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opihgfgcfgxvvb · 2 months ago

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Waterbombed

So a bit of lore. @cosmic-conqueror-diabelos loves Eunbi. Eunbi is his singular favorite idol in all of K-pop and every time he writes he’s forcing himself not to root back to her. Not today though. He saw these pictures and 45 minutes later he had almost half of this done. So we hope you enjoy this and you’ll probably be seeing more Eunbi fics as we go.. peace out

Happy 4th of July may you all have a cool weekend after this very hot waterbomb

It all started on April 25th, 2022.

You were deep into a Monster Hunter Wilds session with your longtime friend Sakura, her laid-back boyfriend Toji, and someone new—Eunbi, Sakura’s friend from her dance crew.

“Unnie, are you having fun?” Sakura asked cheerfully as the four of you tag-teamed a particularly slippery Mizutsune. The fight had been long, but Eunbi was chasing its armor set for what she described as “aesthetic purposes.” In her words, it was “so pretty it hurts.”

“Yeah, Sakura-yah. I love it. And thanks to you guys, I’m finally getting the hang of it.” You grinned, watching your avatar tumble through the Mizutsune’s water blasts.

You hadn’t met Eunbi before tonight, but there was something instantly warm and charming about her. The way she spoke—soft, thoughtful, punctuated with unexpected laughter—made you feel like you’d known her longer than just a few hunts. When you tried to picture her, your brain filled in the blanks with soft edges and big eyes—just… cute.

After a few more runs, Mizutsune finally dropped the last part Eunbi needed. She let out a giddy little squeal as her hunter jogged toward Emma the blacksmith. You smiled, just listening to her hum with excitement through your headset.

About five minutes later, Eunbi returned to the lobby wearing the full Mizutsune set—sleek, iridescent, and very, very pink.

“Whoa, Eunbi, you look amazing,” Sakura said.

“Total fashion kill,” Toji added with his usual dry tone.

You chimed in with a grin, “Honestly? Worth the grind. You look great.”

Eunbi giggled. “Thank you all so much. Seriously, if it weren’t for you guys, I’d still be drowning in bubbles.”

You laughed along with them, but as the clock ticked past midnight, you rubbed your eyes and leaned back in your chair. “Alright, I should call it here. I’ve got actual grown-up stuff to do tomorrow.”

“Wait, Benimaru,” Eunbi said just as you were about to log off. You paused.

“I know I can’t invite Sakura and Toji—Sakura’s got rehearsal for the concert—but… as a thank-you for helping me tonight, I wanted to invite you to Waterbomb.”

You blinked. “Wait… seriously?”

Eunbi’s voice was playful. “Mhm. You in?”

“Yeah… okay.” You weren’t quite sure what you were agreeing to. The name Waterbomb rang a bell, but not loud enough to shake anything loose. You barely had time to ask before Eunbi added:

“Let me get your Instagram.” She sent a follow request a second later and DM’d you the full event details.

You tapped over to her profile, expecting a few selfies and maybe the occasional food post. Instead, you scrolled down and froze.

Clips from previous Waterbomb festivals filled your screen—Eunbi on stage in a soaked crop top, dancing like a tidal wave. Her moves were magnetic, sensual, commanding—and suddenly, your brain made the connection. That Eunbi. The performer. Sakura’s ex leader in izone

Your mouth went dry.

Something primal stirred at the back of your mind, like an alarm clock you hadn’t meant to set.

She had invited you.

The weeks before Waterbomb pass in a rhythm that feels easy. Familiar.

Each night, you and Eunbi dive into Monster Hunter hunts together—sometimes just the two of you, sometimes with Toji or Sakura dropping in between rehearsals. You start recognizing the way she fights: quick, clever, a little chaotic. You don’t say it out loud, but you love watching her win.

After each session, she sends you outfit options. Just little photos, usually mirror selfies or snapshots against her bedroom wall. At first, they’re tame—an oversized hoodie here, a floaty sundress there. She always adds a caption.

“Too boring?”

“Be honest, this makes me look like a grandma right?”

“Cute or just…eh?”

You reply dutifully—sometimes with jokes, sometimes with emojis, and sometimes with a well-placed “Ma’am 😳.” She eats it up.

But the outfits start getting bolder. Skin shows in different places. A crop here, a side slit there. You know the game she’s playing, and even though you’re trying to keep it casual, your reactions start slipping through.

And then she sends that outfit.

A red plaid crop top. A white bra peeking just beneath. Faded denim shorts riding high on her hips.

You stare at your phone for a solid ten seconds, maybe more. You blink, like maybe you imagined it. You did not.

You Facetime her without thinking. She picks up immediately, already grinning.

“So?” she asks, voice sweet as sugar. “How do I look?”

She knows what she’s done. You can see it in her eyes, in the slight tilt of her head, in how she’s trying not to laugh.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to sound composed. You’re not.

“Look… I’m gonna be honest,” you say. “I have nothing polite to say about that outfit.”

You pause, watching her expression shift slightly—just enough for the tension to crack a little.

“…But I promise you—every single thing I have to say is positive.”

Her giggle is quiet but victorious. She bites her lip, smiling like she just won a bet.

And in that moment, you realize two things:

1. You are absolutely not ready for Waterbomb.

2. She’s known that from the start.

A few days after the Facetime call, Eunbi texts you mid-afternoon.

Eunbi:

“You busy this evening? 👀”

You weren’t. Not really. Just pretending to work, letting your thoughts drift toward Waterbomb more often than you’d admit.

You:

“Depends. Are we grinding more hunts or what?”

Eunbi:

“Mmm… not quite. I’ve got rehearsal for the show. Figured you might wanna see how the sausage gets made 😏”

Your heart skips. You hesitate, then type.

You:

“Like, backstage?”

Eunbi:

“More like VIP treatment. Just me, my dancers, and… you 😇”

“I promise to behave. Ish.”

That “ish” does more damage than it should.

⸻

You show up at the rehearsal studio a few hours later. It’s tucked into a side street downtown, barely marked. You find the room by the music leaking through the door—bass-heavy, slick with rhythm, like something dangerous dressed up as fun.

She meets you at the entrance, hair up, skin glowing from sweat and practice. She’s in loose joggers and a tiny sports bra—practical, sure, but something about the way she wears it makes it feel… intentional.

“Benimaru~” she greets, drawing your name out like honey. “You really came.”

“Yeah,” you say, hands in your pockets, trying not to stare. “Would’ve been rude not to.”

She smiles. “Mmm. Well, don’t feel too flattered. I mostly needed a pair of eyes to watch and tell me if I still look hot after sweating through three routines.”

You raise a brow. “You could’ve just sent a selfie.”

She laughs and waves you in. “That wouldn’t have the same effect.”

⸻

The rehearsal is sharp and fast. The choreography is intense—hips, turns, water cannons (yes, real ones), and so much skin. Eunbi commands the space, every movement deliberate, every glance calculated. And every time her eyes flick to you mid-routine, something in your chest tightens.

She’s putting on a show—but only for one person.

⸻

After the final run-through, the other dancers head out, leaving towels and water bottles in their wake. Eunbi walks over to where you’re sitting, dabbing sweat from her collarbone with a towel.

“So…” she says, handing you a bottle of water. “How’d I do?”

“You’re dangerous,” you mutter, too honest.

She tilts her head, eyes glittering. “Mmm. That’s not a no.”

She sits next to you—close. Too close. Her thigh brushes yours, warm and bare. She leans in just slightly, enough for you to catch the scent of her shampoo, faint vanilla and something floral.

“Be honest,” she whispers. “Do you think I’ll kill them at Waterbomb… or do I need to practice that body roll again?”

You glance at her. She’s smiling, but beneath it is a question. A provocation.

You exhale slowly, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

“I think,” you say carefully, “you already know exactly what you’re doing.”

She doesn’t deny it.

She just leans back on her hands, stretches slowly, and says, “Then you better be there when I do it for real.”

It’s a few days before Waterbomb when Eunbi texts you again, this time with something simple.

Eunbi:

“Wanna hang? No rehearsal. No monsters. Just vibes. 👻”

You agree without overthinking it. Which, at this point, is a lie. You’ve been overthinking her since that night at the studio.

⸻

You end up walking through a quiet part of the city together—coffee in hand, the sun going down, summer heat still clinging to the concrete. Eunbi’s wearing an off-shoulder top and loose jeans, but it doesn’t matter what she’s wearing anymore. You’ve seen her sweaty, laughing, mid-performance, and something in your brain rewired after that.

She’s different now. Or maybe you are.

You both talk about nothing for a while. Music. Games. Some idol drama she insists you have to watch. You call her out on her taste. She calls you uncultured. It’s easy. Almost too easy.

At some point, you end up on a bench overlooking the Han River, watching the city shimmer across the water.

She leans back, stretching her arms with a sigh. “You know…” she starts, glancing sideways at you, “if we were in a drama, this would totally be the part where the lead couple starts realizing they like each other.”

You smile, trying to ignore the skip in your heartbeat. “Are you saying this feels like a date?”

Eunbi’s gaze flicks to yours—steady, direct, teasing—but softer than usual.

“I mean… it does feel like one, doesn’t it?” she says. Then, after a beat, “Do you want it to be a date?”

You swallow, pulse suddenly too loud in your ears. You don’t look away.

“…Do you want this to be a date?”

That’s when she says it.

“Yes.”

Just that. No coyness. No second-guessing. She holds your gaze with a clarity that strips away every layer of playfulness between you.

And suddenly, the air around you changes. Thickens.

The casual distance between your bodies feels like an open invitation. Your leg pressed lightly against hers now feels electric. Her hand, resting on the bench close to yours, feels impossibly far and far too close all at once.

She doesn’t move. Neither do you.

But everything has shifted.

The space between you isn’t filled with teasing anymore. It’s full of things unsaid—wants, thoughts, urges that have been building up over weeks of games and glances and barely-there touches.

Eunbi licks her lips once, eyes dropping to your mouth and back again. “You gonna say something, or just keep staring at me like that?”

You don’t answer.

You just lean in slightly, just enough to make her breath hitch.

“I’m thinking,” you murmur.

“Thinking what?”

“If I kiss you now… we’re not gonna make it to Waterbomb without breaking a few rules.”

She smiles again—but it’s slower, darker. Like she’s just waiting for you to stop thinking.

And maybe you are.

The walk back to your place is quiet—charged. Neither of you says much, and you don’t have to. Every brush of her shoulder against yours feels deliberate. Every glance exchanged is heavier than the last.

You unlock the door and step inside, motioning for her to follow. She does without hesitation, slipping off her shoes like she’s been here before. Like she belongs here.

“I like your place,” Eunbi says, looking around, then tossing her bag on the couch like it’s already hers. “Cozy.”

“You’re just saying that because I don’t have gamer chairs and LED strips.”

She laughs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You’re still standing by the door when she walks back over to you—closer than necessary. Her fingers hook lightly into your belt loops as she tilts her head up.

“You were staring at me the whole walk back,” she says softly.

“I was trying not to jump you in public,” you reply, equally soft.

Her eyes spark with something wicked.

“Good.”

You don’t remember leaning in. One second you’re standing there, and the next your mouth is on hers—hot, hungry, and overdue. She kisses you back with that same controlled intensity she dances with—fluid, teasing, just a little bit dangerous.

You press her against the wall, hands finding her waist, her lower back, her hips. She lets you, humming into your mouth like this is exactly what she expected. Your breath is ragged when she breaks the kiss, only to pull you toward the couch, pulling you down on top of her in one smooth move.

Your hands roam without hesitation now—up her ribs, across her bare stomach, fingertips teasing the edge of her bra under that off-shoulder top. She gasps, arching into your touch, lips finding your neck.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” you whisper.

She laughs—low and breathy. “That’s the idea.”

But then, just as your hand starts to slide under her top, she grabs your wrist—firm, but not cold.

You look down at her, confused, lips parted, heartbeat crashing in your ears.

Eunbi smirks up at you, flushed and glowing, eyes glittering with mischief.

“If you’re a good boy,” she purrs, “I’ll show you so much more at Waterbomb.”

You blink, stunned.

She leans up, kisses your jaw, then slips out from under you with ridiculous ease, like she hasn’t just set your entire nervous system on fire.

“You’re evil,” you mutter, breathless.

She pulls her top back into place, grinning over her shoulder as she heads for the door.

“Discipline, Benimaru. Delayed gratification.” She winks. “Just imagine what I’m saving for the encore.”

Then she’s gone—leaving behind her scent, her warmth, and your very, very unresolved desire.

You stare at the door for a long moment, exhale hard, and fall back on the couch.

Waterbomb cannot come soon enough.

Waterbomb hit you like a fever.

The day of the festival blurred by in a haze of sun, music, and adrenaline—but mostly Eunbi.

You’d been texting back and forth since morning, her messages a constant stream of flirtation and provocation. Voice notes dripping with innuendo. Selfies that left too little to the imagination. Winks and teasing emojis that felt like fingertips brushing your skin.

By the time the sun began to dip behind the stage scaffolding, you were already breathless—disoriented in the best and worst way. Her energy had worked its way under your skin and into your bloodstream, leaving you drunk on anticipation.

And then the murmurs started.

“Eunbi’s up next.”

“She’s gonna kill it—she always kills it.”

“She’s basically the queen of Waterbomb.”

“Sexy legend, are you kidding me?”

You already knew all of it was true—but hearing it out loud made it feel real. Tangible. Like the whole city was about to see what you’d seen brewing behind her glances and half-smiles.

And then the lights cut. The bass dropped. The crowd screamed.

She stepped onto the stage like she owned the world.

Eunbi was dazzling. Drenched in spotlight and water spray, she moved with the confidence of someone who knew every eye was on her—and who only cared about one.

Yours.

Her gaze found you almost immediately—sultry, knowing, locked in. And then she smiled.

That slow, devastating smile that said: I told you I’d show you more.

The music pulsed around her as she danced, hips rolling in a hypnotic rhythm that felt less like choreography and more like a spell. Her body undulated with practiced seduction, but the way she looked at you? That was personal. Intimate. Like she was unwrapping you, layer by layer, with every beat.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away if you tried.

She moved through her set like a storm: bouncing, spinning, flipping her hair, letting the water soak through her barely-there outfit as the crowd roared in appreciation. But for you, it was background noise. All you saw was her. All you felt was her.

Each verse, each motion, each glance offstage in your direction wound you tighter. By the time her final song ended in a flash of lights and a roar of screams, you were completely undone.

Soaked in sweat. Heart racing. Breath stolen.

Somehow both spent and starving.

And when she blew a kiss to the crowd—no, to you—you knew exactly what the rest of the night was leading to.

You weren’t just watching the show anymore.

You were part of the encore.

You knew it the second your phone buzzed.

Eunbi:

“Come to Relax Bar. VIP section. 💋”

No instructions. No emojis to soften the blow—just a location and the implicit promise of more.

You checked your festival map with shaking fingers and started walking, weaving through crowds still high off the set she had just torched. Music still echoed across the grounds, but your head was full of her—her body, her stare, her mouth wrapped around every lyric like it was meant for you.

By the time you reached the Relax Bar, your heart was pounding all over again.

You didn’t have to wait.

One of Eunbi’s crew was already there, clocking you instantly with a knowing smile. “You’re Benimaru, yeah? She’s expecting you.”

No security check. No waitlist. Just a silent escort past the velvet ropes into a world that smelled of expensive liquor, body spray, and something wild.

Then you saw her.

Eunbi in her element.

She was lounging on a leather couch in the VIP lounge like it was a throne. Legs crossed, drink in hand, hair still damp from the performance, clinging to her shoulders. The red white and blue colors of her outfit had been traded out for something darker now—sleek black with glints of shimmer, clinging to her curves like the spotlight still hadn’t let her go.

She looked like temptation incarnate. And she was staring right at you.

Her smirk bloomed the moment your eyes met. “Well, well. Look who survived.”

You tried to speak, but your mouth had forgotten how. Eventually, you managed:

“You killed me… and somehow brought me back to life.”

She laughed, deep and rich, and motioned for you to sit beside her. As you did, her eyes slowly traced over you—neck to waist and back up again—with absolutely no rush.

“You look like you’ve been through something,” she teased, voice low and honey-slicked.

“I have,” you replied. “You.”

Eunbi tilted her head, clearly enjoying every bit of your wrecked state. She leaned in close—so close you could feel the heat of her breath against your cheek—and whispered, “And you still want more?”

You didn’t answer with words. You didn’t need to. The way your body leaned toward hers, the way your hands gripped your knees to keep from reaching for her—it said everything.

She set her drink down slowly, then slid her hand up your thigh with deliberate, torturous ease.

“Let’s get out of here,” she murmured. “Come back to my place.”

You swallowed hard.

She smiled—sultry, confident, absolutely not innocent. “Don’t worry,” she added, leaning in so her lips just brushed your ear, “I don’t bite… unless you ask.”

Your brain short-circuited.

You could only nod as you stood, following her out of the lounge, out of the festival, and into the night like you’d been summoned.

And maybe you had.

You arrive at her place and you can feel the erotic energy flowing from her. It filled you with desire and need for her.

You enter her apartment, and she is on you before you can think.

She kisses you with the ferocity of a lioness starved for her partner. Her tongue explores your mouth with the vigor of a conqueror trying to tame wild lands. When she breaks the kiss she lifts her top over her head and you are greeted by her magnificent breasts and the rest of her upper body.

Creamy white skin gorgeous curves and of course her breasts that have you feral.

You barely think before stooping down to the left one engorging on its swell. Your head is left in a heady mix of arousal and need. Eunbi moans as you suck on her breasts before pushing you onto the couch. She straddles you before yelping and saying “oh someone is ready.”

She smiles as she opens your pants and with no hesitation wraps her breasts around your cock. You scream in Euphoria as the softness and gentle grace she moves with drives you crazy.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me,”

You say before you explode all over her. The last few days of teasing have left you so primed that she barely needed 3 pumps and you were gone. You cover her tits, face, and neck in your seed. Eunbi smiles though still pumping you through it coaxing you.

“You have more for me right,” she asks her eyes bright and encouraging and you can’t help it you explode all over her again, as your balls ache trying give her everything. You black out as she still fucks you with her tits.

Unable to think or move but receiving her attentions is glorious torture. She gets you there again, and again and again, To the point you think she’s gonna kill you, until she says, “I won’t stop until you can’t get hard anymore,” you groan and whimper as she relentlessly titfucks you again each time Getting a little less out of you.

It’s brutal as she doesn’t stop. She keeps you hard with her filthy language and sinful body. By the time you finally can’t get hard anymore Eunbi has gotten 8 orgasms out of you. Eunbi smiles though still as she is covered in cum at this point.

Before you can pass out Eunb brings your eyes to her and she says, “did you enjoy the encore?”

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