#w or w out exclamation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

randomshyperson · 4 months

Text

Borrowed - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Wanda develops the habit of stealing your clothes, and you develop the habit of fucking her wearing them.

Warnings: (+18), bottom!Wanda (a bit bratty), established relationship, slightly of power dynamics, dry humping/clothed for a bit, oral (w), fingering (w), strap on (w), some dirty talking, a bit overstimulation. | Words: 2.289k

A/N-> This is actually an old idea, someone on Tumblr, not sure who, wrote an image about Wanda using our favorite hoodie, and I actually love all fics that have this dynamic so I decided to do a small fic about it.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

You were starting to think you were being robbed.

It was a plausible conclusion, considering how rarely you were out of uniform and the very few moments when you had the freedom to wear more comfortable clothes, and how quickly your sweatshirts disappeared from your closet.

With a frustrated sigh, and your hair still damp from the shower, you stared at the empty drawer for a long, reflective moment, trying to find solutions to the disappearance of all your hoodies.

Even after checking the other drawers, the laundry basket and even the compound's laundry room, you had no success. You were forced to make your way back to your rooms with your arms shivering from the cold, and a disappointed expression on your little mission.

Instead of returning to your room, however, you skipped to the next door, hoping to talk to your girlfriend and ask her if she had any idea where you'd forgotten your coats.

To your surprise, the answer came the same second your eyes met the figure distracted by a sitcom on the television; right there on the bed was Wanda, wearing nothing but your favorite hoodie that wasn't even the right size - nothing surprising when one steals clothes from a super soldier - but which she seemed to be making good use of.

"Wanda!" Your exclamation of surprise made her take her eyes off the DVD immediately. At first, she thought you were just saying hello, and smiled in your direction. But your face frowned and it was her turn to look at you curiously. "I can't believe you."

She makes a quick assessment of the facts in the seconds it takes for you to close the door and approach the bed; she doesn't reckon to have done anything wrong. You two spoke earlier, you even had a heated and inappropriate make-out session in the garage when you arrived, and she had dinner next to you before you left the living room to take a shower. No arguments, no news she forgot to tell you.

But you chuckled incredulously at the cluelessness on her face, and occupying the field of view between the bed and the television, you commented;

"I'm quite cold, you know that?" Wanda grinned in relief at your phrase. She doesn't have time to tease you about being clingy. You slowly lean your body towards her, effectively pinning Wanda to the mattress as you hover over her. All Wanda can do is sigh in anticipation, and her stomach feels already full of butterflies.

"I can warm you up." She lets out an inviting sigh, but although your eyes take on a darker hue, you smirk and extend the distance again. Wanda bites her lip, trying to hold back a complaint fearing that you would torment her and make her beg for it, but you take your hands off the mattress and place them on her waist.

With gentle tugs on the sweatshirt, you comment; "I'm sure you can, darling. You look quite warm."

Another gentle tug on the fluffy fabric and Wanda understood. She didn't look the least bit guilty about being caught, though. Adjusting herself comfortably on the bed, she gave you the most innocent smile she could manage.

You pulled the hoodie up just a few centimeters, biting your lip at the thin lace panties that were the only thing separating her intimacy from your thigh now.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" You ask, your hands moving under your hoodie, teasing her skin with gentle touches that make Wanda strangle on her own breath.

She quickly denies it with a nod, but when your fingers give a warning tug to her nipples, she squeals audibly.

"S-sorry!" She panted aroused, her shaky legs trying to force you down. But your body stands firm above her, and the difference in strength never fails to leave her frustrated and terribly wet. "I just... like them. Smells like you." She confesses, hoping that her sincerity is enough for you to forgive her and help her with the throbbing between her legs.

You hum distractedly, your palms leisurely playing with her breasts under the hoodie until you turn Wanda into a whining mess underneath you.

Your firm thigh between her legs also serves as a torturous stimulation - even for you, it's hard to keep up the slow, teasing pace while you have the deliriously hot, wet sensation of Wanda's pussy rubbing against your skin. When you catch a bead of sweat running down her forehead from all the teasing, you chuckle wickedly.

"Wow, I bet this one is starting to bother you." Your hands come out to tug the hoodie down, and Wanda grunts softly, offering begging eyes to you. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Are you hot?"

She nods almost shyly, a little guilt finally slipping through her irises. Not for the act of stealing your clothes, but for the fact that she was caught and will be punished for it.

You smile, your hands settling back on the mattress so that you can lie on top of her, without wasting time to break the distance between your faces now.

Wanda moans as soon as she feels your tongue on hers, so hungry and experienced, stealing the air from her lungs and making her see stars. She struggles to match the intensity of the kiss, very much because you allow her to use your thigh as she pleases, and she is feverishly grinding herself back into your skin in search of relief of the hot knot in her lower belly. You stop kissing her when she can only return breathy moans to your lips, and decide to mark the skin of her collarbone while Wanda builds up her own orgasm, her eyes closed and her nails digging into your now shivering arms for another reason.

It's definitely too hot - The padded hoodie is uncomfortable as the liquid arousal courses through her veins and her body jerks, but every time Wanda makes an attempt to pull the item off her, strong hands push the garment back into place. Until finally you grab her wrists and prevent further attempts while holding her firmly.

You bite her lobe also panting against her neck next, as you let her move her hips at will. When Wanda starts to pant a little heavier than before, you can tell that she is close.

"Are you really gonna come, baby? I never got to take your panties off."

She opens her mouth to tell you to go ahead and take them off, but the teasing alone pushes her over the edge, and what escapes her is a throaty moan. Her body stiffens under yours, and her eyes roll back before she goes limp. You release her wrists, pulling your knee away from her over-stimulated cunt, and watch your girlfriend's satisfied, breathless expression for a moment.

When your face comes into focus again, Wanda smiles as she realizes that you were also stroking her sweaty hair out of her face.

"Hey." She greets you first, her body still twitching and tingling with pleasure. "Are you really mad about the hoodie?"

You giggle, denying it with a nod before kissing her. It's chaste because she's still trying to get back into orbit and there's no scene more beautiful to behold than Wanda Maximoff blushing in the aftermath of an orgasm.

"You can steal my clothes all you want." You assure her meekly, before sliding your hands back under the fabric. "Just keep in mind that I will want to fuck you in every one of them."

Wanda bites back a smile, sighing as she feels your fingers reach her sides to pull down her ruined panties. She swallows dryly as she realizes that you're lowering your body as well.

"I'm counting on it, darling." She murmurs quietly, hoping you won't pick up on her secret intentions. But of course you do, and let out a husky giggle against her thigh that makes Wanda sigh. "I meant-"

"Oh, I heard you well." You interrupt her, scratching your teeth into her skin and making Wanda twitch in anticipation, the muscles in her spread legs flexing. She risks looking down, only to meet your dark eyes and wince under your gaze. "How bad do you want me to fuck you, Wanda?"

She swallows dryly, her trembling hands trying to grab onto the sheets but everything is so hot and uncomfortable inside that hoodie that Wanda thinks if she doesn't undress soon she might collapse.

"Please." She mewls, her hips thrusting up towards your face. "I need you." She baits you so easily that you ignore the fact that you were trying some form of punishment. Wanda throws her head back on the pillow harshly as you nuzzle her drenched intimacy, the evidence of her last, almost embarrassing quick climax glistening in your direction. You kiss her thighs, teasing your way until she's whimpering again and you finally think you've had enough. Your tongue isn't gentle, Wanda hasn't behaved well in recent weeks as a naughty brat appearing in shorter and shorter skirts every time you need to leave the compound for a mission, or disturbing your meals and workouts with vivid images of all the other activities you could be doing that always involve her ruined beneath you.

So you're not gentle. You eat her out like your last meal, licking all over her previous climax before sucking her little clit and sinking your face between her legs, your strong hands holding her legs wide open as her body betrays her and tries to escape the pacing. The next orgasm overtakes her without any difficulties, and you haven't even fingered her yet when Wanda pours herself out for the second time that night. She's still whimpering when one of your hands lets go of her bruised thigh so that your fingers can sink into her pussy and Wanda hears the sheet rip in her palm as she tries to find some ground.

She also grabs a fistful of your hair, panting as you raise your eyes to her, your fingers in frantic rhythm inside her pussy. Breathless, she tries to hold your gaze as she risks to guide your movements:

"Yes, darling. Just like that."

But you raise an eyebrow, and Wanda only has time to blink before all your movements are interrupted. You steal one orgasm from her as quickly as you start to build another; your hands spin her around on the bed and Wanda finds herself with her face pressed against the pillow and your body on top of hers. The rub of a familiar hardness against her ass makes her whine in need.

"It's cute when you think you're in charge." You whisper, filthily licking her neck and eliciting a loud moan from the witch. With her panties long discarded on the bedroom floor, you have no trouble pulling your rubber cock out of your pants and forcing it between Wanda's spread legs. She almost screams at the unannounced intrusion, but with the wetness of the last few orgasms, the toy slides in with ease. You pant softly as you bottom up. With your mouth inches from her ear, your hips begin a slow, steady rhythm inside her as you whisper; "It's your favorite, Wands. I left everything ready so I could fill you up just the way you like it." She whines into the pillow, clutching your fake cock tightly enough that you need to push a little harder to move. You kiss behind her ear before moving one of your hands to her tit again. Wanda's skin is burning under the warm clothes. "I put it on as soon as I got out of the shower." You let her know as you thrust deep inside her. "You really don't need to steal my clothes, baby. Hoodie or no hoodie, I would have fucked you tonight."

She comes harder than before this time, and with her impossibly tight, you don't see any point in holding back. Wanda is still coming when you fill her, the hot spurt inside her walls prolonging her climax and turning her into a babbling mess on the mattress.

You take pity on her. You pull your cock out of her fucked-up pussy, biting your lips at the sight of the leaking cum coming out of her before focusing on removing the sweaty, cum-soaked hoodie from your girlfriend's body.

Wanda tries to fight the exhaustion of three orgasms in a row, but she can barely keep her eyes open. It's been a long week.

You grip the rubber cock, adjusting your hips and rubbing the toy against Wanda's folds again, making her whine in protest, one of her hands desperate to grab your wrist and keep you out.

You hum attentively, although you don't penetrate her, you let the dildo slide on top of her clit, enjoying the way Wanda struggles to keep still.

"Had enough?" You ask even though you're able to watch her pussy clenching desperately at the emptiness, her body instinctively begging for more. Wanda gasps, her hips trying to buck away from the overstimulation only for her to end up rubbing against the bed during the attempt and eliciting a pathetic whimper from herself.

"Five." She gasps breathlessly. "Five minutes."

Your hips move away, and you stand up to remove your clothes while Wanda twitches and tries to catch her breath again on the bed.

She reacts immediately to the lack of your warmth against her, seeking your presence by turning her head. An exchange of glances is enough to let you know that she just needs the time it takes for you to get the handcuffs from the bottom drawer.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff smut

2K notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 2 months

Text

chill | the threesome series ; skz ; hyunjin/reader/jeongin

masterlist.

threesome series part 4/4. long awaited finale lol.

summary: when a lie about a fake boyfriend spirals out of control, your friends take it upon themselves to help.

pairing: hyunjin/reader/jeongin content info: friends to lovers romcom. fake relationship trope. sharing a bed trope. lots of teasing and bickering and indignant exclamations. some bossy dom!hyunjin and sweet jeongin. reader is described with a bigger chest. kissing w people watching. sex toys, dacryphilia, no mention of protection, threesome, explicit sexual content word count: 8440 words.

enjoy <3

Your bottom lip is already wobbling when you click call. You sprawl on your belly, front-down in a frilly pink bed in your childhood bedroom. You are visiting your parents in the countryside, miles away from your apartment in the city and miles away from your best friends.

You are calling them now, desperate for their friendly faces. Your boys are the first ones you call in any crisis. You don’t know what you would do without them. Just the thought has you sniffling despondently.

After a few more rings, Jeongin and Hyunjin answer one right after the other. Your phone is filled with three little squares of faces, theirs smiling and yours utterly miserable.

You look at those smiles and promptly burst into tears.

“Ahh!” Hyunjin wails.

“Ohh, whoa, what!” Jeongin says.

Both of them look concerned, all scrunched up brows and frowning faces. At least you think so. It is hard to see through your tears.

“Baby, baby,” Hyunjin says. At the same time, Jeongin asks, “What’s wrong?”

You cry a few more weepy sobs, then you grab the closest teddy bear and wipe your eyes on it. You sniffle and pout.

Even though you want their comfort, you can’t bring yourself to look at your friends when you admit, “I’ve been lying to my parents for months.”

“What?” Hyunjin asks.

“Huh?” Jeongin says.

You blink away your tears and look at them properly. They are the very picture of concern. They have such striking faces so their emotions are always so plain, their features sharp, with thick dark brows and sloping cheeks and full lips. Jeongin dyed his hair a fairer auburn a while ago, but Hyunjin is dark, both of them so handsome it makes you hiccup on a caught breath.

These thoughts make you feel even more pathetic. Here you are, gawking at your best friends while everything falls apart around you.

You drop your face and cry some more. They watch helplessly through their screens, saying your name and trying to calm you down.

“What happened?” Hyunjin asks when your tears have slowed.

“Remember a few months ago, when I went out with that guy who works at the coffee shop?”

“Yes, I hated him,” Jeongin says in a clipped tone while Hyunjin scoffs.

“Me too,” Hyunjin says. Their sour faces speak volumes.

“What!” This distracts you from yours tears for a moment. “You guys told me you liked him!”

“Yeah, only because you did,” Jeongin says. He is in his bedroom and he flops back on his bed, his mop of hair forming a charming halo around his head. He grins that dimpled, mischievous grin at you. “But now you don’t like him, so we hate him.”

“I always hated him,” Hyunjin says. He is sitting at his desk, lit so prettily by lamplight that it looks like a dreamy filter. He props his face in his hand and pouts dramatically. “You didn’t need him anyway, baby,” he says. “You’ve always got us.”

At the same time Hyunjin says this, Jeongin tucks a hand under his head. He is wearing a sleeveless top and his bicep flexes where his bare arm curves. Between Hyunjin’s pretty face and prettier words, and Jeongin looking like that, it is no wonder how quickly heat rushes to your face.

You bury your face in the blankets and shriek, frustrated with everything in your ridiculous life. They are still looking at you with concern when you surface.

“Sorry,” you say. “The point is, my mom would ask about him. You know what my parents are like and how much they want me to be in a relationship.”

You love your family, you do. You do not regret using visiting your parents. The dinners and tea times and game nights have been a delight. You have been proud to catch them up on your life in the city. You are happy with your life, your education and your job and your friends. Your parents are proud of you.

They just cannot help but poke that one little detail, snagging like a loose thread on a nail and unravelling your careful composition with their obvious judgement.

You are not in a relationship. You have never been in a relationship.

Oh, sure, there have been dates scattered here and there, but nothing serious. You are fine with this but your parents consider this cause for catastrophic levels of concern.

You try to show grace. Your family is only nosy out of misplaced worries, convinced that if you do not have a boyfriend then you must sobbing yourself to sleep every night. Which is not true. Well, sometimes it’s true, especially because your two best friends are the ones making your heart race, but most of the time you just eat cheese toast in bed.

To assuage the worst of their concerns, you maybe exaggerated the truth a teensy tiny bit.

“Well,” you say, “They were so happy that I went on more than one date, so it got them off my case for a while. After we went our separate ways, I sort of just… kept telling them… I was still seeing him…”

“Uh oh,” Jeongin says. Hyunjin grimaces. Yeah, your friends know you well. They have never met your family but they know the stories and they can guess where this is going.

“Yeah, uh oh is right,” you say. “My mom invited me out here for their summer party. They throw one every year to start the season. They invite the whole family and all their friends and their friends’ kids. It’s huge. I wasn’t even thinking when I said I would come because I always do. Only when I agreed did my mom tell me to bring my boyfriend for everyone to meet… at which point I remembered…”

“That you don’t actually have a boyfriend?” Jeongin asks with a quirked eyebrow. Hyunjin laughs, covering his mouth with a quick slap of his hand to hide it.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you say with a miserable whine. “It’s not funny. I messed up and now I don’t know what to tell them!”

“What did you tell them so far?” Jeongin asks while Hyunjin tries to get his face under control.

“I was going to tell them the truth when I got here,” you say. “But then they were so disappointed that my boyfriend wasn’t with me. I couldn’t disappoint them even more by saying he didn’t exist at all in the first place!”

“So you told a bigger lie instead,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head questioningly. “What did you say exactly?”

“I just said he was busy with work,” you say. “And they were really upset about it so I tried to cheer them up. I said he was going to try and make it to the party at least.”

“But he’s not real,” Jeongin says.

“Yes, Jeongin!” you squeal. “That’s the problem! And also—” A flood of tears return, blurring your vision again. “I know it’s so stupid. We’re all grown-ups now. But I was the youngest out of all the kids growing up, so I was always the dumb little tag-along. My mom has told everyone I have a boyfriend coming and if I make up an excuse tomorrow, they’re all gonna see through it. They’ll be nice to my face because we aren’t kids anymore but I already know they’re gonna talk about me and how pathetic I am.” You start crying again, looking around at the bedroom you grew up in, still filled with the books and clothes and toys you left behind after moving. It makes you feel like that little girl again. It only worsens your angst. “Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life,” you say.

“Aw, no, no, it won’t,” Jeongin says.

“Hey, baby, don’t cry,” Hyunjin also says. They both speak in the sweetest tones imaginable, gazing so lovingly into their cameras it makes you melt.

“You know you’re better than that,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, who cares what they think?” Hyunjin adds.

“I care,” you say in a small voice, looking away again because you feel so embarrassed. “At least a little bit. I know it’s silly.”

“It’s not,” Hyunjin says. At the same Jeongin says, “It is but it’s fine.” They both scowl at the camera as if frowning at each other. It makes you laugh through your tears. You wipe your eyes on the teddy bear again.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” you say. “I just have to face it. It’s my own fault. Maybe if I could just get a boyfriend for real, if I didn’t suck so much—”

“You’re perfect,” they say in unison. It seems to make all three of you look flustered at once.

“Seriously,” Hyunjin says while Jeongin clears his throat. “You’re our girl.”

“Yeah, everyone is else is just stupid,” Jeongin says.

“You only need to listen to us,” Hyunjin says.

“Listen to me, not him,” Jeongin teases. “He’s kinda stupid too.”

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says in a perfectly catty voice. Jeongin sticks his tongue out.

Their antics make you laugh. You rest your cheek on the teddy bear and kick your legs behind you, smiling into your screen.

“Okay,” you say. “In that case, just distract me until I go to bed. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

They both smile at you. They waste no time obliging, launching into stories and playful bickering, making you forget about everyone and everything else. They are your boys. They are all you need.

You go to bed with a smile on your face.

That smile is gone the next day. You are a bundle of raw nerves all morning. Despite the food being prepared, you cannot imagine eating, so sick to your stomach with anxiety. Your parents ask about your boyfriend and you answer in vague replies and half-promises. You claim he is still working but you are optimistic. You cry your make-up off only once, which is ten times less than you thought you would.

At least you look pretty. You bought a new dress for the occasion, a pretty floral piece that sweeps the floor with a delicate swish. If you are going to suffer, at least you will suffer beautifully.

You are standing in front of the mirror, practicing lines and excuses and grimacing at all of them. You are interrupted when your mother calls you downstairs, the first of the guests arriving.

Here goes nothing, you think.

You take a deep gulp of air and descend the stairs, plastering a big fake smile on your face as you greet the party guests.

They come in waves. Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbours, friends. You greet everyone pleasantly. There are so many people and so many conversations that you manage to sink into the background of every discussion, batting queries about your own private life with questions for someone else.

You start to wonder if you worried for nothing, then someone directly asks about your boyfriend. Not just someone, but one of the girls in your age group.

“Your mother didn’t know much, she said you were quite evasive about it!” she says. She is not being unkind because she currently has no reason to believe you are lying. It will be later, when everyone realizes this mystery man is not manifesting, then everyone will start to gossip and draw conclusions. This is just the beginning of a long, agonizing party. “Is he going to be here?” she asks. “I can’t wait to meet him! He’s your first boyfriend, right?”

You love your mom, but she really is such a blabbermouth.

You laugh awkwardly, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress.

“Ha-ha, yeah, I was, um, just waiting for the, uh, right person, you know,” you say.

Someone else opens their mouth to ask more when the doorbell rings.

“Oh, I better get that!” you say and leap out of your seat. You give no one a chance to protest, scampering around bodies to get out of the backyard and into the house. You run past your father who is ambling to the door, telling him you got it. You want to let the guest inside then stand in the front yard to catch your breath. Hopefully, by the time you go back, the conversation will have moved on.

You swing open the door, a polite greeting on your lips. It catches when you see who is standing there.

“Jeongin!” you exclaim.

Your best friend is standing on your porch, grinning that big cheshire cat smile. He is an absurdly sexy vision. Jeongin is a tech guy but he takes modelling gigs on the side, fashion a personal hobby to him. His auburn hair is neatly styled around his face, a slash of colour in an otherwise all-black look. It makes him look long and fit, loose pants and a dress shirt over a sleeveless top, topped with a leather jacket. A silver chain sparkles around his neck.

He swoops in and kisses your cheek, giggling to himself.

“I heard someone needed a boyfriend,” he says.

You laugh a little hysterically, all the joy returning to your body in a rush. You slap your hands on your hot cheeks and look him up-and-down.

“Oh, wow,” you say. “You shouldn’t have. But you look really good.”

Your eyes are on the tip of his black boots. He is looking at you too, his eyebrows lifted as his gaze travels down your body.

“Yeah,” he says on a breath. “You too.”

Flustered, you cover yourself then swat at him. It makes him grin again, cheek dimpled.

“Stop that,” you say. “You’re not allowed to say things like that to me. And I’ve been sweating like a stuck pig under here. I feel like I should do the grown-up thing and come clean and send you away, but I’m not gonna do that. Come on.” You loop your arm with his elbow and drag him through the house to the back yard.

Seconds before joining the party, he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Then as your boyfriend, I’m allowed to tell you that you looking really fucking good. Okay?”

You very literally fall into the yard. Fortunately, Jeongin keeps his balance and yanks you upright. You stumble into his open arms, your back plastered to his chest. He is probably smiling that big grin at everyone as he keeps his arms around you.

“Hi,” he finally says and offers a little wave.

“Ahhh!” your mother screams more gleefully than a clown horn. She immediately starts hollering for your father.

“He’s inside getting some food ready, mom,” you say, covering your face in embarrassment as she scuttles up to you.

“My goodness, my goodness,” your mother says, all but throwing you to the side to get to Jeongin. “Oh, I’ve heard so much. No, actually, that’s not true, I haven’t heard anything. Tsk, crazy girl. Always with her secrets. But look at you, oh my, you’re so handsome! Look at those dimples.”

“Mom!” you wail. “Stop pinching his cheeks!”

Someone sitting nearby tugs your skirt. It is the girl from before and she is grinning. He’s hot, she mouths very blatantly, winking at you. You smile an awkward, too-wide grin, still more embarrassed than not. Everyone is chattering, looking at you and Jeongin. A couple others smile and give you a thumbs up. You pretend to be very preoccupied with a speck on your dress, focussed on scratching it off so you do not have to meet any eyes.

In the midst of all the madness, the doorbell rings again. You hear your father inside, shouting that he will get it.

“Oh, hurry up!” your mother shouts. “You have to meet—oh goodness, what is your name?” she asks, even while she has a hand in his hair.

“Ha, ah, Jeongin,” he says, managing to politely extricate himself. He takes her hand and pats it affectionately. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, then winks at you. Your mother looks at you with a delighted smile. You refrain from smacking your forehead.

At least things can’t get worse, you think, right before things get worse.

Your father steps into the yard, smiling a big smile.

“Ah, my little girl!” he says, waving at you. “Your boyfriend is here! Everybody, this is Hyunjin.”

Your heart was racing with adrenaline a moment ago. Now, it freezes solid. It feels like a cement block dropping right into your gut. You are not sure if the entire party actually goes quiet or if your ears just give up to protect you.

You are helpless, standing stock still as your other best friend steps onto the deck behind your father. Coincidentally and preposterously, he is dressed almost identical to Jeongin, all in black with a black leather jacket. He is wearing sunglasses, though, which he pushes onto the top of his head when he sees Jeongin.

Jeongin stares back at him, then he looks at you. Hyunjin looks at you. Your mother looks at you. Everyone looks at you.

“Um,” you squeak.

Wow, that speck on your dress really is so very interesting. And why is it so hard to swallow? Where is your tongue again? Oh, why did you ever have to tell such a stupid lie, just for a few moments of convenience.

You clear your throat and look up. Your voice comes in a croak when you say, “Hi, Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin,” your mother says, looking at him. He blinks at her. Jeongin is handsome but Hyunjin is the definitive pretty boy, an artist behind the camera but just as suited to a life in the spotlight. His artistic soul really shines through in every capacity. Even his smile is a work of art, delicate and sweet as he looks at your mother. He would have made a perfect fake boyfriend if you didn’t already have one.

Somehow you went from no boyfriends to two. No, not even, because they are fake. You went from no boyfriends to negative-two boyfriends. That must be a feat.

“Ohhhh,” your mother suddenly interrupts the silence. She starts giggling as she tip-toes to Hyunjin like a panther about to pounce. “I see what’s happening,” she says, looking slyly between the three of you. Then she grabs Hyunjin by the cheeks as well, shaking him around like a baby rattle. “My little girl has TWO handsome boyfriends!” she cries out ecstatically. “Oh, that’s just like her too. You know, she was a late bloomer in every respect, but always caught up and surpassed everyone after the fact. Struggled at school when she was little, then grew up and got herself on the dean’s list at university. You know she didn’t even grow breasts until she was eighteen then ballooned right up, the biggest you’ve seen!”

“Mom!”

Jeongin and Hyunjin look at your chest at the same time. You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, making them both clear their throat and look away.

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother says, finally freeing Hyunjin. He and Jeongin stand together, rubbing their cheeks. They watch as your mother takes your hand. “I understand now why you were to hesitant to give us any details. But it’s a brave new world. There’s all sorts of different loves out there. I’ve been reading books!”

“Exactly,” your father says, joining you in the middle of the party. “We would never judge you for who you love.”

“That’s great,” you say. This conversation would be really sweet if it wasn’t about your negative-two boyfriends and happening in front of fifty people. “Thanks,” you say.

Your father is holding barbeque tongs. He claps them in the air and smiles.

“Great!” he says. “Who’s hungry!”

It isn’t until much later that you get a second alone with Hyunjin and Jeongin. It is well after dinner when the sun is starting to set and the party has dispersed to different corners of the yard. Your parents are with some friends, seated around a fire, so you drag your fake boyfriends into the house and upstairs to your bedroom.

You slam the door shut.

“Seriously!” you shriek. “You didn’t think to tell each other you were going to show up to be my fake boyfriend?!”

They both look chagrined, Jeongin with his arms crossed and Hyunjin rocking on the balls of his feet. They look at each other with a grimace, then try to smile at you.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, then groan, leaning against your closed door. You cover your face with your hands. “This is insane. My life is a joke. Hwang Hyunjin, don’t even think about touching anything.” You point to Hyunjin even though your eyes are covered. You don’t need to see him to know he is reaching for something, always sticking his gossipy nose in places it doesn’t belong. When you drop your hands, you catch him hovering near your head table. He smiles nervously. “Sit down,” you say, unamused.

Jeongin and Hyunjin plop onto the bed at the same time. They look rather ridiculous in the black and leather, contrasted to all the pink and white lace of your old bedroom. Ridiculous, yes, and definitely not stupidly sexy. The contrast between two sexy bad boys and your floral cuteness is absolutely not a turn-on. It’s not. No. No. You refuse.

“Sorry,” Jeongin finally says. “We should have checked first. With you, at least.”

“Yeah, baby, seriously,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head. “I feel really embarrassed. You know we would never want to hurt you, right?”

“You were just crying so much,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Hyunjin says.

They keep speaking in their defense. You start to pout, feeling guilty, because they are so sincere in their apology. It is very obvious they did not do this to embarrass you. The complete opposite. Your friends love you so much and it is obvious in everything they do. From the day you met them, Jeongin and Hyunjin have happily dropped everything to help you with anything. No task has ever been too big or too small. If it’s for you, they will do it. You are the exception to every rule and the first call every time.

They are your boys. You are their girl.

“I’m sorry too,” you say. “In fact, I’m even more sorry. This whole thing is my fault, after all. I should have never lied in the first place.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, we all do stupid things,” Hyunjin says.

“It’s not like you knew it would get this bad,” Jeongin adds.

“I definitely don’t think she predicted this,” Hyunjin quips, looking at him. It makes Jeongin snort and Hyunjin grins.

It makes you laugh as well, though you cover your mouth to hide it.

It’s no good. Once the first giggle escape, they are relentless. The three of you laugh until there are tears in your eyes, doubled over as the silly situation washes over you. When the laughter has somewhat subdued, Hyunjin holds out a hand in offering.

“Come here,” he says.

You take his hand and he tugs you towards them. You find yourself squished between them, framed between their bodies like a little flower. Jeongin puts a hand on your lower back and Hyunjin brushes his knuckles over your cheek. Both touches are innocent but the combination has your face heating.

Not just your face. Heat rushes everywhere, cascading down your chest, swooping in your belly and lower. Your toes even curl.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hyunjin says. He smiles while holding your gaze. “You know we’ll help you no matter what, okay?”

Jeongin kisses your shoulder and you cannot hide your shiver.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.

There is a moment of tense silence after this. You look between them and they look at you.

You all jump when there is a knock at your door. Hyunjin falls right off the bed, sprawling in an ungainly clatter of long limbs on the floor. Jeongin scoots to the side, less dramatic but still surprised. You sit straighter. Hyunjin groans and rubs his head.

The door opens and your mother pokes her head inside, smiling.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says. “But sweetie, there will be time to be alone with your boyfriends later, since I assume they’re spending the night. But right now we have company. Come spend time with the guests. Some of the others are using the hot tub and pool. Do you boys need swim trunks? Yes? I’ll go find some, give me a second.”

No one gets an opportunity to even answer. She closes the door and disappears as quickly as she came.

There is another beat of silence, then Jeongin says, “We’re spending the night, I guess?”

“Ow,” Hyunjin says. “I think I bruised my elbow.”

“Oh my god,” you say.

You putter around the poolside until the sun fully sets. When it gets dark, the pool lights start to flicker in rainbow patterns so the others gravitate there, splashing through the luminescence.

You and the boys wander to the hot tub while it is empty. Jeongin sinks right in like he does not even feel the heat while Hyunjin has to make a dramatic show about every inch of skin that touches it. You and Jeongin look at each other with matching quirked eyebrows. You smile affectionately.

“What? It’s hot,” Hyunjin says, finally sitting.

“That is how they work,” Jeongin replies.

You giggle but also drop your gaze. Your mother managed to find swim clothes that would mostly fit the boys. Jeongin is shirtless in swim trunks, his wet hair slicked back, that handsome face and all those lean muscles on display. When did he get so damn fit? He was always athletic in a subtle, svelte way, but his arms and back ripple with definition now.

Hyunjin is in a wet suit, one that stops at the knee and elbow. He is more covered but the solid black swimsuit makes him look so long and lean. His hair is also damp. You watch as he rakes his fingers through it, tucking it behind his ears. He really is absurdly good looking.

You blame the heat under your skin on the jets.

“Psst,” Jeongin suddenly whispers. His foot nudges yours under the water. “Is that them?” he whispers.

You try to be subtle, turning your head to see who is there. A few younger people are sitting in some pool chairs under a torch, chatting and occasionally glancing in your direction. It is a few of the people you grew up with, the ones you told the boys about.

You nod at Jeongin, smiling shyly. You look down at your legs through the rippled distortion of water. You are wearing a simple one-piece, just as pink and floral as your dress, still a contrast to your boys.

You look at them in time to catch a mutual nod. You were spread around the hot tub, a reach of space between your bodies, but they slide until they are pressed up on either side of you. You look between them, curling your hands in nervous fists on your chest.

“What is it?” you whisper.

“We’re your boyfriends,” Hyunjin whispers with a smile. “Shouldn’t we sit close to you?”

“Oh,” you squeak. “I suppose that’s true.” You swallow, looking at him then at Jeongin. Your heart is pounding against your hands. The combination of heat and desire is making you more than a little dizzy. “Wh-what else should we be doing?” you ask before thinking twice. Vocalizing your internal thought only intensifies your fantasies, your mind supplying plenty of mental images of what you would be doing in this hot tub if they were really your boyfriends.

Oh, you are definitely getting dizzy, but it is not just the jets.

Hyunjin and Jeongin look at each other, both of them surprised by your forward question. Jeongin laughs because that is his instinct, that dimple never shy. Hyunjin has more of a smirk than a smile. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and lifts his eyebrows when you look at him. It is a teasing expression. It makes you dissolve into nervous giggles, sinking lower into the water.

He grabs you before you can disappear under the surface. And it is a grab. Between Hyunjin and Jeongin, you always suspected Hyunjin would be a gentle lover. He is so gushy and romantic while Jeongin tends be more frank about things. But it is Jeongin who gently strokes a hand down your arm, who laces his fingers with yours and squeezes.

Hyunjin reaches right under the water, stopping your descent with a hand on the back of your neck. Your eyes widen as he yanks you up, not choking but certainly in control. Your mouth falls open with surprise. Much to your embarrassment, you moan before he even kisses you, the sound escaping of its own volition as he tilts his head and leans in.

Oh, his mouth is gentle even if he is not. His hand is on your jaw, firm, holding your face where he wants it, but his lips are so soft and warm. He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and sighing against your lips. You steal a breath as well, your mouth open against his. That breath catches when Jeongin kisses the nape of your neck, then your shoulder.

They both have big hands, long fingers, slender but strong. You melt between them, all heat and need.

You turn to Jeongin, breathless with desire. His eyes are dark, lids heavy. You have never seen such intensity on his usually smiling face.

You are ready to kiss him when some playful shouts erupt from the audience you forgot about. “Get it girl!” someone shouts.

“Oh my god,” you say. Distracted, you reach behind you, grasping for nothing in particular when you find something, indeed. Jeongin is rock hard in his swim trunks and your hand brushes the very decent length of him.

You snap your hand back to yourself, jaw dropping.

“Why are you hard?” you whisper harshly.

“What do you mean, why am I hard?” he whispers back, just as argumentatively. “We’re all making out in a hot tub. Of course I’m hard.”

“Hyunjin’s not hard!” you hiss.

You look over your shoulder. Hyunjin is staring up into the air at nothing, looking a little too inconspicuous.

“Hyunjin!” you cry.

“What?” he returns, also whispering sharply. “Are you saying you’re not turned on?”

“I—hmmph—you—no!”

“No?” he asks with a sharp tilt of his head.

“So,” Jeongin says, drawing your narrowed gaze back to him. He just smiles at you. “If we put our hands somewhere here,” his fingers skim your upper thigh and you jump, “we wouldn’t find…?”

You sputter helplessly but it does no good; you have no retaliation whatsoever. You look at Hyunjin but he’s no help, just smirking at you. He wiggles his fingers in a little wave and you feel flushed again.

“I’m leaving now,” you say and finally sink under the water while they laugh.

You step into your bedroom at the end of a very long day. The guests have all gone home. Your parents, for reasons your mother strangely explained, are staying at the neighbour’s house tonight. You are very aware of the privacy it offers, the air rife with possibility.

Your boys are in your bed, wearing boxers and sleeveless shirts and bickering about the size of the quilt. They stop yanking on the blankets when you appear.

You did not bring much sleepwear. You figured you would wear the old shirts left behind in this room. You have outgrown most of them, but that wasn’t a problem with you were sleeping alone. Now you are wearing old gym shorts that sit very high up your thighs, a little shirt pulled taut across your ample chest, and your friends are staring at you, their previous conversation completely forgotten.

You cross your arms and stomp to the bed, feigning indifference. You crawl over a startled Hyunjin to get to the middle, flopping into the little column of space they left for you.

“Good night,” you say.

Hyunjin turns off the bedside light. The three of you are laying on top of the covers, on your backs, stiff as boards. Your arms are still crossed over your chest in a totally unnatural position. You refuse to look around, counting every little popcorn freckle in the ceiling design.

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says, his voice so loud in the silence.

You feel Hyunjin look over, hear the turn of his head on the pillow. You cast your eyes to either side but do not turn your head. There is already a skip in your heartbeat and you cannot encourage it.

“What?” you ask.

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says. You feel him roll onto his side, facing you. “You didn’t kiss me.”

You brace yourself then turn your head, looking at him with every intention of telling him that you did it in the heat of the moment. But he is gazing you, his head propped up on his arm, that god-forsaken bicep flexed again.

You shake your head and look at the ceiling.

“Yes, I did,” you say. “What should we do about it?”

“Kiss him,” Hyunjin says. You look at him. He is also propped up, leaning back on his elbow. He looks at you with an expression that offers a challenge, asking, Well? What are you waiting for?

“Fine,” you say, then slowly turn to Jeongin. “Only because that’s fair.”

Jeongin does not hesitate. He is not as firm Hyunjin but he does not need to be. Long, steady fingers slide across your shoulder and cup the back of your head. He draws you into him, kissing your cheek before your lips.

You quickly lose yourself. Your eyes close and it feels like taking flight, or maybe falling. Yes, falling helplessly head over heels. You have been for a long time.

You cannot help but make a few wanting sounds. Jeongin’s body is so different to yours, all hard planes and firm muscle against your softer spots. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, kissing you long and slow like he is pacing himself, like he plans to kiss you for hours.

That hand wanders from your waist, sliding lower until he is cupping your ass. Your breath catches and the kiss breaks. He is quick to dive back in, kissing you deeper the second time, his tongue touching yours.

You grab his arm, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. When he leans in again, Hyunjin reaches out and shoves his shoulder. Jeongin blinks up at him, surprised.

“That was two kisses,” Hyunjin says. “My turn.”

Hyunjin grabs your shoulder and pulls you onto your back. You land with a soft thump, still intoxicated from kissing Jeongin.

You blink up at Hyunjin, your chest heaving with breath as his eyes roam down your body. His fingers follow the same trail, knuckles at your chin then the curve of your chest. You arch your back instinctively. Everything seems to throb when his fingers brush the front of your shorts. It is a momentary touch, then he is cupping your cheek and turning your face and kissing you.

Just last night, you were in this bed alone, fantasizing this very thing. You ended the phone call but you were wide awake, so you put on some music and grabbed your vibrator and lost yourself to the impossible fantasy now entering reality.

In your fantasies, one or both of them was on top of you. But Hyunjin surprises you with the opposite, taking hold of your hips and tugging. You follow his direction clumsily until you are straddling his lap. He is hard between your legs, holding you there against him while he cups the back of your head and kisses you.

You can’t believe you thought Hyunjin was a romantic little angel. He is an absolute demon, rolling his hips under you with the same unhurried pace Jeongin used. You are so wet and turned-on, so delirious with need, for a second it feels like there is nothing between you, just the hard shape of him against your softness. But no, there are thin layers of fabric between you, stretched so tight it is like they are not there.

Jeongin curves his hand over the shape of your ass. Your shorts are riding up from your position. He could get an eye-ful at the right angle.

“You’re so…” he says, but his breath catches like there is no word to do you justice. It makes you look at him, your eyes locking in intensity.

It ends when Hyunjin rolls, laying you onto your back again. Then he sits back, leaving you there in a breathless pant.

“What do you think about?” he asks.

You make a noise back at him. It is supposed to be a question but it comes out garbled. You shake your head, then manage to ask, “Huh? Think about?”

He sits up and reaches into your bedside drawer. You come to coherency when he takes out your vibrator.

“Hyunjin!” You cannot help but scold him. “I told you to stay out of there!”

“You know I like to investigate,” he argues. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping your forehead. “I swear to god, it’s like being friends with a crow.”

Jeongin sits up too, laughing so much he has to cover his face. He shakes his head as he comes up for a breath, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Stop laughing,” you say, even while a few giggles escape.

Jeongin just grins at you, then he reaches out and touches traces his thumb across your smile.

“Are you going to answer?” Hyunjin asks.

You look at him and snatch the vibrator back, clutching it possessively to your chest.

“That’s none of your business,” you say.

“It could be,” he says, expression getting darker by the second, a playful smile turning to a dirty smirk. He runs his teeth across his bottom lip then bats his eyelashes. “If you think about us,” he finishes.

“I—no—you—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s normal. I think about you.”

“Hyunjin,” you gasp. You go to whack him with the vibrator then remember what it is. You hold it against your chest again, embarrassed. Hot in the face and everywhere else, you sputter more indignantly than you feel, “There’s nothing to think about with me.”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you are serious, his eyes dropping down your body then back up. He laughs, covering a hand over his mouth.

“Last night I thought plenty,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I wondered if you could come so hard it would make you cry. I bet you’d look pretty.”

You swallow hard. Your hands are getting clammy, clutching the toy. You cannot even fake any indignance, so turned on it is making your head spin.

“That’s rude,” you say in a rasping voice, “I was crying and you were—”

“I waited to touch myself, thank you,” he teases.

“Jeongin wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking back at him. He is staring up at the ceiling, blinking too quickly and too innocently. “Jeongin!” you exclaim.

Hyunjin laughs some more, a gleeful little cackle behind his hand. You huff dramatically, trying and failing to frown at them.

“My friends are perverts,” you say.

Hyunjin is reclining in an insouciant slouch. Jeongin is sitting upright behind you. You look between them as they look at each other, seemingly conversing through nothing but a series of blinks. Jeongin smiles first, winking at you when you meet his eye. He is holding your gaze when Hyunjin moves, smooth and quick. They crowd you, one on either side, each with a hand on your thigh.

You make a noise, a surprised little whimper as you spill onto your back. You clutch the toy for dear life as Jeongin strokes your inner thigh and Hyunjin’s long fingers trace your waistband. You gasp when Hyunjin slides right in, under your shorts but over your underwear. You are so turned on that there is no hiding it, the fabric wet under his searching fingers.

“Takes one to know one,” he says with a smile. “Maybe that’s why we’re friends.”

“I don’t think we’re just friends,” Jeongin says while sliding the toy out of your hands. He turns it on and your clit pulses under Hyunjin’s fingers, trained to react to the noise.

Hyunjin laughs, his breath on your neck. He moves his hand while Jeongin presses the toy between your legs, over your shorts and panties but nonetheless immediately effective. You squirm a little. The onslaught of sensation has your thighs twitching to close.

The boys shuffle quickly. You find yourself sitting between Jeongin’s legs, your back against his chest. Hyunjin kneels in front of you, holding your legs open so you cannot escape the toy’s blissful torture. You can feel an orgasm winding up ridiculously fast. You have not had a proper relationship but you have fooled around, but it was never like this. Even by yourself with a toy, an orgasm would take time. You have a breath to realize you are going to come, hard, legs spread for your boys.

It hits you quickly but deeply, rolling vibrations of pleasure that have you rearing up. You start to cry out and Jeongin covers your mouth even though you are alone, catching the sound in his palm. He holds the toy with his other hand, keeping it in place while Hyunjin holds your legs so you feel every tingling second of aftershocks.

When you whine into his palm, Jeongin lets you go and turns off the toy.

The room feels very quiet when the toy stops. You come to reality, remembering you are in your parents’ house in your old bedroom. Your parents might not be home but it still seems wrong to get down and dirty with your old teddy bear staring at you.

Hyunjin follows your line of sight. He grabs the bear and turns it around.

Okay. It’s fine now.

You twist around and grab Jeongin, kissing him roughly. He holds you as desperately, kissing back with the same fervour. Hyunjin gets his hands on your shorts and tugs them down. They are only off one leg, dangling around your knee, when he dives in and starts kissing your pussy through your underwear.

You are still sensitive from your orgasm, moaning into Jeongin’s mouth while Hyunjin torments you with his. When he moves the material out of the way, your legs start shaking again. Jeongin reaches down to touch you too, his fingers brushing Hyunjin’s lips. Hyunjin sucks the taste of you off his fingertips then dives back in.

You are caught by surprise when you come again. Jeongin catches your cry, covering your mouth again as you shake in his arms. A tear spills loose just from the sheer sensation of such rapid orgasms. Your body feels like a live wire, all lightning and electric energy.

Hyunjin kneels upright, looking at the tear running down your face. You whimper into Jeongin’s hand when Hyunjin licks it off your cheek.

“Knew you’d be pretty like that, baby,” he says.

You pry Jeongin’s hand off your mouth. It goes easily. In the end, they follow your lead. You know your boys. They would do anything for you. They would start. They would stop.

You do not want them to stop.

“Fuck me,” you say, so quietly it does not even penetrate the silence. Even so, Hyunjin slides his hand between your legs and slides two fingers right inside you, so easily because you are so wet. Jeongin squeezes your breasts in his hands, over your shirt then tugging the fabric up and over to get his hands on your bare skin.

“What was that?” Hyunjin asks. He brings those wet fingers to his lips and licks your wetness off them.

“F-fuck me,” you say, still a whisper but clearer. “Please.”

“Well,” Jeongin says, kissing your temple. He smiles at Hyunjin. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You all tumble over, laying on your sides. Jeongin is nestled behind you, Hyunjin in front of you. Jeongin lifts your shirt over your head while Hyunjin finally removes everything below your waist. You slip your hand between your thighs while they whip off their shirts and boxers.

Then it feels like their hands are everywhere. Yours too, reaching forward for Hyunjin, reaching back for Jeongin. You hold his hip while he rocks against you, his cock gliding along your backside.

“I’ll go first,” Hyunjin says, manhandling you onto your back then getting up between your legs.

“You kissed her first,” Jeongin argues, shoving him. Hyunjin shoves him back.

“You’re bigger,” Hyunjin says, nodding to his dick. “I’ll get her ready.”

You did not actually get a good look at Hyunjin’s dick before he put it inside you. If Jeongin is bigger, you are almost worried, because Hyunjin is bigger than anything you have had down there. You make a keening, high-pitched noise, mouth open as he presses inside you.

Jeongin lays beside you, reaching down to rub that still-tingling bundle of nerves. It helps, your eyes closing and head falling back. Jeongin kisses the exposed line of your throat while Hyunjin starts moving inside you.

“Ohh—” you say, your hands moving all over his chest. You clutch one shoulder and reach for Jeongin with your other hand. He guides it to his dick, helping you find a rhythm, stroking his length while Hyunjin fucks you.

It goes on for a time, then Jeongin curses, squeezing your hand around him. He nods to Hyunjin.

“Move,” he says. “My turn.”

Hyunjin, panting, pushes some hair off his sweaty forehead. He moves backwards down the bed, stepping right off. You yelp with surprise when he grabs your legs and yanks you down the bed. He grabs your hips and flips you over, then gestures to Jeongin.

“Your turn,” he confirms. They switch places, Jeongin kneeling behind you while Hyunjin kneels in front of you. You get up on your elbows, lifting your hips while Jeongin thrusts in. He wastes no time, evidently already on the brink from your ministrations. It means your gentle lover is suddenly pounding into you, your fingers forming fists in the bedsheets, yanking the covers everywhere as you pant and moan.

“Sooo pretty,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face in both hands. You know what he wants without asking, opening your mouth eagerly. You doubt it is the best head ever, especially considering half your attention is on Jeongin, your body moving where he wills it. But you manage, savouring the moment and already imagining every variation of position for the future.

You look up at Hyunjin, kissing the tip of his dick then saying in a rough voice, “I want both of you one day.”

“Fuck,” Jeongin says and immediately comes, grinding deep inside you. Hyunjin grabs you by the neck and puts you back on his dick, murmuring a string of expletives just as colourful until he comes.

You think it is over when Jeongin pulls out. Cum is dribbling out of your mouth when Hyunjin sits back. He wipes his thumb over your lips, pushing them closed.

“You can swallow,” he says. His touch is a suggestion, not forceful, so you could ignore it. But you gaze up at him and swallow.

And while you are doing that, Jeongin grabs the toy and puts it back between your legs. You almost scream, bucking when it comes to life on your dripping pussy. Hyunjin cups your face in his hands again, stroking your cheeks while you ride the pulsing vibrations. Another couple tears spill and he wipes them away with his thumbs, cooing sweet nothings at you the entire time.

They wring three more orgasms out of you before you basically collapse, exerted and sweating and panting.

“God,” you rasp, laying on your side, still breathing hard. “I’m gonna need to get in shape for this. Two boyfriends is no joke.”

The three of you laugh, then you get to enjoy the spoiled princess treatment that is having one boy to cuddle while the other fetches water and a towel. When you finally get to sleep, it is nestled safely between your boys, murmuring sweet words at each other in sleepy tones until you fall asleep.

Your parents return at lunch the next day. While Jeongin helps your father grill and Hyunjin sets the table, you help your mother prepare a side dish. She is practically beaming at you.

“Do I want to know why you slept at the neighbour’s last night?” you ask.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” your mother says. She kisses your forehead. “I heard you on the phone the other night. I know you lied about having a boyfriend.”

“What?!” You look at her with alarm and surprise. “But – but you didn’t say anything! You acted like Jeongin was my boyfriend the second he arrived!”

“Of course!” your mother says. “Look my dear, anyone can find a boyfriend. Walk onto the street and throw a rock, there’s one with his head out the car window like a dog. Easy. Not everyone can find a man who shows up to a party and pretends to be her lover, expecting nothing in return, and doing it just because he loves her. And you found two.”

Your mother wraps you in her arms. You are still surprised but you hug her back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel so pressured,” she says. “I just worried about you all alone in the city, but now I see you’re not alone. But, you know, I am a mother, and I saw how those boys looked at you, so I figured… well…”

“Mom!” you cry, a little mortified she intentionally set you up.

“Did it work?” she asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

You are laughing helplessly, shaking your head, which only makes her laugh.

“I knew it,” she says. “Sometimes fate just needs a hand. Maybe two.”

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” you say, walking away.

“You are glowing this morning. Maybe I should get another man too.”

“Mom, please!”

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #hyunjin x reader x jeongin #hyunjin x you #jeongin x you #hyunjin x you x jeongin #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader

897 notes · View notes

braaan · 9 months

Text

In all the ways that matter (w/ Yunjin)

male reader & lesserafim yunjin

smut & angst & fluff (the one where you want more of what’s already yours), 6k words

Let’s be honest: you don’t deserve Huh Yunjin.

She’s an ambitious mishmash of love languages. But from the way she’s always including you in wishlists back to her parents in New York, how she’s always testing new big-stretch-and-yawn-at-the-movies level ways to get her hands on you, or how she’s going on her eighth permutation of pet names and emojis for you on her phone (it’s been POOKIE🧸🦷🤭💙 for the past 2 weeks — your longest running), anyone would guess that she was fluent across the board.

And that’s only while you’re pretending that looks don’t matter.

Because whenever it feels like you have to chalk up a point for Yunjin’s personality, one of her physical features always stops you at the blackboard.

Yunjin looks like she was grandma-knit: finished patiently and smoothed tender. Where skin would normally crease, Yunjin softens. And between the way her eyes sweeten into crescent moons when she laughs, how her lips always find a way to ease back into their permanent pout, or how perfectly her chin nestles in between your fingers, there was nothing about her that didn’t compete to be your favorite.

But all of them have to settle for second best.

Because your favorite thing about Yunjin is her eyebrows.

They waltz between well-learned battle lines on her forehead, stretching emphatically behind boundaries they know other features did not dare cross, because compared to the rest of her face, they’re bold. They explode from sienna to whiskey and hook insultingly fast, threading down to points so sharp that it only feels right to dot them at the end like exclamation marks, putting a megaphone to the stories that her eyes tell. Only on Yunjin’s face does softness ring loudly. Eye contact morphs into reverie, amusement magnitudes up into hilarity, and tenderness becomes love.

You think it’s unfair.

It’s unfair that the reasons you could fall in love with her are endless. It’s unfair that she can simultaneously make the world the two of you share both so tiny, special, and unreplicable and then larger than life, ever-expansive, and infinite. And it’s unfair that she makes doing all of this at the same time look so effortless.

It’s a high bar to clear.

But you try anyway.

If not to at least get close to the standard she sets, for the sex.

The two of you are practically asking for it the time you get caught.

Standing at the far end of a HYBE practice room, it’s all so fitting: under the only lit floodlight, her on her knees, your cock at attention inches from her lips, tension teetering above climax — Huh Yunjin was going to give you a performance.

She’s kissing at the bottom of your shaft, lingering half a second longer each time as she slowly makes her way up your length. She mewls, ad libbing your grunts with soft, venom-laced yeah?s.

“You sound so pent up,” she starts, thumbing your cockhead counterclockwise.

You give her bits and pieces of an affirmative response: you let out a forced breath somewhere between a grunt and an exhale, grip your cock tighter, and pinch one of her nipples with your free hand. She translates.

“Mmm?” Yunjin purrs. She runs the flat of her tongue long across your entirety, flicking up as she reaches the tip.

You’re gripping at anything you can to stay alive. Trying to keep the facade up that you can compete. You splay your free hand and grab at her chest, playing dirty; grasping for a reaction. She plays your game and picks up the rhythm on your cock.

“You don’t want to just paint my face right now?”

Your breath is hot on your lips, tight in your chest. You’re parrying, blocking, countering. You look deep into the pools of honey bourbon in her eyes. You’re falling into the abyss.

Who fights fair with a poisoned blade? Yunjin? Not with the tears dotting the corners of her eyes; not with the drool running down her chin. Her cheeks are hollow as she swallows further and further down your cock. Her lips brush the base of your shaft. It feels good. She knows it feels good, the way she’s looking back up at you; the way you’re groaning.

She raises her eyebrows.

You cum.

And despite all of the preposition, conviction building, and white-knuckle–steeling, you think, you don’t really ever lose. Because the moment you ride out your orgasm, it’s great.

You can’t compete. You kick off the cliffhanger and throw yourself into freefall. You see white flashes where there used to be color, and the tightness under your stomach evaporates into a vacuum: hot, and all at once. You can fully exhale and for what has to be a full minute, you die.

And as usual, after she makes peace with killing you, Yunjin brings you back to life.

She kisses the top of your cockhead before sitting back on her heels. Under the spotlight, sweat literally shimmering, she’s glowing, and she’s ethereal. Her tongue darts at the sides of her mouth before retreating, replaced by her bottom lip, equal parts pink and proud; satisfied and smug. She grabs at a small towel sitting next to her before beginning to clean up, dabbing at where you’d made a fucking mess out of her face.

But not before the door to the practice room opens. Your stomach shatters, and everywhere you just felt warm goes cold. A woman takes the empty space in the doorway, starts in your direction, and continues way too fast.

Your brain is instantly numb, and you scramble for something further than a stone’s toss away from the plot of a cheap porno. She slipped on her towel and grabbed my zipper on the way down! What do you mean Yunjin’s in this room with us? My COCK? God no, this is a thermometer that just looks a lot like- You don’t get far.

And before you try at reasoning that would effectively end you on the spot, the woman gets close enough. She yelps, producing a folder from behind her to try and shield you from any further consequences.

“Can you put-” she shakes her hands — folder and all — in your general direction, “everything away?”

Jolted awake, you scramble at your pants at your ankles, pulling anything your fingers brushed against in the direction you thought was closed. In hindsight, the zippers for your pants pockets probably didn’t matter much, but you zip those too, hoping the thought counted. Yunjin reappears next to you, the straps of her newly stretched tank top sitting awkwardly on top of her shoulders, now resembling probably anything else closer than they would elastic.

The woman gingerly peeks an eye over at the two of you and lets out a deep, full exhale. “Good, phew!”

“You would think we’d have that practiced by now,” she tuts, using what was once her plastic barrier to fan herself. She shoots a dirtier glare at Yunjin before turning towards you, and her expression visibly softens. “Oh! Same guy!”

And instantly, anything that would give off that she was disappointed just a moment ago dissipates, and is replaced by genuine admiration.

“I respect that you guys are trying to make the dating thing work!”

There were some things that practice wouldn’t get you used to.

See, when you and Yunjin first started dating, you expected a little bit of onboarding. A little bit of catching up to speed: When were her parents’ birthdays? Was she allergic to anything? What were her favorite movies? For extra credit, you’re even brushing up on the idol industry: How long was a comeback promotion period? What was an aegyo? — the usual.

But you’re still taking notes to this day.

(It’s a Saturday a couple of months ago, and you and Yunjin are snaking through the aisles of a thrift store.

“And Chaewon’s seeing them?"

Okay: Yunjin’s snaking through the aisles of a thrift store. You’re trailing behind her, making sure you connected all the right dots together.

“Nope,” she says, eyes scanning a tattered band tee. Then, equally nonchalantly: “Idols get horny, too. Dating just makes things messier than they need to be.”

There’s an expectant pause, then Yunjin turns to look at you.

“Not that that’s a rule or anything,” she adds, placing a hand on yours as if to close the lid on any implication that tried to escape. “It’s just not most people’s style.”)

‘Given’ was probably the word for it, you think. The idol industry collected teenagers at their most formative periods, and where others their age condensed pre-calculus and high school breakups, they learned choreography and how to introduce themselves across the language spectrum. When other kids’ hormones flared up and made them deal with acne, they were digitally edited, scrubbed clean, and hidden behind locked doors. An industry formed on cherry-picking highlights had to have a gnarly underbelly — what would be taboo had to be a given — and it probably only helped that everyone had to look like sex.

So you try to catch up and blend in. Try to not get hung up on how casually sex, drugs, and secrets are laced in sentences. Try to take what Yunjin says at face value.

Still, as her manager leads you through the lobby towards the revolving doors, and you’re bowing profusely as you try to apologize for what she brushes off as not the first time and very normal, there’s a certain edge about it all. Like no matter how airtight Yunjin’s grip tried to be, that you were fortifying a house of cards with pillars of paper mâché.

And it sure as hell didn’t help that halfway through the lobby, you trade greetings with her fake boyfriend.

There were some things that practice wouldn’t get you used to.

So get this: your girlfriend was going to be one half of a manufactured dating scandal.

She stood too close to another idol at a variety show, and online forum sentiment was eating it up (or something like that). There it was: a full page, in bold. All over social media. Yunjin, and the boy with the jawline and swoon-inducing eyes (not that you were jealous), everywhere at once, and on the tips of everyone’s tongue. The buzz brought eyeballs to her group debut, and what better way to snowball that momentum than to confirm it?

Yunjin just didn’t know that you knew yet.

And for your sake, it was probably for the better that she thinks her secret was safe. Firstly, because you don’t know how to feel about how you get the information. You were both at the pinnacle of industry — dating an idol — and at the mercy of it — cobbling together information from vague fan accounts, building a list of social accounts that got leaks right; irony never played fair.

And secondly, because you didn’t know how to bring it up.

Truth be told, you don’t know how to feel about it. You don’t know how you’re supposed to feel about it. You’re equal parts ruptured and reductive. Half of you thinks it borders on trust, and the other half scolds you for thinking that way: that you signed up for this, and don’t know how to compromise. Half of you imagines what they talk about when you’re not around: how far he’ll go to convince the public of a relationship, and the other half thinks you have no self-esteem for stooping that low.

All of you yearns for Yunjin. Because where there were all the things that you had to get used to, there were also the FaceTimes. The phone calls of complete silence when she just wanted someone to listen but was too exhausted to recount what practice was just like. The joy on her face when she told you that was going to debut.

Imposing would be selfish. She deserved everything she worked for, and you don’t even come close to par. Under it all, through the glitz, you see the Huh Yunjin that you fall in love with over again every single day, and she had too tight of a grip on your heart for you to break hers.

So you don’t bring it up, and wait for her to.

It’s quite literally pathetic the way notifications on your phone evoke a physical response out of you. Like it fires a neuron, you’re diving hands outstretched every time you hear it chime.

Sure, it hasn’t paid off yet — you’ve dropped literally everything to be greeted by promotional emails, pushes about the weather, and pings on the latest discounts — but you’ll hold your breath.

Though as you pick yourself up off the floor from familiar disappointment at another non-Yunjin notification, you can’t say that you’re less confused. And you’ve caught yourself multiple times today way too deep in somber tangents for some of it not to start sticking.

The loudest of them all stemmed from the fact that it felt like the answer was implied. That if there was nothing to it, it’d be easy to talk about. That if it was anything like the dating mantra, since it didn’t apply to the two of you, Yunjin would address it at face value.

And tautologically, because she didn’t, it wasn’t.

It’s the end of the week when Yunjin finally texts you.

have dinner plans tonight mister? :)

You draft two texts. The first makes you sound sixteen: obnoxiously sad about the state of affairs of literally everything. The second makes you sound sociopathic: blunt, deflecting, and not enough emojis. You send a third.

Nope! What do you have in mind?

Before long, you’re sitting on a blanket overlooking the Hangang. The sun’s setting, playing a global game of cat and mouse: light spills through the gaps in willow trees, gazebos, and construction, highlighting pockets of parkground with its blessing of orange-red. You’re where the surface area’s the largest, like the paper bowls of ramen didn’t anchor the blanket down enough, and the sun’s rays are what did the trick.

Or, technically speaking: bowl of ramen.

Because while Yunjin was three-quarters of the way finished with hers, sneaking bites in as she took breaths in between practically spoiling her next comeback, yours was virtually untouched. You made do with spinning the floating egg in your bowl dizzy.

“You know,” Yunjin starts, “you didn’t have to come out if you weren’t hungry.”

You look up at her. Her head’s cocked at an angle, piqued such that it catches sunlight. In the glow, she’s beautiful.

“I’m a big girl now,” she emphasizes. “You can tell me no. I might cry myself to sleep after, but — you know — in a big girl way.”

Her eyes curl up into tiny moons like they always do, and you give her a weak response.

It’s tightrope thin. Yunjin’s prodding, expecting you to riposte, poking at things she knows will get a reaction out of you; you don’t bite. You’re both expecting an answer. Your heart is jackhammering at your chest, and between the punctuation, in the offbeats, you want to yell. You want to find out if your house of cards is built on sand.

The both of you are walking back towards HYBE, along the scenic route that you always take, and only someone purposely oblivious would guess that everything was fine.

“Do you,” Yunjin perks up, trailing off, “not like the comeback?”

You don’t say anything.

“Maybe,” she pokes again, “you’re grumpy because I haven’t been texting you?”

You feel her eyes peek at you then retreat. In your peripheral vision you see her purse her lips, nod, and then smirk. You hear a tiny breath.

“Are you,” and she lets out an exaggerated gasp, “seeing someone else?”

“I know about your scandal, Yunjin,” you blurt out, and it's too fast for either of your own goods.

There’s a beat. You both stop walking. You turn her way.

“Your dating scandal — your fake boyfriend — whatever.”

Yunjin isn't great at hiding her emotions — her eyebrows give it away. You see her face gradient across shock, then consideration, before landing on shame. Her eyebrows knit, and she can’t meet your eyes.

There’s another beat. You can hear your heart thump in your ears, and despite the autumn at night, you’re hot. You’re searching her face for a tell, some semblance of an answer; anything.

You’re imposing.

And for the first time in the past week, you’re thinking of her. Of her today and her in the past. Of all the work she put in to get to where she wanted to be. Of what she had to give up to have tonight with you. Of all the nights before this, and the many she had to cancel abruptly because work came up. Of her being here now, and you selfishly making this about yourself.

You’re imposing, and it feels like shit.

“I’m-,” Yunjin starts, voice shaky.

You look at her, and there’s tears pooling in her eyes.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up,” she continues slowly, and then the surface tension breaks. She shuts her eyes tight, and then she’s crying. “It’s in the contract we signed. It helps our comeback.”

You hear the Huh Yunjin that you first fall in love with. Before the glitz, before she had to pretend like she was an adult-

“I don’t know what to say.”

- before she had to hide anything from you.

(The two of you are in front of the HYBE building, and she’s giving you shit for how messily you eat. It’s a late spring, and Yunjin’s hair is shoulder-length and cherry oak. You’re missing a lecture on the pigeonhole principle, and she’s dodging her manager — sea salt ice cream was seasonal, after all.

“How did you get it on your nose?” She chides you, dabbing around your mouth with a scrunched napkin. “They should have you give your I.D. to see if you can handle a cone instead of a cup. Nine-year olds can do this better than you.”

“What if you don’t debut, Yunjin?”

You were always good at telling it like it was, even if you had to disregard social tact. But you had a point. Yunjin was going on her third trainee year, and internally, it didn’t look like it was going to be her last.

There’s a couple of beats before she softens.

“I don’t know.”

It’s a side of her that really only you do. Under the spunk and the character she has to amplify, there is fear: that she’s taking too large a gamble, that she’d be perpetually behind if she didn’t make it, that it’d be safer if she just did what everyone else was doing.

She can’t meet your eyes, and she’s fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“I just think things tend to happen for a reason,” she says, with more resolve than you expect. “And I don’t think it’s worth it to question it deeper than that.”

“How much of that is because you’re scared of the answer?”

There’s a pause, and the implication is clear.

“Do you always hate to have just a cute, fictional moment?” You look down at her, and she’s expecting it, staring back at you, eyebrows knit, lips in an exaggerated pout. “We can’t just — I don’t know — kiss and end things on the high note?”

You break, and let out the unflattering start to a laugh. She’s deflecting, and you know to let it go. In your heart of hearts, the two of you know that you’re both right. That there’s fear in uncertainty — a lot of it — but also hope. That big payoffs don’t come if you don’t gamble it all.

You lean down and kiss her on the nose.

She’s staring at you as she walks all the way back through the revolving doors, a smirk across her lips, and the unmistakably blue speck of sea salt ice cream on her nose. She’s yelling, letting you know to let the rest of your face have some ice cream, too.)

And you’re staring at her, wishing this time was half as picturesque. She doesn’t have the words; she doesn’t have to. Asking the hard question was your thing. She’s pleading, frantically, and her watery eyes are beckoning. You want to tell her that it’ll all play out, that things happen for a reason; you don’t have to — that was her thing.

Under the soft, streetlamp glow, you see the Yunjin the public doesn’t — the uncertainty, the gamble, the fear. You hear the desperation in the dark days; the resolve, unconvincing yet unabashed, that what was far out was not so; the throughline: that if she pretended to be convinced, maybe you would, too.

You see the Yunjin you love, and you’re so fucking whipped.

You thumb the tear trailing down her cheek. You’re defeated, and it bleeds into your voice, but never going to pass on hitting where it hurts. “What happened to changing the idol industry?”

She chokes back a laugh through tears. “Okay,” she starts, and through the sarcasm she tries for — and how muddy it was between sniffles — she’s glad to hear your voice. “It’s the goddamn industry. What am I supposed to do in the debut video: admit defeat? Who’d watch that?”

“Sorry, it’s just — all of it — so dumb,” she adds for good measure, swiping at her eyes.

Hanging in the night, in the words unsaid, in between the watery sarcasm and the tension quickly evaporating, it’s clear. The two of you resolve a silent conversation. You’re punctuating her apologies with eye rolls, and she wants to hear you say you love her, but she knows that already. You say you don’t deserve her, and she calls you stupid.

Tears hot down your cheeks, you’re both laughing now, bouncing off of each other. And then, into the what’s next of it all: “I can try to get out of it,” Yunjin says.

It’s cathartic and real, and should disarm you.

But you say no.

Down to your cores, you and Yunjin were infinitely kindred. Intertwined forever, etched in the books of fate with permanent marker. You were after each other's hearts, molded from the same cosmic clay. You had each other in all the ways that mattered, and that would never change.

The last stop on your train home is when you get the notification.

are you headed home?

And in the moment, you catastrophize. It was in the middle of the weekend of her comeback. What was she thinking? Did something happen? How far were you away from HYBE?

But even if you played the same situation back a hundred times over, there was no way in hell you’d get to the conclusion that Huh Yunjin was in your foyer, behind your door, and wearing what didn’t leave much to imagination.

“Yunjin-” you try and start, before you’re kissed quiet.

Her hands are on top of yours, leading, as you smooth down the creases of her vanilla crop top and run your thumbs down her body. Your fingers are fluid, filling the divots, tracing along the lines, running the valleys of muscle in the flat of her stomach. Between bouts, as her lips linger inches away from yours, for a moment uncaptured, you breathe in air nonvenomous, and try to grapple with it all, scrambling for something to hold on to before your brain short circuits.

You’re sinking, and you don’t know how to wrestle rights from rudimentaries. Yunjin’s eyes, glazed over, zero in on yours, and she kisses you again. Her lips are sweet and have a bite to them, yours smack as you swallow the venom thick on your tongue. She pulls away, you come up for air.

Standing in the soft, orange-yellow glow of light from the room adjacent, you see the Yunjin the public does — the siren, sultry and seductive: her eyes, soft, malleable, and unassuming — how she could convince you that your name was something else entirely if she looked at you head on — her lips, venom-laced and tantalizing — how she’d push the agenda.

Except this time, you’re finally lucid, and you see the parallel. In the muscles — impressive in the light, but meek at the same time, like it split moments in the spotlight with softness — in the eyes — perpetually provocative, but infinitely innocent — in the perfect unattainable. Everything is polished, nudged purposefully in its direction. It’s all artificial, doctored, and done up.

Huh Yunjin is a product of industry, and you were going to fuck it out of her.

Yunjin’s smirk dismantles as you rip your hands from her grip. It completely falls apart as you pull her into you face first, thumbs across her cheeks. And as she tries to pull back, you’re keeping her where you want her, kissing into the poison. Her hands grab at your chest; at your dress shirt, half foregoing permission, pulling buttons apart, and half to steady herself as you move your dance deeper into your living room.

You’re leading this time, and as your knees bump brown velvet, you’re able to rasp: “Yunjin, on the couch.”

“How do you want me?” she whispers, breath hot on your lips.

“Legs apart.” You push her into the middle seat, and her hands are working at her shorts. There’s an audible zip, and they’re on your hardwood.

And as you’re kneeling down into the negative space in between Yunjin’s thighs, in the seconds, sultry and slow-burn, you catch a glimpse of her face. Spread across the finger in her mouth, eyes half-lidded, and eyebrows upturned, you think you see anticipation. Like you were going to rip Yunjin apart, and — straying away from what she was taught, coloring outside the lines — she might let you.

You test the theory: you take her into your mouth.

And you don’t think you’ve heard an exhale more pained.

You’re generous — lapping at her heat through lace, grazing against her clit — and with variety — kissing her inner thighs, nipping at skin. Yunjin’s sensitive and unintelligible.

“Fuck,” she manages to get out, her hips bucking, searching for more of you. One of her hands tries to meet you where you are, to pull her panties to the side, to feel you on her. But you redirect her to where you want her to be: your free hand on her wrist, you lead her up her chest. And though reluctantly, she translates. Together, you’re undoing buttons, palming the fullness of her breast, and flicking at the hard bud of her nipple.

Eventually, you give Yunjin what she wants.

You’re cradling her thighs around your forearms, and at the angle you have her, suspended, supported by the small of her back, you swear she yelps. You draw her underwear to the side, and then Yunjin’s squealing. She’s whining, she’s so wet, she’s raking her nails at your scalp. Your mouth’s on her cunt, drawing long across her folds, tonguing the alphabet over her clit.

There’s this moment. She’s arching, thighs hooked tight at your arms, on her tiptoes. You poke your tongue into her heat, there’s a high note, and then Yunjin’s cumming in your mouth.

And as you coax her through it, tongue flat, letting her ride your mouth, you’re sharing a gaze. Morbid curiosity can’t stop her from peeking at the mess she’s making, and you want to see what it looks like to kill a goddess.

“Fuck,” Yunjin repeats, like it’s the only word she knows, as you lick your lips. Her head’s tucked into her chest, and the orange bask she’s painted in is competing with the blush sauntering across her cheeks.

“You’re so-” she starts, dodging your eyes, kicking out gingerly at you.

“Mm?” you beckon, easing yourself in between her legs, undoing the button at your pants, freeing your cock tenting at the fabric. “I’m so?” you press again, tugging her panties off, soaked beyond belief.

And how you have her under you, top unbuttoned, hanging off her shoulders, how she can’t meet your eyes, it’s apt. Like she’s disarmed. Like under the layers of polish and practice, purposefully put away; under the glitz, the expensive everything: multisyllabic and most likely mispronounced; under the spunk, in her personal space, when she wasn’t allowed to deflect, Huh Yunjin was naked, and like putty in your hands.

All it took was your mouth on her cunt.

And she sure as shit didn’t need to say anything to you to admit it. It’s hard to miss, the way she’s folding her legs behind your waist, the red across her cheeks deepening.

“Think about your answer,” you quip for good measure, and with your cock hovering inches away from her pussy: “I’m going to fuck you now.”

And truthfully, the confidence is more for you than it is for Yunjin. It’s far from your first time, but every time you slide your cock in Yunjin’s cunt, it’s like everything around you takes a collective deep breath. Time becomes measured in fractions of a second, and you’re clairvoyant and hypersensitive. The head of your cock pushes into her pussy, and it’s hot.

You inhale a breath, picking up the sex in the air.

You swear your vision inverts. There’s white where there used to be color.

You catch the entirety of Yunjin’s mewling, as she goes from fuck, please, and your cock into falsetto. She’s mixing your name with untranslatables.

You feel her fucking cunt.

Teeth gritted, you’re pairing hard and soft. You bury your length in her, the front of your thighs slapping the back of hers, and kiss her lips tender. You only taste Yunjin, and you kiss her like she’s lifeblood. It’s sweet: her lipstick, her taste still on your lips, the breaths you’re sharing. And as Yunjin breaks for air, you’re whispering in the negative space, breath hot.

“Yeah?”

And she’s nodding her head, uncontrollably. Agreeing to anything you put forward, before you even asked. Anything that kept your cock in her.

“You’re-” you try again.

Your hands wrap around her midriff, her hands wrap around your wrists.

“You’re such a-”

God, her fucking cunt.

Except you need to hear it. You want to hear her say it, airtight, with no room for implication to escape.

“Yunjin,” you finally manage, and then in whole: “You’re such a good girl for my cock, aren’t you?”

She’s nodding her head, mumbling. But that wasn’t good enough for you. You’re hilting, deep in her cunt, and steadying yourself, curling a hand around her neck. “Yunjin” — a little louder — “answer me.”

Her hands around your wrists tighten, and she lets out this moan. Like she’s trying to give you the answer you want, and frustrated that she can only whine. Finally, through the untranslatables: yes, yes, all for your cock-

But that wasn’t it. Your fingers are pressing into her throat, and you’re pounding into her, wet all over you; imprinting her into the sofa. “Yunjin,” and it’s dark. “This is all you want, isn’t it?”

And she’s doing everything she can to convince you. She’s pushing herself into your length, grabbing at your hands, and through eyes half-lidded, staring deep at you. To show you she can compete, to show you just how good she was — just for you. And through your grip: “Yes, fuck. God, yes — this is all I-”

But it’s not what you want to hear. You’re riding the line. You’re biting your tongue bloody. Yunjin’s cunt is suffocatingly tight against your cock. Your grip’s white-knuckle on her skin. You shut your eyes tight. You know what you wanted to hear.

“Your other boyfriend can’t give it to you like this, can he?”

And you spend all the luck that was supposed to last you this lifetime, because in a moment of lucidity, you pull out. But immediately after that, you’re left to your own devices, and of course, you cum.

It’s hot, and you feel like a rubber band twanged across the middle. Like everything tight is wrenched out of you, and then let go, left to ricochet on your spine, springing back and forth. Your ears are ringing, your toes are curling; you’re letting out an orgasm so deep, you’re only saved by the fact that your eyes are closed for half of it.

And as you stir, blinking vision back into your eyes, your brain coming back to center, you’re thinking back, and you realize what the fuck you just said.

Yunjin’s meeting you where your eyes are at. Your brain’s numb, her jaw’s frozen in this half-scoff, lips untouching. She raises her eyebrows, giving you somewhere between what the fuck and intrigued. It’s expectant. You opened this up, she’s saying, now what?

You’re standing in the sand, and your house of cards is crumbling. You’re toeing where you expect the line to be, can’t find it, and don’t need to look to know it’s long behind you. Your chest is tight, and the implication is still in the air. You’re scrambling for something: something to walk it back, something in between the lines, anything to drive a stake through the premise and kill it entirely.

Yunjin is less patient. She ventures into the unknown, since you won’t. “Has this been about that the entire time?”

“Yunjin,” and you’re honest, preemptively reaching your hands out to her. “I don’t know why I said that.”

You’re looking straight into her eyes, completely wide. Her eyebrows pinch, and there’s a couple of beats. You know you should take them, to fill in the blanks; not to let the implication linger. But before you do: “I thought about my answer,” Yunjin starts, lowering her fingers to where you left yourself on her stomach.

And only after she runs her forefinger across her tongue, only after she cleans it of cum: “You’re so good, and no one can give it to me like you do.”

Spread across the bite in her lip, eyes half-lidded, and how she’s staring at you through her lashes, the implication’s crystal. And you would probably literally short circuit, if not for the second wind that was Yunjin licking you off of her fingers as she doubled down.

It all crescendos. She’s flipped over, and you’re pounding her into the couch, half to punctuate any sentences that implied she wasn’t completely yours, and the other half because her cunt was still so goddamn tight. The upholstery’s harmonizing, the hardwood exhaling on her offbeat.

You’re gripping Yunjin’s hips, bottoming out in her cunt at an angle, pulling her back into you. And she’s writhing, whining, taking your cock deeper and deeper.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she’s saying, and it irks you a little more than it should.

“Yunjin,” you spit, and you’re pressing your thumbs into her skin. “Shut up and take this dick like a good girl.”

And when you’re both pressing the buttons-

“Who else can fuck you like this, Yunjin?”

no one no sorry so sorry all yours this pussy yours you fuck me so- so hot when you’re jealous

“Yeah? You want me to? You’re such a good girl for me, baby,”

yes so good only for you so messy all over your cock fuck cum in me cum in me please i’ve been such a good girl please

- the gray area might as well be a chasm.

Because after you cum inside her, Yunjin drooling over your sofa, breath shuddering, leaking all over your cock, you have a mountain to climb. Physically — how you’re crumpled over her, exhausted, entangled — emotionally — how you’ll both put a cap on this in its entirety — and all of the rest of the above.

You’ll wait for her to bring it up.

Yunjin’s wrapped in your dress shirt, two sizes too big, and her head’s on your chest. Nothing short of Herculean, you’re in bed, and under polyester.

“He has a girlfriend, you know,” she says.

“Huh?” you manage intelligibly.

“My scandal.” Yunjin motions under the sheets, like the word needed air quotes. “Cute little thing. Works at an animal hospital. Always the loudest voice in the fanchants.”

You’re stunned, and don’t know what the right line of conversation is. “How are they taking it?”

“Probably makes their sex hotter, too.”

Dating made everything so much messier than it needed to be.

Two weeks after their comeback, the scandal breaks.

The official post is tame, but knowing netizens — a look at the comments confirming your suspicions — they’re feral. It’s a collage of three photos that look like they were taken from fifty feet away, but unmistakably of Yunjin an arm’s length away from another figure. They’re on a blanket overlooking the Hangang; she’s cuddled up in one of your hoodies, two sizes too big; and in the third photo, enlarged in post for emphasis, Yunjin’s nestled in his arm, selling the relationship pretty goddamn well.

You open an alt account and leave a hate comment.

LET’S BE HONEST HE DON’T DESERVE HER 💀💀💀😭😭😭

---

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #reader insert #idol x male reader #idol x reader #lesserafim smut #yunjin smut

1K notes · View notes

magics-neptunes-things · 2 months

Text

Pretzel Chocolate

Hi guys!

This is a request I add some days ago, I know it kind of the same background as @alessiasfreckles current story. But I asked her before and she kindly accepted it. So thanks to her too ♥ (Go check her work, it really is amazing)

It's a little less sweet that what I usually write with Wally, but I hope you will like it.

TW : Accident, Loss memory, Angst but happy ending

______________________________________________________________

Clearly, you didn’t expect that when you innocently get in your team’s bus back to London. Like your girlfriend Lia, you’re a footballer and that’s how you got to know each other. You quickly fell in love with the Swiss girl and after some very disturbing flirting attempts on your part, Lia saved you from humiliation by asking yourself for a date. You agreed and the rest is history.

You were sleeping peacefully in the front of the bus when the accident happened. Most of your teammates had gathered in the back for a wild game cards, allowing you to catch up on your sleep peacefully. Over time, you get used to falling asleep with Mackenzie’s Australian-sounding curses when she loses, Kristie’s happy exclamations, or Katrina’s laugh.

You have no memory of the accident, you don't know why and how the driver ran straight into a pole, throwing you out of your seat under the violence of the shock and putting you at the top of the list of wounded with a vital emergency when help arrived.

Lia was at a team bonding and will remember perfectly when Mackenzie called Caitlin shortly after the accident, in shock of what had just happened. She will remember the blood that suddenly left her ex-girlfriend’s face and the horrified look she gave her. She will also remember that she needed to be told things three times so that the information was anchored in her brain and that Leah was more reactive than her, taking her to the London hospital where you were having your operation at that moment.

She will also remember the relief of learning that you are alive, but the distress of not knowing when and if you will wake up. Nor in what state. But she will also remember the unfailing support of Leah and Lotte who kept her company in the waiting room for hours.

********

When you regain consciousness, the first thing you face is a blinding light that make you close your eyes again quickly. You hear different beeps around you, whispers of voices and the sound of a chair being dragged on the floor that makes you open your eyes instinctively.

You are this time facing the faces of several people, who look at you attentively. One of them is dressed all in white, a man of about fifty years certainly who slowly approaches you by looking at you carefully.

"Can you hear me?"

You nod, bitterly regretting your gesture when your vision is blurred and a pain awakens in your skull. You wince and moan in pain, your eyes flickering when one of the two women in the room takes your hand in hers. She seems to be on the verge of a panic attack or passing out.

"Where am I?" you ask, difficulty articulating.

"At the hospital in London. You had a traffic accident two weeks ago. Do you remember?"

"No…" you frown, searching your mind for any information.

"It’s normal" the doctor assures you with a smile, noting a few words on his notepad "Can you tell me today’s date?"

As he looks up at you, he must feel the fear that begins to take hold of you. The hand on yours tightens around yours, but you are quickly diverted from this by the professional who talks again.

"What year are we?"

This time, you're way more scared. You know nothing about it. You are unable to be even close to the reality.

"It doesn’t matter, everything is fine. Tell me the closest memory of today that you have.”

"I…"

It’s the nothingness in your memory. You turn your brain upside down, without being able to get anything out of it.

From the corner of your eye, you see the two women exchanging a look, without you being able to understand what it's about. And, when you realize that you cannot give your own identity, it's panic that takes hold of you.

A few hours later, you finally come to yourself again. After your panic attack, the doctor gave you a sedative that sent you into the clouds. You come back to yourself, but your memory is still lacking, despite all the different stimuli tried by the doctors. Aside from getting annoyed and tired, it doesn’t change anything. And it's finally when one of the two unknowns women asks them dryly to leave you alone that it stops. You are grateful to her, you hope that the look you cast at her speaks for you.

You have no memory of your love life, your past, your present or your family. The doctors warned your parents who came immediately, apparently not living very far from London. You learned in the meantime that the two young women in the room are respectively called Lia and Leah, the pronunciation being the same, it confused you a few seconds. But when the brunette mumbled that she was nicknamed Wally, you decided to go for it too. You found out you were friends, Leah showed you some pictures to prove it.

Other friends came to visit you, including Mackenzie who came with a photo album so you could list the people who mattered to you. Lia is very often at your side, discreet, almost mute. You’ve noticed that her eyes get wet sometimes and then she apologizes before leaving your room in hurry.

"She cares about you and is worried" Mackenzie answered kindly at your questions.

"I think I care about her too, even if I don't remember. Seeing her sad make me sad" you mumble.

Mackenzie smiles at you, squeezing your hand in hers. She was in the accident as well and only got out with a slight concussion. Most of the players (you learned that you were a professional footballer) got away without serious injuries. There's only you.

You learned that you play football, like most people who come to see you at the hospital. And you’re playing pretty well. You play for West Ham but also in the England national team and you even won the Euro in 2022. Unfortunately, you are without a screen for many more weeks. So, Lia came back to see you once with photos of the event. You pose there beside Leah and other people who also came to see you. Beth, Alessia, Lotte and many others.

But you don’t remember that either.

********

Staring at the clock on the walls of your room, you wait for time to pass. Leah and Wally are supposed to come see you and you can’t help but feel some excitement at the thought. You appreciate when Lia comes to see you, she is calm, gentle and always very attentive to your needs. You seemed close before your accident and it’s probably stupid since she’s in a relationship with Leah, but you want to find back the bond you had.

"Hi there!" cheers Leah, entering your room soon after.

She carries Swiss chocolate and some flowers. She put the old ones in the trash to put the new ones on the table. You look at her, lying in your bed, a little bit tired. You had exercises to try to have your memories back all the afternoon, but it didn't go well.

"Thank you, Leah" you answer, slightly smiling. "Are you alone? Where is your girlfriend?"

"My girlfriend?"

Leah frown, looking at you. You frown too, you know you have a bad memory, but you saw both interact together.

"Well... Wally?"

"Wally? She's not my girlfriend" Leah laughs. "She's one of my best friends though."

"Oh... I thought... You look close."

You shrug your shoulders and you see Leah sitting on the chair next to your bed, tilting her head on the side while looking at you.

"We are. But in a friendly way"

She smiles at you and you smile back. You feel like she want to ask you something but didn't. You don't have anything to remember, so you try to work on your intuition to guess things. And you usually are very good at this. But you didn't insist, something else coming in your head anyway.

"We... We only were friends, you and me right?"

"Yes" laughs Leah "Don't get me wrong, you're very cute but..."

There is no but, because Wally is entering the room at this moment. She looks at Leah with a special gaze, making the blonde looking a little bit uneasy.

"Hi" you say, trying to dismiss the tension you don't understand.

Lia's eyes are coming on you and her face softened, giving you a small smile.

"Hi Y/N"

Her accent is special, you asked her where she's from the other day and learn that she's from Switzerland. After that, you asked one nurse what Switzerland looks like and she came back with a travel-themed magazine, the principal subject being Switzerland this month. You didn't ask Lia if you already went there, sometimes she looks so sad about your situation that you want to cry too.

She comes to kiss your cheek, before giving you the chocolate Leah was caring.

"Swiss chocolate. It's your favorite."

You look at the package with curiosity, turning it in your hands. Milk chocolate with pretzel in it.

Your loved ones have been instructed to give you secondary information about your tastes, preferences or things you like. But they must not give you information that you have not looked for yourself before. That’s why you don’t know anything about your love life, some of your past too.

You remembered some things, like how you hate artichokes so much or what your bedroom looked like when you were a teenager. Maybe you should have left this information behind when you think about the number of posters of all kinds that covered your wallpaper.

After hesitating, you open the tablet to take a square and eat it. It's not surprising that it's your favorite, the flavor is exceptional. As you enjoy your chocolate, a picture dances before your eyes. A living room with a fireplace located right next to a TV. The wooden floor is light and there is a coffee table between the sofa and the TV.

"Do I have a fireplace in my house?"

Leah and Lia exchange a look, and it's finally Leah who answers you with a little sorry smile.

"No, you live in an apartment.”

"Oh…"

You sigh softly, a little disappointed. You don’t realize that in Lia’s eyes looking at you, there’s hope for the first time since your accident. You strive to engrave this vision in your mind to forget as little as possible.

Lia sitting next to you, you instinctively seek her hand, mixing your fingers with hers. You realized a few days ago that the feeling soothes you and since Lia doesn't seem disturbed by this kind of gestures, you don't deprive yourself of it.

********

"Did Lia come to see you?"

You look up at Alessia, who has come to keep you company for the day. Her eyes are placed on the chocolate bar opened on your bedside table and a smile decorates her lips. Apparently, your chocolate tastes seem to be known to everyone.

"Yeah, she was here earlier with Leah."

You repost the crossword book that Alessia brought you, as well as some Spanish specialties received by Lucy, with whom you also play in the national team. You are apparently close to her too, but since she plays in another country and you aren't allowed to use electronic devices now, you haven't been able to exchange much. She wrote you several letters though, telling you about her dog, her love life and her life in Barcelona. That’s probably what you’re talking about when you call. It took you several days to answer something in writing, your concentration being still difficult sometimes. But you managed to do it.

"I thought they were together. Lia and Leah"

Alessia looks at you with an expression that mixes surprise, tenderness and fun.

"Many fans thought they were together before they denied the rumors. You remembered Leah’s ACL, right?" asks Alessia before continuing when you answer positively "Lia was very present for Leah at that time. I guess it brought them closer."

You nod thoughtfully, playing mechanically with the pen you always have in your fingers. You did remember Leah’s injury, which kept her away from the World Cup you apparently competed in last summer. You have a few images in mind, like kangaroos you saw with Ella or a laugh when Mary showed you a video of Alessia traumatized by a turkey.

You miss those moments we stole from you, and you can’t remember them. It’s frustrating and it makes you very sad sometimes. You wish you could get your life back, but it’s not working right now. Your parents come to see you regularly and show you photo albums of you as a child, with your brother and cousins. You seem to be numerous and you seem to be in the youngest of this generation.

"You’ll remember, Y/N" Alessia says gently, putting a hand on your knee.

You give her a little smile before you nod. Yes, you will remember. You have no choice.

********

Several things have been put in place to help you regain your memory. You have a medical treatment to take every day, you have psychotherapy and hypnosis sessions and you also have a sports routine to respect. This last thing isn't a bad idea since you are a professional footballer and if you want to get your life back, you must stay fit enough.

Sometimes you are accompanied by one of your friends, and today it is Mackenzie who helps you to return to your room. No release date has been given to you, but according to your doctors it will not be long. You don't know where you will go however, it has been highly recommended to you not to live alone for the moment. You didn’t have the guts to ask anyone. You would like to ask Lia if she would accept to host you for a while, but for a reason that you cannot determine you retreat every time you are about to ask her the question. And it’s been a few days now.

So, you are fucked up when the doctor comes back to see you in the room after your shower while you and Mackenzie watch a game on television.

"Did you find someone to have you when you left the hospital?" asks the doctor.

You feel yourself blushed and you see Macca’s face turning in your direction.

"Um… Mackenzie, I haven’t asked you this yet, but if you’re okay, I thought about you?"

Just a beautiful liar.

"Oh… yes, of course. I thought… whatever. Of course, my guest room is at your disposal."

"Thank you" you answer with a slight smile.

The next day, when Lia comes to see you and you tell her that you are going to settle for a while with Mackenzie, it would be hard not to see her face fall. You don’t understand the pinch in the heart that it makes you, but she recovers quickly, making sure that she is very happy to learn that you are better.

"Will you keep coming to see me? At Macca's?" you ask, almost timidly.

A few seconds pass during which she looks at you intensely, before nodding.

"Of course. If you feel like it"

"It would make me very happy."

She smiles at you, but with that sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes, before diverting your attention to the newspaper she brought you. You listen to her read you the latest news and you decide to offer yourself a new square of chocolate that Lia brought you, that you save with precious care. Barely in your mouth, you feel a new image coming before your eyes, pushing Lia’s voice in the background.

You’re in the same living room with the fireplace and the TV is on this time. There is a presence beside you and you hear a laugh, a laugh that gives you a strange sensation in the hollow of your belly. When you open your eyes, Lia doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. But these images caused a question in your mind and you interrupt the reading of the Swiss.

"Lia?"

"Yes?"

The brunette raises the nose of the newspaper with a curious air, looking at you attentively.

"I just… don’t take this question for what it isn’t, but I’ve never heard you laugh since you came to see me."

"It’s not really a question" ended up answering Lia after long seconds of silence.

She’s not wrong and you bite your lip, looking for the best way to put your point of view in a better light.

"I just don’t want you to feel obligated to come here, if it weighs on you. I love your presence here, but if it’s too heavy for you…"

"No. It’s important for me to come and see you."

Your eyes cross for a few moments and you only see sincerity in the green eyes of your interlocutor. You end up smiling and holding out a hand that she doesn’t hesitate to grasp. Only then do you notice the ring she’s wearing on her finger. It’s not an engagement ring, but the kind of ring you get for duck fishing at the fair. You find it strange that Lia is wearing something that is quite suitable for children.

"What is this ring?" you ask curiously.

It reminds you something, but you feel like you’re looking for a needle in a fog. Lia seems to have understood, since she looks at you briefly before answering you.

"What do you think?"

You bite your lip, searching again and again. Lia gives you time and unlike the exercises you do for your memory, you feel no pressure. Lia exudes kindness and the way her thumb caresses the back of your hand helps you a lot.

"I gave it to you."

You leave the ring colored rainbow to focus your eyes on Lia whose face is suddenly radiant. You don’t remember all the details, but you do remember the decor around you when you take out this plastic ring from its paper packaging. And of your insistence on putting it on Lia’s finger, the latter accepting not without rolling her eyes.

"Yes, it’s you" confirms Lia in a soft voice despite the excitement that seems to have gripped her.

"I don’t remember when it was" you mumble in an apology tone.

Meanwhile, Lia got up from her chair to sit on the mattress of your bed, on which you are sitting too. She always have her smile, a real smile this time. And when she affectionately passes her hand through your hair, you feel like butterflies in the hollow of your belly.

"It doesn’t matter" Lia gently says "It will come back. I know it."

You want to kiss her suddenly. You wonder what sensations her lips might give you. But, before you can answer this urge, knocks are made at the door of your room, letting in Katrina, Clara and Harper.

"I’ll leave you with your new guests" decides Lia.

You’re having a hard time covering up your disappointment, even though you’re happy to see Harper.

"I’ll see you tomorrow before we leave for Manchester." Lia informs you before putting a kiss on your head.

********

"Why does Lia looked sad when I told her I was going to live with Mackenzie?"

You are walking Leah Mom's dog with Leah, during a rather cloudly afternoon. You doctor asked you to stay in shape and because you're not ready to go back to training, you do as much as you can to move. You go to the stores walking and your coach sent you bodybuilding and endurance exercises to do every day.

Leah looked at you for some seconds, before answering you. You know you were friends before your accident, but you don't know if you talked to the other a lot. Still, you feel safe with her. You know you can talk to her.

"I feel like you already know the answer for this question."

You bite your lip, looking at Bella running after ducks. And Leah running after Bella soon after, trying to protect those poor ducks. When the blonde come back next to you like nothing happened, she pats your arm.

"Talk to her. Wally really cares about you and I'm sure she misses you"

"She said she will still come to see me. But she never came" you mumble, without looking at Leah.

You don't understand. You thought you were close and Lia's absence made you realize that you maybe have like a crush on her. Which is stupid, why in the world would she have interest in someone broken like you are? But you still miss her.

"She's going to kill me for saying that" Leah sighs, pinching the base of her nose, before looking at you "She thinks you are developing feelings for Macca. Like romantic feelings"

"What?! That's the stupidest thing I ever heard since my accident."

Well of course Mackenzie is sweet and you understand why she was your best friend before and you really like the idea that you can still have that after all that. Of course, you don't know her like Caitlin or Alanna does, but of all your teammates, she's the one you’re closest to.

Leah shrugs and call Bella to going back home.

"Like I said, talk to her."

You hum for any answer, your hands stuck in the pockets of your jogging and the brain turning a thousand an hour. It’s only after saying goodbye to Leah on her doorstep that you realize that it doesn’t explain why Lia would stop seeing you if you were really in love with Mackenzie.

She’s watching a movie with her own girlfriend when you come back home. Since they have been waiting for you to eat, you sit at the table with them and try to stay focused on the discussion, but your mind is elsewhere. You are relieved to have the opportunity to find the calm of the guest room, in which you decide to offer yourself a new piece of chocolate offered by Lia.

You were disappointed to find that no other square allowed you to remember other things as the first two times. This is the last squares you have left; you will have at worst the excuse to want extra chocolateif you need excuse to contact Lia.

Lying on your back, on your bed, you swallow the last chocolate crumbs you have left, your eyes fixed on the ceiling.

But, while you don’t expected more, a new flash comes dancing before your eyes.

The same living room, the same television, the same fireplace and the same laugh. Except this time when you turn your head, Lia is sitting next to you. She looks much happier than you’ve seen her since you opened your eyes. And the way she looks at you… Like you’re the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

When the image dissipates, you blink several times.

You remember.

Not necessarily in every detail and in order, but you remember.

You remember Lia, how much you hate that nickname of Wally that others give her, your relationship, your first kiss and the long weekend she took you to Switzerland.

You remember.

Your hands shaking, you’re getting out of bed. You’re as wrinkled as if you’d been running a whole game. Other memories are jostling in your head, but the only thing you want now is to go see Lia.

"I’m going to Lia's!" you shout at Mackenzie down the stairs.

You barely take the time to throw your coat on your shoulders before going out and slamming the door. When you see the rain falling on London, you congratulate yourself.

********

It’s with frowns that Lia picks up her phone some time later. There’s basically no reason for Caitlin to call her so late.

"Hello?"

"Lia? It’s Caitlin… Listen, I’m calling you from Mackenzie, she doesn’t have your phone number and uh… Did Y/N make it to your house?"

"Y/N? No? Why would she be at my house?"

Other voices are audible behind Caitlin and there are different noises before Mackenzie’s voice sounds in the phone.

"She left my house almost two hours ago, without her phone, telling me she was coming to your house."

"She’s not here" Lia replies, standing abruptly on her couch, feeling panic take hold of her. "Why did you let her go by herself?"

"I thought she ordered an Uber or something. But without her phone…"

"Do we call the police?" asks Lia.

"They will laugh in our faces" replies Katie’s voice, which is apparently there too.

It’s not surprising if Mackenzie went to see Caitlin. But this is probably not the time to ask these questions.

"I’ll go get my car and do some research in the neighborhood" Lia decides.

After deciding to do the same and giving herself directions not to turn in the same places, Caitlin and Lia hang up their phones before starting to look for you.

For your part, it’s not very glorious. Persuaded to find the way back to Lia’s house now that your memory has returned, you have dug into the streets without thinking too much. Except that you suddenly had a hesitation, then another and a third, which eventually led you to no longer know where you are. Or where you’re from.

To top it off, it’s still raining and you haven’t taken your medication to fight your chronic headaches since the accident.

Long story short, you are now in tears, sitting on a sidewalk of an unknown street, in the rain.

Finally, while she had lost hope, Lia sees your silhouette sitting out in the light of a lamppost. Her cry asking Leah, who came to the rescue, to stop, gives her a start of cardiac arrest. But the blonde obeys and Lia hurries out of the car, running in your direction.

You jump suddenly when someone sits next to you, your first reaction being to get as far away from that person as possible. But you realize quite quickly that it’s Lia and anyway she doesn’t leave you much choice by squeezing you suddenly in her arms. Hard.

“God, are you ok? What happened?” Lia asks, taking your face between her hands to look at you.

“I thought I can remember where you live, I needed to see you but then I got lost and I didn’t have my phone with me.”

“Why didn’t you call me?!”

Lia raised her voice a little and you flinch, but the Swiss woman seems to regret it as soon as it happened. She takes you once again against her, her arms firmly tightened around your body. It makes you feel safe. You’re tired, exhausted to be honest. But you know you still owe her an explanation.

“I wasn’t sure you will take my call. You said you will come to see me, and you didn’t even if I’m at Macca’s since almost two weeks now, and…”

“I’m so sorry” Lia cut you, looking at you with tears in her eyes. “But I just… I couldn’t.”

“It’s ok” you breath before staring deep into her eyes “I remember.”

A silence passes. Lia is looking at you, too.

“What?”

“I remember. My past, my childhood memories. It’s you who have a fireplace in your living room. I remember you, mein Schatz. I remember us.”

After that, it went a little chaotic. When Lia starts to cry for good, Leah almost gets out of her car, but then she see you both kiss and she understands. She takes her phone to ring Caitlin and let you some minutes before taking you both back in her car. She drops you at Lia’s, giving you one big hug before leaving you.

********

Hours later, you’re in Lia’s bed after a good hot shower. Lia gave you some fresh clothes and you can’t stop smelling them. They smell like her, like your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend who is actually looking at you like you will disappear at any moment. You can’t blame her though, so you just grab her hand and take her against you to kiss her.

“Why didn’t you tell me everything?” you mumble after the kiss.

“They didn’t want me to. They said it would be too much for you or that you won’t remember everything if we told you the truth. Your brother fights with the doctors against it, but he didn’t have the last word. I should have fight against it too, but I wanted what was the best for you, and they were the doctors, so…”

Lia shrugs, her head on the cushion, still looking at you. You can’t imagine what she went through.

“It must have been so hard for you” you whisper, stroking lightly at her face

“It was. But I knew I had to do if I wanted to have you back at some point. But then after you choose to go to Mackenzie’s and I kind of freak out. What if, even if you remember in some days, you realize that you’re in love with her and not me anymore?”

“I don’t. She always had been my friend, nothing more. It has always been you, since we crash your team” you add with a smirk.

You met Lia during a friendly game between Switzerland and England in 2022. Leah Williamson had made the presentation between you and since then you never stop talking. She asked you on a date after two weeks of texting, you said yes and everything went great since then. Even if you’re a West Ham player dating an Arsenal one.

“I thought you were with Leah, the first days after the accident” you confess at your girlfriend.

Lia frown, looking at you oddly.

“Why did you?”

“Dunno. You were like always together, but I understand now. I’m glad Leah was there for you.”

You are confident in your relationship. Even if the fans seems to like Lia and Leah together, you trust your girlfriend and your friend deeply. Plus, you’re kind of a fan of their friendship. Maybe people would find strange that your girlfriend went to live with another girl like Lia have done when Leah was injured, but you didn’t. You know how good Lia’s heart is.

“I love you” Lia whispers, before kissing you.

You smile against her lips and she doesn’t let you the time to answer before kissing you once again, hard this time. You let her. You still can tell her how much you love her later.

_________________________________________________

It’s way longer than I thought at first 😅

#lia wälti imagine #lia walti imagine #lia wälti x reader #lia walti x reader #lia walti #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso fanfics

488 notes · View notes