Unseen, Untouchable, Unmade

[LIA'S POV]

Some things stop being beautiful the moment you try to keep them.

You convince yourself it's just for fun. A private joke, harmless entertainment. You tell yourself that breaking a moment down into pixels is a victimless crime as long as you're only watching. But the second you pull a living, breathing thing through a lens just to consume it at your own convenience, you aren't preserving a memory. You're taking a hostage.

Lia always told herself she was just preserving the chaos.

Minjun found her at the kitchen counter with her phone in a death grip and pressed a hand to the small of her back. He steered her toward the stairs while voices still bounced off the first-floor tile behind them.

They took the stairs in the dark. Minjun unzipped the big suitcase, hunting for the emergency Saeukkang, but his hand caught the heavy duffel instead. He dragged it over the zipper until something thudded against the floorboards and spread plastic and silicone everywhere.

Lia turned to find their toy bag emptied across the bedroom floor. The pink vibrator rolled under the dresser to buzz against the baseboard, while a bottle of lube landed sideways and spun to a stop. The silk blindfold they'd never used floated down right in the middle of the rug.

"Those are definitely crackers, jagiya," Lia said dryly.

Minjun dropped to his knees to pick everything up, killing the vibrator with a thumb press before tossing it back in the duffel. "Crackers are in the side pocket."

He dug the foil bag out of the outer pouch, gave up on the clean-up, and climbed onto the bed to rip it open.

She sat on the edge of the bed and ate three without tasting the salt. Her phone charged on the nightstand, holding the folder. Jeju D1 pool AM M/RJ+Y. 43.7GB. 6 clips. 142 minutes.

Minjun followed her gaze, already knowing what was on the device. "Are we dealing with that tonight?"

"Not right now." She didn't have it in her.

She got up and walked to the window, letting the quiet house settle around them as the pool filter hummed through the floor and a door clicked shut down the hall.

Lia pressed her forehead against the glass and looked down at the teal-lit water, where two silhouettes stood by the deep edge.

"Yeji and Minho are at the pool," she said.

The mattress creaked as Minjun lay back against the pillows with the cracker bag on his stomach. "Are they fighting too?"

"No. Just standing there." Minho faced the water with Yeji right behind him, her forehead pressed between his shoulder blades.

"What actually happened down there?" Minjun asked. "I only caught the screaming at the end."

"She picked a boy over a member." Lia watched Yeji's shoulders shake once, then twice. She was too far up to confirm tears, but the rhythm was wrong for breathing. "Yeji told her to back off. Ryujin went harder."

"Does she do that? Choose outside the group?"

"Never. They bicker like they breathe, but they don't fight. I've known her seven years. Never seen Yeji do what I just saw her do."

Minjun crunched a cracker. "You've seen her, like - with guys before, right?"

"Plenty." Lia kept her eyes on the glass.

Minjun waited, chewing in the dark, until she pointed with her chin. Below, Yeji stepped around Minho, her hand trailing along his ribs until she faced him. "She doesn't do this. She doesn't do the tender song and dance. The hold-me-together-or-I'll-fall-apart energy. That's never been her move."

"So what's -"

"Aggressive," Lia cut in flatly. "Intense. She fucks like she's training for ISAC." Knowing Yeji's psychotic scheduling, she probably justified it as cardio for the relay. Lia frowned. "This is - think she was crying just now. Into his back."

Minjun stopped chewing. "Yeji?"

"Yeah."

"Don't think I've ever actually seen her cry."

"Oh, she cries on stage when we win," Lia said, her voice dropping lower. "But never off-camera. When the label screams at us or the internet turns, she just goes completely numb and fixes it. She'll sing harder, dance harder, but never break. Haven't seen her break down since we were trainees."

Below them, Yeji tipped her head up and put her hands on his face.

"Are they about to kiss because they're in love," Minjun asked from the bed, "or because they're -"

Yeji grabbed his jaw and kissed him hard, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her whole body against him. They stayed like that.

Lia dropped her head against the glass. "Does it matter?"

Then Yeji broke the kiss, kept her forehead against his, and stepped backward off the edge to pull him in with her.

The splash shook the floor and sent foam everywhere before they came up gasping and laughing in the deep end.

The bedroom stayed quiet behind her except for the steady crunch of Saeukkang. Down in the teal water, Yeji splashed him, and he caught her wrist. They treaded water and talked, their voices too low to carry, but Yeji's laugh kept drifting up, bright and unguarded. She didn't look like the girl who used sex as competitive cardio. She looked like a normal twenty-four-year-old in a pool with a boy she'd kept hidden from the group's sexual Olympics for years.

"Are they swimming or making out?" Minjun finally asked around a mouthful of crackers.

"They were just talking," Lia said.

Down below, the splashing stopped. Yeji drifted closer, sliding her hands around his neck, and wrapped her legs around his hips while he got both hands under her thighs to hold them up.

"Wait. He's holding them both up," Lia said. "Treading water while she's wrapped around him. That's stupidly hard."

"So they're making out."

"Both. And -" Lia leaned closer to the glass. "Okay, she just pushed the bikini side-tie out of the way. Looks like they decided to stop talking and start fucking."

The crunching stopped. "In the POOL?"

"In the deep end," Lia corrected, watching the water churn. "Where neither of them can stand. It's insane."

"That's advanced." Minjun swallowed audibly in the quiet room. "How's the technique?"

Lia kept her eyes on the pool. "Do you want play-by-play or color commentary?"

"Both."

"Well, yesterday Ryujin and Yuna turned this deck into a bloodsport. They were screaming over tempo and fighting for who got him to finish inside them." She watched Yeji's hips roll slow in the teal water. "But he's holding her face with both hands. She's whispering into his neck."

"That's either very romantic or very specific instructions."

"Probably both, yeah."

"Still going?" Minjun asked, ten minutes later, scrunching up the empty Saeukkang bag and tossing it aside.

"Mhm."

The cracker bag rustled as it drifted toward the hardwood floor and the pool filter hummed, carrying Yeji's soft, gasping laughs up the wall.

Twenty minutes.

"Still going?" Minjun asked again.

"No. They stopped moving. She just has her arms wrapped around his neck and they're holding each other. Just floating."

"In the water?"

"Yeah."

Forty minutes became what must've been an hour.

Lia's phone sat on the windowsill the whole time, screen up, camera lens catching the teal glow. She reached for it once, fingers getting within a nail's length of the case before she caught herself and shoved both hands deep into her pockets.

Down below, Minho climbed out first and walked toward the outdoor shower while Yeji stayed in the water another minute, floating on her back with the white cover-up billowing around her in the teal glow.

Then Yeji pulled herself out of the pool, using the railing to haul herself up in one clean motion that bypassed the stairs. She stood on the deck for a three-count, hand on her hip, water streaming from the soaked white cover-up plastered to her brown bikini. Three steps toward the outdoor shower, she reached for the hem and peeled the wet fabric up her stomach, her ribs, the slow drag of it separating from skin. She dropped it on the tile without looking back.

Still in just the bikini, she paused at the shower entrance to lean one shoulder against the slatted frame, cocking her hip and holding the pose.

"She's doing the thing," Lia said.

"What thing?"

"The ending fairy pose. The shoulder lean. That's the DALLA DALLA shot she hits when the Inkigayo cameraman walks up on her." She watched Yeji push off the frame and step inside the cubicle. "She just weaponized it for one guy in a shower."

The shower turned on, its slatted door hiding nothing from up here. Shadows merged right before the heavy, wet crack of a body hit the tile.

"He just pinned her to the wall," Lia said. "Legs wrapped. That's round two."

Minjun let his head thump back against the headboard. "Shit."

Yeji's voice carried up from the shower, sharp and breathless: "Let them hear -"

Her breath caught. She'd spent years watching fancam compilations break her dancing down frame by frame while Pann and TheQoo threads ranked her body against her own members, every stumble timestamped and archived by strangers who'd never met her. Yeji chose this, and nobody had ever asked Lia.

The slapping echoed off every hard surface down there, with Yeji getting louder and louder until she came so hard the whole property heard it, followed by total silence.

The shower cut off.

Yeji stepped out and walked to where her discarded swimwear sat on the deck, bending straight at the waist with her legs apart and holding the stretch way longer than picking up a bikini bottom takes.

"Oh." Lia tapped a finger against the window frame. "She's showing off."

From up here, Lia could see everything with 4K fancam levels of clarity. His cum dripped down Yeji's inner thighs, thick and glossy, as she turned slow to give Minho the full view of the mess he'd left inside her. The pool glow lit up the whole mess like a neon sign.

She held the pose before scooping up her bikini bottom, straightening out, and spinning the wet fabric around her finger.

Lia had never seen Yeji let any guy cum inside her before, let alone show it off like this. It was a level of vulnerability and ownership that was completely foreign for her, and it made Lia's stomach twist in a way she for once couldn't quite articulate.

Who was this guy to deserve all that?

The bed stayed quiet until Lia glanced over her shoulder. "You're being very quiet over there."

"I'm processing, jagiya."

Then Minho walked out of the shower naked, scooped Yeji up, and started carrying her toward the villa. Yeji shrieked and reached down between them and grabbed his dick like the Line 2 subway handle.

"He's carrying her," Lia reported, turning back to the glass. "And she's using his dick as a handrail."

Minjun groaned. "I didn't need that image."

"You asked for play-by-play, jagiya."

Yeji kicked against his arms and grabbed his shoulder, laughing so hard she went silent with it as they hit the sliding glass door and disappeared inside.

The front door banged open below. Laughter bounced off the tile, followed by heavy footsteps taking the stairs until Yeji shrieked, cut off by a body hitting a mattress so hard the bedsprings groaned through the walls.

A bedroom door slammed, shaking the house once before it settled.

Minjun exhaled. "So. That's happening. Guess nobody's getting any sleep tonight."

Lia stayed at the window while the pool sat empty under its teal glow and the last ripples faded out. Above her, muffled laughter seeped through the ceiling - Yeji's voice, then his, too low to make out words. The laughing went on for a while, then stopped. Lia almost turned away from the window. Then a slow, rhythmic creak started up through the floorboards, joined by a sound so soft she might have imagined it - a moan or a breath, private enough that hearing it felt like an intrusion.

Someone moved by the sun loungers, and then a figure stepped into the pool light.

Ryujin.

The light hit her face hard, catching her sharp cheekbones and the dark hollows under her eyes while her jaw clamped tight enough to make the muscles stand out in her neck. So she'd been down there the whole time.

Ryujin tracked the wet footprints across the tile, all the way to the villa door. Then she looked up, straight at the only lit window in the house.

Lia stepped back from the glass.

"What?" Minjun asked. "What is it?"

Lia gripped the windowsill with white knuckles, holding onto the wood because the only other option was reaching for her phone.

Some things were better left unseen.

"Nothing," she said. "It's nothing."

[MINHO'S POV]

There's no graceful way to toss a girl onto a bed after she's just spent a flight of stairs using your cock as a subway handle, so I didn't bother trying. Either way, chucking a soaking wet Hwang Yeji onto a mattress is an objectively reckless act, but this weekend was proof of anything, it’s that I've always had a knack for the reckless stuff.

The mattress settled with a violent groan. I caught myself on my forearms at the last second, hovering over Yeji as she bounced once against the pillows. Her soaked hair fanned out across the expensive-looking cotton we were already actively ruining. She let out a sharp, cackling laugh, and I realized I could probably listen to that sound for the rest of my life.

Fuck, I loved that laugh.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," I managed back, acutely aware I was dripping chlorinated pool water onto her collarbone.

Somewhere between the deep end and the outdoor shower, the thing that had been crushing my chest for nearly two days had stopped crushing quite so hard. She'd looked at me in the pool with water in her lashes and said "you make me feel real" like it was the most obvious fact she'd ever stated, and something in me had exhaled for the first time all trip. She was warm, and real, and things made sense again, and the nightmare was over.

Wasn't it?

Anyway, I decided to be a complete asshole about it.

She wrapped her legs around the backs of my thighs like she fucking owned the bed, hooking around me the same way she had a thousand times over five years: arms locking behind my neck, hips tilting up, her wet pussy pressing warm and open against my cock with zero bullshit about what she wanted. I pulled back instead, hovering one agonizing inch above her to let the tip slide against her slickness without pushing in, and refused to give her a single fucking thing.

Her cat eyes went from warm to lethal in the span of a single blink, and I watched it happen with enormous, unearned satisfaction.

"Minho." She moaned, already wrecked from the shower. "Stop -"

"Stop what?"

"Stop being a dick and hovering there." She narrowed her eyes. "And hey - stop doing the aegyo thing with your eyes."

"I'm not doing an aegyo thing," I said, and just held her gaze, eyes wide and innocent, while she squirmed under me with my cock right there against her soaked cunt. "Besides, I've seen yours. Every time that guy makes you do the 'Ottoke' song on Weekly Idol, you look like someone's being held hostage."

The disgust on her face was deeply gratifying. We'd spent five years sitting naked on my couch eating cold ramyeon after those broadcasts while she scrolled through Naver comments and ranted about everyone who'd made her perform something she hated. Secret hookups weren't supposed to accumulate routines like that - post-show debriefs waiting for sweat to dry, opinions on which MC was the worst, her stealing my ramyeon because she'd claimed she wasn't hungry. But here we were.

"I fucking HATE that guy," she muttered.

"I know."

"He always ambushes me right after the performance section when I'm already sweaty and overstimulated and then the cameras are all right there and the shot is -" She drove her heels into my lower back mid-complaint, dragging me forward with the same brutal precision she used to hit center on every count, and the head of my cock sank into slick, wet heat before my brain had anything to say about it.

Her breath caught. Her eyes lit up. Her walls fluttered triumphantly around just the tip.

Then I locked my triceps and pulled straight back out.

The noise she made shouldn't have been as satisfying as it was.

"Excuse me," she huffed, squirming now in a way that was doing things to my willpower. "My aegyo is highly professional and everyone knows it."

"It's seriously terrifying."

"At least I don't weaponize it to cockblock someone." She stared up at me barely contained indignation. "And you do this EVERY SINGLE TIME, by the way."

"Do what every time?"

"This," she snapped, keeping her arms locked behind my neck but gesturing vaguely at the empty space between us with her free hand. "The hovering and the teasing and the whole song and dance. We were just in the pool. We were just fucking in the pool and then we were fucking in the shower and you were inside me exactly five minutes ago, and somehow we're back here doing the whole -" Her hips shifted restlessly. "Why?"

"Two minutes," I corrected.

She frowned. "What?"

"The stairs," I said, letting a slow, unapologetic smirk take over my face as I kept the tip brushing just barely against her slick entrance. "When I stumbled. You really expect me to believe you didn't tilt your hips on purpose?"

"I was losing my balance," she insisted, a violent flush hitting her cheeks to instantly betray her.

"I went balls to the wall, Yeji, and you giggled into my neck and crossed your ankles behind my back." I just stared her down, parting her wetness but refusing to sink in while she squirmed and tried to physically pull my waist deeper. "Admit it."

"I was trying to hold on -"

"You laughed," I said. I pressed the tip barely inside her, just enough to watch her eyes lose focus and her mouth go slightly open, and then I held still. "Into my neck. You giggled while it was happening. You liked it, didn't you?"

Her nails dug into my shoulders, her whole body engaged in a tug-of-war she was already severely losing as physical demand overtook her pride.

"Fine," she huffed, her ears burning red. "Yes. I moved. I wanted it. Happy? I've wanted it for the past hour and it's right there and if you could please, for once in your life, just -" She stopped and reassembled what was left of her dignity. "Please?"

I held still and widened my eyes innocently.

"Don't." She looked completely devastated and actively homicidal. "Don't do the sad puppy thing on top of the aegyo thing. That's even worse." She tried to physically haul me down but I braced against it, and she groaned with pure exasperation. "Yesterday morning, you did this EXACT thing. Made me beg for it while I had a Pilates class to get to."

"You loved it."

"I was LATE," she said, with real complaint now. "And you know I am NEVER late. Karina kept asking if I was okay all through the warm-up AND the cool-down because I couldn't concentrate. Do you know how embarrassing that is? It's the only reason she figured out you were here - if you hadn't been such a menace about the whole Pilates thing, she wouldn't have interrogated me in the sauna afterward, and then she wouldn't have set up the -"

She cut herself off.

Her hips went still for the first time all night, her mouth stayed open, and her grip on my neck went slack while I watched her rewind the last thirty seconds in real time.

My own brain caught up a moment later: no morning teasing meant no distracted class. No distracted class meant no interrogation. No interrogation meant no confession. No beach date.

No threesome.

I'd accidentally edged my way into a threesome with Karina.

My lips pulled into the slowest, most unearned grin of my life.

"Set up what?"

Her jaw went tight. "Don't."

"I'm just -"

"You don't get credit for that. You were just being difficult and you didn't KNOW that was going to happen." She tried to look at the ceiling instead of me, which she couldn't quite manage with her arms still locked behind my neck. "You were just being a dick."

"I'm a visionary," I declared, practically levitating with unearned pride.

What a pussy it'd been, too. So outrageously, catastrophically soft it'd inhaled me the second I pushed inside, and I got it - I finally got why certain producers kept ending up back in SM buildings on their days off and then wrote poetry about it. A fact Yeji would murder me in cold blood for if I ever said out loud, which I wouldn't, because I was many things but suicidal wasn't currently one of them.

"I was playing the long game," I added.

"You're an IDIOT." No heat in it, which was worse. Her thighs trembled against my hips, lip pushing out into a pout. "And you do this EVERY time. We've been fucking for over an hour, your cock is right there, I'm dripping on you right now, we both know how this ends, so can you please, for once, just -" She loosened her grip on my neck and dragged her fingers up into my hair instead, caressing my scalp. "Please?"

"Where's the fun -"

"The FUN is that we could be fucking right now instead of having this conversation." Her hips shifted, dragging her soaked entrance against my tip and nearly ending this very quickly. "Don't pretend you're not dying too. Your face is giving you away."

I pressed forward just enough to let the tip slip barely inside her. Her whole body jolted, walls fluttering with immediate, indignant demand, and then I pulled straight back out.

"I'm going to kill you," she said, and she sounded like she meant it.

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm being completely REASONABLE and this is torture and I don't know why I keep -" She twisted against me, her composure completely shot. "You heard what I told Karina last night! I stopped fucking other guys MONTHS ago for this! You're the absolute worst and I -"

I leaned down to kiss that frantic pulse point on her neck, fully intending to drag this out for at least another minute and make her break, and I made it approximately four seconds before her whole face changed.

The pout vanished. The frantic impatience dropped right off her face. Her jaw locked, and her eyes went dead-flat and completely ruthless. Anyone who thinks they can win a war of attrition against Hwang Yeji is a fucking idiot, myself included.

She doesn't break.

She just stops asking for permission and starts making executive decisions.

"Did I say please?"

She hooked her legs behind my thighs and yanked me in with one vicious pull, swallowing me to the root and burying me balls-deep in the wet mess I'd already left in her earlier. My smug grin disappeared into a breathless groan that was definitely also a laugh.

Her walls clenched around me, hot and tight and uninterested in giving me a moment to recover.

"And that," she breathed, looking enormously satisfied, "is why I never skip Pilates."

The irony nearly gave me a stroke. That morning class was what had kicked me out of the villa on day one, directly into Yuna's trap at the pool, lighting the match that burned down everything.

I shoved the thought under before it could fully form.

You just don't win physical battles against Hwang Yeji when she's made a decision; she had thighs built by ten thousand rehearsals and five years of practice using them on me.

"Well?" she demanded, her nails digging into my hips. "Are you going to fuck me or just hover there looking like you're about to ask Karina's God for forgiveness?"

"Actually -"

"NO," she cut in immediately, her hand coming up and covering my mouth.

"I know exactly what you're about to say," she continued, breathless but dead serious. "That God doesn't exist, that the theological implications are incoherent, and that invoking His judgment requires a belief system you fundamentally reject. Blah blah blah, I don't care. Just fuck me before I change my mind."

There were at least three things wrong with that sentence, starting with the fact that she'd memorized my atheist rant word-for-word, but before I could say any of them she clenched her soaked pussy around my shaft with such force my eyes crossed and my brain made a unilateral decision to shut the fuck up.

I started moving with slow, deep thrusts and let my brain wander in the spaces between them, which was a mistake I kept making and apparently had no interest in correcting.

"Ryujin said you changed," I said, pushing deeper on the last word. It'd been eating at me since the pool and I'd held it for about as long as I was capable of.

"I did change." She rolled her hips to meet the next thrust and pulled my face down until our foreheads nearly touched, her eyes sharp and defiant. "Because of you."

She spread her arms against the mattress and her fingers found mine, threading through and squeezing, and I shifted my weight onto one forearm and slid my free hand under her head, working my fingers into her damp hair.

Her eyes fluttered and rolled back. Then she pulled them back to me and kept going.

"We have the bonfire tomorrow," she said carefully. "Everyone together - Karina and her girls too. I'll pull Ryujin aside then. One campfire, some soju. She'll cry, I'll cry. That's how we work." A small smile crossed her mouth, but the edges of it trembled.

Right. The bonfire. What had started as Chaeryeong's innocent kdrama fantasy at lunch yesterday, apparently now responsible for holding the whole group together. Yeji was going to drag her fractured members around an open flame and fix them with her typical Type-A willpower, treating the wreckage of her friendships out there with that psychotic intensity she applied to her comeback schedule.

I dropped off my forearms, lowering my chest flush against hers and shifting the rhythm down to something agonizingly shallow, slow rotations that ground her clit against my base while her pussy lips dragged slick and swollen along my shaft with every tiny pull back and push in, the change pulling a low sound out of her throat and a sharp hiss out of mine. My hands came up to frame her face, thumbs smoothing over her damp cheekbones, and I leaned down until our lips were practically brushing.

She blinked as the brittle smile faltered. "What?"

"You don't cry," I said quietly.

"I -"

"You hate crying. You especially hate doing it in front of your members." I kept my voice soft and held the slow pace, my hips grinding through each rotation while she squirmed under me trying to tip me into something harder. "I know you better than that, Yeji."

Her nails dug hard into my lower back, hauling at my hips, but I held the pace and her frantic grip said everything her voice was trying to bury.

"Ryujin is on the terrace right now," I breathed against her neck.

"I know exactly where she is." Her hands shoved into my wet hair and dragged my face against her throat so she could hide in my skin, the collected leader in her voice finally cracking open. "I walked out on my best friend for you. I might have permanently -" She let out a shaky breath. "I don't know how to fix it right now."

My hips missed a stroke, and she caught it, her grip tightening in my hair like she was bracing.

She had no idea what I'd actually done.

You're clinging to the thing that broke you. And you don't even know it yet.

"Don't make me think about her right now," she whispered into my skin, her thighs locking around my waist hard enough to bruise. "Please. Make me forget it."

My hips snapped back into motion before my brain had any say in the matter. I abandoned every attempt at slow, driving deeper and accelerating into a pace that was wildly reckless. She unlocked her legs and let them fall open, arching up to meet the change in depth, and I dropped down until we were chest to chest.

Then she surprised me by extracting her hands from my hair. I hesitated for half a second, reading it wrong, and she brought both palms up to frame my jaw and redirected until my eyes locked with hers. The panic that had been in her face was gone, replaced by a sharpness that was just her.

"Hey," she said, breathless but carrying complete authority. "Look at me."

My hips stopped.

"Remember what I told you yesterday?" she asked, her thumbs pressing into my jaw. "After class. When I had my hand on your stomach."

I remembered. Yesterday, I'd enthusiastically taken that line as excellent dirty talk. Because apparently you could be fucking someone for five years and still be totally dense when they give you outright permission to stop hating yourself.

"Take what you want from me," she said quietly. She didn't sound like she was trying to turn me on this time, more like settling an argument. "I'm not made of glass. I never was. Stop making me beg you to take me."

She arched under me, her wetness sliding heavy against my cock.

"Stop holding back. You know I hate bad dick, Minho. I didn't blow up my life today only to get pity-fucked into the mattress tonight. If both of us are stuck in our own heads, you need to at least fuck me like you mean it."

That was all I needed.

Her next breath was knocked out of her as I dropped my ass and drove forward hard enough to slide the bed frame across the floorboards.

"YES -" The word punched out of her on a gasp.

Five years of muscle memory dedicated to keeping her comfortable evaporated. She locked her legs high around my waist and hauled my hips deeper with every stroke, meeting me with a strength that was absurd and hot enough to ruin me. She was still full from the pool, and I was driving it back into her with every thrust, catching glimpses of my shaft coated white each time I pulled back before her thighs dragged me home.

Six loads to her members yesterday. Only two to her. I'd been keeping the count without admitting I was keeping it, a quiet, psychotic little ledger running in the back of my mind.

Great strategy, Minho. Just pour the guilt out through your hips. Fill her up with your atonement. Very Catholic of you.

The headboard found the wall on the third thrust and kept going, slamming hard enough that plaster dust came off above us. If I couldn't fix what I'd broken outside this room, I could break something expensive inside it, and she'd asked me to start with her.

Her voice fragmented into high, stuttering gasps every time I bottomed out. "Fuck. Yes. Harder - don't you dare -"

I caught myself mid-thrust, hips locking. "Yeji, they're going to hear the wall -"

Her nails tore into my shoulders, dragging me deeper with a sharp cry. "Good." Her voice cracked on the next stroke. "Let them hear. I'm done hiding."

I drove back in, and she caught the hesitation and called it, same as always.

"Are you actually PACING yourself right now?" she gasped incredulously.

"Trying not to break you in half."

The laugh that shot out of her immediately dissolved into a ragged gasp as my hips snapped forward again. "Seriously? I bend for a living." Her eyes were challenging and certain. "Don't hold back."

The last thread of restraint snapped. "You're insane," I managed, half-laughing. "You're actually going to kill me."

"Then die properly," she said. "I'll make it worth it."

I pushed up off her, grabbed her hips with both hands, and started fucking her into the headboard, her tits bouncing with every drive and dark hair flying across the pillow while her legs clamped around my hips trying to pull me deeper, the nightmare and the guilt and the circle of faces I was trying not to see all hammering out through my hips.

Her commands blurred into something frantic and breathless looping against my neck.

"Minho. Oh fuck, Minho - exactly right there -"

Her nails guaranteed cuts and bruises by morning. The bed frame continued its march across the floor and I was shoving her up the mattress with every thrust and she was losing her grip.

"Minho - wait -" Her hands scrambled for purchase on my shoulders, slipping. "Ah - hold me down, I'm -"

But I was too far gone. Face in her neck, breath wrecked.

"I can't stop." The truth of it came out without any performance. I meant the physical drive, and I meant everything underneath it too, and we both knew it.

Her hands grabbed at my wet hair and held herself against the mattress. "Then don't," she breathed.

I broke.

My hips locked and I just started blowing thick, heavy ropes of cum deep into her, pumping another massive load into a wrecked pussy that was already soaked through and overflowing with my own mess. I dropped onto her chest like a stone, and the room went from earthquake to silence except me trying to remember how lungs worked. Her legs locked tight around my waist, her hips grinding up to catch every involuntary twitch while our slippery, sweat-slick stomachs slapped together with a wet, obscene, squelching noise that was completely ridiculous and easily the hottest thing I'd ever heard.

One, a quiet, stupid little voice in my head kept score. That cancels out Yuna putting her slutty mouth on show at the bottom of the pool.

"Give it all to me," she whispered fiercely against my ear, answering the math she didn't know I was running. "Every single bit of it."

There was a problem, though. She'd been right at the edge, and now that my hips had gone still she'd lost the drive she needed to tip over. Her body had been chasing that for the last several minutes and I'd just pulled the floor out from under her.

She started grinding against me, desperately working her hips to recreate the connection that wasn't there anymore. I was dead weight and she knew it, but she tried anyway, her breath going ragged with effort. A sharp, frustrated sound tore out of her when it wasn't enough.

"Don't stop," she said, and her voice cracked on it, the most un-idol sound she'd made all night, Hwang Yeji asking to be fucked harder with the same voice that sold out arenas. "I'm right there. Minho. Please."

I tried to pull free to relieve the pressure building in my spine, but her body fought me for every inch, walls still clamped stubbornly tight in angry little pulses that were actively trying to drag me back in to finish what I'd started.

"Where are you going?" She wailed, heels locking behind my back to trap me. "I'm right there, so close -"

"My back," I rasped against her collarbone. "My back is cramping."

Her legs dropped wide and her hands let go instantly, dropping everything the moment she heard I was hurting. I pulled back and my cock slipped free with a wet pop, the tight heat releasing all at once and the cold air hitting me. She stayed open for a second, red and swollen and slow to close, the wet sound of it obscene in the sudden quiet.

I rolled onto my side with a groan and took a breath.

She was already moving, shoving herself up onto her elbows and pressing two fingers hard against her clit, rubbing fast and furious while my mess cooled on her thighs, glaring absolute daggers at me across the pillows. I hooked both forearms under her thighs and dragged her back down toward me, hard enough that she yelped and her hand slipped, her hips landing at the edge of the bed with her legs over my shoulders. Her eyes went dark immediately.

"I'll make it up to you," I said, my voice still wrecked.

I got my mouth on her before she could argue about it.

The room hit me all at once - chlorine under sweat under sex, thick enough to taste before I even touched her. Her pussy was still swollen and open from me, the short, neatly trimmed hairs prickling against my face, my own cum slicking her inner thighs and pooling at her entrance. I pressed my mouth flat against her and her hips bucked up hard on contact, her fist twisting into my hair.

"You always loved seeing it leak, right?" she breathed, hauling my face harder against her until I was practically inhaling my own mess. "Eat it out of me. Fucking do it."

I drove two fingers inside her and they went in to the knuckle without resistance, her walls still loose and slick and scorching hot around me. I worked them hard while I locked my mouth over her clit, eating through the thick, obscene mix of both of us.

She lost her mind. "Minho," she sobbed out, her fists twisting violently in my hair. "MINHO. MINHO - FUCK, YES - "

Her dancer hips took over, thighs clamping around my ears and rolling up against my mouth to find the pressure she needed, and she dragged my face harder against her.

I kept my fingers buried deep and curled them hard while my tongue worked her clit, fast enough that her thighs started shaking against my ears. Every time she tried to pull away from the pressure, I hauled her back down and gave her more of it. The taste was filthy, hot salt and chlorine and both of us, and watching Hwang Yeji lose a fight against my mouth did dangerous things to my ego.

She came screaming, spine bowing off the mattress, thighs locking around my head hard enough to cut circulation while her walls crushed down around my fingers. I stayed through the oversensitivity, swallowing everything she gave me, the thick taste of both of us coating my tongue while her thighs shook and her nails dragged at my scalp.

She hauled me up by my hair. "Stop," she panted, chest heaving. "Minho, stop. I love it, but you're actually going to drown."

She hauled me up the mattress and crashed her mouth against mine, aggressive and messy, her tongue tasting herself off my lips while she made these small, pleased sounds low in her throat. Before I could settle myself she broke away.

"My turn," she breathed, pushing at my shoulder to roll me flat onto my back.

"Yeji - I just came." I gestured vaguely at my softening cock, which was making a valiant attempt at recovery but was nowhere near where she clearly needed it. "Give me a minute?"

"Nope." She glanced down at the situation with zero sympathy. "I can fix that."

"You can't just fix a dead -"

"Watch me," she declared with unflinching confidence.

She slid down my body, her hair dragging across my stomach, and settled between my thighs. She leaned in close, her lips barely brushing the tip. Locking her eyes dead onto mine in a lethal, unblinking cat-eyed stare, she breathed steady heat directly against the head.

"No Sana no life," she whispered.

My cock twitched against her mouth.

"What the FUCK was that," I managed.

She licked a slow, wet stripe up the underside, watching with enormous satisfaction as everything between my legs woke the hell up. "Sana-unnie taught me that years ago. She said every girl needs one trick that immediately works on guys who grew up jerking off to Cheer Up."

"Yeah, but you're not Sana," I deadpanned.

She gave me a look of pure, unfiltered murder. She usually looked like that before she destroyed someone in a dance battle.

"Oh?" she purred. "So you'd rather have Sana-unnie sucking your dick right now?"

Uh.

It was a trap. An absolute, catastrophic trap. Everyone in the industry knew Sana was TWICE's reigning cock-magnet. She might not have been the sluttiest or horniest - every group probably had a title contender on that front - but her nympho "skinship queen" reputation was easily the loudest in all of K-pop girl groups, a universally hot, perpetually available industry fluffer who treated sucking dick like a cheerful public service and left guys stammering for days. I was an idiot, but I still wasn't suicidal despite all the mind games, and Yeji asking that question with that expression obviously meant she was just waiting to see if I was stupid enough to admit I wouldn't mind finding out if she would just enthusiastically suck the soul out of my body.

"No?" I asked rhetorically, leaning hard into pure self-preservation just in the nick of time.

"Mm. Thought so." She smirked, her fingers wrapping securely around the cock she'd just resurrected. "Let's try this then. No Yeddeong no life. Repeat after me."

"...no Yeddeong no life."

"Good boy. Remember that."

She swung one leg over my chest and just kept climbing, dragging her wetness right up my torso until she was hovering over my face in reverse. My brain completely stalled. In five years of hooking up, we'd avoided 69-ing like the plague, mostly because Yeji usually treated sucking my cock like a toll booth she had to drive through to get to the actual fucking, and she absolutely hated giving up eye contact.

Now she was just straight-up mounting my face.

When I tried to prop myself up on my elbows out of sheer confusion, she shoved me flat, dropping her knees to pin my shoulders and smacking her soaking wet ass so hard against my face that it knocked my head straight back into the pillows.

She left a thick, sloppy racing stripe of her pussy juice and my own fresh cum painted directly across the bridge of my nose. I didn't even have a second to process the ridiculous indignity of it before she buried my face in the leaking mess of both of us, taking my cock straight to her throat in one single, brutal, continuous motion.

"L-look ah mhh," she ordered, her jaw forced wide open and her lips stretched so taut around my shaft that the words came out as a wet, filthy slur vibrating directly against my cock.

She forced her airway to accommodate my length while a low, muffled snort of air whistled through her nose, and I pushed back up into her with equal aggression, driving two fingers deep inside her wet heat and trapping her clit between my lips until the tight, deafening violence of the earlier round dissolved into the wet, echoing sounds of mouths sliding over flesh.

The contrast with the last ten minutes was almost funny. This was the quietest the room had been all night.

Her breath control was honestly unsettling. She'd spent years building throat endurance in our trainee era on my cock, a fact she brought up whenever she wanted to make me feel guilty for her career choices, and feeling her deploy it now with her throat swallowing me to the base while her lungs stayed regulated through her nose hit somewhere between pride and horror. No wonder she could belt the high notes in Tears at karaoke for ninety straight seconds without passing out. She'd literally trained her lungs for this on me for years. That was either the most romantic thing anyone had ever done or completely batshit, and I was in no position to judge with her throat doing what it was doing.

She came first, her thighs crushing around my ears and her walls seizing around my fingers, her moan trapped in her throat and vibrating directly through my shaft, nearly making me black out. Her hips bucked against my mouth and a hot, messy rush spilled across both my cheeks, down my jaw, into the pillow under my head. She tried to laugh around my cock and failed, the sound bubbling through her throat while her body kept jerking against my face, delighted with herself, with this, with the absolute mess she'd made on me. That laugh traveled down her throat and hit the base of my cock and nearly ended everything right there.

The moment her body sensed my thighs locking up, she cut it off. Pulled her mouth off with a messy, decisive smack and scrambled backward over my chest, mounting me in one seamless, dizzying continuous slide that sank her all the way down. The mess eliminated any resistance as her walls clamped hard around my base.

"My, my. Someone's excited." She leaned down until her damp hair curtained our faces, dropping her voice into a wicked purr against my lips. "Can't get enough, huh? Look how desperate you are."

I could only give a wrecked, helpless groan back to her.

And then she just sat there, both hands braced on my lower abs, bringing the whole thing to a dead fucking halt.

Fuck.

Of course. She was punishing me for earlier. Five years meant she knew every single motion that made my spine lock up, and she clamped her wet pussy tight around my base to grind out these agonizing, vicious little circles. She kept me trapped with enough heat to blur my vision but completely refused to stroke up and down to let me cum.

Yuna had pulled something similar yesterday in the pool when she kept yanking my cock away and physically blocking me until I begged, but that was just being locked out. This was infinitely worse. This was being locked in - Yeji buried balls-deep and sealing all the exits, using five years of knowing exactly where my breaking points were to wreck me.

I reached up blindly to grab her hips and force the pace into something I could survive, but she slapped my hands away before I made contact.

"No, you don't," she breathed, grinning down at me, cashing in that massive debt. "You had a great time using your little puppy dog eyes to make me beg earlier, huh? And you thought it was hilarious keeping me away when I was desperate, so we are going to do this my way." She rolled her hips in another slow, murderous circle that dismantled whatever remained of my pride. "My turn."

"Please," I heard myself say, and the word had absolutely no dignity left in it. "Yeji. I need - I'm -"

"Mmm?" She kept up the torturous micro-movements and tilted her head, considering me with enormous satisfaction.

I was making embarrassing sounds and had lost the ability to stop. The irony of this wasn't lost on me. I'd started this with minutes of cheeky denial and I was now being dismantled by the most competitive, ruthless girl I knew, and I couldn't even beg for mercy without her mocking me for it.

Mid-ride, her eyes locked on mine, she reached blindly toward the nightstand. Her fingers found the phone without looking, dragged it back, and unlocked it one-handed.

Ice hit my veins. Lia’s voice from behind that door slammed into me like a punch: “Every. Fucking. Second.” The footage. The knowledge that something existed - something I hadn’t seen, wanted to unsee, but couldn’t stop imagining. Me, Ryujin, Yuna, caught on someone’s phone, without permission.

Yeji aimed the camera down at me, grinning like she’d just won something. The panic cracked under the sheer absurdity of it.

Of course. This wasn’t surveillance. This was Yeji being Yeji - vain, competitive, and unselfconscious. She just wanted to look hot while she ruined me.

She started filming, checked the screen, and the wicked dominance in her expression immediately deflated. "Ugh," she groaned. "This shot makes my tits look completely flat. What the hell." She frowned at her chest and back at the screen. "It's not fair. Jimin has enough chest to suffocate someone from every possible view and from up here I look like a kid."

The tension broke into an exhausted laugh before I could stop it. Reaching up to cup both her bare tits, I squeezed the soft weight to feel them fitting into my palms. "They're perfect," I told her, meaning it. "You're perfect."

She glared suspiciously through the phone screen. "You spent half of Karina's dinner staring at her cleavage. Don't think I didn't notice." She pulled her hips up until only the head remained inside her, dragging my shaft through her slickness, before dropping back down to the hilt so hard it knocked the breath clean out of my lungs. "You're lucky my pussy still wants your dick after that."

Shit. I HAD been staring. But Karina's tits spilling out of that silk robe was impossible to ignore, and I wasn't stupid enough to admit that without an escape route.

"I was being polite," I tried, uselessly.

"You were being an absolute pervert." She was grinning, though, very much enjoying watching me squirm with a camera pointed at my face. "Every time she leaned forward to pour the wine, your eyes went straight down. So embarrassing. I was right there, you know."

"Okay, yes, I looked." I squeezed slightly harder, thumbs brushing over her nipples. "But I'm here right now. With you. Inside you. Filming with you, not her."

"Damn right you are," she murmured, adjusting her grip on the phone to make sure the lens caught my exact reaction. A wicked, satisfied smirk crossed her face as she looked down at me. She rolled her hips, forcing my cock even deeper into her tight heat. "Look how lucky you are."

"I'm not a fucking idiot. You think I'd rather be anywhere else?" I rasped, my hands tightening on her waist to catch her rhythm.

"Because she's not here," Yeji shot back instantly, though her free hand dropped to cover mine where it gripped her waist. "If Karina walked through that door right now, you'd forget how to breathe."

I laughed despite the dangerous territory. "I wouldn't."

"You totally would." She was fully committed now, the hand that had been covering mine leaving her waist to brace flat against my chest. "I'd have to explain to the paramedics that you stroked out over another girl's tits while I was the one riding you."

"Just tell them you fucked me to death. Much better for my pride."

"Where's the fun in that?" she retorted. But she was visibly fighting a smile.

I pulled her down until her breath hit my mouth, my thumbs pressing deep into the soft flesh spilling over my palms. "Listen. Karina IS hot. Obviously. I have eyes. But these are mine, Yeji. They fit my hands perfectly. Five years of knowing exactly where to touch you. You think I'd trade that?"

She bit her lip, the bratty energy faltering. "You're just saying that because I'm on top."

"I'm saying it because they're perfect." I dragged my thumbs heavily over her nipples, pinching hard enough to draw a sharp gasp out of her. "And because I know exactly what they do when I squeeze them."

And just like that, the bratty dominatrix act was gone. She let out a breathless, unguarded laugh, her whole face lighting up with that happiness she didn't give to the cameras. "Okay, fine. I'm definitely keeping you -"

Then she looked at the screen and cackled.

"Wow, we look absolutely INSANE - look at your face right now -"

She snapped right back to business, sitting straight up despite still bouncing on my cock with amusement. "Okay wait. We need a different view, this isn't working."

Before I could process what was happening she was already moving, lifting herself off me with a wet, decisive pop and turning around to settle back down in reverse cowgirl. "There. Now you can see more of me on camera, right?"

I fumbled with the phone she'd shoved into my hands. "I mean... kind of? But now I'm just filming your back."

"What? No." She craned her neck aggressively to check the screen over her shoulder. "Tilt it more. Get my - no wait, that's just filming the ceiling."

"I'm trying! You're moving too much."

"I'm not moving, you're just terrible at this." She tried to sound annoyed, but the laugh completely ruined it. "Honestly, maybe I should start fucking cinematographers instead. Like the guy who did our Wannabe shoot. I know Ryujin still has him on speed dial." She slapped my thigh, bearing down hard against my hips. "Whatever. Just shut up, point it at my ass, and let me ride. I'm RIGHT there -"

I shut up.

We gave that view maybe a dozen messy, bouncing thrusts before she abandoned it. "Okay no, this is stupid. Different position."

She yanked my arm around her waist and pulled me flush against her back. She hiked her top knee high over my hip, spreading her wet pussy bare for the lens, and thrust the phone out in front of us. I hooked my hand under her thigh to lock her wide open. "Okay," she breathed, hyper-focused on the tiny screen. "Push in. Nice and slow."

The words barely left her mouth before her free hand dove between us, clamped around my shaft, and yanked me inside her. Nice and slow had never once been a real part of Yeji's vocabulary.

We both watched the screen as my thick cock split her swollen lips wide open, sinking into her with a heavy, wet drag that made her head drop back against my shoulder. I started moving, and watching my cock disappear into her over and over nearly made me blow it right fucking there. It began as a performance, but the visual of my cock disappearing into her over and over hijacked us completely. I gripped her thigh hard, hauling her leg higher to keep her wide open while my hips hammered a reckless rhythm against her ass. The raw friction just took over and erased the rest of the room.

Then she opened her eyes to check the screen and her face scrunched.

"What's wrong with this light?" she demanded, killing the whole rhythm.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm serious." She shifted, dragging herself off me by an inch just to fix the phone. "The lamp is throwing weird shadows. My stomach looks weird. And your arm is completely covering us - move your hand, I want the camera to catch exactly how deep you're stretching me out."

"I'm inside you right now. How am I supposed to lean out of the shot?"

"Just arch your spine or something. Give the lens some clearance." She thumped the phone against my chest until I took it, and I propped it against a pillow, where it slid immediately and fell face-down on the mattress.

We both stared at it.

Then we both started cracking up.

"We're so bad at this," she managed between giggles.

"Objectively terrible," I agreed, retrieving the phone.

"No okay, okay - I have an idea. Give me the phone."

We wrestled over it, still laughing, and in the chaos I grabbed her waist and pulled her back on top of me. She yelped, surprised, and the phone nearly went flying.

"You're going to break it!"

"You're going to drop it again!"

"I didn't drop it, it fell!"

"That's the exact same thing!"

She was laughing so hard she couldn't stay in character anymore. The whole production had devolved from sexy filming into complete disaster, and somewhere in the wreckage the last of the Lia-video tension just evaporated. Just us being stupid together again, comfortable enough to try and fail and laugh about it.

She wrestled the phone away and held it up triumphantly. "Okay. New plan. We're doing this properly."

"We just tried like four different -"

"Shh." She put a finger on my lips. "Trust me. I'm a professional."

"You're a professional idol, not a professional porn director."

"Same skill set." She grinned, turned back around to face me, straddled my hips, and aimed the phone down at my face with the energy of someone who had planned exactly what came next. "And here we have Minho," she said, like she was narrating some behind-the-scenes documentary, "giving it his absolute best effort despite having already come once tonight -"

I bucked my hips upward, hard, driving deep.

The narrator voice shattered into a real, sharp, breathless gasp. The phone wobbled dangerously.

"Oh, you want to play?" She recovered instantly, grinning as the comedy shifted back to something charged. She aimed the lens straight down at my shaft splitting her thick, swollen lips wide open, filming her wet cunt absolutely gobbling me up. She ground her hips down hard just to draw an embarrassing sound out of me. "Look how deep you are. Tell the camera how it feels."

"Yeji -"

"Say it." Her voice dropped into that cruel edge, laughter still behind her eyes. She shifted just enough to let me feel the exact depth she was withholding, her free hand tracing slowly up my jaw. "Where do you want to cum?"

The way she was playing me had to be illegal somewhere. "Inside you," I managed. "I want - Yeji, PLEASE, just put the phone down and let me -"

"Louder."

Another roll.

"Say it like you mean it."

I covered my eyes with my forearm. "I want to cum deep inside you. I want to -" She ground down just a hair harder and the words died in a wrecked groan. "I'm begging right now. I am on my knees -"

"Yah, you're on your back."

"Metaphorically on my knees. Yeji. PLEASE -"

She dropped flat against my chest, her free hand crawling slowly up my face and tracing my jaw, and brought her mouth right up to my ear. Her hips were still moving, still that same tiny, controlled, ruinous motion.

"Breed me," she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She'd complained about period cramps ruining her choreography years ago and casually mentioned getting an IUD so we wouldn't have to worry about condoms - practical, a convenient life hack that meant we'd never bothered with barriers. I'd always assumed whichever actors she took home from award show afterparties got the exact same access. But hearing her drop the practical excuses and flat-out demand I pump her full of cum destroyed the last of my self-control.

My hips launched upward involuntarily, chasing the release she'd been denying me for the last fifteen minutes.

Her hand shot between us.

Fingers clamped tight around the base of my cock, choking the orgasm off right as my body tried to release it. I shuddered underneath her, helpless and furious, my vision going static at the edges.

"I didn't say you could finish yet," she said softly, still pressed against my ear, still outrageously pleased with herself.

Then she tried to sit back up quickly to capture my destroyed expression on camera, moved too fast, her hand slipped on sweat, and the phone dropped directly onto my face.

"FUCK -"

She collapsed onto my chest laughing so hard she made no sound, the whole cruel dominatrix persona simply gone, and then: "Oh my god, babe, I'm so sorry -" trying to check my face while still laughing, her hands pressing to my nose, "- did that hurt, let me see, I didn't mean to -"

Her hips were still moving. She was apologizing and still grinding on me without stopping, like her lower body had opinions independent of her concern for my nose.

Babe. She said it in English. Not jagiya. Jagiya was for real couples. Jagiya was terrifying. "Babe" was just something cool girls said in Western pop songs, casual English she'd probably picked up from Julie or Giselle from that end-of-year Britney stage they were practicing for. Ironic coming from someone who hated studying English so much she once gave herself a nosebleed over it and happily let Lia do all the talking on US tours.

Then again, Lia had sat out their last one on hiatus. While trying not to burst, I wondered if Yeji had absorbed Western pet names out of pure survival instinct.

That made me start laughing too, despite the phone-to-face situation.

If this had been Yuna, she would have panicked about ruining the aesthetic. But Yeji just laughed, like it didn't matter.

That realization, combined with the word breed and the fifteen minutes of blue-balling I'd been enduring, tore straight through the last of my restraint.

I grabbed the phone out of her hand and flipped the camera to face her.

The second that lens turned in her direction, it happened - spine snapping straight, shoulders rolling back, chin lifting. Years of idol conditioning taking over in a heartbeat. She went from laughing disaster to performance mode so fast it was slightly scary.

She sat up tall, arched her back, and swept her damp hair over one shoulder. Her eyes went heavy-lidded as she stared into the lens and started riding me, basically directing herself, tilting her hips on pure idol instinct to flatter the shot. She knew exactly how devastating she looked, and was putting on the filthiest fancam of all time for my personal collection.

I gripped her waist with my free hand and drove my hips up to meet her. "Damn. Look at you."

"You like that?" She was staring dead into the lens but the question was all for me. She sank all the way down, rolling through it, and her hips were doing things to my ability to form sentences. "You like watching me ride you, babe?"

She knew exactly what she was doing saying babe this time, pushing the word right into the microphone while her wet walls crushed down around me, and the sheer filthy reality of it dismantled whatever I had left. I unloaded deep inside her, the phone capturing all of it: the broken groan tearing out of me, the violent arch of her spine, the shudder moving through both our bodies as she got exactly what she'd asked the camera for.

Two, that quiet accountant in my head marked it down. For Yuna riding my sorry ass into the deck chair while she compared me to every other guy she'd fucked that week.

She collapsed forward against my chest, the phone slipping from her fingers face-down onto the soaked sheets, still recording audio, and I kept my hands heavy on her waist as I maintained a slow, winding rhythm just to feel the drag of it while we both leveled out. Three loads inside her now - pool, missionary sprint, this one. Every lazy thrust squeezed thick warmth back out of her, coating my shaft, soaking into the sheets below us for good.

We laid there in the humid wreckage, her hair plastered to my neck, the open window letting in warm Jeju night air that did nothing for the temperature in the room. Her lungs worked against mine. My hands were still on her waist.

Then she slowly lifted her head and found the phone, still recording against the pillows, and the exhausted satisfaction in her face sharpened pure, professional disapproval. She looked at the phone, then at my wrecked face, and decided the current shot didn't do the carnage justice.

"Let's get a wider shot," she said.

[LIA'S POV]

Two doors down, Yeji's cackle hit the wall first, followed by the heavy thud of bare feet landing on hardwood.

Moonlight banded across Minjun’s chest and left Lia entirely in shadow. Her sleep shirt was pushed up past her ribs and her panties were lost somewhere in the blankets. She never took the shirt off. Even in the dark, with a boyfriend she actually liked, knowing how her body looked next to the athletes down the hall meant the cotton stayed exactly where it was.

Minjun kept his weight on his forearms, giving her room to breathe while he fucked her. Slow in, slow out, the bed answering every push with a low wooden complaint. He'd been doing that for a while now, patient enough that it was either love or a diagnosable condition.

Having sex was an absurd way to process a group meltdown, but her hips rolled instinctively to catch his heavy downward thrust anyway.

Lia’s phone rested comfortably in her left hand. The screen lit the underside of her chin with a folder she'd named like a boring production asset.

Jeju D1 pool AM M/RJ+Y.

43.7GB. Six clips. 142 minutes.

The first thumbnail showed pool water blown white by sunlight. The second caught Yuna’s black bikini strap slipping off one shoulder. The third was Ryujin standing at the shower entrance, face cut in half by the slatted door. Good framing. Horrible behavior. Annoying combination.

She tapped the last clip and paused it before the audio could start. Minho stood alone on the pool deck in the frozen frame, wet hair hanging over his forehead, shoulders folded inward like his whole body had read the room before anyone else did.

From down the hall, Yeji let out a sharp, breathless cry, immediately ruined by her muffled voice yelling a complaint about the camera shot. The argument came messy and alive through the plaster, an entirely unchoreographed disaster, followed by Minho laughing like the phone in his hands was a toy instead of a weapon.

Lia’s free hand found the hem of her shirt and tugged it lower.

Minjun’s hips hitched. He saw the screen glow against her jaw, swallowed a tight groan, and pushed her thighs wider with his knee so he could sink in deeper. He'd been with her long enough to know the phone in her hand wasn't an insult. Usually, it was how she stayed present.

Tonight, it looked less cute.

"Is that the pool?" he asked, his mouth near her ear.

"Unfortunately."

He pulled back and pushed in again, slow enough that her toes curled into the sheet before she could stop them. "Why now?"

"Because it keeps being there."

The last clip stayed paused in her palm. Runtime 18:09. Resolution 4K. Date, time, location, subject, all neatly preserved. Every ugly little detail ready to be opened whenever she wanted, which had felt like ownership yesterday and felt like evidence tonight.

Yeji laughed again through the wall. Loud. Unguarded. A girl choosing the camera on her own terms while Lia lay under her boyfriend with the stolen version glowing in her hand.

Minjun’s chin brushed her cheek. "Do you want to watch it?"

Lia stared at the play triangle over Minho’s frozen chest.

"I don’t know what watching means anymore."

He didn't answer. Good man.

The bar was in hell, but still.

He kept fucking her, rolling his hips into her with a slow drag that made her thighs tighten despite the crisis ruining the ambience. Lia’s thumb hovered over the screen. One tap and the clip would keep going. One tap and the tiny dead eye in her hand would open again.

A massive thud shook the plaster between the rooms. Minjun grunted, catching himself on his elbows.

"They’re really going for it," he said dryly.

"Mhm."

"You’ve been quiet tonight."

"I’m always quiet while fucking."

"Not like this."

Lia didn’t answer. He didn’t push. He just kept fucking her while Yeji demolished the bedroom down the hall with a freedom Lia only knew how to document from a safe distance. Being the safe one, the observer who never lost control or screamed through a wall, kept her from becoming a problem anyone had to solve. It also meant lying half-dressed under her boyfriend while another girl sounded alive on the other side of the plaster got lonely in a stupid way.

Her thumb moved before she decided anything.

The screen went black.

For half a second, her own reflection stared back from the glass.

Then the noise next door cut out completely.

The frantic headboard banging died. The bedrooms went still.

And then a massive, violent crash shook the plaster, hard enough to rattle the picture frames.

For the first time since Minjun had pinned her to the mattress, Lia lowered her phone and looked at the wall.

[MINHO'S POV]

"Is that all you got?" Yeji snarled, and slammed me backward into the plaster so hard that dust shook loose from the crown molding.

She grabbed my hips, blindly yanked my shaft straight back into her sopping pussy, and relentlessly forced three rough, deep strokes of standing sex before I could even catch my breath.

"Not even fucking close." I grabbed her bare shoulders in response, braced a hand behind her head to protect her skull, and violently reversed our positions, pulling out of her to pin her back against the exact same wall. The impact knocked a surprised, breathless "mhh" out of her.

"My turn -"

I crushed my mouth over her tit, the only soft thing on a body built like a weapon. Dragging a heavy tongue across the firm curve of her breast, I caught that thick, dark nipple in my teeth and bit down until her spine unstuck from the plaster with a sharp cry.

One hand dropped straight to her soaking wet cunt. Two fingers sank all the way in, scooping out the slick, cooling mess from the last three times I'd pumped her full tonight and smearing it right back over her swollen clit.

"Ah - fuck," she gasped, squirming against the plaster, before her competitive streak flared. "Stop playing with your fingers and give me the real thing already." She swatted my hand away, grabbed my shaft in a fist, and yanked it toward her wet hole so hard she nearly ripped my fucking foreskin off.

"OW! Stop pulling," I hissed in absolute panic, wrestling her grip off my cock before she caused permanent damage.

I grabbed myself and tried to shove it inside her just as she shoved her hips forward to meet me.

But we were both too messy, too slick with sweat and my previous loads.

The tip slipped right past her wet lips to jam hard against her thigh. We lost our balance and my body collapsed forward to crush her against the wall as our noses collided with a dull crack.

"Ow - fuck," she hissed, rubbing her nose. She looked down at the humiliating mess of soaked-through pussy juice and my previous cum painting my dick and her thigh, then back up at me with a lethal smirk. "We've fucked like thousands of times and you can't even get it in anymore?"

"You're too fucking wet," I shot back. "And you won't hold still."

"My God, do you need me to pull up a Sana fancam you can figure out how a dick works again?" she taunted, wiping a streak of my cum off her leg. "I bet your aim fixes itself instantly."

"Leave Karina's God out of it, and if it was Sana I'd just blow on the drywall."

"I hate you so much," she shrieked, actually trying to shove me backward. "I'm not letting you back inside me until you -"

I grabbed her jaw and crushed my mouth against hers, shutting her up.

She'd told me earlier to take what I wanted, but I didn't think she actually expected me to stop arguing and just override her.

She took half a second to process the pure physical hijack. Then the rigid tension dropped right out of her shoulders and her body gave up the fight, her mouth going soft and open under mine as her hands came up to thread deep into my damp hair.

She pulled back just enough to breathe. One hand dropped between us, wrapping around my cock to guide it past her wet lips, and we slid together in one long, heavy drag that made her throat catch.

I grabbed her hips and slammed forward, burying myself balls-deep against the wall. Her head cracked back against the plaster.

"Fuck -"

I pulled almost all the way out and drove straight back to the balls. Looking down, I watched my own spit and previous cum slicking my thick shaft as her greedy, dripping cunt sucked me whole. Every brutal thrust squeezed thick white mess out of her, the wet, obscene slapping sound echoing off the crown molding.

"Yes - fuck, yes -" she gasped against my mouth, her nails digging more half-moons into my shoulders. I was going to wake up looking like someone drew the whole fucking galaxy on my back with a box cutter, but as long as she stayed clamped around my dick I didn't give a shit.

I crushed my mouth over hers, swallowing her groans. Her tongue shoved past my teeth, mirroring the exact violent rhythm of my hips. She grabbed my ass with both hands, smashing her wet cunt dead-flush against my base to take the whole fucking thing.

My hips hammered a relentless pace, slamming her into the plaster hard enough that her bare tits bounced heavily, completely out of her control. She broke the kiss just to drag in air, her mouth falling open.

"Break me -" she commanded, wrapping her legs tighter around my waist.

"You're going to wake the whole fucking house," I grunted, slamming her backward into the drywall.

"I don't - ah - I don't care -"

I hooked a hand under her thigh, hauling her leg higher to bottom out all the way inside her, and she let out a sharp, broken shriek that went straight through the drywall. Her thick walls clamped down around my dick with brutal, practiced control, absolutely milking my shaft.

"Minho -"

Dust shook loose from the ceiling directly above us. Her sweaty back smeared against the paint. I drove my hips forward, relentlessly pounding into her sloppy heat, watching the mess bubble up between our bodies with every filthy slam.

"You feel so fucking good," I groaned against her neck, biting down on her collarbone.

"Yeah?" she gasped out, arching into the next brutal slam. "Then take it - fuck - take what you want from me -"

I took it. I reached under her thighs to lift her -

- and slammed her higher against the plaster, her ankles snapping behind my back in the dark before I'd even finished standing up.

"Remember dance class?" I rasped against her mouth, swallowing her messy, desperate breaths. "When I could barely lift you for thirty seconds?"

"You dropped me twice." She bit down on my lower lip hard enough to split the skin, shoving her tongue past my teeth.

"Not anymore." I slammed her against the plaster, burying my cock deep.

"You're welcome," she gasped out, taking absolute credit for the fact that I was currently ruining her against the drywall. She locked her ankles around my waist, buried her face in my neck, and bit down on my collarbone hard enough to leave teeth marks. I let slip a whine that sounded like I was the one getting fucked, which was embarrassing, so I drove my hips forward, pinning her flush to the drywall.

"Hit harder," she commanded into my skin.

I slammed forward, burying myself balls-deep. "We're gonna wake everyone -"

She gasped, her cunt squeezing around me. "You scared?"

In truth, this was the closest I've ever come to being scared of her.

"Not scared, I just -" I started.

"Ah - too pussy for my pussy, huh?" She clenched down around my cock, tight enough to threaten an early finish.

I groaned against her neck and drove harder, the plaster cracking behind her shoulders.

"I want them know whose cock is ruining me. HARDER."

The headboard was quiet now because we'd pivoted to renovating the actual villa. A framed print rattled off its hook three feet away, the glass shattering across the hardwood. Neither of us stopped or even looked down. My hips hammered a brutal rhythm, her body taking every slam and dragging me deeper until she came, that beautiful, overflowing cunt squeezing in quiet, sobbing spasms while the villa broke around us and I kept fucking her straight through it.

I let go and we dropped backward -

- my back slamming flat against the mattress, the bedsprings screeching under our weight as her thighs locked around my waist in the dark. Before she could grind down and boss the rhythm like she always did, I locked both hands down hard over her hipbones and drove my hips straight upward.

She gasped, her spine bowing as I slammed up balls-deep. I forced her to take the entire brutal impact, keeping my grip tight as I hammered up into her from the bottom, hijacking the performance she'd been ready to deploy.

Her hands floundered for purchase on my chest before she reached blindly between my legs, her fingers wrapping tight and heavy around my balls just to steady herself against the raw, fucking violent force of my thrusts.

"Ruin me," she cried out, her thighs going completely slack against my ribs to give up the fight.

We were going at it so hard I was seriously waiting for my dick to start smoking. The only thing keeping the raw, violent friction inside her tight walls from starting a fire was the fact that I'd already hosed her guts down with three loads of spunk like a deranged fireman.

Every bit of that bratty edge melted into pure sloppy heat. I kept pounding upward, punching the air out of her chest in a climbing, messy whine as she entirely lost control of her own body and absolutely loved it.

She took the absolute wrecking I gave her with her eyes rolled back in her head, her cunt flooding hot and slick all over my lower stomach in pure gratitude.

I hauled her off my cock and gripped her hips to roll her -

- face-down into the pillows, my palm already pinning the back of her neck before her hands had time to brace against the sheets.

This was exactly how every secret "dance practice" while we were trainees had always ended.

I slapped her bare ass hard. The crack rang out undeniably loud in the humid room, dragging a shocked yelp out of her right before I pushed back in with a squelch and started absolutely ruining her from behind.

"More more more," she sobbed.

I drove my hips forward in wild, filthy thrusts that scraped the heavy bed frame another foot across the floorboards. She shoved her face into the mattress to muffle her own screams as she came again, her wet walls clamping down tight around my dick in ruthless pulses. That insane pressure dragged everything out of me while her voice tore straight through the cotton pillows anyway, a high, broken wail that belonged to nobody else on Earth.

I pulled out to drag her up -

- against the edge of the dresser, my hand already fisted in her hair while the echo of that wail still bounced off the ceiling.

Her TIRTIR cushion popped open and the red puff went rolling under the bed. Her favorite bottle of Chanel No. 5 cracked against the hardwood and the entire room suddenly smelled like every backstage dressing room she'd ever dragged me into. I hooked both her legs over my forearms and stepped forward, folding her in half, before she could check the damage on her cherished beauty products and bill me for the damages.

I’d put Karina in this exact position last night, her arms shaking as she struggled to hold her own thighs back. But Yeji's insane dancer flexibility made it effortless, her knees pressing totally flush to her shoulders.

Folding her back that far completely unglued her swollen lips. Between the insane stretch and the sheer volume of cum leaking out of her from the last few rounds, her pussy looked like someone had frantically tried to superglue it shut and the seam just gave out and ejected the adhesive. The contrast opened her up to a brutal, terrifying depth, and I slammed forward to give her every bit of what I owed her.

The mirror above the dresser wobbled on its hinges. I caught her face in the glass, her flushed dark red, eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open.

"Too much?" I rasped, my hips locking as I bottomed out inside her.

Instead of answering, she slid her calves off my forearms and hooked her ankles tight behind my neck. Her hips tipped upward, cracking her completely open and sinking me in half an inch deeper. Her hands tangled blindly in my hair, pulling my face down closer to hers while her eyes, wild and unfocused, locked onto mine.

"It's all yours," she panted, a sharp ahh breaking through as her wet walls clamped down brutally around my shaft to prove it. "Only ever for you - ahh - fuck -"

She dragged my mouth down and kissed me hard enough that her breath stuttered against my lips. When she broke away, her voice was already shaking.

"I said breed me - mmh - breed me - pump me full of it as much as you want." Another gasp hit the back of her throat when I pushed deeper. "I want to feel you filling me up so much that I can't walk - ahh - Minho -"

Her voice cracked again, higher this time, and her nails raked through my hair.

"I want to be so full of your cum that I can't even sit down - hhn - fuck -"

Her hips jerked when I drove forward, words scattering around the breath she lost.

"I want to be so stuffed with you that I can't even fucking think straight - ahh - ahh -"

She pulled me closer by the hair, her forehead pressed to mine as the last question tore out of her.

"Do you understand me, Minho - ahh - do you understand what I want?"

I drove my hips forward and she screamed.

A sharp, raw scream that ripped straight through the drywall.

My own limits vanished. I clamped my hands on her hips, locked her against me, and let the third load tear out of me deep inside her guts. Three, the running tally in my head racking up another massive deposit. For what I'd pumped into her maknae inside that hidden shower while her best friend destroyed herself on the other side of the slatted door with an inhumanly large dildo moments before catching us mid-creampie.

I braced her against the edge of the wood and filled her to the brim, again.

"I'm keeping it forever," she whispered, looking down at our mess dripping out of her and onto the dresser.

I just kissed her forehead, still trying to catch my breath.

[LIA'S POV]

The room next door didn't stop. The headboard settled into a slower, steadier rhythm. Yeji's voice bled through the plaster in fragments, sharp then soft, completely unbothered by the walls.

Minjun had rolled them at some point. He pulled her into the curve of his body, her back against his chest, his arm resting heavy across her waist. The cotton of her shirt bunched between them.

His cock was still inside her, just resting there deep and quiet, stretching her soft lips out.

"You've been quiet," he said into her hair.

"I'm always quiet while fucking."

"I know." He didn't move. "That's not what I mean."

Lia traced the smooth glass of her phone screen. She'd set it face down on the sheet a few minutes ago without thinking. She picked it up again, then immediately realized she had no reason to hold it.

His hand slid from her hip to her bare stomach, slipping easily under the hem of the shirt.

"Is it about the pool?" he asked quietly.

"It's always about the pool." She set the phone down, pushing it an inch further away. "I'm not jealous of her, if that's what you're asking."

"What then?"

"Being able to sound like that." Through the wall, Yeji's voice hitched mid-breath and came back louder. "Without giving a shit about who's listening."

Minjun said nothing for a while.

"You can sound like that," he said finally.

"Not the same way." Her thumb found the bottom seam of her shirt. "I'm always the one with the phone."

He didn't try to fix it, which was why she kept him around. His fingers traced a slow circle on her stomach, moving upward until the shirt rode up to her ribs.

"You know what the stupid part is?" she said.

"Mm."

"I'm the main vocal. That's literally the job. Open mouth, hit note, don't embarrass JYP on an encore stage." Her mouth twisted against the pillow. "But nobody cares about that when they can slow a dance break down to half-speed and decide my whole value from one frame where my shoulder is two centimeters lower than Yeji's."

Minjun's hand stopped moving.

"Don't stop," she said.

His fingers resumed their slow path over her stomach.

The hiatus in 2023 had started the same way. She'd gone home to Vancouver and slept for two weeks, telling her mom she'd just lost track of herself. The real problem was watching Ryujin and Yeji hit counts with pure animal commitment, watching Yuna find every camera, and standing behind her mark completely unable to locate that feeling inside her own body. She could fill a room with her voice and still spend the next morning reading strangers rank her beside the dancers. Minjun had flown out in week three, eaten dinner in her parents' kitchen, and never once asked her to explain the numbness.

"I figured it out during the Not Shy era," she murmured to the pillow. "The other girls were enjoying themselves. I was just watching them enjoy it."

"You were enjoying the singing," Minjun said.

"Sure." She gave a small, humorless breath. "Then the fancams came out and everyone became a dance teacher."

"They were wrong."

"They weren't always wrong," Lia said. "That's what made it stick. If they were just lying, I could ignore it. But they found the one thing I couldn't beat the others at and made it the only thing that mattered. After a while you start doing it too."

"Judging yourself like that?"

"Watching myself like that." She swallowed. "In bedrooms, it's the exact same. I narrate. I collect. I got good at it because it's easier than actually being in the shot."

His hand moved higher. The shirt bunched at her collarbone, his warm palm sliding under the cotton to cup the pillowy, heavy fullness of her bare breast.

"Seven years of being the detached one. I just turned it into a skill."

He kissed the back of her neck.

Yeji's voice broke through the plaster again, a sharp, gasping sound completely free of choreography. Lia closed her eyes.

"Sit up," Minjun murmured.

She pushed herself up. He pulled the shirt over her head in one clean motion and tossed it onto the floor.

She sank back down into the curve of his body, letting her bare, rounded shoulders relax against his chest. He found the gentle softness of her waist, dragging the duvet up to cover them both, before his hand slid down to part her plush thighs. Two fingers found her natural, easy slickness, starting a slow, lazy circle that wasn't building toward anything, wasn't demanding a climax. She let her thick thigh hitch higher over his hip to give him better access.

Her free hand drifted back and found the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Her fingers curled there, anchoring herself to the solid weight of him.

The phone sat face down on the sheet. She didn't reach for it.

[MINHO'S POV]

We'd collapsed back into the center of the wrecked mattress. The violence just quit, leaving us in a heavy, sweaty pile. I ended up cross-legged in the damp sheets. She straddled my thighs, locking her legs around my waist and pressing her bare chest flush against mine. We'd been in this exact same setup last night, on the couch in Karina's villa when she grabbed my neck and called me hers. But there was no audience buffering the heavy friction here.

I looked down. Every time she dragged her hips up my shaft, her swollen pussy salivated a thick, sloppy mix of my previous loads and her own grool. The heat leaked down her thighs and smeared onto the fabric in long, dirty white trails.

Yeah, the resort cleaning staff was fucked. This mattress couldn't be washed, even if Karina's God existed and water could actually be holy. They were going to have to drag it onto the beach and set it on fire, probably.

The only saving grace to our demonstrated lack of civic responsibility was that we weren't breaking things anymore. She moved in slow grinds, sinking her pussy down onto my cock until she bottomed out. Every slow drop of her hips wrung a sound out of me, familiar enough to be embarrassing and still bad enough to make my hands tighten on her ass.

"I really like this position," she whispered, her hands sliding up to lock behind my neck. "It feels good."

Her chest was flushed and completely drenched. I kept my hands heavy on her ass cheeks to guide her down. "That's not the real reason."

Her hips stalled, but she kept holding my gaze while dragging air into her lungs. "I can hold you close and look into your eyes. And when I do that, I can let go of everything I'm carrying."

What do you even say to that?

But before I could say anything stupid, she started rolling her hips again, a heavy, dragging grind that pushed me straight to the edge.

"We never did this before last night with Karina," she said softly, dragging her wet heat down my shaft.

"How'd you know to do it?"

"Just felt right." She pressed her forehead against mine. "What's it called? We should do it more."

"Lotus," I said. Way too fast.

She caught it immediately. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait a minute... how do you know that?"

"Yeji, porn sites have tags."

She gave me a playful slap right under the chin before her acrylic claws landed on my neck. "Excuse you, Minho. Why do you need porn when you have me? Am I not enough for you?"

She said it like a joke, but the tight grip on my neck wasn't joking. It was like the mantra she'd echoed over and over again in my nightmare - like she wasn't enough, or we didn't fuck enough to keep my attention.

"Because you're always busy," I told her honestly, dropping the bullshit. "And I'd love to do it with you every day."

A dark red blush spread dangerously fast across her cheeks, but what told the real story was her pussy clenching hard around my cock as I said it.

"I'm trying to do something about that," she whispered softly. "That's why I invited you to Jeju. So we can fuck as much as we want."

"But that's not the only reason you did. Right?"

She broke eye contact, looking sideways at the ruined pillows while her hips kept dragging back and forth, rolling in like the waves on the beach we'd visited yesterday during sunset. "No. It isn't."

"Then show me," I murmured, tightening my grip on her hips.

She kept murmuring right against my mouth while dragging her sloppy, wet heat, up and down, forward and back, in and out.

"Make me forget everything else," I breathed, and the friction of her confessing while she ground down on me shattered whatever control I had left, locking my jaw as I sucked in a sharp, stuttering breath and digging my fingers hard into her hips. Five years of fucking in any odd place we could find meant she knew exactly what those tells meant.

Her eyes flared wide right before she locked both arms tight around the back of my neck to anchor herself, crushing her bare chest dead-flush against mine as she abandoned the slow grinds for a raw, frantic pounding. She drove her hips into me with enough desperate force that it started sending the heavy bed frame scraping across the floorboards once more, dragging a loud, obscene slap out of the wet friction between us while her rapid breathing burned hot against my jaw. I clamped my hands onto her waist to help her move while she totally ruined me right in my lap, a breathless laugh tearing out of my mouth at the sheer absurd contrast of her wild, desperate friction arriving right after those tender whispers.

"I'm so close," I managed to gasp right against her mouth. "You want to make me cum?"

"I do," she wailed, grinding her hips against me harder as she worked frantically to wring the climax out of me. "I do - I do -"

"You sure?" I asked, teasing through the heavy breaths tangling between our lips.

"YES!" She cried out, burying her face in my shoulder as her voice climbed into a continuous, high-pitched whine. "Fuck, yes, I do, I do, I do!"

Her hips lost their remaining coordination and dropped into a frantic, stuttering clench that forced her wet walls to clamp down around my shaft in a tight ripple, yanking me right over the edge with her. I gripped her snatched waist and poured the fourth load straight into her like my body was trying to breed through the IUD she'd apparently gotten just for us by brute force, shot after shot slamming deep while her pussy gripped me from the base up and refused to let me stop until I’d given her everything.

Four, my brain tallied immediately. For Ryujin dragging my soaked body straight out of that shower to ride me on the wooden deck, milking me empty just to prove she owned me too or some shit.

She sagged heavily against me, hiding her face in the crook of my neck as intense aftershocks wracked her limbs. I wrapped my arms around her bare back and held her across my lap against my own ragged breathing. The mess of my cum leaked out around my softening cock, soaking into her thighs while the ocean crashed steadily through the open window.

"I do," she whispered into my skin, so quiet she could only be telling herself.

I slid my hand up her sweaty spine to cup the back of her neck. I pulled back just far enough to look at her. Her face was flushed dark red and her chest still heaved against mine. I held her gaze while our hips stayed locked together in the messy sheets.

"I'm right here," I told her quietly. "I'm not going anywhere. This is ours."

Her posture finally caved. She let out a ragged sob and dropped her mouth over mine, her arms tightening around my neck to lock us together in a deep, desperate kiss while I stayed sitting tall to hold her against my chest, my cock softening inside her as her pussy finally let go.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught what could only have been a tear breaking loose from her lashes and tracking down her flushed cheek in a steady line, carving a wet streak all the way along her jaw before it fell and hit my thigh hot enough to prove it actually existed and adhered to the laws of gravity.

[LIA'S POV]

The rhythmic pounding from the next room had finally stopped. The solid heat of Minjun's forearm still anchored her against the mattress, while through the shared drywall came only a quiet murmuring, the words too muffled to catch. Then Yeji laughed, a small, breathless sound, followed by Minho's low rumble, and another laugh.

The one that would never have been worth recording.

Lia listened to it for a long moment before reaching back to press her palm flat against Minjun's hip.

He read the cue instantly and rolled onto his back.

She climbed over, straddling him. They were both naked now. The shirt he'd pulled off her earlier was still somewhere on the floor, leaving nothing between them except the phone resting on the tangled sheet. His hands came up, fingers sinking slightly into the soft flare of her hips to steady her. She wasn't built for physical dominance the way the rest of the group was - just pillowy curves and plush thighs - and at first, her legs locked too tight. She rocked forward, dragging the bare softness of her inner thighs against his flanks to open herself wider, until his cock slipped up deep inside her. She pressed her palms flat against the hard ridges of his stomach and tried to move.

Lia didn't normally ride. She usually just lay there and let it happen or stood against a wall to receive it, but she basically never got on top to do the work herself. The posture felt awkward immediately. Without the sharp athletic muscles the others relied on, her soft thighs started burning after a few clumsy grinds, and she had no real sense of what rhythm actually worked.

She kept going anyway, because being involved meant trying, whether you were good at it or not.

Minjun's hands slipped from her hips to the outside of her thighs, holding her steady without trying to direct the movement. "You okay?"

"Working on it."

She ground down slowly, trying to find a rhythm that didn't make her legs shake, and stuck to it. Then she reached for the phone.

The folder was still open on the screen. Jeju D1 pool AM M/RJ+Y. 43.7GB. 6 clips. 142 minutes. The last thumbnail showed Minho sitting alone on the pool deck. She'd named the folder like a production asset because that was exactly how she had processed the entire thing, an asset, marked with the same cold tags every Pann thread used to pick apart her. Timestamp, resolution, subject.

On the other side of the wall, Yeji laughed again at something too low to hear.

"She sounds different," Minjun said quietly, his voice slightly strained from her sitting on him.

Lia kept her eyes on the screen while her hips rocked. "She sounds happy."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not. It's just rare." Lia adjusted her grip on the phone, the cold metal biting into her palm. "She was always the most passionate one of us. In every room we've ever shared across seven years, Yeji cared the most. About the group, the label, the fans, the numbers."

Minjun's hands tightened slightly on her thighs as she ground down. "But not about herself?"

"Never about herself," Lia sighed softly. "Every time things get bad, she just comes back harder and sharper. She takes the hurt and she turns it into choreography. I've watched her do it since we were trainees. She's never, once, let herself just stop and hold onto something good without ripping it apart first to see if she earned it."

"And you?" Minjun asked.

Lia's thumb stopped on the phone case.

"I turned mine into footage," she said.

He didn't answer right away. His hands stayed steady on her thighs.

"Because watching felt safer?"

"Because if I held the camera, I wasn't the one being judged." She stared at the folder until the white letters blurred. "That's what I told myself, anyway. Extremely normal hobby. Great for the soul."

"Jisu."

The softness in his voice made her look away from the screen.

"People spent years turning my dancing into evidence," she said. "Every comeback, every fancam, every half-second where I looked tired. Evidence that I didn't belong. And now I'm sitting here with proof of someone else's worst morning like I didn't learn anything."

Lia paused, listening to the soft quiet bleeding between the rooms. That sound had nothing to do with performing, nothing to do with earning anything, and everything to do with a girl who had finally let herself be happy with the cameras off.

"Until tonight," Minjun observed.

"Yeah." Lia traced the smooth edge of her phone case with her thumb. "Until tonight."

She'd watched her leader long enough to know what renting that kind of peace cost. Putting it in a 4K folder felt a lot like stealing.

"I hated them for doing it to me," Lia said. "Making my body a comment section. And then I got good at doing the same thing with better lighting."

"You can stop," Minjun said.

"Yeah." Her thumb hovered over the screen. "That's the annoying part."

"I can't be the one to take that away from her," Lia murmured, the words dropping flat and final between them.

She pressed her thumb down on the screen. Move to bin. Empty bin. The massive file blinked out of existence, instantly replaced by her bright wallpaper, a photo of Minjun asleep on a flight with his mouth hanging open.

"There," Lia declared softly, holding his gaze. "Evidence unmade."

Minjun reached up without a word, lifting the phone gently from her fingers like taking a dangerous toy from a child, and set it face down on the nightstand. His hands came back to lock on her hips. "You're sexy when you do the right thing."

Lia felt whatever distance she had left melt straight through the mattress.

She kept riding. The rhythm she was managing wasn't elegant, but her plush thighs were shaking for a completely different reason now. The wet, clumsy friction she'd stumbled into suddenly hit something deep and insistent inside her, and she stayed right on top of it, throwing herself into the fucking despite having no idea what she was doing. Beneath her, Minjun went very still except for his breathing, which had gone ragged and rough.

His jaw flexed tight. "Jisu." He swallowed hard. "Can I?"

They usually didn't, but he always asked anyway. She looked down at him through the dark, registering the careful control pulling at his face, the fact that he'd been holding himself back for twenty minutes just waiting for her to find her footing.

Her hips dropped down, taking the full length of him. "Is that an actual question?"

He let out a wrecked, unfamiliar sound. His hands locked hard on her thighs as his hips drove up in one brutal thrust, spilling thick heat deep inside her while she held perfectly still and let it happen, keeping her eyes locked on his face the entire time.

The sudden warmth pushed her right over the edge. She came hard and messy, grinding down blindly through the climax with her palms braced flat against his chest, her breath catching sharply in her throat. There was no performance to it. Just her body doing what it needed to do while she finally let it.

She rode them both through the intense aftershocks. Slow, then slower, until his grip on her thighs weakened and the shaking in her legs morphed into raw exhaustion.

She collapsed forward onto his chest.

He dragged the duvet up over them, wrapping them tight. Outside, the pool filter hummed quietly. The wall was silent.

"What changed?" Minjun asked into her hair a long time later.

Lia thought about Mina's hands, the phone taken out of her grip, the way the penthouse suite had rushed in all at once.

"Someone told me to just be in it," she murmured. "A long time ago."

He didn't ask who. His arm simply tightened across her back.

Her empty hand lay flat against his chest. She closed her eyes and finally let herself be in it.

[MINHO'S POV]

I'd grabbed her hips to flip her over, but she scrambled forward instead. She crawled up the tangled sheets, her spine bowing as she dropped her chest flat against the mattress and shoved her ass high into the air.

"Here," she demanded with feral intent, before shoving four fingers deep into her own dripping, swollen cunt, scooping out a thick, sloppy glob of some combination of my previous four loads, and smeared it dead-center against her own back door.

The wet slap of it echoing in the quiet room was so deeply filthy you couldn't find a visual like it on the wildest corner of any JAV site. Yeji, the untouchable leader of ITZY, fully spread on a ruined bed, leaking everywhere, and painting her own ass with my spunk just to surrender the only boundary we had left.

The one boundary that had stayed hers through trainee dorms and tour buses and every shitty motel between Seoul and Busan. And here she was, ass up on a ruined mattress in Jeju, painting it open with my own cum like she was handing me the last key on her ring.

It nearly stopped my fucking heart.

My hands locked on her hips, but my brain caught on the edge of the cliff. "Yeji, are you sure about this?"

"Minho." She looked over her shoulder, her cat eyes blown wide and lethal in the dull glow of the one remaining lamp we hadn't obliterated. "Ask me if I'm sure one more time and I'll actually scream."

So I shut up.

I dropped my hand over hers, guiding her cum-slicked fingers deep into her tight, resistant heat. She hissed, her knuckles going white against the tangled sheets. Nope - total barricade, just like Ryujin. Her walls clamped down hard, fighting the intrusion, but she forced herself to tear it open using the sloppy mess we'd already made.

"Relax," I murmured, pressing my mouth against her sweaty shoulder blade. "I got you."

"Just push," she bit out, her dancer's hips rolling back against my hand to demand the invasion.

I lined up the head, thick with my own fresh cum, and drove forward. Pure brick wall. Her muscles clamped down around the tip, fighting every inch. She took a ragged, stuttering breath, absolutely refused to tap out, and dragged herself brutally backward.

The tight ring of muscle finally gave way with a thick, violent pop that felt like I was literally tearing her in half, followed by an ear-splitting shriek that confirmed as much. A scalding, suffocating grip sent static straight up my spine the second she swallowed the head. I locked my hands onto her snatched waist to hold her down, dug my fingers into her hipbones, and forced the rest of my cock inside her. Every bit of that first, agonizing invasion demanded raw, heavy leverage, ripping through insane friction until my hips slammed dead-flush against her cheeks.

Every brutal slam was just me punishing myself through the mattress and trying to scrub the last forty-eight hours out of my skull. She let me use her body to erase it all, shoving back against every rough stroke, receiving my penance and screaming for more.

I fucked her into the mattress with the last of what I had, and she took it screaming into the cotton, and the whole thing was over in maybe twenty seconds because neither of us could survive more.

The raw friction shredded the last of my control. I dropped my chest flush against her wet back, wrapped one arm around her stomach to lock her against me, and let the fifth load tear out of me deep into her guts.

Five, the running tally in my head marked it down right as my hips locked dead-flush against her ass and the first scalding rope of cum pumped into her. Five. The exact same number as the time I'd shoved myself into Ryujin's equally tight ass on that wooden deck, right before she screamed and spasmed around my cock to prove she could outfuck me.

I dumped thick, heavy ropes of cum into her, emptying another piece of the twisted ledger into the last piece of territory she'd kept away from me all these years.

I collapsed heavy against her back, lungs burning, the room spinning. We stayed pinned together in the sweaty wreckage for a long minute while our chests heaved together.

I pulled out slow and careful. She let out a sharp, ragged breath, instantly rolling onto her side and curling her knees up toward her chest.

I hit the mattress next to her, staring blankly at the ceiling. "So."

"So," she croaked.

I turned my head. Her damp hair plastered in dark streaks across her forehead. She looked like she had just survived a major car crash.

"Are we ever doing that again?" she asked gravelly.

"Definitely not," I rasped.

"Glad we tried, though," she clarified quickly. It was good to see her defensive idol pride had survived the carnage. "For science."

"Right. For science." I reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair off her cheek. "You're insanely hot. But your pussy is basically a religious experience, and I'm spending the rest of my life in there."

The corners of her mouth twitched, defensiveness giving way to a weary smirk. "Religious experience, huh. I thought the 'theological implications were incoherent?'"

She forced both hands up to make air quotes, the movement bared the damp, sweat-slicked hollows of her armpits. We had a very specific history with that piece of real estate, one that usually ended with me dropping my face down to lick the sweat out of them like a rabid dog while she giggled and writhed. Even completely emptied out, the impulse to lunge over and do it right then was staggering.

"Yeah, well. I'm willing to be wrong after what we just went through," I managed, keeping my face locked on hers to avoid doing anything that would get me ejected from this bed and possibly the island prematurely. "Do I need to be baptized in your squirt?"

"Keep talking like that and Karina is going to drag you to mass. I tell her everything, you know."

"Look, I don't have the energy left to argue with you about theology right now," I groaned, staring blankly at the ceiling. "I'm dropping it."

The corners of her mouth twitched. "Yeah. Okay. Fine." She shifted, grimacing at the movement. "I feel like I just did a thousand squats."

"You basically did."

She let out a long sigh and dragged herself straight across the ruined mattress. Skipping any attempt to sit up, she threw one heavy leg across my hips, slung her arms around my neck, and pulled herself flush against me to bury her face in my skin. The feral, manic intensity had totally burned out, leaving us completely drained.

"Hold me," she mumbled against my collarbone.

She was already sliding into sleep against my bare chest, her breathing slowing into a heavy and steady rhythm right up until she cracked one eye open to squint at me and ask, "Now what?"

I already knew the answer because there was exactly one thing left. Not anal, because we'd just crossed that off and banished the option for eternity, and definitely not a sixth load because my balls felt like raisins and my dick was officially retired for the fucking week.

But there was something I still owed her tonight.

Something she'd taken away from herself six months ago.

"Wait. Hold on. Get up," I told her, moving to physically peel her off my chest.

She produced the most deeply offended noise I've ever heard a human being manage through a closed mouth. "Nnn?" she whined, clamping her arms tighter around my neck to cling harder. "Minho, NO. What are you doing? You're MOVING? Don't -"

"I still owe you the other thing," I said, ignoring her panicked demands to lie back down as I rolled her flat onto her back and slid down on my elbows to spread her knees apart.

"What other thing? Minho, NO, there's no other thing," she protested, actively trying to climb right back onto me like a sleepy, possessive octopus. "We've done all the things. We invented things tonight. Lie back DOWN -"

I stayed where I was, looking up the wrecked length of her toned body until I caught her eyes. She blinked down at me from her elbows with her hair in a tangled mess and her flushed face confused, right before her gaze dropped to where my chin was hovering above her pussy.

I watched her perfectly manicured brain catch up to the choreo. She drew in one very sharp breath.

"Oh."

"Yeah," I murmured. "Our thing, remember?"

We hadn't done it since before Busan. I'm not going to get into Busan right now except to say she'd grabbed a tissue and scrubbed me out of her like my cum was burning her skin while her pussy kept shedding pearly tears, and we'd spent the last six months never talking about it.

The mess between her thighs right now was honestly catastrophic. Five total loads squeezed out of the dresser session, the lotus, and the brutal anal aftermath were currently combining to slide out of her in a thick white drip while we negotiated, painting a track down the inside of her thigh so graphic I was half-waiting for Karina's God to strike a pixel filter over it.

"You don't have to," she whispered, and then immediately followed it up with a desperate, "You don't HAVE to," when I stayed.

"Yeji," I said, propping my chin on her thigh to look up at her dead-on. "Look at the mess we made."

Her entire body locked up on the mattress. She caught the line the second it left my mouth, reacting to the old script she'd written for us back when we were just stupid kids playing dirty in the trainee dorms. Her hand flew up to press hard against her own mouth to physically trap whatever sound tried to escape, holding it for a long second before letting her arm drop back to the sheets.

"Show me," she demanded, her leader-voice scraped totally raw.

So I did. I showed her by dragging the flat of my tongue up her slit from base to clit, taking the first sloppy strip of what I'd left in her into my mouth. The salty cocktail of every load I'd dumped in her tonight, warm on my tongue.

She made a sound that wasn't quite human and immediately snapped back to the command voice she used to run a five-member girl group at twenty-four years old. "Shove it back in for me. You always loved knowing it's yours, right?"

"Mhm."

I slid two fingers up where my tongue had just been to push the leak back inside. She clenched down on my knuckles immediately, greedy and familiar after six months of nothing.

"More," she breathed. "Deeper. Keep it for us."

I pumped my fingers in slow to pack every drop back exactly where she wanted it, which dragged her hips up off the mattress to meet my knuckles and knocked a small, wrecked giggle out of her chest. Hearing that unapologetic, possessive little sound after six solid months of silence hit me harder than the actual sex had.

"Your mouth," she ordered.

I dropped my head back down with my fingers still buried inside her to seal my mouth over her swollen clit. She gasped out loud and fisted her free hand directly into my hair, locking me in place against her thighs like she was terrified I might surface for air and let the moment evaporate.

I stayed exactly where I was, letting her ride my face in the gentlest, most possessive way she knew how to reclaim the ritual she'd put down and lost track of. I completely lost the plot down there until her grip in my hair tightened to haul my head back up.

She was watching me with her chin tilted down to check what my mouth looked like painted with her mess. Without breaking eye contact, she reached two fingers down between her own thighs, slid them deep inside herself, and pulled them back out glistening white before lifting them to my lips.

"Open."

I opened my mouth, letting her feed me what she'd taken out of her own body by sliding her fingers across my tongue. I closed my lips around her knuckles to swallow it down while she let out a long, shaky exhale.

"There." She pulled her fingers free to press her wet palm flat against my cheek, smearing the rest of the sloppy mess across my jaw like a brand that I was entirely happy to wear. "That's better."

I crawled back up the ruined mattress to drop my forehead against hers, immediately letting her wrap her legs and arms tightly around me exactly the way she'd wanted five minutes ago. She tucked her face directly into the side of my throat to mumble something straight into my pulse.

"You came back."

I knew exactly what she meant, and I also knew we were definitely never talking about Busan again.

"I never left, Yeji."

She made a tiny, satisfied sound against my skin and pressed her weight closer until her heartbeat started to slow down and match mine.

"See how well you do when you listen?" she mumbled into my collarbone.

A genuine, exhausted laugh scraped out of my throat. "So I'll see you tomorrow, seonsaengnim?"

She bit softly into my collarbone. "Every day. Don't be late."

The adrenaline took its sweet time leaving. We lay there in the quiet until the tunnel vision finally faded and the physical, financial and legal reality of the bedroom roared back into focus.

Yeji rolled onto her side, propped herself up on one elbow, and placed a flat hand horizontally over her eyebrows to survey the wreckage. That was the visor technique she deployed on stage when scanning a fifteen-thousand-seat arena trying to single out some terrified fan for a dance challenge. Applying it to fifteen square meters of demolished interior decorating seemed disproportionate, but Yeji always took things more seriously than anyone else considered necessary.

A giggle ripped out of her throat. Then another. Within seconds she was wheezing, dropping her forehead against my chest in a full-body giggle that shook the mattress.

"My abs hurt," she gasped, clutching her stomach. "This is humiliating. Even class yesterday morning didn't hurt this much."

"You rode me through, what, seven rounds and literally destroyed a piece of furniture with your enthusiasm," I pointed out, staring blankly at the crooked mirror above the dresser. "I think soreness is the minimum expected consequence, no?"

"Enthusiasm?" She smacked my arm, still laughing. "Don't call it that."

"What do you want me to call it?"

She lifted her head, grinning. "Devotion."

Then she pushed her tangled hair out of her face and pointed across the room. "Look at the wall! Look what you did -"

"What I did?" I scoffed. "The dresser situation is totally your fault!"

"Okay, yeah, that's on me." She shifted her finger to the two distinct impact zones on the drywall opposite the bed. "But that dent is yours. And that dent is mine, although technically it's a shared responsibility because you slammed me into it."

"I'm pretty concerned about how the pillow got on top of the wardrobe," I added, tracking the debris field.

She looked up, squinting at the rogue piece of cotton stranded near the ceiling. "I don't know. Did we do that earlier, or just now?"

"All of the above." I let my head thump back against the headboard, a loud laugh finally scraping its way out of my chest.

"We are SO getting sued by this resort. Blacklisted, for sure. Manager-nim is going to be livid about the deposit," she muttered.

"I'll tell management it was an act of God," I offered, rubbing her head.

"You're the one who said God isn't real."

"Yeah, well." I turned my head to look at the absolute carnage around us. "Tonight I reconsidered."

She wheezed again, burying her face in the sheets before pulling back with a sharp grimace. The laughter died as practical reality finally set in. The mattress beneath us was a proper biohazard, a cold, sticky disaster of pool water, sweat, and multiple rounds of our juices.

"Okay," she declared, her leader-voice returning as she gingerly untangled her legs from mine. "You go shower first. I'm going to figure out how to deal with... whatever the fuck this is."

I walked into the bathroom, cranked the shower, and left the door cracked. She'd locked me out of the villa bathroom on day one, so the latch stayed bare tonight.

A minute later she pushed the door wider. She stepped into the humidity shivering, still naked, her hair a disaster, looking at me like she wanted to eat me alive.

"Did you figure out what to do with the room?" I asked over the spray.

"No," she said, sliding the glass door open and stepping right under the water with me. "Lost cause. Giving up."

We were theoretically in there to wash the catastrophic cocktail of pool water, sweat, and five loads of cum off our bodies so we could figure out where to sleep. I even had the soap in my hand. It lasted maybe twenty seconds. I went to wash her shoulders, she backed her wet ass directly into my dick, and we were immediately fucking again, and this time she didn't even have to say "no Sana no life" to get my dick raring to go again.

It was objectively the worst possible place to do it. The stall was cramped, the steam choked us, and hot spray kept blasting me directly in the eyes while the acoustics slapped our wet skin together like cannon fire. I had her spun around, doggy-style against the frosted glass. One hand squeezed her wet tits, the other holding her leg up, while she craned her neck back to sloppy-kiss me through the downpour as I pounded her ass into the next time zone.

I was hauling her right leg up by the thigh to get myself deeper, fighting wet tile and bad decisions to pound into her slick heat. If anyone had looked at the frosted glass from the outside, we looked like a silhouetted, highly uncoordinated three-legged beast. She dropped her jaw, whining right into my mouth as her hips snapped back to swallow the whole length of my cock as my shrivelled-up balls pathetically tickled her clit.

"More," she gasped, words garbled by water and spit. "Minho, more more more -"

I was right on the razor edge, vision whited out, bracing to dump my Karina's-God-knows-which load of the night straight into her guts. My hips locked. Her wet walls clamped down on me in a tight, triumphant spasm as I started spurting whatever my balls could muster into her very thoroughly filled hole.

And then my soapy foot slipped.

The three-legged beast lost bipedal stability. I flailed for a handhold, my fingers hooking the only solid object in reach: the brushed-metal shelving rack suction-cupped to the tile.

It ripped off the wall with a horrific clatter.

We went down dramatically.

I slammed square onto my bare ass on hard tile. Pain shot straight up my spine. Yeji landed backward directly on top of me, her ass nearly snapping my dick completely in half. The sheer panic combined with the impact violently yanked the rest of the orgasm right out of me, and my cock rapidly machine-gunned what was left of my seed directly across her wet stomach mid-crash.

Half inside her, half wasted on her skin. Six. The same split delivery Ryujin had hijacked from Yuna on the deck while they were stacked like a pile of hotteok in a Seoul street market.

We lay there in a tangle of limbs at the bottom of the stall. The water pounded down on us while my dick weakly spurted its last few drops of failure over her navel. I stared at the ceiling, seriously wondering if I'd broken my tailbone.

The metal soap rack had clattered onto the floor, scattering a minefield of bottles. Everything went down except the massive, industrial-sized pump bottle of Pantene conditioner. It had launched upward during the rip and somehow landed dead center on the narrow aluminum top railing of the shower stall, towering directly above Yeji's head.

We both froze in the tangle of limbs at the bottom of the stall before slowly looking up.

The one-liter plastic bomb teetered on the slick, wet railing. Rocking back. Forth. Swaying precariously in a moment of slow-motion doom.

Then Pantene tipped past the point of no return and plummeted straight for her nose.

Yeji squealed. My right arm shot out on pure reflex and snatched the heavy plastic cylinder out of the air a half-inch from her face before tossing it aside. Flawless cinema, delivered by a naked dude with a crushed ass and a traumatized erection.

Yeji whipped around, water streaming down her cheeks. "My hero," she gasped. She grabbed my face with both hands and planted a massive, dramatic princess smooch right on my lips.

I tried to kiss her back and just let out a pathetic, agonized groan from the bottom of my chest.

She pulled back, taking in the absolute carnage: naked me pinned to the tile, a metal shelf jammed against my leg, and my rapidly deflating cock weeping tragically onto her skin.

"Chagi!" she yelped, real panic spiking through the shower hiss. "Are you okay?!"

"No," I croaked. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" she said, scrambling to lift herself off my hips.

I stayed flat on my back, trying to evaluate my internal organs. Once Yeji realized I wasn't actually going to bleed out in a Jeju shower stall, her eyes dropped to her own stomach. The hot spray was already washing my cum away - the only load of the entire night that didn't end up fully locked inside her.

She stared at the soapy, semen-streaked suds. Then she looked down at me.

"I hate you."

I froze, forgetting about the pain in my spine. "What? What did I do?"

"The cum, idiot," she shot back, aggressively wiping the streak off her stomach. "You wasted it!"

I just stared at her. I'd spent the entire night tracking every drop of my own cum like it was a holy sponge that could magically scrub away the timeline on the pool deck. A massive, tragic ledger in my head to fix the fact that Ryujin had hijacked exactly that same split delivery from Yuna out there.

Meanwhile, Yeji didn't give a shit about existential ledgers. She was just a greedy brat entirely furious because she missed out on her prize. God didn't care about my guilt, and my dick obviously couldn't do math.

"I was mid-cum!" I argued furiously, gesturing at the slippery tile. "The floor moved!"

"You slipped!"

"You spasmed first!"

"That's your job!" she yelled over the water, entirely unapologetic.

"Well, the soap rack disagreed," I groaned, shoving the metal shelf off my thigh so I could cross my legs. "The universe clearly didn't want me to finish in there."

"This is the universe's fault?"

"Specifically God's," I muttered, hauling myself up to lean against the cold tile.

"See." Yeji pointed a severe, accusatory finger at my face. "This is exactly what happens when you talk shit about God in front of Karina. She has connections."

"Noted," I sighed. I pulled her down against my wet chest, wrapping my arms around her and resting my chin on her slippery shoulder. "I'll start praying to her tomorrow."

We sat under the hot spray for another minute until the adrenaline finally wore off and my bruises started screaming. She helped me up, then I grabbed a towel, dried us off, and we abandoned the biohazard master suite, stealing the one dry duvet we could find in the hallway closet and limped downstairs to the living room.

Both the couch and my spine creaked when I sat down, making Yeji laugh from her corner where she was already curled up swimming in my stolen white shirt.

"My poor little victim," she murmured, catching my wrist and tugging me down.

I let her pull me down until I was flat on my back against the cushions and she was sprawled on top of me. The dry duvet we'd stolen covered us completely to her shoulders while the villa finally sank into absolute silence, mostly thanks to us.

Turquoise pool glow washed her hair pale while my hand automatically found the knot in her lower back, working into a spot that a decade of dancing in platform boots and never quite letting herself rest had been quietly wrecking. I'd watched her ice it after Show Champion two years ago while pretending she wasn't, and seen her stretch into it on the practice room floor while everyone else went to lunch, so when I pushed the heel of my palm into the muscle with the exact pressure I knew worked, she let out a long breath against my chest like she'd honestly forgotten anyone else knew it hurt.

She stayed quiet for so long I thought she was actually passing out, right up until her voice went muffled into my chest.

"Ryujin..."

Of course she was still spiraling, her leader instinct running so hot through her physical exhaustion that she started squirming around like she was going to march outside and fix it tonight.

I wrapped her tighter and waited without saying a word, letting sheer exhaustion make the final decision for her until she eventually settled back down against my chest.

"She'll come to you when she's ready," I murmured, using the exact same tone I used when she needed someone to be soft in the dorms at two in the morning. "You don't have to fix it tonight. Everything is going to be okay."

She gave a tiny, bitter laugh into my chest. "Say it until you believe it."

"I will," I told her hair, staying still while I figured out what to do with it.

Her shoulders dropped first before her spine finally lost its iron tension, and she was still mumbling about Ryujin when she just crashed with a sentence that trailed off mid-word.

The first thing I woke to was cold -

A soaking wet body slammed into Yeji's back from above, dumping pool water straight through my borrowed shirt as Yeji let out a sharp gasp of pure panic and went completely rigid.

I surfaced from sleep already moving, locking both of my arms around Yeji in a blind protective grip while my brain tried to figure out who I needed to fight, right until a wet chin found the exact curve of her neck and settled perfectly into the groove.

The familiarity in that embrace answered the question before I could even see the intruder.

Yeji exhaled in one massive breath. "Ryu..."

My arms immediately dropped their death grip, letting Yeji completely melt into the mattress as she reached back to grab Ryujin's wet forearm just to make sure she was really there.

"Ddaeng Ddong," Ryujin whispered against Yeji's neck, her voice barely audible.

"Ddong Ddaeng," Yeji whispered back, sounding completely wrecked.

I had absolutely no idea what those syllables meant, but as Ryujin's shaking body softened against Yeji's back and Yeji squeezed her arm tighter.

Freezing pool water poured onto the cushions and soaked my bare skin to ruin our warm peace, but I stayed exactly where I was. This hug was above my pay grade, and since years of sisterhood was currently knitting itself back together on top of my chest, I just held them perfectly still and let the icy water run everywhere.

Eventually the water warmed up against us and Ryujin's ragged breathing synced clearly with Yeji's.

Ryujin finally started pulling back, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. Her hand dragged across Yeji's shoulder as she stood up, lingering a second too long, and Yeji caught her wrist in a quiet acknowledgment before letting go.

I listened to the quiet slap of her bare, wet feet padding up the wooden stairs, each damp step fading as she headed back to the second floor.

Yeji hadn't moved from my chest, but the second the footsteps vanished, the girl who never cried broke.

The strict leader posture she'd been forcing herself for years to maintain finally gave out, her shoulders heaving against me with ragged gasps. She balled her fists tight into the wet duvet, burying her face so deep into my neck it actually hurt. She was shaking out of control, hot tears soaking straight into my bare skin, and I just held her without asking a single stupid question.

I already knew exactly what she was letting go of.

So I pulled her tighter against me, weaving my fingers deep into her hair to cradle her skull while my other arm locked across her spine. I held her exactly the way I'd desperately wanted to back in Busan half a year ago when she'd turned away from me and made herself totally unreachable, and tonight she was actually letting me do it.

Her sharp gasping slowly smoothed out into a steady rhythm.

"See? I told you everything would be okay," I whispered.

She nodded against my chest with a hard hiccup, tightening her grip on me while I kissed her damp forehead to give her my one silent promise: I'm not going anywhere.

Her sobs slowly faded into shallow breaths over the next few minutes until she lay mostly still.

We lay still in the cold, soaking mess Ryujin had pressed into us, and held on to each other through it.

Because for us, for the first time in five years, it was comfort.

Author's Note

Massive thanks to fahzball and shin for inadvertently getting this chapter to its final state, because the version you just read is almost nothing like the one I had in the drafts folder a month ago. This chapter actually existed long before 'Nobody Like You' and was supposed to post first, but I put it to a vote (angst-heavy or smut-heavy?) and 'Nobody Like You' won, and honestly thank god it did, because of one beat in that chapter that ended up changing everything about this one.

If you read 'Nobody Like You,' (which I hope you did because I love that chapter so much) there's a moment where Ryujin is running up the path back to the villa with 'Kill Shot' going in her earbuds, and the swish swish of the bridge slowly resolves into the wet smack of Minho fucking Yeji bent over against the wall of the outdoor shower by the pool, the percussion bleeding through her left pod until she yanks the earbud out and the audio match cut completes itself in the Jeju night - the sound carries the cut so the picture can change underneath it. The second I posted that chapter I knew I had to tear this one apart and rewrite the whole A/B Lia-Yeji plot around the same idea. Every POV transition in 'Unseen, Untouchable, Unmade' is tied together by a sound through a wall: Yeji's cackle hits the plaster and we land in Lia's bedroom, Minjun's headboard goes quiet and we cut to Yeji slamming Minho into a wall two doors down. A picture frame smashes here, dust shakes loose there, and the "camera" moves through the villa on noise alone until the whole house becomes one continuous room and you, the reader, are the only person hearing all of it at once. Which feels like the right form of poetic justice for Lia specifically. She spent this whole arc using voyeurism against them, and now she's stuck listening to audio she didn't capture and can't edit.

While we're talking about camera tricks I should also mention the manic sequence in the middle of the smut scene - where Minho lifts Yeji and they keep slamming into a different room every time he plants her - which is lifted directly from the APT music video. Specifically the section where the camera holds completely still on Rosé and Bruno while they teleport around the frame: standing, sitting, lying down, dancing, all on the same cut, the camera not moving but they do, the smash cut doing the work. I wanted that exact feeling here, one unbroken motion from Minho's side (he picks her up, he carries her, he puts her down) but every smash cut drops them into a new room, a new position, a new surface giving out. The reader needs the disorientation of how the night actually feels from the inside: time blurring, rooms bleeding into each other, only the bodies stable. They never stop fucking, the villa just keeps changing around them.

Which brings me to what this scene is actually FOR. This is unapologetically a smut-forward series and I take that seriously. If you came here for the porn, the porn has to deliver on its own merits without the plot making up the difference. But I also believe every sex scene has to MEAN something, and if you've been with me from the start I've been quietly showing you this for three hundred thousand words (Karina's-God damn!) that every position, every act, every dirty line spoken into someone's ear is a character saying something with their body that they couldn't say with their mouth.

This scene is about victory. 'Moonlight and Memory' was the breakthrough - Yeji saying saranghae in her sleep for the first time in five years, Minho realizing the nightmare world wasn't real, both of them finally landing in the same emotional weather at the same time. 'Unseen, Untouchable, Unmade' is the celebration. They WON. They survived the day, they survived themselves, and the way two people who've been fucking each other for half a decade celebrate is by going through their entire repertoire in one unhinged tour, every position and every joke and every move they've ever invented together. Which is also a homage to 'First Light', by the way - the very first chapter of the series gave you a tiny glimpse of how physically attuned these two already were, two people with a whole private world in bed before the reader was even allowed in. This chapter is the full payoff of that promise three hundred thousand words later, the door finally kicked open.

But the thing I most wanted to get right in this chapter was the mind games, specifically Yeji's, because the mind games ARE their love language. Yeji plays games with Minho because that's their oldest shared language, it's how they talk during sex, and it's also how she tells him things she would rather die than say plainly. When she flips him onto his back and starts denying him, that's payback for the begging routine he ran on her earlier in the scene. The hovering and the puppy eyes and the aegyo bit and the whole "admit you wanted it" act. She recognizes the pattern because he taught it to her ("you had a great time using your little puppy dog eyes to make me beg earlier, huh?"). She's collecting a debt, not being randomly cruel. She's matching his game and playing it better.

Control is Yeji's native tongue. She is the responsible unnie, the polished leader, the girl whose whole job is absorbing pressure and hiding the soft parts. She does not naturally ask for care. She gives instructions. She directs. She manages. So the mind games let her stay Yeji while wanting Minho badly enough that it scares her. She can be needy if she turns it into a challenge. She can ask for intimacy if she wraps it in dominance. She can say take what you want from me only after she's proven she still has teeth.

The emotional core of this scene is brutal for her by the way: she chose Minho over Ryujin in front of the whole group. She knows Ryujin is somewhere in the villa right now hurting. She's scared she just broke a seven-year friendship, and she needs Minho to make her stop thinking about it AND she needs him to stop treating her like she's about to crack. That's too much to sit in cleanly, so she swerves into the camera bit, the Sana fancam joke, the I hate you so much, the bratty insults, the breeding kink delivered like a tax filing. The games give her a handle on feelings she cannot say plainly. Stop making me beg you to take me is the real line; everything after is her forcing him to understand it through the only arena where they both speak fluently.

And she can play this rough because she trusts him. She knows he's watching her body, her voice, her limits, her tells, which is why the scene reads as personal instead of generic. Five years matter here. She knows where to push because he taught her and he knows the exact second the joke drops out of her voice. The line "using five years of knowing exactly where my breaking points were to wreck me" is all the trust between them in one sentence.

It works the other way too: the games protect Minho. Because by this point in the night Minho is drowning in guilt, keeping a quiet ledger in his head of every betrayal and every other girl and every load he's spent in the wrong direction. Yeji humiliates him, teases him, denies him, lets the phone drop on his face, makes him answer stupid trap questions, makes him laugh. THAT is care from Yeji. She refuses to let him disappear into the guilt spiral when she wants him here, in this room, with her, now.

Short version: Yeji plays mind games because plain vulnerability terrifies her. Control comforts her. Minho is the only person on earth who can read the difference between cruelty, teasing, panic, and love when they all come out of her mouth sounding like threats. The sex is hot because the games are personal. Nobody else could play them this way with him. That's the receipt for everyone who stayed since 'First Light.'