. Her head fell back, a gasp escaping her parted lips. Each press of his lips ignited a fire under her skin, sparking at every point of contact. She fumbled at the hem of his shirt, desperate. “Take this off.” Sunghoon chuckled, hot against her skin. “Needy.” But he complied, shrugging off the fabric and tossing it aside with zero care, leaving his torso on display.
Jiwoo let out an involuntary whine at the sight, hands tracing the hard planes of his abs like she’d never get enough. He captured her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. “No touching.” His eyes burned. “Not yet.” She whined again, arching into his grip, but he held her in place with ease. “You’re gonna take what i give you.”
She squirmed, testing his grip. It didn’t budge. Sunghoon’s smirk widened, taking obvious pleasure in her helplessness. His free hand wandered, fingers grazing her skin like a brand. She shivered, heat pooling low in her stomach. “So pretty.” His voice dropped, graveled, and Jiwoo felt his words like a caress. “All laid out for me.”
His fingers traced patterns along her ribs, dipping just beneath the edge of her bra like he couldn’t decide whether to tease or claim. Jiwoo’s breath hitched, her hips arching off the mattress, unthinking, desperate, but he clicked his tongue, pressing her back down with that same infuriating smirk. “Told you.” His grip on her wrists tightened. “No touching.” She whimpered, nails digging into her own palms where he held them captive. “Sunghoon—”
“What?” His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, featherlight, cruel. “You thought I’d let you off easy after tonight?” Jiwoo’s protest dissolved into a gasp as his mouth replaced his hand, teeth grazing the lace covering her nipple. His chuckle vibrated against her skin. “That’s what I thought.”
The air between them crackled as he finally released her wrists, only to trail his fingertips down her arms in a mockery of tenderness. Jiwoo barely had time to catch her breath before his hands slid behind her back, unhooking her bra with practiced ease. “Still breathing, baby?” His voice was all rough edges as he tossed her bra aside, gaze darkening at the sight of her exposed chest.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body buzzing with anticipation. “Not if you keep— ah!” Her retort melted into a moan as his mouth found her right nipple, his tongue circling in slow deliberate strokes that had her fingers tangling in his hair. He pulled back just enough to smirk at her dazed expression. “Should’ve come up to me sooner.” His teeth scraped slightly against her sensitive flesh, making her jerk beneath him. “Could’ve avoided this whole… situation.”
Her breathless laugh turned into another gasp as his hand slipped close to her panties, the ones she specifically put on for him. “Situation?” She managed, arching into his touch. Sunghoon’s scoff sent heat pooling low in her belly. “Yeah, the one where i have to remind you…” His fingers danced dangerously close to where she needed him most. “…who you belong to.”
Sunghoon’s fingers hooked into the last scrap of fabric clinging to her hips, dragging it down just slow enough to make her thighs tremble. “There we go,” he murmured, discarding it with a flick of his wrist. His palm smoothed up her inner thigh, pausing just shy of where she ached. “Look at you. Already shaking for me.”
She bit back a whimper, fingers twisting in the sheets. “Sunghoon—” “Ah.” He tapped two fingers against her parted lips, smirk sharpening when her breath hitched. “You don’t get to rush me.” Leaning down, he nipped at the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck, tongue soothing the sting. “Not after you made me watch some bastard putting his hands on you.”
Her hips jerked up, seeking friction but he caught her waist, pinning her to the mattress. A single fingertip traced her folds, maddeningly light. “You’ll take what I give you, and right now?” He pressed in, just his fingertip, just enough to make her gasp. “I’m not giving you shit until you beg for it.” Jiwoo’s back arched, a broken sound escaping her throat. “Please—” “Louder.” His free hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back. “Let me hear how bad you want it.” The next words tore from her, raw and ragged. “Please, I need you—”
The second she begged, he gave her exactly what she asked fo, just not how she wanted it. His fingers sank into her with no warning, no mercy, crooking just to get a ragged moan from her throat. “This is what you needed, huh?” Sunghoon growled, watching her legs twitch with every ruthless thrust. “Couldn’t wait two fucking seconds without rubbing up on some rookie idol—” She choked on air, back arching off the bed. “I— I didn’t—”
“Liar.” He scissored his fingers, stretching her wider, drawing a sob from her chest. “You think I didn’t see the way he looked at you?” His free hand clutched her hip, holding her still as he fucked into her faster, deeper. “Think I won’t ruin you so good you forget his fucking name?” Her thighs spasmed, toes curling, close, too close, but Sunghoon pulled his fingers out with a filthy sound, grinning at her whimper of protest. “Nuh-uh.” He sucked his fingers slow, eyes locked on hers. “You don’t get to come until I’m buried so deep you’ll feel it tomorrow.”
Sunghoon didn’t break eye contact as he reached for the waistband of his trousers, fingers flexing like he was debating whether to shred the fabric outright. The air between them crackled, thick with the weight of every unsaid thing, the way he’d watched that idol’s hand linger on her waist, the way his jaw had locked when she laughed at some stupid joke. Jiwoo’s breath hitched as he tugged the material down just enough to reveal the sharp V of his hips, his arousal straining against his boxers. “Still think I’m overreacting baby?”
She swallowed hard. A single, deliberate push and the fabric pooled at his thighs, and fuck, the sight of him, fully hard and pissed off, sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. “Tell me,” he murmured, his voice rough, “you’ve been thinking about this all night.” Jiwoo’s pulse throbbed between her legs. Liar, his eyes taunted before she could answer. She barely had time to gasp before Sunghoon flipped her onto her stomach, one hand pinning her down by the base of her spine.
“Should’ve known,” he snarled against the damp skin of her shoulder, his other hand shoving his boxers down just enough to free himself. “Should’ve known you needed me to wreck you to get the point across.” She braced herself, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the way he split her open in one brutal thrust, making her cry out. Sunghoon didn’t stop. His hips snapped forward again, again, each stroke carving her apart on the thick length of him, his breath ragged in her ear. “This what you wanted? Huh?” His fingers dug into her hips hard enough to bruise, dragging her back onto him with a filthy slap of skin. “You feel owned now?”
Jiwoo’s vision whited out. Her legs shook violently, her walls clamping around him like a vice as she came but he wasn’t done. He hooked an bicep around her neck, hauling her upright against his chest, never slowing his punishing pace. “Look,” he gritted out, forcing her blurry gaze to the mirror across the room. “Look at how fucking ruined you are for me.”
And god, she was. Lips swollen, eyes glazed, hair disheveled. Her overal reflection was just wrecked.
“Good girl,” he breathed out, just before his teeth sank into her shoulder, his thrusts turning punishing again. Jiwoo shivered at the praise in his voice, her body aching for more. She could barely recognize the needy, trembling girl in the mirror, tethering on the edge of release. “So pretty,” he murmured, his hand trailing down her body, wandering over her trembling thighs. “All desperate just for me. You gonna give me what I want, pretty?”
Jiwoo's breath hitched at the command, her body clenching desperately around him. She was so close, so needy, but her words were little more than a pleading moan, "Please, Hoon—" “That's it," he growled, his grip on her hip like iron. "Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you coming around me." And his girl was never one to disappoint.
The second Jiwoo shattered, Sunghoon broke. His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as her walls clenched around him, too tight, too perfect, and a raw, guttural groan tore from his throat. His forehead dropped against her shoulder, fingers digging into her hips as he followed her over the edge, pulse after pulse, until they were both trembling and spent.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Then— "...Still think that rookie idol could've made you feel like this?"
It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a polite lunch.
You’d run into an old acquaintance from middle school, and though you hadn’t kept in touch, you agreed when the girl suggested catching up out of courtesy.
The both of you sat across from each other in a small, quiet, cafe; the hum of chatter around filling in the awkward silences.
At first, it was harmless - light talk about the food, the weather, a few nostalgic memories that you shared with her. But halfway through your plate of pasta, the questions started to shift.
“So…you’re still with Seventeen, right?” Sohye asked, stirring her drink idly.
You nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. Been a while now.”
“Wow, it must be so exciting. You guys are all so close, huh?”
“Mhm, we’re something along the lines of family,” you said without hesitation, though the back of your mind tensed at the tone.
Your body instinctively moved back when she leaned forward, voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “What’s Joshua like in real life? He seems so sweet on camera.”
You blinked, chuckling awkwardly. “He’s…exactly that. Sweet.”
“And Mingyu? He’s handsome in person too, right?”
“Mm,” you replied flatly, stabbing at your food now.
“Actually…” Sohye’s smile turned coy. “I’ve always been really curious about Wonwoo. You’re close to him, right? What’s he like? Do you think he’d be…interested?”
That’s when the switch flipped.
Your stabbing had paused, opting to set your fork down slowly as you forced your lips into a polite smile.
But inside, your chest tightened with irritation, stomach twisting at the realization.
This wasn’t about catching up.
It wasn’t about friendship.
You were being used - as a bridge, as an inside connection to the people you considered your family.
It took every bone in your body not to stand up and take your leave there and then.
Instead, you pushed yourself to keep composure for the rest of the lunch, answering curtly and redirecting whenever the conversation veered toward the members.
But the second you said goodbye and walked out of the café, your facade cracked; fists balled at your sides, your steps sharp and quick.
.
By the time you reached the dorm, you shoved the door open with more force than necessary.
The members looked up in surprise from where they were sprawled across the living room.
“You’re back?” Seungkwan blinked. “What’s with the face? Did someone piss you off?”
You didn’t answer right away, dropping your bag on the cabinet with a thud. A sharp, protective urge had built up in your chest, impossible to ignore.
These were your boys. Not props. Not prizes for someone to scheme their way into.
Wonwoo raised a brow. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”
“Maybe I should,” you muttered darkly, collapsing onto the couch and pulling a pillow into your lap.
The storm brewing in your eyes was enough to make the members exchange glances. They knew that look - it was the same one that came out whenever anyone threatened or disrespected their team.
Hoshi tilted his head, half-joking, half-curious. “Should we be worried?”
The dorm was quiet for a beat, all eyes locked on you slouched on the couch with your arms crossed; scowl sharp enough to slice through the air.
Mingyu was the first to break the silence, plopping down beside you, leaning in with wide, curious eyes.
“Alright. Spill. Who do I have to fight?”
“No one,” you muttered, hugging the pillow tighter.
“Uh-huh,” Woozi drawled from the kitchen, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You don’t come back looking like that for ‘no one.’”
Seungkwan folded his arms, his tone sing-songy. “You can’t hide things from us~ We know you too well.”
You buried your face into the pillow with a groan. “It’s nothing. Just…someone annoying.”
Seungcheol’s head raised from across the room, tilting slightly. “Annoying how?” His voice was calm, but there was a curious edge beneath it.
Finally, you sat up, exasperation spilling out. “I had lunch with this girl I used to know, and the entire time she was just asking about you guys. Not me. Not how I’ve been. Just - ‘Oh, what’s Joshua like! Is he sweet? Is Mingyu really handsome? Wonwoo is totally my type!’” Your voice raised pitches higher, mocking her tone. “It was like I was her ticket to you. It was so fake. I hated it.”
The room went still for a moment, and then Dino slapped his thigh, laughing.
“Oh my god– you got jealous!”
“I was not jealous!?” Your cheeks flushed hot.
“You so were,” Jun teased, eyes glinting with mischief. “Our protective little guardian.”
“Stop!” You whined, burying your face again as laughter bubbled up around you.
But not all of them were laughing.
Joshua had leaned forward at some point, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was gentle, grounding. “Hey. Jokes aside… you know this won’t be the last time, right? People are always going to try to use you to get closer to us. Or use us to get closer to you. It sucks, but it’s part of the job.”
Seungcheol nodded, his expression serious. “You don’t have to carry that frustration alone. Next time, just tell us. We’ll handle it together.”
You peeked out from behind the pillow, your pout softening just a little. “I just…I don’t like it. You guys are my family. Not some prize for people to win over.”
For a moment, the members went quiet, touched by your words. Then Hoshi ruined it with a grin.
“Aww, our little cutie is so obsessed with us. Should we be flattered?”
“Maybe she’s the possessive one in the relationship,” Vernon added with a lazy smile.
“Oh my gosh,” you groaned, tossing the pillow at him while the whole room burst out laughing again.
But even with all the teasing, the concern lingering in the members’ eyes. They knew your protectiveness came from a place of love - and one thing was certain: you weren’t about to let anyone use you or your members like that ever again.
