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1. The Rumors From Last December Were Never Addressed

Last December, Jungwon was targeted with completely baseless rumors that spread everywhere.

Even though the claims were proven false, the company never took legal action.

No official protection.

No follow-up.

No reassurance.

He was left to deal with the damage alone.

2. He Admitted This Was the Year He Cried the Most

During multiple fan interactions, Jungwon shared that 2024–2025 has been the hardest year of his life and that he’s cried more this year than any other.

He said it quietly.

Honestly.

Almost like he hoped no one would make a big deal out of it.

But it is a big deal.

3. He Has Been Performing Injured

Throughout the tour, fans noticed:

• a wrist band on his right hand

• knee patches hidden under outfits

• visible swelling in some dance practice videos

And despite that…

he still performs at 100%.

No complaints.

No excuses.

No missed shows.

Just him pushing through everything with a smile.

4. Jungwon Sells Out Everything He Touches (With 0 Solo Deals)

This part genuinely hurts:

Jungwon is one of the strongest sellers in ENHYPEN:

• His photocards sell out first.

• His fansigns sell out instantly.

• His merch consistently ranks highest.

And yet—

he is the only member with zero solo brand deals this entire year.

Not because he lacks impact.

Not because he lacks popularity.

But because he is not given opportunities.

5. “Just the Leader” — A Narrative That’s Hurt Him

There’s been a slow shift in the fandom where people reduce him to:

“Just the leader.”

“The responsible one.”

“The organizer.”

“The guy who speaks during speeches.”

And completely ignore the fact that he is:

• one of the best dancers of 4th gen

• one of the most stable live vocalists

• a performer with natural center presence

• an idol who balances leadership + talent + emotional labor

This narrative has been incredibly unfair to him.

6. He Keeps Getting Pushed to the Back of Choreo

Despite being the strongest dancer, Jungwon:

• gets fewer center parts

• gets noticeably reduced lines each comeback

• is often placed in the back during formations

• rarely gets the camera angles he deserves

Fans see it.

He sees it.

And you can tell it eats at him, even when he doesn’t say anything.

⸻

Jungwon never complains.

He never calls anyone out.

He never asks for anything.

He cries in private, tapes his own injuries, and shows up every day trying to be strong.

The least we can do is stay aware.

Speak up respectfully.

Support him consistently.

And make sure his hard work doesn’t go unnoticed.

This isn’t fanwar bait.

This isn’t “hate the company.”

This is just acknowledging what he’s endured, so people don’t forget.

He deserves softness.

He deserves protection.

He deserves support without being reduced to a role.

You had decided to play along with it. You didn't want to mess anything up. So, you thought pulling back was the best thing you could do. Maintaining a small distance, letting him leave when he wanted to, not choosing to pick at all the things that had been bothering you... but you just couldn't understand why he wouldn't communicate with you. This had never been a problem. You were in the healthiest relationship you had ever known. Yet every opportunity you gave him was shut down, saying he was fine.  

But it took one thing to break your silence.  

It was a Tuesday night after the very interesting Mexico GP. You were finishing dinner together as per usual. Max had been talking about the stream he had just done, laugh slowly coming to a stop when he realised you weren't responding as much. His hand reached over the table, resting on yours. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked.  

You blinked, looking up from your empty plate and at him. You took in the concerned expression over his face. It was strange. You hadn't seen it recently. The deep look in his eyes nor the small frown on his face. You painted a tight smile on your face and nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Fine. You were saying?" 

He furrowed his brows at your response. "Schat, you've been like this all week. Sitting far away from me, smiling less... you were even at the back of the podium on Sunday. What's going on?" 

Your jaw clenched. You had done that. Standing at the back of the crowd in Mexico with his father because you had truly been at a loss. And with his father muttering some unkind words under his breath, you couldn't find the courage to go the front. But that wasn't the point. He had noticed. Just like you had. And he had waited a week to ask. A whole goddamn week. While you had been asking him what was wrong for weeks.  

You breathed out slowly, grabbing your plate, and standing up from the table. "Can we not do this right now? I just want to go to bed." 

Max watched you head towards the kitchen, standing up after you. "No. I want to talk about this. If something's wrong, I want to know so I can help," he exasperated, putting his plate into the sink before turning to you, hand resting on his hip. His brows were low as he tried to figure out what was going on.  

The laugh falling from your lips was sharp yet dry. "Oh, so now you want to talk?" You hummed. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" He retorted, baffled at your snarky tone. You never sounded like this. So... mean. It was unusual. Unsettling.  

You stared at him blankly. Max was smart. You knew that. He knew it. But God, he could be so dumb. And it made your blood boil. "What's that supposed to— I'm sorry, what do you call the past few weeks? All those hours on the simulator, training instead of resting and spending time with me or the pets. You have dinner, you go to bed, or you race. I mean God, you barely even look at me anymore!" 

Max blinked, taken aback by your confessions, mind instantly trying to decipher the memories you had brought up. The look on his face was as if you had attempted to hurl a knife into his heart because that's exactly where your words had landed. He hadn't realised he had been doing all of that. He had just gotten so caught up and he didn't want to bring you into this mess...  

"T-That's not true! It's just with the championship and everything—" 

You chuckled sorely, dull eyes staring back at him. "Ah yes... the championship. I never thought that would be the thing to drive a wedge between us," you sighed bitterly, shaking your head with disbelief.  

His championships had always been a source of happiness for the both of you. At least for the most part. It symbolised your celebration, his hard work and efforts, and your pride. It made all the difficulties through the year worth it. But you had gotten through it together. But this year... that wasn't the case.  

"A wedge?" He queried with incredulity. He swallowed, shaking his head frantically. "There's no wedge. You know how my father is. He's been pestering me about this since those points came to me. I... I don't want to let him down. You know how it is." 

You raised your hands in the air, looking at him puzzled. "How am I supposed to know that if you don't tell me?" You huffed, letting your hands fall to your side.  

"I thought you'd know!" 

You fell silent at his exclaim, watching a familiar flush of red take over his face. He was tired. You were tired. You chewed in the inside of your cheek before speaking. "I'm not a goddamn mind reader, Max," you hissed, swallowing at his small flinch when you mentioned his name. "This doesn't work if I'm the only one talking." 

Max's heart ached at your words. His brain buffered as you stepped away, inching towards the front door, grabbing the keys from the hook next to it. He furrowed his brows. "Where are you going?" 

"I need some air," you muttered. 

"No, come on, schat. Let's talk about this. We can fix this," Max exasperated, already walking over to you but you had already closed the door. His feet stood still, planted on the cold marble floors of his penthouse. He sighed, blinking away the small sting in his eyes. He turned to the feel of fur curling up against his leg, Jimmy and Sassy peering up at him like they knew. "She'll be back," he whispered, half trying to assure them and himself.  

You weren't sure where you were going. You just needed to be out of the house. Max was right. You could fix this. But you had to leave before you said something you'd regret. You weren't thinking straight. You couldn't when you were angry.  

The cold air of Monaco blowing past you attempted to calm you down as you walked through the streets, arms folded and tucked into one another, brain busy mulling over what had already been said between you and Max. 

To an extent, you understood Max. Jos... well he was Jos, surprise, surprise. Tough and happy to be cruel if it reaped its benefits. At the start of the year, a fifth championship was sort of out of the question. The car hadn't been great. Even with an encouraging win in Suzuka. But things had changed since then. The McLarens had fallen victim to the inevitable: fighting against one another. And with a garage that couldn't communicate with them, Max's name had suddenly entered the conversation. And his father was pressing him.  

You knew he had his differences with his father. That's why he was able to talk to you about him. Someone who hadn't grown up with that man and he could just vent or complain to—anything to just reduce the stress. But this time he hadn't. No, instead he had let it hurt your relationship. And that pained you the most.  

It had been a few weeks, but it was enough to miss Max even when he was right in front of you. It was like living with a stranger or an assigned roommate. Alive with the most minimal presence to show for his beating heart.  

Had you not asked enough? Should you have gone beyond his "I'm fine" and pushed him a little bit more? Maybe it had been your fault as well... for not trying hard enough. For giving him too much space.  

You sighed to yourself, shaking your head. Maybe you should just go and talk to him like he said. Perhaps this was enough air.  

About to turn on your feet, a sharp, echoing beep erupted into the air. Not a beep. A honk that set the hairs on your body straight up and the adrenaline spiking through the roof. You only caught a glimpse of the silver car, flashing by your eyes in an instance. And in seconds, you were on the floors of Monaco.  

Max's chest fell gently, relief pouring into him when he saw your name sprawl across the screen of his phone. You had been gone for almost an hour; the evening sky was darkening. The panic had been settling within him. But here he was, sliding right, already lightly smiling. He breathed out, rushing his words, "Schat, thank God, I'm so glad you called. I was getting worried—" 

"Is this Max?" 

He paused, brows furrowing at the unfamiliar voice on the phone. An odd flare in his chest began to gnaw away at him. "Yes? Who is this?"  

"Bonsoir Monsieur, I'm calling from the Princess Grace Hospital Centre. You were listed as Miss ___'s emergency contact." 

Max could feel his heart lurch in his chest, brain instantly stuttering as his fingers tightened around the phone. Even his pets inched towards him like they knew something was wrong. "W-What's going on? I-Is she okay?" He queried, arm already extending to grab his jacket while panic flooded into his voice.  

"She's fine," the stranger quickly reassured, though it did nothing to calm him. "She accidently came in contact with my car and has a few injuries." 

He breathed harshly, grabbing his own keys from the key hook. He swallowed thickly, swinging the door open as he muttered, "I'm on the way." 

Max's eyes darted rapidly around the various rooms and corridors, the bleak white daunting him with every movement he made. The lady at the front had said you were technically discharged which was absolutely ridiculous in his opinion. So, apparently, you were roaming around, injured to God knows what extent. Or as you'd probably like to say, "I'm just keeping you on your toes, Max." 

But he had found you, sitting down on a chair next to some other patients, casually watching the show they had put on like he hadn't been stressing out for the past fifteen minutes. He breathed slowly, blue eyes cautiously raking over your body. His heart clenched at the bandages. They were sporadic. On your arm, leg, hand, and a few thin strips on your cheek.  

You could feel those eyes lingering on you, capturing your attention away from the screen. A tight smile sprawled onto your face as you stood up from your chair, legs already automatically moving towards him despite the ever-present wince on your face. Christ, you had rolled your ankle real good.  

Max was already darting towards you, hand out to stabilise you against him before he curled his arm around your waist, keeping you close. He could see your eyes hesitant flicker to him, questioning and wondering. But he said nothing except for, "Let's go." 

The walk to the car was silent. Perhaps good for the both of you, giving you the time to think about what to say. You knew the quietness of Max was nothing compared to the simmering worry settled behind those eyes.  

He got you into the car first, gently tucking you in and putting your seatbelt on for you. His face was stern, not slipping just yet. Once he was satisfied, he was walking around the car, opening the door, taking a seat before he closed it shut—the echoes screaming in this thick silence.  

You chewed your lip while you rubbed your fingers together. You took your small glances at him, debating on whether to speak first. You wondered if he'd scold you first or not. To be honest, you couldn't tell. You often reprimanded him each time he crashed or spun out in the car. But only out of fear. Because the worry had been eating you alive. And you were sure that's exactly how he was feeling.  

So, you opted for the root of humour. "Hey, at least I'm not like dead," you murmured with a small shrug, teetering smile on your face.  

Max stilled, turning his head so slowly, you could see every micromovement; the furrow of brows, the disbelief in his eyes, and his parted lips. "That's so not even funny," he retorted firmly. He sighed, grabbing your arm gently, pads of his fingers lightly grazing over the bandages.  

"Max, I'm fine. Seriou—" 

"Shut up," he huffed, chest aching at the peeks of drying scabs underneath the white fabric. He sucked in a sharp breath, biting down on his lip. He flitted his eyes back to you. "I was so worried," he whispered, voice cracking. "With how you left. I told myself it was fine. You'd come back. And then you didn't." 

You blinked, feeling your eyes grow hot. You pressed your lips together, trying not to fully break down.  

"I thought.... I thought..." Max rasped, voice becoming raw by the second.  

"Stop. Just don't complete that sentence," you heaved, sniffling as you curled your fingers around his, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. You had been in his position before. Too many times, for your liking. With every crash or collision, your reaction never differed. You only seemed to breathe when you watched him come out of the car.  

Max stayed silent for a moment, breathing in deeply. He brought your hand to his lips, grazing your knuckles with his mouth as he thought about what to say. "I'm sorry," he said after some time, still quiet but firm. "I should've told you about my dad. You asked me and I shut you out. I didn't want to worry you—and that's not an excuse. But you're right. It's created a wedge. And I'm sorry." 

You smiled gently, feeling the small press of his lips against your knuckles. "I think I was just concerned because you aren't normally like this. You usually tell me everything," you laughed softly.  

"I know," he nodded, regretful frown on his face. "Just don't leave like that again, schat. Please. I don't ever want my last words to you to be 'We can fix this.' They should always be 'I love you,'" he pleaded.  

You swallowed thickly, nodding in return. "Promise," you whispered, reassuring him with a firm smile. You flickered your eyes at the dark sky, trying to think of a solution. "I just don't get why your dad is being like this. So... invasive." 

He raised a brow at you, gently resting your hand in his lap, thumb slowly rubbing circles into your skin. "You have met him, right?" He queried, making you roll your eyes. He heaved soon after. "I don't know. Things are just different this time, I guess," he shrugged. 

You hummed to yourself, narrowing your eyes as an idea came to mind. "Should I talk to him?" You suggested, turning back to him.  

Max gave you a pointed look. "Not that I'm against it... but are you sure you're up for that?" He chuckled.  

You grinned, "You know he loves me more than you right?" 

"Okay..." He pursed his lips, a smile still threatening to sprawl onto his face. "I feel like that's bit of a stretch. But since you're hurt, I'll let it go," he compromised.  

You gasped so hard that it had you instantly wincing, small scrapes on your cheeks stinging. "That's it! I could guilt trip him!" You exclaimed, eyes wide in a way that borderline made your boyfriend worry.  

"Did they give you any medication? Because I think you need them," Max muttered. 

"Max!" 

You chanced a glance at him. The streetlights strobed across his sharp profile, highlighting the tense set of his jaw, the curve of his nose. His gaze was fixed rigidly on the road, but you didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down to your squirming form for a split second. And you definitely didn't miss the prominent bulge straining against the front of his dress pants.

The sight sent a fresh, sharp jolt of desire straight to your core. You were in heat, a live wire of pure, undiluted want, and he was the only possible ground.

The moment the apartment door clicked shut behind you, the thin wire of his control shattered. He didn't even let you take off your shoes, he spun you around, pinning you against the door, his mouth crashing down on yours.

His lips claimed yours, a desperate, hungry clash of passion and tongue that tasted of wine and the shared secret of your predicament. You moaned into his mouth, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.

"Couldn't keep still, could you?" he growled against your lips, his hands already hiking up your dress. "Squirming in my car like a little slut. Driving me fucking crazy."

His words, so crude and so unlike his usual sweet self, should have shocked you. Instead, they poured gasoline on the fire inside you.

"I can’t do this anymore," you panted, pulling him towards the nearest surface, to your couch. "Now, Heeseung, please."

He didn't need to be told twice. He laid you back on the cushions, his body covering yours. He didn’t even take your dress off, he bunched it up to your stomach, and looked at your sopping wet panties. You were almost dripping if the thin fabric didn’t soak up your slick.

Heeseung scoffed, “Look at you. So wet, she’s literally begging for my cock, doesn’t she?” he slid your panties to the side, the feeling of his cold fingers made your hips jerk, even a single touch was enough. You whined and reached for his belt, but he smacked your hand.

“Patience. I’ll give you what you want.” He removed his belt agonizingly slow, keeping his eyes on your face as you watched the tent in his pants. You knew he was desperate for you but he was keeping his act, as if his doe eyes didn’t reflect the desire he had for you.

He pulled down his pants and boxers and stepped out of them, his angry tip was curved and twitching, all for you. Aligning his cock with your wet hole, he entered you in one smooth, hard thrust that stole the air from your lungs.

You moaned loudly, and Heeseung was mesmerized by the sounds you made, you never moaned this loud at first. He couldn’t help but let out grunts and growls, fucking you hard and fast. It was exactly what your drugged, feverish body craved; a fast, brutal pace that chased the edge of the unbearable heat.

You squeezed around him but you were still wet that Heeseung slipped in and out easily, slapping noises filled the room. You came with a broken cry, your nails digging into his back, your body convulsing around his.

But it wasn't enough. The aphrodisiac was a cruel master, and the climax only banked the fire for a moment before it roared back to life, hotter than before.

"Not enough," you whimpered, your body still trembling. Heeseung looked down at you, his eyes dark and blown wide with lust. He didn’t even come, and you didn’t even wait for him until the desire hit you again.

A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips. "I know."

In one fluid motion, he scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you on the bed, but instead of covering you again, he flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up until you were on your knees, ass in the air.

"So pretty," he murmured, his voice rough. His fingers trailed down the curve of your spine before slipping between your legs from behind. You gasped as two of his fingers slid inside you, still slick and sensitive from your first climax. He worked you open, scissoring and curling his fingers, hitting a spot that made you see stars.

"Heeseung... please, I need you," you begged, pushing back against his hand.

"I know what you need," he said, and you heard the tear of another condom wrapper.

He entered you from behind, the angle even deeper, more overwhelming. He set a punishing rhythm, one hand gripping your hip, the other tangling in your hair. He pulled your head back to see how gone you were, trembling as your hands were locked next to your head.

“Fuck, you’re still sucking me in baby. You’re still that desperate for my cock?” He leaned over you to kiss behind your ear, but you didn’t hear him, or at least couldn’t find the words. You were in a other world.

“Look how good you take me, such a good girl. I’m gonna give you the best orgasms ever, baby. You deserve it. Look at this pussy.” The sounds of your bodies meeting, your desperate moans, his guttural groans, filled the room. You were lost in a haze of pleasure, your mind blank, your body purely a vessel for sensation, for him to use.

You were about to cum and he could feel it, and before you could say it, just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he flipped you onto your back again without pulling out, making you arch your back with his cock drilling deep inside. His eyes locked with yours, and the intensity in them was devastating.

"Look at me," he commanded, his thrusts becoming slower, deeper, more deliberate. "I want to see you fall apart on my cock." He pressed on your belly to reach your spot, and his other hand closed on your clit, drawing circles. You nearly screamed, your moans were stretched out in a single breath until your voice broke.

The overstimulation was immense. Every nerve was raw, every touch electric. You were teetering on a precipice, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. And then, with a final, deep grind of his hips and a whispered, "That's it, baby, come for me," you shattered.

A gush of liquid heat rushed out of you, soaking both of you and the sheets beneath. You cried out, your body seizing, the waves of your climax seemingly endless as you squirted for the first time under his relentless, worshipful gaze. Tears were running down your cheeks, your legs, hips and chest were twitching, body trying to recover from the high.

“Fuck, you look so hot crying like this baby, that’s insane.” He followed you over the edge with a choked groan, his own release wracking his frame.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing. Then, he carefully pulled out with the condom and gathered your boneless body into his arms. "Come on," he whispered, his voice soft again. "Let's get you cleaned up."

He ran a warm bath, settling you in the water before climbing in behind you, pulling you back against his shoulder.The water was soothing, and you sighed, leaning your head back against his chest. This was the aftercare, the gentle Heeseung you knew and loved.

His hands, which were soaping your shoulders, began to wander. Down your arms, over your stomach, and lower. You felt him harden against your back.

"Fuck, baby," he breathed into your ear, his voice already thick with renewed desire. "You're still so warm. I can't... I can't get enough of you."

His fingers found your clit under the water, slick and sensitive. You moaned, your head lolling back against him. It wasn’t pleasure yet, it was burning, and the water was harsh on your nerves.

"Heeseung..."

"Just one more time," he pleaded, his voice a mix of apology and raw need. He turned you in the water to face him, your legs wrapping around his waist. The water sloshed over the sides of the tub as he lifted your hips and sank into you once more.

You nuzzled into him with all your power, because the water made it hard to take him in. But the moment his tip penetrated into you, the aphrodisiac’s effect began again and you felt yourself loosen up with a new wave of wetness coating your insides. Heeseung was slower this time, a deep, sensual rocking in the warm water.

"You take me so well," he moaned, his forehead pressed to yours as you fully took him. "My perfect, greedy girl. So beautiful when you come."

Your head stayed on his shoulder as he guided you on top of him, raising his hips to meet you halfway. The uncomfortable feeling changed, the pleasure building and tightening in your core. You pressed lazy kisses on his neck and he rubbed your back. His other hand dipped in the water to your clit, making your orgasm build faster. “I’m coming.” he said, “I’m gonna cum inside you, baby. Come with me.”

And as the water swirled around you and his commands filled your ears, you came again with him, your body yielding completely to his, knowing that with him, even a mistake could feel this perfect. You felt him filling you up, pumping the last drops of cum into your sensitive pussy with his twitching cock.

He then swayed you side to side, kissing all over your face. “There you go. You were so good, you’re always so good, so hot… I gotta tell you something, baby, can you look at me?”

You raised your head, tired eyes looking up at him. He smiled sheepishly.

“Actually, before we left, I got curious and ate some of that chocolate.”

“Hee—!”

☆彡 @lilidiors @sungheeke @kookiesnkim