yuri ★

his timeline is steady and his patience is unnerving. flirting lasted two weeks before he asked you out, you went on dates for two months before he asked to be your boyfriend, and now you're hoping it's only another two minutes before he does something more than kiss you.

because if he wanted to fuck you, he would, right? he would subtly hint at it and tease you until you admitted that you want him just as badly. he would kiss you breathless and laugh as you chased his lips. he would want you to initiate, to take unapologetically. that's what you were used to. that's how your brain had been wired, through a system that rewarded your greed.

if you were naive enough to answer the text messages blowing up your phone, that itch could be scratched. you would not have to do more than give him a look.

seonghwa's leather couch shifts under his weight as he angles his body towards you, "you're quiet tonight. is everything okay?"

"i'm stressed,” you lie, putting your phone on the armrest and hoping he can’t see the brightness of every notification through your privacy screen.

his gaze is tender as he studies your features. you’re not sure what he’s looking for, but he finds it and hums in understanding.

hands sneak under the blanket and hook themselves around your legs, pulling them onto his lap, “is this okay?"

you nearly roll your eyes at how careful he is, but the worried curve of his pillowy lips makes it hard to be annoyed, “yes. hwa, you can touch me, you know?”

"i know,” he agrees, flashing you a pretty smile, “but i don't wanna make you—”

"—if i were ever uncomfortable, i would tell you.”

he hesitates before nodding, his hands just barely grazing the underside of your calves in slow motions, “good. what's on your mind?"

"i have… a lot of pent-up energy i want to take out,” you reply, fighting the urge to guide his hands higher, closer to where you need him.

there’s a second of silence as his adam’s apple bobs, and your eyes trace the movement.

"maybe we could, uh, go on a walk?" he asks, almost like it hurts to get words out.

his slender fingers are a little firmer on your skin, but just as slow, and you want to claw at the leather underneath you. you need it to be tonight. unlike him, you feel your patience running thin, and you’re so far gone that you could settle for dry-humping and messy kissing.

“do you need me to beg for it?”

"what?"

you exhale sharply, shoving the blanket to the side, moving your legs off his lap, and straddling him in a few swift movements. he startles, hands retracting to his sides as you settle down on him.

a frown etches itself onto your features and you take his hands in yours and guide them up your thighs, past your hips, and up your sides. his skin is soft on yours, and you nearly shiver as you lean closer, “please, i need you. please. do something, i can’t wait.”

"don’t beg,” he breathes out, struggling to look you in the eyes, “you never need to beg me for anything.”

your hands move off of his and you feel his grip on your sides loosen, but you can’t settle for that. not anymore. so you lean closer until his lips meet yours.

the kiss is charged with unbridled want, and your body doesn’t lag. as soon as he begins kissing you back, your hips begin to grind against his, the fabric of your shorts catching against his sweats.

his lips part in a moan at the feeling, and for the first time, he takes initiative by moving a hand from your waist to bring you closer by the nape of your neck. it’s different from his usual hand against your cheek, and his slipping restraint fans the flame building in your guts.

but he makes no other move— he doesn’t lean into your touch, his hips don’t grind up against yours, and he doesn’t even try to guide your movements by your waist. it’s more like he’s letting you use him rather than indulging in you.

“fuck,” he murmurs as he moves away from your lips, a strangled huff slipping past his mouth. his eyes trail down to where your hips meet his and his eyes squeeze shut. “fuck, you’re making this really difficult.”

rarely did he curse around you, if at all. but you found yourself becoming addicted to the expletives dropping from his pretty mouth, taking them as signs that he was affected by you. it makes you dizzy, the knowledge that he’s trying his hardest to be respectful and failing.

“seonghwa,” you say, slowing down your movements on his lap, “don’t you want me?”

there’s a moment of hesitation as he stares at you like you’ve just slapped him, “of course i do. this isn’t about what i want, it’s about… you’ve told me about the guy before me. i don’t want to make you feel the way he did.”

well, maybe not emotionally. because you might die if seonghwa couldn’t make you feel how he did physically.

your breathing quickens at the mention of the guy who’s surely still blowing up your phone. you resist the urge to glance at the device resting on the armrest of the couch.

seonghwa continues, his expression sincere as his hand moves away from under your shirt. he places it over yours where it rests on his chest for leverage, “believe me, it hurts me to say no. but i want to do this right. i want it to be special, for you to be completely sure of me. i want trust and connection and… i don’t want you to think i only want this from you. can you wait a little longer?”

embarrassment, hot and stinging, rushes through your body as you abruptly stop moving. you could feel him, hard underneath you, and you’d be impressed with his restraint if it wasn’t stopping you from getting what you wanted.

“okay,” you agree with a nod, climbing off of him with averted eyes, “yeah, i’ll wait.”

he looks at you with what feels like pity in the moment, a hand circling your wrist, “i’m not rejecting you, angel. i respect you, and i care, and i really want to show you that rather than tell you. is that okay?”

maybe you should be flattered. he isn’t treating you like a piece of meat, like something to be claimed and then tossed. but your nerves feel like they’re on fire with need and you can’t help the frustration building up. “that’s okay. thank you, seonghwa.”

“you don't have to thank me,” he replies with an easy smile, as if the past few moments didn’t happen, you aren’t dripping, and his pants aren’t straining against his hard-on, “you deserve better than a quickie on my couch on a random night.”

you aren’t sure if he’s right. but you mirror his grin until the moment he drops you off at your place with a kiss to your temple.

for the first time since your failed attempt at initiating sex, you check your phone. it’s another one of those nights, apparently. there are weeks of radio silence. some days you only get a view of your profile and no texts. others you get a single call while you sleep. but tonight, it’s one the ones where he spams your phone. you read only the last few.

unknown number | are you still with the guy?

unknown number | the one with the long hair

unknown number | i stalked his profile

unknown number | he seems nice? good for you

unknown number | too nice though

unknown number | bet he doesn’t fuck you how you like

unknown number | probably doesn’t know how to handle you 

unknown number | or how fucking greedy you are 

unknown number | don’t pretend you don’t miss me

unknown number | bet you even kept our videos

unknown number | i kinda wish i had sometimes

he stopped texting around an hour ago. and it might be the frustration, but you respond for the first time in months.

you | who is this?

the reply is immediate.

unknown number | fuck

unknown number | i knew it

unknown number | hi baby, it’s been too long

unknown number | answer my calls

the regret doesn’t even reach you before you’re typing back.

you | stop spamming

you | i’m content with him

he sends a thumbs down reaction to both messages.

unknown number | no thanks

unknown number | and ‘content’ is funny

unknown number | not happy?

unknown number | probably not pleased, i can tell he doesn’t know

there it is. how easily he knows exactly what to say to get under your skin.

you | doesn’t know what, wooyoung?

that one message changes the conversation entirely. he stops typing and takes longer to respond. when he does, it’s an audio message. you regret playing it as soon as you hear the honeyed voice coming from your speakers.

“got tired of typing,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath before continuing, “but i’m glad you’re not pretending anymore.”

you nearly pause the message and toss your phone, but you hear that familiar laugh and your thumb hesitates.

“you know, i promised myself i wouldn’t go stalk his page. but i couldn’t help myself tonight. i’m a little drunk. you can probably tell, huh? but what the hell is your type? we’re nothing alike,” you hear the sounds of him typing on a keyboard before he continues, “graduated from a good university, close to his family, models for his friends' clothing brand— wow. i’m almost happy for you.”

as always, he wants a reaction. you bite the inside of your cheek.

“if you’re listening at this point, he must not be as good as he seems, huh? what is it? bad breath? does he make you split the bill?” he giggles at his own jokes and you shake your head as if he can see you, “but i know what’s more likely. i bet he can’t handle you. not like i can.”

it ends there. abrupt, like he accidentally cut himself off and sent it anyway. you keep the message out of muscle memory and wince when you realize he’ll see you saved it.

unknown number | wow

unknown number | i thought you wanted to be left alone?

you | i do

unknown number | so go ahead and block me

you | i do what i want

unknown number | i know that better than anyone

unknown number | it’s my favorite thing about you

you don’t reply. another few minutes go by before he sends another audio message.

“do you remember the time…” he interrupts himself with breathless laughter, “the first time you asked me to come over and not the other way around? i remember. i think about it all the time, don’t you? up until then, you acted like it wasn’t mutual. and after that, you started calling me over like i was getting paid for it.”

there’s a small pause. you hear fabric shifting around, “you started using me like a fuckin’ toy. i loved it. i loved it cause you were just as mean as i needed. god, it was hot.”

your neck heats up at the memories. how he would smile unabashedly at you as you used him to get off, with no concern for his own pleasure. animalistic.

“i still don’t understand why you cut me off and gave me a speech about using you. that’s such bullshit,” he says, tone melting into something lower, “you caught feelings and you were embarrassed. pushing blame onto me doesn’t erase that.”

your phone pings with a good night text from seonghwa and you swipe it away as you keep listening.

“i did kinda take advantage of the fact you liked me. a little, i won’t lie. but it was so easy with you. there wasn’t any pretending, no dinner as boring foreplay, you were straight to the point. i miss that. you. your skin and how good you smell. and i can’t believe i’m missing out on it over some guy who would probably feel sick if you told him half of what we’ve done.”

your stomach sinks at his comment, the way he laughs it off like it means nothing. the worst part, you like it. you clench at the desperation climbing into his voice the more he speaks, the way he’s so direct about his desire.

“if you didn’t block me, i’m assuming you still have our videos. i wonder if you watch them and get off to them,” his voice wavers, “fuck, i‘m already hard thinking about it. call me. call me anytime, whether you’re done with that guy or not. i’ll come over like i used to. everything could be like it used to be.”

the message ends there. you have two minutes to keep the memo, and you nearly do, just to replay the last part and hear the whine in his voice that he tries to suppress. but the message disappears and you’re in the same exact spot on your bedroom floor, face warm and panties even wetter than before.

wooyoung doesn’t say anything else. not another call or text, doesn’t even like a message.

he’s put the ball in your court.

and he’s right, you have the videos. as proof that you weren’t crazy, that he had murmured a few ‘i love you’s while his hips were pressed against yours. that it had been real and not something to scoff at like he did when you asked for more.

“what more could you want?” he’d said, and you stopped replying to his texts soon after. you fell back against his mattress a few more times out of weakness, but you finally gathered the strength to leave. you met seonghwa only a month later.

the first message you received when you posted your new boyfriend was from that anonymous account. ‘you’re quick,’ is all they said.

too quick, you think. seonghwa’s name glows on your screen and you ignore it.

right now, you’re so worked up you would do anything to get off.

the easiest way? the videos saved in your hidden folder in your camera roll. whether you chose his favorite, with you in doggy and a close up of where you were connected, or yours, where he had you in a mating press with his lips against yours the entire time, was completely unimportant.

guilt would eat you alive anyway.

the texts stop coming in. the mysterious spam calls and the views on your stories disappear. in their place comes an all-consuming force: regret.

it’s only been a week since you’d received those voice messages from wooyoung and gotten off to his voice. you had scrolled through your hidden folder like a lunatic, watching short clips and long videos that told stories that hurt to remember as much as they hurt to forget. 

the earliest video he’d recorded spontaneously when you were both so turned on you during a house party that you could barely think straight. that night is too fresh in your mind; it had started with you grinding on a strange man to prove a point. it ended with wooyoung’s hand pressing your face against the cold marble of a bathroom sink.

another short clip not long after, focused on the bounce of your hips against his, your reflections in his full length mirror barely visible. he had a crazed look in his eyes, the look you mistook for affection no matter how many times he’d reminded you it wasn’t.

you hate first few videos. taken around the beginning of the year when you’d started hooking up. the way he talked to you was clipped, like he knew nothing about you other than how good you felt around him. most of them cut off right below your neck, with your face down and the focus of the video on your ass or the arch of your back. his groans were strained, and his hands were as shy as they could be for someone like him. it wasn’t the man who would hold your hand as he ate you out or the man whose thumb would graze the peak of your cheekbone as he pleaded against your lips for ‘one more’.

the videos dated in july were once your favorites. they were slower, more sensual. if you try hard enough, you can will yourself to believe that he meant every word that dropped from his lips. wooyoung, the man who used to fuck you like he was in a hurry to leave before the sun set, was almost delicate during the summer you spent together. your hand would wrap around his neck, and the tanned skin of his cheeks would cave in with those deep dimples you’d learned to love. he would hold you impossibly close to him, head tilted back, awaiting a string of spit from your lips. his tongue would clean up the tears trailing down your face after his hand came down too harshly between your legs. neither of you were below begging. it’s why you went well together.

perhaps the intimacy he constructed was one you weren’t meant to indulge in. when mumbled ‘i love you’s filled the minimal space between you, you should have ignored them, the way he ignored every request for him to stay the night. the illusion was supposed to remain unaddressed; he was always going to deny that he meant anything he said. wooyoung’s words were worth as little as your self-respect. because even when he’d laughed in your face, clarified his lack of intention, and pushed you away, you crawled back into his bed. too many times to count. more than you are willing to admit to yourself. 

even now, your thumb hovers above the button that could delete the entire album of videos you’ve kept. it would take two clicks, but the idea of losing that evidence terrifies you. so you chicken out, tossing your phone to the side in frustration. it bounces on your mattress once before landing on the smooth wood of your floor with a soft thud. 

when you lift the device back up, the screen is shattered. 

wooyoung is counting down the days. his calendar is full of circles and marks in black pen. friends’ birthdays, due dates at work, parties to attend. the winter is full of events and holidays, but none as important as the date he has marked in red. one week ago, the day you’d finally caved in. 

it’s not like he’s obsessed with you or anything, but you hurt his pride back in august, when you’d ended things. he thought you were bluffing. that you’d come back on a late night like always, too ready for someone who had cussed him out hours earlier. but you didn’t.

he was stuck in complete silence from you. he’d texted and called to no avail. he even considered showing up unannounced, but that was desperate. desperation wasn’t the role wooyoung took in your exchanges. 

a few days passed, then a few weeks, and before he knew it, you had a new toy to keep you busy. namely, park seonghwa. he was admittedly handsome and well-off from the looks of his profile. the kind of guy that gets you flowers just because. the kind that writes you sappy messages while you sleep. the kind that meets your parents and friends with shaky hands because he cares and he wants to make a good impression.

everything wooyoung isn’t.

to say wooyoung is jealous would be an overstatement. sure, if he could choose his life, he wouldn’t mind ending up like seonghwa. but wooyoung had taken too many left turns along the road for that to ever happen. 

he tried to move past you. called a few girls over, kicked them out afterwards, like he used to.

it didn’t work. not for long, anyway. the foggy nights would tide him over for a few days, keep him off your profile and away from your contact. but the feeling never lasted. 

as he looks through your profile for the hundredth time, he isn’t sure what exactly is keeping him there. he decides it must be the hit to his ego. the fact that things ended before he decided he was done. 

a little ‘s’ captions a highlight you have pinned, and wooyoung scrolls through it. it’s like all the typical couple’s highlights– dinner dates, flowers, sunsets– boring. so unlike you. 

he wonders if the smiling man has any idea he exists and hasn’t even been blocked. he wonders what kind of story you told him about your past relationships.

all he knows is that seonghwa has probably seen your posted pictures as often as he has. probably jerked off to them and felt shame afterwards. 

wooyoung can’t relate to that feeling. not even now, as he undoes his belt buckle, glancing at the calendar next to his desk. 

he gives it another two weeks before everything falls back into his hands.

the late autumn afternoon is particularly silent. only wind rushes against your windows, creating a small howl that you’d find creepy if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with figuring out the exact shade of white paint on your ceiling.

your room is a complete mess, pairs of pants strung across the back of your desk chair while two large trash bags hold old clothes you’re not sure you’re ready to let go of.

you know you’re spiraling. there’s an unfinished bowl of oatmeal too close to the edge of your nightstand, probably already gone bad with how long it’s been sitting there. you can’t remember if you even checked that you turned off the stove before frantically deciding to deep clean your closet. but you decide to stay on the ground rather than check. 

with a frustrated swipe of your hand down your face, you feel around the ground to find your phone. when your fingers reach the cold device, you pause. who could you even call and tell all your worries? you had impulsively ghosted your therapist after they doubled their prices. that wouldn’t work.

so you scroll through your contact list, ready to give up and post anonymously on a forum, before you reach a name that pulls you out of your stupor.

cee, your previous roommate. the girl who had seen you sob over expired ice cream after one of those weeks at work. the one who gave you a live demonstration of her first time when the electricity went out and the two of you were bored out of your minds. nothing was considered oversharing with her.

you bite the inside of your cheek, hoping the time difference in her new city won’t kill your chances at reaching her.

“cee,” you mutter in relief as the line picks up, placing your cracked phone next to your ear, “i really need your advice.”

cee scoffs on the other end of the line, “whoa, no ‘hello’? ‘how are you’?”

“sorry, hi. i saw you post that you got promoted, and i forgot to congratulate you. seriously, congrats. you deserve it. uh, how’s the city? your girlfriend?”

there’s a soft laugh on the other end of the line before she replies, “thank you, but you’re rambling. we can catch up later. what’s the matter?”

your veins rush hot blood through your limbs, “this might be really tmi.”

“girl,” she replies, completely unimpressed, “please, spare me. spill, now.”

“okay. well, you know seonghwa, right?” an enthusiastic hum vibrates through your speaker, “and… wooyoung?”

there’s a moment of silence before you hear a quiet ‘yeah’.

she doesn’t need the backstory. she was with you the night you met wooyoung outside a house party in january. he smiled like he’d won something when you accepted his coat to put over the dress you’d insisted on wearing despite the threat of snow. she’d bumped into him in your shared living room when he was sneaking out after a late night. she’d seen you delete his number and unfollow him on everything after a pep talk.

you talk about everything from july onwards: meeting seonghwa through a mutual friend and clicking instantly. the social media stalking and the insistent calls. the cute romantic dinners and personalized bouquets. back and forth, like a ping-pong game.

cee doesn’t stop you, only interrupting for clarification when you mumble or trail off. when you’re done, there’s a moment of silence on her end. 

“so… you have your dream guy, but you’re stuck on wooyoung,” it sounds more like a question than a statement, but she schools her tone, “okay. i mean, he is practically a rebound.”

“he is not!”

silence.

“okay,” you concede, scratching the side of your face, “sorry, i don’t know why i’m getting defensive. he’s… you’d really like him.”

“he sounds like a dream,” cee offers, and you can picture her pressing her lips together as she contemplates how forward she should be. “but… maybe not a wet one?”

you feel ashamed at how easily that pulls a laugh out of you, “it’s not like i don’t want him, but it’s discouraging to be rejected so much. and like… he wants me too. he said so. just not now, i guess.”

“uh-huh,” she hesitates before continuing, “there’s something you’re not telling me, though.”

“...i told him about wooyoung.”

that seems to appease her worry, “okay, good, that’s honest. maybe that’s why he’s being careful.”

“it is,” you pause, “this is so embarrassing but… last week, i tried to initiate. we were making out, and i started grinding on him, and he was really into it until he kinda stopped me and told me he wanted to wait. that he didn’t want me to think he was like wooyoung. and that i deserved to have something special. more than a quickie.”

your ac whirrs quietly in the background as you wait for a response. you wish you could see her face right across from you, twirling a curl around her finger, and watch her brown eyes give away her every thought. desperately, you want someone to agree with you mindlessly, but you need her honesty. 

“am i supposed to root for wooyoung here, or..?”

“you’re not supposed to root at all, i need you to tell me what to do.”

her tone is a little harsher than you expect, “you need to stop self-sabotaging and stay with someone who actually gives a fuck.”

“but listen… wooyoung texted me that night. like non-stop. i was so overwhelmed with everything that i actually answered.”

cee shrieks, and you send her the screenshots as proof. she reads the texts and the transcript of the first voice message in complete silence, and you take the chance to fill the line with the most humiliating part of your story.

“he’s right. i have every single video, and the whole situation with seonghwa had me really frustrated, so i went back and watched them and i… you know?”

“oh my god. wow, this is bad. like really, really bad.”

“i know, i know,” you groan, head tipping back as you spread your body on your wooden floor, “i don’t know what to do.”

“i love you so much, but i think you need to,” you hear her fumble her words for a few moments before she sighs, “step back. break up, heal fully from that piece of shit, and move forward. delete those fucking videos. i’m so serious. the dick could not have been that good.”

you let the last statement linger and she inhales sharply.

“seriously?”

“yeah,” you mutter, nodding to yourself, “i didn’t even know i could squirt until he—”

“okay. okay, let’s not get nostalgic. delete the videos. tell seonghwa most of the truth. that you’re not fully healed and you don’t want to string him along, and… leave out the ‘i masturbated to old sex tapes with the man you hate after you blue-balled me’ part.”

the rest of the conversation is a blur as your mind wanders to the exact words you’ll say to your boyfriend’s face. you can only hope they make it past your lips, regardless of how shiny his eyes might look or how deeply he furrows his thick brows. 

seonghwa always smells like jasmine and something softer, a comforting scent that always lingers on his clothes. it surrounds you like an embrace as you step into the living room of his apartment, one tiny lamp in the corner of the room giving you just enough light to guide you into the space. 

“you okay?” seonghwa asks too sweetly, his eyes studying your features. the pad of his thumb swipes gently across your cheek to get your attention, mimicking the motion of wiping away a tear that isn't there. not yet, anyway. “talk to me.”

you inhale sharply at the kindness of his touch, the warmth you didn’t deserve. “sorry, i probably scared you coming by so late, but… it’s bad, seonghwa.”

he nods, never one to invalidate your words. the clock ticking behind you calls his attention: 2am. not a likely time for him to be up. but with the sight of your frown, he suddenly feels awake. “maybe it is. i still want to help.”

there are a few moments of hesitation. your mind is at war with itself, and it doesn’t help that he holds eye contact patiently, like he’s waiting for something he knows won’t arrive. but he tries, and that might be the worst part.

the words feel heavy on the tip on your tongue. you turn them over, taste the bitterness, try to swallow them and keep them buried. another swipe of his thumb right underneath your eye coaxes them out.

“we should break up,” you blurt, head tilting away from his touch.

“what?”

the small lamp flickers, the buzz filling the split second of silence, “we need to break up. this is so unfair to you. it’s really, really unfair and it’s wrong of me to keep you around for myself when i know i’m not over everything.”

his lips part with a soft interruption, “hey. slow down, you need to breathe. three deep breaths, okay?”

your eyes flutter with surprise. as if that wasn’t the response you were expecting. kindness. worry. him.

you follow his instructions without a second thought, but the expansion of your lungs feels tight, nearly uncomfortable as your heart thrums wildly in the same confined space between your ribs.

“okay,” he continues once he’s counted three inhales, “there you are. sit.”

“no, seonghwa—”

“i’m gonna get you water,” his voice drops to a near whisper, “and you’re gonna wait for me on the sofa, okay?”

“okay.”

after what feels like an eternity, he returns with a mug in his hands. it’s the mug you’d made when you went on a pottery class date, the one with your initials scrawled on the bottom. the water is cool as it passes down your throat, doing its job at soothing your nerves.

seonghwa sits beside you, keeping his hands to himself as he watches you take small sips in between breaths. he tries to appear calm, but his hand trembles slightly as he threads it through his silky hair. 

the mug clinks softly against his wooden coffee table, and you talk. you tell him most of the truth like you’d planned. you tell him how you’re overwhelmed, not fully healed from your recent past. you explain that you need time, that it’s not anything he’s done, and that you want to stay on good terms. you wonder if he thinks you only say that to keep him as an option.

he’s nodding in acknowledgment the entire time, searching your features as you run out of breath trying to get everything out at once. 

“i’m sorry, angel,” he fixes the strap of your tank top neatly over your shoulder, distracted for a second before he meets your eyes again, “i rushed you, didn’t i?”

you shake your head in firm disagreement, but he continues before you can get a word in.

“i got too excited. i overwhelmed you when i knew exactly what you were still processing. what still hurts you,” the corners of his pink lips turn down. “i thought i could help. but i should’ve given you time. i should’ve kept my feelings to myself for your sake, let us be friends a little longer. i was selfish and too quick.”

selfish.

“what the hell is your problem?” san scoffs when wooyoung stands up with so much force that the couch creaks as it shifts a few inches.

the latter holds his hand up, eyes jumping around his phone screen like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. he reloads the page once, twice, and a third time just to be sure.

the highlight with the little ‘s’ is gone.

“san, get out,” he practically commands, turning to his friend when he remains seated on the leather couch.

the larger man frowns, nose scrunching in distaste, “are you high? this is my place. i told you not to smoke before coming over, i hate the smell.”

“shit, you’re right,” wooyoung grabs his jacket off the back of the cushions, “and i’m not high, fuck you. i quit months ago.”

san pouts at the harsh words, voice tapering off, “i know. you quit because of that girl.”

“what?”

“you quit around the time you were messing around with that girl. you stopped being so antsy all the time. but you never even told me her name,” his arms spread onto the back of the couch, watching as wooyoung’s hand freezes around the doorknob.

“that’s not true.”

“okay.”

“you don’t believe me?” 

san shrugs like it doesn’t concern him in the slightest, “i know what i saw. we all do.”

the room feels smaller as wooyoung takes a few steps back into the studio apartment, “who’s we? what the hell does that mean?”

“everyone, woo. i mean, all the guys watched you freak out in real time when you got blocked or whatever.”

he can’t gulp down the defensiveness climbing into his words, “i did not get blocked.”

a fragile kind of quiet invades the room. the two men stare at each other, neither making any move to continue the conversation. it was a dead end anyway, it always was when this topic came up. the word ‘fling’ was practically banned within their friend group. 

a sharp beep interrupts the moment, and san looks up to the smoke detector on the ceiling before muttering to himself, “oh, that needs new batteries.”

wooyoung nods slowly, taking a step back, “yeah. well, i’m gonna…”

“run?” 

wooyoung nods, hand landing back on the doorknob as he adjusts his jacket under his arm. he feels like he’s waiting for permission of some kind, the cool metal under his palm doing little to battle the excessive heat his skin radiates. 

san seems to contemplate something before deciding against it, popping his neck with a smile, “sounds like you.”

“oh, fuck off. i need to make a call.”

“to who? the hiring manager at jongho’s office?”

“i’m not working in a cubicle at a company i don’t care about. it’d be bad enough to have jongho as a coworker,” wooyoung’s eyes narrow as he waves in dismissal.

the smoke detector beeps again and san glances at it momentarily, “you could use the stability. working commission forever is a little crazy.”

wooyoung raises a brow at his friend’s concern, “i do well for myself.”

“because you’re hot and the old rich ladies love younger men. but you don’t actually care about luxury coats and bags, either. you’re just afraid of being tied down to something.”

“i like fashion. i could work in fashion for a while, it’s exciting. it keeps me on my toes.”

“but you don’t love it.”

wooyoung looks off to the side, at the mirror hanging right by the entrance. his eyebrow piercing glints softly, and he adjusts it before turning the doorknob, “i don’t think you’re talking about work anymore, and i hate when you start talking in metaphors, so i’m leaving.”

“make the right call, wooyoung.”

the other side of the line is surprisingly silent when you pick up. there’s static noise, fabric ruffling momentarily, and then a soft breath.

“finally.”

the three syllables make you nauseous, and you pull your phone away from your ear, opting to set it down on your pillow. just after a thorough shower, you’re already feeling gross.

the honeyed voice continues, “i was right.”

your stomach flips. there are so many things he could be talking about. maybe he’d somehow found out what you’d done after those voice messages a little over a week ago. maybe he was reminiscing about one of the many times you cussed him out without letting him get a word in. “what?”

wooyoung huffs, eyeing his calendar, “nothing. when did you break up?”

“today,” you answer before you can help yourself. “you knew that, though.”

“mhm. how are you holding up?”

“i broke up with him,” you explain, as if that answers his question.

“i assumed. doesn’t make it any less difficult. you were content with him.”

you feel a familiar flutter deep in your chest as he uses your own words against you, a teasing lilt in his voice. “what do you want, wooyoung?”

“i can’t check up on you?”

“a bit late for that.”

he laughs, short and surprised, and you imagine the dimples hollowing his cheeks. your skin buzzes with anticipation, like he’s conditioned you to react to his voice. “ouch. i honestly am calling to hear your voice, though.”

your room starts to feel too hot, and you peel your robe off your body, throwing it to the foot of your bed before responding, “why won’t you just let this die?”

you’re baiting him. you want to hear him confirm that all those words he’d said in the heat of the moment weren’t in vain. that this was still salvageable, somehow. that it mattered.

wooyoung doesn’t know the answer to that question himself. he takes another look at his calendar before shrugging, picking at the lint on his pants, “isn’t that a mutual decision?”

“i did my part, i told you to leave me alone.”

he takes a few seconds before retorting, “you’d also tell me to slow down, all while pushing back onto me. you like to lie.”

“i’m not a liar.”

he exhales softly, “yeah? what’d you tell seonghwa?”

perhaps you answer him immediately because of the fact that he’s infinitely worse than you. anything you’ve done wrong once, he’s probably done a million times over. “that it isn’t his fault, and i need time.”

wooyoung chuckles, light and airy like you remember, “wow. what a speech. i almost believed you too.”

you grit your teeth, hating how his words make your chest rise and fall a little quicker, “it’s true.”

“partially,” he murmurs, “but it doesn’t really matter what you told him. what matters is you picked up.”

“only because i guessed that you’d keep spamming my phone if i didn’t.”

he hums, deep in his chest, “that’s a good guess.”

you lie down, turning to face the pillow where your phone is still resting. you close your eyes, pretending he’s there with you, like one of those rare nights he’d stay back and talk. you wonder if his hair is still half-bleached, if his brow ever settled down after the piercing he got, or if he’s marked his tanned skin with any new tattoos. 

he takes your silence as a cue to keep pressing, “do you remember what i told you when we last spoke?”

you don’t open your eyes, the pad of your thumb brushing idly over the waistband of your underwear, “to call you.”

“that’s what you took from our conversation? not the part where i told you i missed you?”

a grin pulls at your lips, “that’s only partially true.”

“it’s fully true, for both of us. i know you miss me too.”

it hits you right then that wooyoung is nothing like seonghwa. he always sounds sure of himself, never hesitates to call something out the way he sees it. even when he’s wrong, he has a way of convincing you otherwise. but he’s not wrong this time, not when you feel arousal pooling in your lower abdomen.

so you do as he taught you all those months ago. you allow yourself to shamelessly take, to trail your hand down without a doubt, because he hated hesitation more than anything.

“no,” you manage to keep a steady tone as you push the cotton to the side, “i don’t. i need you to stop—”

he interrupts, “i know what you need. let me come over and show you.”

you cringe internally at his interruption, but the urgency in his voice sends another thrilling wave through your body, “we’re done, wooyoung. we’ve been done for months.”

“doesn’t mean i’ve forgotten anything,” he notes, taking a deep breath, “please. please, i’ve been waiting for you.”

you squeeze your eyes a little harder, hips involuntarily twitching to meet your hand. you’re building a torturous pace, the kind he’d use when he wanted you to snap at him. as much as he liked your disgruntled reactions, he always refused to give in, wanting to take his time taking you apart.

you think back to the middle of spring, the night he kept his mouth on you for hours, unwilling to move away until you admitted that no one else compared to him. 

“are you… touching yourself?” wooyoung asks, his voice trailing into a warm laugh before it stops, like the realization hits him just as hard as the embarrassment hits you. “oh, fuck, you are.”

your heart races, stopping your movements as you straighten up on the bed. how could he possibly tell? “what are you talking about?”

“you are,” he replies decisively, not a hint of doubt in his voice, “i knew you were desperate, but this is almost sad, baby.”

“don’t call me that.”

“then deny it.”

you can’t. because you know he can probably imagine you accurately enough, and it bothers you to no end. how he always acts like he knows you, because he does. there’s a few shuffling noises on his side, and you apparently take too long to respond because he takes your silence as an affirmation.

“you didn’t come,” he says matter-of-factly, “should i help you? guide you over the phone like i used to? or is your door unlocked? can—”

“stop, wooyoung. you’re hearing things. i shouldn’t have picked up. go fuck one of your friends and stop calling.”

“don’t blame this on me. no one forced you to stuff your hand in your panties while i talked. that was all you,” his tone is sharp, his words drowning out his footsteps. he echoes his question from earlier, a little firmer this time, “is your door unlocked?”

there’s a certain sense of comfort in fucking wooyoung. you never had to shave, you could fuck him with dried drool on the side of your face after a nap. he never cared so long as he could get your lips on him, and it was nearly reassuring to see how much someone could crave you in every form. 

so when he shows up mere minutes after you hang up, you let him in. you don’t think he’ll even turn to look at the empty water bottles littered on your wooden floor or the dishes piled up impressively high in your sink, not when he’s busy getting as close to you as humanly possible. 

“hey, look at you,” he rasps, running his hand through hair that’s longer than you remember. you hug your robe a little tighter around yourself as he makes a show out of looking you up and down, asymmetrical eyes burning through you. “even prettier than i remember.”

“just do what you’re here to do, wooyoung,” you reply, not stepping back when he begins to crowd your space.

a crooked smile pulls at his lips, and he’s quick to abide. one hand settles on your waist, tugging you closer, while the other wraps around the back of your neck. 

but that’s too easy. and you’ve been too easy for much too long, so you decide against it last minute, just as he’s dipping down for a kiss. your hand covers his mouth, and you push back slightly.

“apologize.”

the one word floats in the air between you, weightless with how quietly you said it. 

wooyoung doesn’t fight it. he meets your eyes, taking a half-step back before slowly sinking to his knees. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, brown eyes still pouring into yours, “for everything.” 

he emphasizes his words by sliding his palms to the backsides of your legs, just above your knees. he moves closer, enough to rest the side of his face on the fabric that covers the top of your right thigh.

“i said things i didn’t mean,” he adds, sharp jaw dragging against cotton, “i would take everything back, if i could.”

you stare for a few moments, taking in the sight of the beautiful man groveling at your feet. his hair obscures his eyes a bit, the underside no longer blonde. you push the strands away from his forehead, using that as leverage to pull his face away, “and?”

“and i’m gonna make it up to you,” he responds hurriedly, eyelids lowering slightly as you tilt his head further back.

he’s basically saying nothing, and you know it. his apology is a string of words you want to hear, but not an acknowledgment of guilt. it makes you angrier, more determined. for what? you aren’t sure.

the look in his eyes stirs something deep in your chest, and you surprise yourself as you put your right leg further out in front of you. he looks confused for a split second before his hand leaves your left thigh to undo the small knot keeping your robe together.

“no,” you reprimand, moving his hand away, “you get my leg.”

for the first time since you’ve met him, wooyoung seems genuinely taken aback. “what?”

you don’t repeat yourself and hope your silence comes off as firm, not nervous.

he swallows, eyes flicking from your face to your exposed leg. there’s a moment of hesitation before he readjusts himself, positioning your shin right between his legs. then, he tentatively grinds up against your skin. the friction of his sweatpants against your leg burns just slightly, but you decide it’s worth it when you see his jaw clench.

his movements start off slow, but soon enough, he’s full-on humping your leg. muffled expletives drop from his full lips, chest heaving when you use the grip on his hair to pull his forehead away from your side.

“you’re fucking pathetic,” you say over his lewd noises. shameless, just like everything else about him, and the thought only spurs you on. “calling me, texting me, stalking my account. did nobody wanna fuck you? i bet they wouldn’t, after seeing this.”

you’re not even sure where all your words are coming from. they’re dropping from your lips like they’re rehearsed, with venom and confidence only he could get out of you. he chokes on a groan, hips moving like they have a mind of their own, “no— no, just you. i missed you. didn’t you miss me? fuck, our saturday nights?”

he’s smiling dazedly, so close to the edge he can practically taste it, but you yank his head away from you before letting go of his hair. “get up, wooyoung.”

you move your right leg back, enjoying the way his whole body folds towards you as you rip his pleasure away. he places his hands over his knees, leaning his weight forward as he stares up at you, “what? can you give me a second to catch my breath? i—”

“stand up,” you cut him off, stepping closer when he does as he’s told. “fuck me, and go home.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice, lips on yours in record time. it’s messy and full of unspoken frustration, but it’s yours. familiar in all the wrong ways as he strips out of his sweater. 

the walk to your room is short, and he manages to tug your robe off your body before climbing over you on the mattress. you’re bare underneath, and he hums in approval as he tugs his slacks down, “i’m trying not to finish just from seeing you again.”

“shut up,” you lean back on your elbows, giving him a disapproving stare that only serves to humor him.

he frees himself from his boxer briefs, leaning down so that he’s lining up with your entrance. you take a deep breath in sheer anticipation, and he appeases you with a slow kiss, “you’re already so wet for me. you can take it, baby.”

you relax against the mattress as he continues kissing you, two fingers spreading you open for him. he slides between your folds a few times before pressing in with a moan against your lips. 

“fuck, hold on,” he props himself up, watching as you hold your legs up for him. he screws his eyes shut, the view below him sending sparks of heat down his spine. “i’m close, from earlier.”

if anyone else were to finish prematurely with you, you would absolutely complain. but this was wooyoung, the man who would rather die than have a partner of his go around saying they were left unsatisfied.

so your legs come down, wrap around his waist, and pull until he’s buried in you to the hilt. 

wooyoung’s eyes fly open and find yours, a small laugh tumbling out of his lips, “you’re… fuck, squeezing me like crazy. relax.”

“just fuck me already,” you retort, hands traveling up his toned torso, tracing the tattoo on his ribs, “it doesn’t matter.”

his brows pinch when one of your hands pulls him closer by the base of his neck, “i’m gonna come inside if you keep—”

“then do it,” you challenge, heart leaping when he wastes no time and begins to thrust into you shallowly.

a moan of his name slips past your lips as he adjusts his angle, thrusts becoming more pointed as his mouth sucks a mark into the underside of your jaw.

“i know,” he mutters against your skin, but the words sound more like provocation than comfort, “that’s it, baby, don’t run from it.”

your bare chest meets his when he hits the spot only he’s managed to find, and your head tips back at the intensity of the feeling, “you’re so good, right there.”

“yeah? you’re so pretty, i bet he wishes he knew this body like i do.” the words get lost somewhere in the heated space between you, and wooyoung picks up his pace. he brushes his lips against your cheek when you complain, “just a little more, yeah? i need…”

he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you’re squeezing the sides of his neck hard enough to rip a whine from his throat. he only gives two more pumps before he collapses on you, panting against your neck. 

a few moments pass before his weight comes off you, and he carefully pulls himself out. even as he’s softening, he twitches at the sight of your mixed arousals dripping out of you. 

one of his hands holds the back of your thigh up, pushing it closer to your torso, as his other hand spreads you further.

a groan rumbles in his chest as he leans down, tongue licking a broad stripe up to your clit. he glances up to gauge your reaction, smiling when you immediately cover your mouth with your palm. 

“uh-uh,” he tuts, kissing the inside of your thigh before climbing back over you. his larger hand holds your jaw as he kisses you, tongue swiping against yours. you can taste him and then yourself distinctly on his tongue, but the exchange muddles everything into one tangy mess. “see how good you taste with me? how good we taste together?”

the playful smile on his features reaches his eyes, and you’re almost convinced he isn’t aware how brutally those words made your heart twist. he pushes you up the bed when you nod in absentminded agreement, settling on his stomach with your legs thrown over his shoulders. “hurry, woo.”

“don’t rush me,” his hands pry your legs further, and when he’s satisfied, he places his strong forearm right over your waist. “i said i’d make it up to you, so i’m taking my time.”

he places a gentle kiss on your clit, the kind of action that had confused you just months earlier. it’d made you think your arrangement was much more than it ever was. even now, you couldn’t help but clench around nothing at the view. 

“such a sensitive pussy,” he mumbles to himself, blowing air right on your center before diving in. the tip of his hooked nose presses against your clit as he uses his tongue to tease your entrance. “and so pretty, too.”

after so long without stimulation, your body suddenly feels like it’s on fire, abdomen muscles tensing desperately under his gaze. he laps you up eagerly, moaning when you do, sucking on your clit rhythmically. 

he slows down when your breathing picks up, groaning at the desperate bucks of your hips.

“fuck, wooyoung, i was close,” you grumble, giving up on scooting closer to his mouth when his arm pushes you down.

he bites the plush skin of your thigh gently, meeting your gaze with a defiant glint, “i know, but it’ll feel better if i build it up.”

you shake your head in annoyance, not caring whether he’s right or not, “i don’t care. i wanna come.”

“you want to? or you need to?” he questions, slowly inching closer, until he’s close enough that you can feel his breath fan over you.

you know what he’s fishing for, the answer he’s pulled from you before. it means something completely different now, but you say it anyway. “i need you, wooyoung, please.”

“that’s it,” he praises, leaning back down to give you exactly what he knows you need. the pressure of two fingers curling right on that spot that makes your breathing tremble, his tongue brushing repetitive motions on your clit. “there’s my baby. so good for me.”

heat climbs up your back much quicker this time around, your jaw slack as you suck in quick breaths and exhale the moans you can’t suppress. your legs nearly close around his head, but he doesn’t stop, instead opting to hold his tongue out for you to use.

your hand rushes down to rest on the back of his head, pushing him impossibly closer, and he moans openly into you. the vibrations tip you over the edge as you orgasm with a force you hadn’t known before him. hot, white pleasure shoots through all of your nerves. your legs kick up, and your back arches all the way off the bed.

wooyoung continues licking stripes over your cunt as you catch your breath, enjoying the melody of his name dropping from your mouth. it takes the better half of a minute for your body to fully relax, and he rubs a soothing hand on the flesh of your ass while he waits. 

when you finally come down, you feel exhausted, body limp against the sheets beneath you.

“i got you,” he whispers, getting up to make his way to your restroom. the clean towels were still where you kept them months back, and he wets one with warm water before making his way back to you.

he cleans you up gently, cooing when he brushes over a particularly sensitive spot just to see you jolt.

you sit up when he’s done, watching closely as he tucks himself back into his boxer briefs, “are you staying?”

he looks up, “do you want me to?”

your shoulders rise and fall, “it’s up to you.”

he considers the offer for a moment. he feels your stare, the way your eyes trace over his features like you’re seeing him for the first time.

slowly, he nods, dimples deepening with purpose, “yeah, sure.”

the wooyoung you knew never stayed the night. not once. if he was drunk, he’d call a ride. he never cared how late it was. he drew a line at actually sleeping in the same bed.

so your heart soars at the change. you almost mention how easy it would be to just put a label on what was already a relationship. but you decide to talk about it in the morning, when your eyes aren’t shutting involuntarily.

now, he lies back on your pillow, holding you close as your head rests on his shoulder. and when he’s sure your breathing has evened out, he places a kiss on the crown of your head.

reaching over the bed, careful not to disturb you, he grabs your phone. it’s cracked, but the password is the same, the one he’d memorized by looking over your shoulder.

he opens your photo library, scrolling down to the hidden folder. it’s what he expected, all videos of you and him, save for a few screenshots of important passwords.

he contemplates deleting them himself. brushes the thought away. that was for you to deal with.

then, he opens the camera app, making sure to get your face in frame as he snaps a picture. the screen loads as it attempts to take a clear image in the dark. when it’s done, wooyoung checks it, and a satisfied smile carves into his features.

“cute,” he whispers to himself, catching himself staring at it for a beat too long.

from the start, it was clear how this would end. or more so, how he was going to end things. on his own accord, with his pride in tact.

yet the talk about stability and being tied down still linger in his head as he glances at your closed eyes.

but wooyoung doesn't like doing things he doesn’t need to do, and a relationship is at the top of his list of things he doesn't need. he hardly even wants one as is.

it doesn’t matter how pretty you look knocked out on his chest, breath warming his skin.

you have options anyway.

wooyoung can only choose himself.

with a quick tap of his fingers, he’s opening your messages. he scrolls a bit before his eyes land on the contact he wants. seonghwa.

it only takes four clicks to send the picture he took. he doesn’t follow up with any text, sure that it speaks for itself.

and just as easily as he walked through your door that night, wooyoung slips out.

── wait im so excited for this OMGOMGOGM my first series! i didn’t know if i wanted to make this an exclusively written story or a smau… but u can clearly see how that went. i do apologize for any inaccuracies with timestamps, i already know i’ll probably forget about it in the near future. well, i guess that’s all i really have to say. please enjoy, reblog, like, and comment to your hearts desire!

masterlist taglist (open)

start date — may 14, 2026

end date — tbd

status — ongoing

featuring — sana of twice (oc), jihyo of twice, mina of twice, juyeon of the boyz, soobin of txt, giselle of aespa, san, seonghwa, yeosang, wooyoung, and jongho of ateez

CHAPTERS. written chapters — .ᐟ

meet the cast! (1) | meet the cast! (2)

i. coming soon …

ii.

iii.

iv.

v.

© woopetal. all rights reserved.

this is simply a work of fiction and is not meant be true representation of the artists mentioned in any way, shape, or form.

tags (open) | @wooyosdots @threepointstogryffindor

── omg this is my first ever post on here and it turned out to be waaaay longer than i had intended, honestly. i’ve had this idea in my head for a while and knew nobody else was gonna do it so i had to take matters into my own hands. i’d like to mention that this is NOT proofread. if you see any typos pls lmk !! i really hope u enjoy it, byeeeee >ᴗ<

inhale.

exhale.

everything is fine, you’re okay. it’s not like you’re about to walk into a room full of people you’ve never met before or anything. oh! and even better, you’ll be with them for the rest of your life. how perfect. it’s not a huge change, i mean, you’ve been working for this since you were what, sixteen? or was it fifteen? hell, who knows? all you know is you’re an eighteen year old girl ready to change her life forever.

“come in!” that pulls you out of it. the rough voice coming from the other side of the frosted glass door has just enough power to make your hand rest on the handle.

you want this. you need this.

one more inhale, another exhale. you push the door open and immediate chaos floods all five of your senses.

boys. eight boys are seen on the couch in the corner of the room, some goofing off with one another and some staying to themselves.

loud, it’s so loud in here, why? oh, that might be due to the four boys practically screaming over each other as they argue about whatever the fuck the current topic is.

cologne. it reeks of testosterone in here. woody, fresh, warm, musky. wait, it kind of smells really good. not important.

oh god, here comes the cotton mouth. your mouth tastes bitter and your whole body has run cold, or hot. are you sweating? fuck if you know. you reach up to touch your forehead. no, yeah, definitely sweating. why are you so cold? oh no, no, no.

consider your world completely and utterly fucking. rocked.

boys? why would i ever want to be surrounded by boys all day, every day?

i thought i would be with a group of girls.

they didn’t specify this in the papers.

god, please save me, tell me this is a dream. i can’t live a life like this. i’m gonna pass out. there is entirely too much going on in this room. is the room spinning?

you exhausted all of the possibilities in your head long before opening the door. but this? this was not one of them.

one of the eight boys looks up at you. he has sharp features. asymmetrical eyes, you clock that almost immediately as they pierce through you. he’s clad in a red bape and ape hoodie and black adidas sweatpants. brown hair, tanned skin, big, perfect nose. he nods towards you and goes right back to his phone. the smirk on his face certainly not going unnoticed by you.

you know what? okay, yeah.

“wooyoung, please, not right now,” you breathe out. you guys have just wrapped up practice for your latest comeback; work. and boy, oh boy, are you fucking working.

“pleaseeeee,” he begs, “it’ll only take a minute.”

“okay, then you can wait for just a minute,” you pant. keep in mind, currently laying on the floor here. dropped dead. limbs numb. sweating from your scalp to your little piggies. what does wooyoung want? glad you asked! tiktok. he wants to make a fucking tiktok fresh after practice. “how do you have the energy to even want to make a tiktok right now, dude?”

“um, because the choreo isn’t as draining as you’re making it seem? and even then, you’ve been stumbling over your feet all day,” he sits next to you on the floor, holding himself up with his arms as he cocks his head at you. at this point, the rest of the boys have exited the room for water, food, or their beds.

you chew on the inside of your cheek as you figure out what to say. honestly? you haven’t eaten in two days, certain parts of the choreo aren’t sticking with you like they usually would, you’re distracted, dissociated, not all there with the rest of the world. your boyfriend is currently on tour, and you’ve had this gut wrenching feeling eating away at you ever since he left. i love you baby, you know that, right? he had said. weird, but also, not weird? you say you love each other every time you’re going to be separated for a while, so why did it feel different this time?

“hello?” wooyoungs fingers snap in front of your face, “are you still with me, darling?” you blink.

“did you just snap at me?”

“well, yes.”

a moment of silence.

you spring forward and drag him onto the floor with you, punching his sides, “do. you. want. to. die?” you grunt between punches as he laughs, pleading with you. after a moment you both sit up, “i’m fine, wooyoung, don’t worry. i do have to go to my dorm though, so, have fun!” you squeak as you jump up onto your feet, almost losing your balance.

wooyoungs face scrunches up, “what are you in such a rush for? gotta call your boytoy?”

“he’s my boyfriend, not boytoy. get it right. but since you’re so curious, no, actually, i’m just ready to strip naked and wash my ass.”

“yeah whatever, didn’t need to know all that,” it’s silent as he watches you pack up your belongings from the floor. his feet wiggle in place, fighting the urge to help you pack up. he can hear it now, i am an independent woman, why the fuck would i need you to do that for me? he chuckles to himself before noticing a bruise on the back of your arm, immediately perking up, “what happened there?”

“huh?” you turn to look at him, then to the back of your arm where he was gesturing, “oh, mingi happened. i slammed into him earlier, remember? turns out he’s made of stone instead of skin and bones.”

“ah, right. make sure you take care of that.”

your eyebrows furrow as you chuckle and turn to face him again, “it’s a bruise wooyoung, not a stab wound. it’ll take care of itself.”

“still, don’t put pressure on it when you sleep tonight,” he states as he finally gets up and makes his way towards the door with you, “it could make it worse, or something.” he shrugs.

“sir yes sir, dr. jung,” you salute as you turn to walk your separate ways. wooyoung slings his already-packed-bag over his shoulder and watches you turn the corridor. with a sigh, he turns and makes his way over to his dorm.

perk number one of being the only girl in ateez: you get your own dorm. it gives you a break from boys in your fully furnished, cozy, warm, space. now, yunho and yeosangs dorm? a literal cardboard box. you couldn’t be paid enough to live in that.

you let out a sigh upon entering your dorm, sliding off your shoes and into your slippers. dropping your bag and keys off at the door, you beeline to your room and rip your drawers open.

underwear, shirt, what else, what else… oh!

you throw the clothes on your king sized bed, moving towards your vanity where you keep your self care. you snatch your favorite scents off the shelves and toss them on the bed with your clothes. it’s go time, baby.

the bathroom is humid and smells like the gingerbread man drowned in the tub, just how you like it. bubbles are engulfing your body, music is playing on the speaker beside you, you’ve got your wine glass in your hand, vanilla candle lit. what else could you possibly need?

…

why did your music stop..?

ring ring ring

your eyes snap open. you have got to be kidding me.

the growl that escapes your throat is beastly, leaning over the wall of the bathtub to grab your phone.

incoming call: my baby <3

the smile that appears on your face is bright enough to light millions of galaxies. of course, you answer with much enthusiasm. “hi baby! i miss you so much. how’s tour?”

“i miss you too, what’re you doing?” okay fuck me and my question then. from the looks of it, he’s laying in his hotel bed. all you can see is the top of his head though, strange?

“i’m taking a nice relaxing bath, soaking in the peace while i have some. today’s practice was so tiring.”

“mm,” he groans out. it’s silent for a beat before he speaks again, “fuck- i miss you, baby,” he sounds breathless.

um. “i miss you too… are you feeling okay?” your eyebrows furrow with concern. his camera moved down a bit more, you can see his whole face now. his eyes are closed, his bottom lip squeezed between his teeth, eyebrows pinched together. it seems he has no shirt on also, which is pretty normal for him.

“y-yeah, i’m just tired,” his eyes open to look at you now, droopy.

“oh- well, i’ll let you go then. get some rest, okay?”

“alright. b-bye,” he stutters. right before he hangs up the phone, yes, he hangs up, you hear a moan. well, no not a moan. a groan? squeak? whatever the fuck it was, it didn’t come from him. it was high pitched, feminine.

the fuck?

your thumbs move faster than your brain.

you: what the fuck was that?

12:28am

you: hello?

12:46am

you: jaehyun r u srs

you: did u fall asleep

1:13am

you: annyeonghaseyo what the fuck ????

now here you are, laying in your bed. restless, stressed, sad. you have pretty damn good ears, there’s no chance that they could be deceiving you right now. it’s been almost two hours since he hung up and you bolted out of the bathroom. you don’t understand, everything was fine before he left. what could’ve happened within the span of a few days?

you didn’t get a wink of sleep. maybe an hour — no, that’s a reach. you slept for thirty minutes before your alarm clock began screaming at you to wake up. ten seconds later, here comes the banging on the door.

“what, literally what?” you yelled as you stomped towards the door, swinging it open harshly.

“oh- good morning to you, too,” wooyoung waves before pushing past you and into your living room. “you look like shit, by the way.”

you’re surprised your eyes didn’t get stuck in the back of your head with the force you rolled them with. “we don’t have practice for another three hours wooyoung, why are you here?”

“i’m here to chill and eat your snacks beforehand, duh. call it practice pregame,” he says matter-of-factly.

“the whole point of me having my own dorm was so that none of you could be in here with me. get out,” you deadpanned as you made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“well that’s kind of hard to avoid, i’m only a building away. plus, san, mingi, and seonghwa literally live a door down.”

“yeah, a door down, not in my guest bedroom.”

wooyoung scoffs and turns his body away from the tv, really watching you now, “what’s up with you today? you’re awfully snappy”

you place your glass on the island counter and stare at him for second. he’s serious, isn’t he? “gee, i don’t know, maybe because i only got thirty minutes of sleep before i was woken up by a psychotic alarm clock at seven in the fucking morning! then an even more psychotic man—who is currently sitting on my couch, barged into my home, chose to bother me on a morning that wouldn’t have been any better anyways but at least i wouldn’t have to worry about being disturbed by you—” you ramble, your hands flailing all over the place as you go on and on.

wooyoung? he listens. he could tell something has been bothering you these past few days, he knows it’s best for you to let it all out now than later. in the midst of your breakdown he rises from the couch and moves to sit across from where you stand instead.

“i tried to have a relaxing night last night before my fucking boyfriend called me—”

“i thought you were excited to talk to him?”

“oh, just you fucking wait. so, he ended up calling me while i was in the bath. when i answered he sounded very… tired? i guess, i have no idea anymore. i’m so fucking confused,” you hold your head in your hands as you recall what happened last night, “he fucking called me, okay? i knew something was off when i answered and the only thing i could see was his stupid fucking forehead for the first two minutes.”

“two minutes? but th—”

“it was a short conversation,” you cut wooyoung off, holding your hand up, “i tried to talk to him about my day, you know, normal couple things. told him about practice, all that good shit. what’d he say? mm. fucking mm?!” you exclaimed, “and it didn’t even sound like an mm of acknowledgement, it sounded horny as fuck! he was all like—mm fuck, baby i miss you, like, get out of my face.”

wooyoung rolled his eyes, not at you—never at you, but at what he was hearing. he was simply distraught at the fact that anyone could be so vague and passive with you, one of the most charismatic people he knows. although he can’t blame him if he was in fact horny.

“that’s not even it, wooyoung. he starts… moaning? groaning? i don’t know, he sounded out of breath and like he was trying to hold stuff in. eventually, the camera moved down. i don’t think he meant for it to though. he was biting his lip and shit, it looked freaky as hell, and trust me, i know his sex faces.”

wooyoung grimaces at the thought of you doing the deed with someone, “alright maybe i didn’t need to know that.” retract previous statement. he can blame him.

“no you definitely did, it’s crucial to the plot. anyways, i asked him if he felt okay, to which he replied y-yeah, i’m just tired,” you mocked him in your ‘man voice’, “i told him to just get some rest—now keep in mind, he called me, okay? right before he hung up i heard a weird noise. i don’t wanna say it was a woman, but it sounded very feminine.”

“what the fuck?”

“yeah, what the fuck. i texted him for an hour straight last night, still no response to this very moment,” you sigh, now looking down at your glass of water. “i don’t want to accuse him of cheating but like,” you look back up at wooyoung, “ive had this gut feeling something bad was happening behind my back ever since he left for tour. that’s why ive been acting strange, and i know i shouldn’t have held it in but i just-” you sigh.

wooyoung is absolutely fuming, even if he didn’t show it. he is a man after all, he understands exactly what is going on—granted he’d never participate in such devious activities if he had a parter, especially not if he had someone like you. he walked around the counter and engulfed you in his arms. your body began to tremble, finally releasing all the pent up emotions you’ve been holding on to.

“i’m sorry i was mean,” your muffled voice fills his ears.

“it’s okay honey, i’d be mean too if i were you,” he pulled back to look at your face. your had tears streaming down your cheeks as you looked up at him. it tore him into pieces to see you like this. his hands reached up to wipe your face, “go get cleaned up, we’re going out.”

you frown, “out where?”

“out,” he shoves you towards your room, “go.”

“ooh look at this,” san chirps as he poses with the girliest purse you’ve ever seen. wooyoung decided to gather almost everyone to go out and shop together after your breakdown? rant? rant. you don’t have breakdowns over men. either way, it’s definitely cheering you up.

“wait, what about this one?” mingi walks up behind you with a more sleek purse. oh, here comes seonghwa strutting down with wooyoung hand-in-hand, holding matching coach bags. you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they look.

“so if i say i love them all you guys will buy them for me?” you lift your eyebrow with a smirk on your face.

“yes,” they say in unison.

chuckling and shaking your head, “guys you don’t have to do this, i’m seriously fine with just walking around. you don’t have to shove all these things in my face and beg to buy them for me,” wooyoung looks at you with a knowing look, cocking his head to the side. he can always tell when you’re bluffing, “okay fine, sugar baby me.”

and sugar baby you they sure fucking did. the boys walk in tandem with you back to your dorm, all of their arms covered with bags of things they bought you. you know when that one kid in school walked down the hallway and you just knew they were coming because of their keychains? yeah, that’s basically them but with shopping bags right now.

“fuck, why did you let me do this,” seonghwa pants as you guys exit the elevator.

“you wouldn’t leave me alone, don’t complain now,” you shrug as you unlock your door and let them in. the bags are immediately dropped to the floor, grunts and groans of relief coming from the men. “you guys are dramatic. hey—don’t break my shit!”

“anything you say, girly. now let’s go, we have to be at practice in thirty minutes. hongjoong will kill us if we’re late… again.” san says.

you giggle as they walk ahead of you and out of your dorm. as you’re locking your door you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, frowning, you pull it out.

oh.

jaehyun.

you begrudgingly put the phone to your ear, “yes, jaehyun?” wooyoung turns to look at you at the mention of his name, a concerned look on his face. you shake your head at him and motion for him to go ahead, which he reluctantly obeys.

“hey baby, how are you?”

“uh, i’m good. could be better, actually. what’s up?” you begin walking a few feet behind the boys, closer to wooyoung than the rest of them. of course, he purposefully walked slower than the rest to pick up on your conversation. call him nosy, shame him for eavesdropping, he couldn’t care less.

“oh, um- i was just wondering. what happened last night?”

your heart stopped for a moment. he’s serious?

“what do you mean?”

“well i saw i had called you last night but i don’t remember it at all, haha,” haha. “i drank with the guys so i was pretty drunk.”

“oh, i see… were you too drunk to answer my texts as well or was that because you were busy doing something else—or should i say—someone else?” your irritation is evident in your voice at this point. the other side of the line does quiet for a beat too long, so you take the initiative, “you know what, jaehyun? until you manage to use all the brain power you have left to tell me exactly what you were doing last night; don’t message me, don’t call me, don’t even think of me. got it?”

“wait- baby, i-”

beep beep beep.

shut up.

you rolled your eyes and tucked your phone back into your pocket. the peace was nice for the two hours it lasted.

“get out. my. face.” sans voice booms through the practice room as he calls out the phrases that helps you all remember the choreo. today is the last day of practice, which is very stressful for you this time around. usuallly you’d have every movement nailed down by now, but you’re falling behind.

you keep fucking bumping into mingi during the stupid ass line formation you have to do. you’re sweating, your clothes are sticking to your body, hair falling out of your ponytail, bruises beginning to form from your countless failures.

“take 5 guys,” hongjoong calls out as he exits the room.

“are you doing okay?” jongho crouched down beside where you’re sprawled out on the floor.

“oh my fucking lord, yes, i’m fucking peachy. i am perfectly fine. why is everyone asking me this? actually, no, you know what, jongho? no, i’m not fucking okay because i’m pretty sure my boyfriend is cheating on me with some random bitch while i’m here stuck in this muggy practice room and failing at everything i do. is that a better answer for you guys? i’m not okay,” is what you wish you could scream out at the top of your lungs. unfortunately, what you say is, “i’m okay jjong, thank you,” don’t forget to top it off with a smile and nod!

thankfully, he drops it, deciding to not push you further. unlike someone, what’s his name?

“yeah right, what’d that asshole have to say to you earlier?” wooyoung plops himself on the ground on your other side. oh right, wooyoung.

“wouldn’t you like to know.”

“yeah i would, that’s kind of why i asked,” he shoves your shoulder, “come on, tell me. i promise i wont hunt him down, even though i should,” he murmurs the last part.

“what was that?” he shakes his head and motions for you to speak, sigh. “he basically just told me he didn’t remember anything from last night.”

“mm, and what’d you say?”

“you know what i said wooyoung, i know you were listening.”

“well tell me again, it was kind of hot,” he smirks, that makes you roll your eyes as you laugh.

hongjoong comes back and everything is set in motion once again, you swear that five minute break felt more like five seconds. after two more hours the work day has ended, you’re back in your bed, and suddenly it’s almost a month later. you pulled countless all-nighters practicing the choreography by yourself, pushing your body to its limit. jaehyun? not a word from him, and that’s perfectly fine with you. the music video released a few days ago, and now it’s s performance day. you have bigger things to worry about.

to say you’re nervous is an understatement. the anxiety of repeating the same mistakes you had worked so hard to fix comes creeping up your neck, sending shivers down your spine. or was it the hand that’s now laying against your lower back that did that?

“you ready, popstar?” wooyoung whispers into your ear from behind. you can’t see him, but you can feel him. hear him, smell him. it’s overwhelming to say the least, but also provides you a sense of comfort. you turn your head to the side and smile at him with a nod.

you all get into position in the stage, waiting patiently for the music to start, fans are cheering. what’s going in your head, you wonder?

anytime now…

oh! that scared me, oh my it’s really loud.

these lights are blinding me…

don’t mess up, don’t fuck it up. wait—yes, fuck it up. fuck it up so good, girl.

get out. my. face.

please don’t bump into him, please don’t bump into him.

oh thank fuck. thank you, lord.

okay jongho sing itttt.

voice please don’t crack, it’s my turn.

gotta make that money make—

it’s nothing but heavy breathing and stripping of clothing once you get backstage. you had been itching to get this heavy ass jacket off your frame for over an hour now, the relief of shredding it from your body an overwhelming sensation.

“you did so good, im so proud of you.” wooyoung jogs towards you and squeezes you so tight you can barely breathe.

“thank you, youngie, but i’m really sweaty and i kinda can’t breathe… move. please.” he pulls away with a breathless smile.

“you ready to do it all over again in two days?” he winks at you, the guttural groan you let out probably echoed down the halls. “i’ll take that as a no,” he laughs.

later that night after you’ve returned home and showered, you hear a knock at your door. who the fuck? you open the door to see none other than jung fucking wooyoung standing there in his full pajama set.

a giggle escapes your lip as you quirk a brow at him, “and what do you think you’re doing?”

“uh, sleepover?” he says, or asks, it’s hard to tell which one it was. once you see the container of brownies in his hands though? it was an immediate yes anyway. he cooks you dinner, you serve him wine, it all felt very domestic but also… just friendly? there was no tension, nothing dramatic. it was almost as if he were one of your girlfriends. you gossiped, laughed, watched movies, things that you’d do with your best friend.

while you guys are in the middle of watching the second hunger games movie, there’s another knock at the door.

“did you invite san or yeosang over?” you question, to which he shakes his head just as confused as you are. you get up and go open the door, freezing in place once you see who’s behind your door.

jaehyun.

all you can do is stare at him through the crack of the door, all the emotions you had forgotten about a month ago suddenly crashing down on you.

“who is it?” you hear wooyoung shout from the couch. nobody answered him.

“hey,” jaehyun started. no.

“don’t,” you hold your hand up, “are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“look, i know i messed up—”

“messed up? messed up?! we haven’t spoken in a fucking month, jaehyun!” you snatch your phone from the pocket of your pajama pants and open the messages between you guys, “12:28am, what the fuck was that? 12:46am, hello? jaehyun are you serious? did you fall asleep? 1:13am, hello, what the fuck?” your eyes are open so wide they’re damn near bulging out of your head. behind you, wooyoung creeps up around the corner.

“baby, please just let me in so we can talk—”

“about what? about fucking what, jaehyun? have you finally remembered what happened that night or what?” silence. “well, i’m waiting. what happened? please, do tell.”

silence, again. fine.

“i thought you were on tour, why are you here?”

“i- i am- i was i- i’m back just for the week. i-“ he sighs, searching for the words he wants to say, “i- i cheated on you,” he said under his breath as he looked at his feet.

“hm? what?”

“i fucking cheated! okay? are you happy now? i cheated on you!”

your five senses have been infiltrated once again.

blurry. everything is blurry, you can’t see who you’re talking to anymore. nothing is clear, you’ve spent two years of your life with this man. the man you thought you would marry, the man who wrote songs about you, the man who was your first everything.

your ears are ringing, what did he say? you knew it, you had a feeling deep down inside. but for him to just flat out scream it out like it means nothing? like you mean nothing?

you can smell the alcohol on his breath as he speaks to you. oh, he’s been drinking. again. go figure.

just seeing him leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

tears. red, hot, angry tears are streaming down your face. you feel your hands touch your face, are you moving your arms? you can’t feel them. everything feels numb, you’re numb.

“y-you need to go,” you whimper, looking right through him as more and more tears cascade down your cheeks.

“jagiya, i-”

“don’t,” you feel a hand on the small of your back. your lip starts quivering, you start breathing faster, you’re panicking. you don’t understand anything that’s going on right now. “you heard her, you need to go,” he doesn’t. “leave before i fucking make you leave, and trust me, you don’t want that.” wooyoung threatens, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden outburst. his hand rubs circles against your spine.

jaehyun looks between the two of you, then at the floor, ultimately deciding to leave the premise. your numb hand slowly moves to shut the door, and all you can do is stare at it. you feel your body slide down the door as your sobs finally break free.

you knew it.

you fucking knew it.

why were you in denial for so long? why did you allow this to happen to yourself? this is all your fault, if you knew, then why didn’t you end it before now? do you still love him? were you hoping that it wasn’t true? god, it would’ve been much better if you were just making thing up in your head.

you sob, and you sob even more. wooyoung drops down next to you and pulls you into his arms. “what’s wrong with me?” you cry out.

“nothing is wrong with you, honey. nothing at all, okay?” he hears his chin on top of your head as he rubs your back, “he has no idea what he just lost. you’re the smartest, most amazing, beautiful, kind, courageous person i know. you’ll find the one who’s best for you.”

“promise?” you whimper.

wooyoungs heart is torn. all he wants in this moment is for you to be okay, happy, and in his arms. “i promise, i really do.”

it’s been a long time since that night. a really long time, actually. you’ve had three comebacks since then and are currently working on your fourth; golden hour: part 4. now sitting in the studio, wooyoung and yourself are bundled up on the couch together scrolling on pinterest.

“i’ll do it if you do it,” he smiles and turns his head to look at you, showing you a picture of cherry red hair.

“you want me to dye my hair red?” he nods. “you’re not gonna chicken out last second and have me running around like strawberry shortcake, will you?” wooyoung damn near dies. why? because it’s you. it wasn’t nearly half as funny as he made it out to be, but you just tickle him so good.

“of course not, i’ve already dyed my hair red before, remember?” oh you remember all too well. that red hair looked spectacular on him. it was during that time when you had a crush on him—or was it before then? scratch that, it was when you first met. you had a huge crush on wooyoung when you first met, and it lasted up until you met jaehyun for the first time. when was that? 2021? you broke up in… 2024?

gosh, it’s been so long since you’ve even thought about jaehyun. it’s now 2026 and you all have moved on to bigger and better things. last you checked, he was doing his military service.

haha, you lost your hair. loser.

you know who hasn’t lost his hair? wooyoung. where were we? oh right, back to the crush thing. yeah, you had the fattest crush on him, just cute puppy love at first. he didn’t know, you tried to hold it in, it ate away at you for years, and eventually the crush faded. but now? something has changed, you can’t tell if it’s the way he looks at you or if the plates in your brain shifted the night he comforted you during one of the most heartbreaking moments in your life. all you know is right now, he is taking your breath away all over again.

“do you know how to dye hair?” you ask.

“i mean… not really, but i can try.” he smiles down at you, oh god.

“alright, i’ll dye your hair tonight. come over with the stuff so i can get to business, and make sure you get enough!”

“how much is enough?”

“the whole store baby, the whole store.” you rest your head on his shoulder and continue scrolling on your phone.

baby? did she just call me baby? she’s never done that before. what does that mean? uh, my heart is kind of freaking out. oh my god, does she hear it?

so yeah, wooyoung may or may not have never gotten over his crush on you. fuck that, he never did. it’s definite. when you were with jaehyun he had to tone down the his touching, flirting, all the things that makes him, well, him. but it’s been two years since jaehyun has been out of the picture. guess what that means? it’s his turn.

he’s had a crush on you ever since you graced his eyes, though he never allowed himself to show it. which, even if he did, he’s pretty sure you’d only just think it’s him being the same old flirty wooyoung when that wouldn’t have been the case at all. i mean, yes, he has flirted with you, and yes it has been serious on his end. does he think you got the hint though? pfft, how could you? you were too far up jaehyuns ass to pay him any mind.

knock knock knock

“yay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yayyyyy!” you squeal as you make your way over to your door. you love when it’s time to get your hair done, just as much as you love doing others’ hair. you yank the door open with a big smile, and as expected, wooyoung is standing there with a boyish grin and a bag full of hair supplies.

“are you ready to stain your entire bathroom?”

“yes!”

here’s the current situation; you currently have your hair soaked in red dye under a shower cap. wooyoung? he’s sitting on the toilet while you stand in front of him and work the dye into his hair.

“you should’ve put gloves on,” he says as he watches you work your magic above him. he’s extremely aware of how close you are to one another right now, you between his legs while he struggles to figure out where the fuck he should put his hands.

“well you didn’t either. if you get in trouble then i’ll get in trouble too,” you smile down at him with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. he takes this moment to really look at you. you have a beauty mark right under your lip, how has he never noticed that before? you smell amazing, don’t get him wrong, you always smell good, but right now? oh my god. vanilla and everything gourmand. wooyoung swears he’s become addicted to it.

you know he’s staring, you’re extremely aware of it actually. that’s what makes this all the more fun. you’ve noticed he’s been extra clingy lately. always sitting with you during practice breaks, going to get food with you, getting food for you, he’s even been walking you home some nights. you’re not sure why, but your hopes are most certainly high.

“what’re you looking at?” you question with an anxious laugh.

“your beauty mark,” he replies, reaching up to rub his finger against it. okay, that took you off guard completely. your entire body froze for a second before getting back to work on his hair, reaching to gather more of the dye. wooyoung noticed the effect he had on you.

“you’re just now noticing it?”

“yeah, i don’t know why though…” he says softly, almost mesmerized. “it’s pretty,” the room is silent for a moment after that, the only sound coming from your hands working on his head. “you’re pretty.”

you freeze.

what did he just say?

your eyes fall to his, he’s already looking at you. you both stare at each other for a moment, no words being said but somehow it’s so loud in this bathroom. you notice him leaning up, an attempt to get closer to your face. you find yourself also inching closer to him, so close yet so far.

your lips are inches away from each other at this point, his breath tickling your face. his hands slide up the backs of your legs and that’s what snaps you out of it. you quickly pull away, clearing your throat. wooyoung jumps from shock and does the same, nervously rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“um- your hair should be good now. we just have to leave it in for thirty minutes,” you quickly say as your hands move just as fast to grab all the trash.

wooyoung clears his throat, “yeah, alright. okay,” he stands and grabs a shower cap, putting it over his hair. you’re out of the bathroom in a flash, speeding to your trash can and onto the couch. fuck. what just happened.

you turn a show on, no idea what it is but it provides you a distraction from whatever the hell you almost did in there. wooyoung makes himself known by sinking into the couch next to you. you don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge his presence, you don’t even speak. all you can do is stare straight ahead at the tv and pray the timer on your phone goes off any minute now.

wooyoung is the same. this fucking timer can’t go off any faster. he takes his chances and looks over at you, but you pay him no mind. ouch. it’s stays exactly like that until thirty minutes are up, the both of you springing off the couch and heading for the bathroom.

“we should wash your hair out first since it’s been sitting longer,” he points out. yeah, i guess we should. you grab a towel and wrap it around your shoulders while wooyoung takes your shower cap off. god this is awkward. you get on your knees and lean over the tub while wooyoung begins massaging your head under the water.

“holy fucking shit it’s been almost ten minutes why is the water not clear yet?” you yell out. you back is aching and your sure wooyoungs is too.

“i don’t know, do you think it’s good enough? i mean, it’s pink water and not red water so…”

“it’s good. it’s good, it’s good. oh my god, my back hurts please let me get up,” you groan as wooyoung helps you up and wraps the towel over your head. you just stare at each other for a minute before letting out tiny laughs. “you’re next.”

wooyoung stares at your pink-stained bathtub, “yeah, i guess i am.” and then you repeat the process once more, except it’s much louder and way more annoying this time.

“ouch! don’t rip my hair out, damn it!”

“i’m sorry, im not trying to!”

“my back hurts, oh my god.”

“i’m never letting you dye my hair again.”

wah, wah, wah! crybaby, crybaby, crybaby!

eventually, the torture is over and it’s time to dry the hair. great.

“do you want me to dry your hair or do you have it?” you ask.

wooyoung smiles, “you can do it.” oh, of course. don’t be mistaken, the situation is still very much awkward, but somehow a bit of the tension has been released. that’s just how you guys are. while you dry his hair there’s nothing to be said, as if you would even be able to with how loud the damn thing is.

once you finish his hair you switch roles, but instead of you sitting on the toilet he stands behind you in front of the sink. perks of being taller, i guess. you watch him very carefully through the mirror as he runs his fingers through your hair, making sure to dry every piece without tangles. he’s so pretty, you can’t help but to think.

just then, he looks up at you. you’ve been caught. his smirk grows wide, “whatcha looking at, huh?” he yells over the blow dryer.

“mm, nothing,” you say innocently with the faintest smile.

he turns the blow dryer off, “huh? what was that?” he teases.

you roll your eyes, “i said nothing.” he places the blow dryer on the counter and traps you from behind, both arms resting on either side of your body.

“doesn’t look like nothing,” he whispers in your ear whilst maintaining eye contact in the mirror. is the window open? it’s very cold in here, no, it’s hot. it’s so fucking hot.

wooyoungs hands move to your waist and spin you around to face him, “you won’t run from me this time, will you?” he whispers, eyes flicking to your lips for a split second.

you can’t help but to notice how close you both are in this moment, his hips keeping you grounded against counter, the tips of your noses brushing. you shake your head as you both lean in, lips finally locking. his arms wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your arms lock around his neck, fingers pulling at his freshly dyed hair.

you open your eyes for a split second, seeing the cherry red hair you worked oh so hard on.

you hear wooyoungs groans as you pull his soft hair, and you can smell the strawberry chapstick he must’ve put on right before this.

your tongues mix together, now finally, you taste the strawberry chapstick.

his hands are roaming all over your body now, and you reciprocate. your hands glide down his back, feeling the muscles as they flex beneath your hands.

wooyoung groans into your mouth once more, feeding you with all of his beautiful sounds. yours mouths move in tandem with one another, barely coming up for air, but when you finally do? oh, it is so, so sweet.

your breaths mingle as you pull apart, staring into each others eyes. “so,” you squeak.

“so.”

“what now?” he hums as he rests his forehead on yours.

“hmm, round two?” you both giggle as you lock your lips for a second time that night, the both of you having no idea what you’ve just started.

it’s officially comeback day. you’ve got adrenaline flushing through your veins. no, seriously. you’re all backstage getting your make up and hair done. wooyoung is sitting beside you with his assigned make up artist while you get your hair done, scrolling through your phone and seeing what atiny thinks about the music video.

“wooyoung, atiny said they like our matching hair.” you giggle and show him the comments under the video.

“they have good taste,” he winks. after about fifteen minutes your hair is done and wooyoung has his make up on, it’s time to rotate with the other members. you walk out the room and to your dressing room to make any adjustments to your make up and hair. what? god forbid a girl has preferences.

“now why are you ruining what our lovely stylists worked so hard on?” the oh, so, familiar voice booms through your dressing room, causing you to jump and accidentally smear lipstick on your chin.

“wooyoung!” you whined, pouting at him through the mirror. he’s smirking, leaning against the doorframe. “it wasn’t ruined until you did that shit!” you groan, not noticing him close the door and lock it behind him. you’re too focused on trying to fix your make up that you don’t realize how close he is now.

“aww baby, it’s okay. here, let me see,” he leans down from behind and holds your face in his hand. oh. licking his lips, he kisses up from the smeared lipstick to your lips, stealing your breath away. you relax immediately, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding in all this time.

he pulls away with a frown, “mm. that didn’t work, hold on.” he moves his thumb to your chin, carefully wiping the lipstick off. his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth as he pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. feeling a bit naughty, you take advantage of this moment. you open your mouth and let him thumb glide against your tongue, maintaining eye contact with the cherry-haired man. “oh, baby…” he groans, “you shouldn’t do that.”

that only encourages you to suck his thumb harder. “oh, i see. you wanna be a little slut, huh?” your eyes gloss over at that, pupils dilated. he pushes his thumb further back before sliding it out your mouth, holding the side of your head as you lean into his touch.

“please,” you beg.

“please what?” he presses, sinking down to his knees and turning your chair to face him. your legs spread willingly, your body moving before you can even think. his hands smooth over your thighs, trialing up your skirt, “you gotta tell me what you want or i can’t help you, my love.”

your breath hitches as he pulls down the shorts you’re wearing underneath your skirt. “p-please, touch me.”

“touch you?” he cocks his head to the side, “touch you where, huh?” wooyoung leaves a trail of kisses up your inner thighs and pushes up your skirt to reveal your panties. his thumb grazes the wet spot shining through them, “here?” your legs try to close but oh, oh no, he’s not having that. he keeps your legs spread with his hands, “keep these pretty legs open or you won’t be getting a damn thing from me, got it?”

you’ve never nodded your head so quick in your life.

he hooks his thumb on your panties and pushes them aside, mouth watering at the sight. “oh, look at this pretty pussy,” he damn near moans as he blows cool air against your heat, making your hips jerk forward. he smirks before sinking inbetween your thighs, flattening his tongue against you to test the waters. you lay your head back against the chair, a content sigh escaping your lips.

his tongue swirled around your clit once, twice, three times before he began to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you. then comes his fingers, and boy does he waste no time. he dives two fingers into your heat, curling and twisting while you encourage him with your moans.

“oh- fuck, youngie.” you cry out. he chuckles against your clit before picking up the pace, “please- don’t stop, please.”

“mm, yeah? don’t stop?”

“please-”

“tell me how good it feels baby, tell your youngie how good he’s treating your pussy.”

you’ve completely lost your mind at this point, the coil in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter by the second. not a single word is coming to mind. you can’t speak, you can hardly think, only thing you know is him. with another flick of his tongue you’re releasing all over his fingers, crying out for god knows who as you rock your hips with the movement of his fingers still inside of you.

“yeah baby, let it all out for me. cum all over my fingers.” he coos. he helps you ride out your orgasm with a couple kisses to your now swollen clit, kissing up your body to your mouth. you can taste yourself on his tongue, his fingers still pumping in and out of your at a slow pace. after another minute or two he finally pulls them out of you, sucking his fingers dry and pulling you into another sloppy, wet, kiss.

when he pulls away a string of saliva is left behind, keeping the two of you connected. “bend over the vanity for me, doll.” he says as he unbuckles his belt and works to get his pants off. you do as he says and watch in the mirror as he pulls his cock out. you bite your lip once you see his red, hot, angry tip is leaking with precum, mouth immediately watering. “it’s impolite to stare.” he teases, pushing your head further down as he lines up behind you.

he pushes your skirt over your hips and pulls your panties to the side again, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, your mouth falls open as a silent moan tears through you. wooyoung bites his lip as he watches through the mirror. “that feel good baby? you feel me?” you nod. all you can do is nod at this point, you’re so insanely fucked out and he’s barely even done anything. “i need you to be quieter this time, okay? we gotta go on in five minutes.” he whispers in your ear.

his hands hold your hips steady against the vanity as he pushes in, holding back his own moan as he sinks into your heat. “fuckkk, baby.” he groans, his head falling back before he slides out and then slams back into you.

his whole body is leaning over you now as his hips piston into your gummy walls, your mouth has fallen open once again and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “oh, fuck!” your cry out, causing wooyoung to shove two fingers into your mouth to shut you the fuck up.

“what did i say?” he groans breathlessly into your ear, “be a good girl for me, shhh, shh, it’s okay.” he has to bite into your shoulder himself just to stay quiet, his own orgasm creeping up on him. the coil in your stomach is tightening again, your hands grabbing out for anything to keep you stable.

your orgasm tears through you once more, tears running down your face. “i feel you, baby. i’m here.” his hips are moving at an impossible speed by now, chasing his orgasm along with yours. once he feels your walls fluttering around him he knows it’s time. “cum again, baby. cum all over my cock, please- cum for me.” his whines drive you over the edge.

your entire body trembles underneath his as you release for the third time, all over his now softening cock. he pumps a few more times, making sure every last drop is gone before removing his fingers from your mouth and leaning back, looking down at the beautiful sight. once he slides out of you, his thumb replaces his cock. bending down to be face to face with your pussy, he pumps his thumb in and out of you a few times. “gotta make sure you don’t leak all over the stage, huh?” he smirks, removing his thumb and sliding your panties back into place.

“hey, where are my shorts?” you ask once you’ve both cleaned each other up. wooyoung smirks at you for what feels like the hundredth time today.

“oh, you mean these?” he holds them up on his pointer finger, waving them around in your face before shoving them in his pocket. “you won’t be needing them.”

staff knocks on your door, “thirty seconds, let’s go!” you both look at the door and then at each other.

wooyoung leans towards you, “like i said, don’t leak all over the stage.” and with that, he leaves a smack on your ass before walking out of the dressing room, leaving both you and your five senses going haywire.

what. the. fuck.

© woopetal. all rights reserved.

THIN ICE (M) • kim hongjoong, #81

position: former captain turned assistant coach

synopsis: after an unexpected injury dethrones hongjoong as captain on the ice, he spends his time helping coach the rest of the boys to keep them in shape for playoffs. as much as you feel sorry for him, that doesn't change the fact that you needed to train with the girls' team and they were hogging the ice. it seems like you needed to find a compromise with him, whatever it took …

word count: TBD

POOR CONNECTION (M) • park seonghwa, #77

position: center forward

synopsis: after you transfer to a new university closer to home, seonghwa promises to do everything in his power to be a good boyfriend—no matter the distance. with playoffs in full swing, it might be harder than you'd expect for him to keep that promise ...

word count: TBD

ROUTINE CHECKUP (M) • jeong yunho, #11

position: left defense

synopsis: how convenient is it that you're dating one of the star players of the university's hockey team as a sports medicine major? you couldn't ask for a better test subject. of course, it becomes a little too much of a coincidence that he constantly needs you to check him for injuries, each one in a more scandalous place than the last ...

word count: TBD

HEAD SHOT (M) • kang yeosang, #99

position: goalkeeper

synopsis: your professor has been hounding you to update your portfolio for god knows how long, to the point that you're willing to take any assignment he throws your way. when he assigns you to support the university hockey team with their media coverage, a certain something—or someone—that you capture might become your new source of inspiration ...

word count: TBD

SUCKER PUNCH (M) • choi san, #01

position: left wing

synopsis: you'd call yourself a certified wag for the university hockey team. you were at all of san's games, hung out with the boys after practice, wore his numbers proudly whenever you could. tension brews when a rival team challenges the boys—and your relationship—before playoffs end ...

word count: TBD

MAKE UP (M) • song mingi, #89

position: right defense

synopsis: on the ice, everyone loves mingi. the way he plays, even the way he fights. off the ice, his grades are slipping and he's at risk of getting benched if he doesn't get his act together. if only there were a highly qualified calculus tutor that could help him out, and if only there were a way he could return the favor ...

word count: TBD

OUT OF BOUNDS (M) • jung wooyoung, #52

position: left wing, second line

synopsis: hockey's never been your thing. even so, wooyoung insists you're his good-luck charm and that he needs you there at every game, no matter what. he's always taken your jokes in good stride, including when you talk about how overdramatic players can get during fights. when he ends up as collateral in the middle of one, it seems like the joke might be over ...

word count: TBD

POWER TRIP (M) • choi jongho, #00

position: right wing

synopsis: with nationals around the corner, you've never been so stressed. your routine is scrapped, your partner's out of commission and you need to practice asap. as if that weren't enough, the big, stupid hockey players loved to hog the ice. turns out one of them might come in handy when you least expect it ...