wishful, greedy, sinful thoughts

CONFESSION #004

SUBJECT: An Yujin (IVE)

DEVICE: iPhone 16 Pro Max — Desert Titanium

APPLE ID: ████████@icloud.com

FOLDER: 개인 (Private) / 잡생각

FILE TITLE: "wishful, greedy, sinful thoughts"

CREATED: October 14, 2022 — 02:47 AM KST

LAST MODIFIED: February 3, 2025 — 04:15 AM KST

SYNC STATUS: Backed up to iCloud

ENCRYPTION: BREACHED

[ FILE OPENED ]

wishful, greedy, sinful thoughts

[October 14, 2022 — 02:47 AM]

okay so something happened tonight and i need to write it down because my hands are still shaking and i can't tell anyone. literally anyone. not my members, not my friends, not my family. nobody. so i'm telling this note. this stupid little note in a folder called "random thoughts" that nobody is ever going to open because why would they, it's boring, it's nothing, just yujin's random thoughts, move along, nothing to see.

except there's something to see. there's a lot to see. and i think something might be wrong with me.

i was on tumblr. just scrolling. 1am. couldn't sleep because my back was killing me from rehearsal and i was just lying in bed doing nothing, scrolling through fan edits and memes and the usual stuff. and then i saw it.

a fic. a fanfic. about me and wonyoung.

the title was something like "practice room confessions" or "after practice" or something, i don't remember exactly because my brain has sort of melted since then. it was tagged as yujin x wonyoung. i almost scrolled past it. i SHOULD have scrolled past it. but i was curious because like... people write about us? like THAT? i knew they did, i'm not naive, but i'd never actually read one before.

so i clicked it.

it started cute. like really cute. the fic version of me was staying late at the practice room and fic-wonyoung came back because she forgot her water bottle and we were alone and we started talking and it turned into this whole thing where we were sitting on the floor sharing earbuds and listening to music and our shoulders were touching and it was just... soft. warm. the kind of scene that makes you smile at your phone. i was reading it thinking "this is sweet, these fans are creative, okay this is fine."

then chapter three happened.

the writer — whoever they are, wherever they are, i need them to know that they ruined my life — the writer started building tension. slowly. like they knew exactly what they were doing. fic-wonyoung leaned her head on fic-me's shoulder. then fic-me turned her head and their faces were close. then someone's breath was on someone's lips. and i was reading faster and faster and my heart was doing something it shouldn't have been doing because this is FICTION about me and my GROUPMATE and i should have closed the app.

i didn't close the app.

chapter four: they kissed. the writer described it in detail — the softness of wonyoung's lips, the way fic-me's hand went to fic-wonyoung's jaw, the small sound wonyoung made, the taste of her lip gloss. strawberry. the writer said strawberry. and i read that and my brain immediately supplied the information that wonyoung actually DOES use a strawberry lip gloss, the laneige one, i've seen it on her vanity a hundred times, and the collision between fiction and reality made my stomach drop in a way i cannot describe.

chapter five.

okay.

chapter five is where i should have stopped and chapter five is where i lost myself completely.

the practice room. late at night. just them. fic-me pushed fic-wonyoung against the mirror. the big floor-to-ceiling mirror that we actually have in our actual practice room. and fic-me kissed her neck and fic-wonyoung tilted her head back and her reflection was in the mirror — the writer described seeing her reflection while being kissed, her eyes closed, her mouth open — and then fic-me's hand went under fic-wonyoung's practice top and

i'm going to write what happened next in the fic because i need to get it out of my head.

fic-me touched fic-wonyoung's chest. over the sports bra first, then under it. the writer described the way wonyoung's nipples hardened under fic-me's fingers and the small gasp she made and how fic-me said "is this okay?" and fic-wonyoung said "don't stop" and then fic-me pulled the sports bra up and put her mouth on wonyoung's breast and sucked gently and wonyoung's hands went into fic-me's hair and she arched against the mirror and–

i was wet. i was actually physically wet reading this. lying in my bed in the dorm with wonyoung sleeping in the room next to mine, actually sleeping, actually RIGHT THERE through one wall, and i was soaking through my underwear reading about a fictional version of myself touching a fictional version of her and my body didn't care that it was fiction. my body responded like it was a memory.

i kept reading.

fic-me went lower. kissed down fic-wonyoung's stomach. knelt on the practice room floor. pulled her shorts down. the writer described the way wonyoung looked down at fic-me from above — tall, taller now with me on my knees — and the way the practice room lights made her skin glow and the way she said "unnie" in a voice that was nothing like how she says it in real life and everything like how i'd imagine she'd say it if

god. if.

fic-me went down on her against the mirror. the writer described it in explicit detail — the taste, the sounds, wonyoung's thigh over fic-me's shoulder, her back sliding down the mirror, the way her legs shook. and i was reading this with one hand because my other hand was between my legs and i didn't even make the decision to put it there. it just happened. like my body read the scene before my brain processed it and decided to act without permission.

i came in maybe three minutes. reading that fic. in my bed. in our dorm. while the real wonyoung was sleeping one wall away. i bit my wrist so hard there's a mark and i came so hard my legs straightened out and my toes curled and my phone almost fell on my face and i lay there afterward staring at the ceiling with my hand still in my underwear and my heart hammering and the fic still open on my screen and i thought:

oh no.

oh no oh no oh no.

this isn't a girl crush. this isn't admiration. this isn't "i think she's really pretty." this is something else. this is the something else that i've been refusing to name for a while now. since we were trainees. since she was the pretty girl who made me nervous for reasons i told myself were just competition nerves.

it wasn't competition.

i read the rest of the fic. all of it. there were nine chapters. by chapter seven fic-wonyoung was riding fic-me's face on the practice room floor and i came again, quieter this time, more controlled, biting the inside of my cheek, my eyes watering, reading about a fictional version of my own groupmate grinding against a fictional version of my own mouth and the specificity of it — the writer knew our dynamic, knew how wonyoung talks, knew the way i look at her on stage — made it feel less like fiction and more like surveillance.

someone out there has been watching us closely enough to write this. and they were RIGHT. about everything they saw between us. the difference is they think it's fiction. i know it's real.

i finished the fic. i closed tumblr. i opened this note. my hands are shaking. i have a schedule with wonyoung at 7am. hair and makeup at 6. that's three hours from now. in three hours i have to sit next to her while a stylist does her hair and look at her face and smile and be yujin-unnie, the dependable leader, the girl who has her shit together.

i have never had my shit less together than i do right now.

i should delete this. i should delete tumblr. i should delete whatever part of my brain responded to that fic the way it did.

i know i'm going to read it again tomorrow.

[October 21, 2022 — 03:30 AM]