#when i was already drunk and it was in walking distance from where i had been hanging out earlier. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witchywithwhiskey · 5 months ago

Text

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away.

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk.

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in.

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on.

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away.

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway.

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure.

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit.

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove.

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders.

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice.

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with.

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become.

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home.

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized.

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last.

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life.

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down.

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore.

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears.

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee.

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat.

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else.

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger.

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes.

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans.

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone.

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing.

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore.

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time.

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it.

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions.

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun.

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes.

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line.

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say?

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye.

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well.

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs.

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup.

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove.

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve.

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk.

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists.

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor.

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions.

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.”

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life.

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you.

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.”

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life.

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town.

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet.

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark.

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest.

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited.

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?”

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.”

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.”

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.”

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window.

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it.

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans.

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his.

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.”

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper.

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument.

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together.

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together.

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer.

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.”

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat.

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans.

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning.

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone.

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you.

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname.

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself.

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths.

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.”

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap.

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.”

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near.

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.”

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face.

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand.

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself.

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.”

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine.

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body.

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door.

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus.

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession.

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself.

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #friends to lovers #steve rogers au #childhood best friend steve rogers #childhood best friend #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork

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capricornlevi · 9 months ago

Text

inevitability- nanami x f!reader

tags: friends to lovers, salaryman!nanami, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary, mating press, creampie, mild cumplay

cw: alcohol (all sex sober & consensual!), pregnancy mentions, rough but v v consensual sex, reader and nanami are both in their late 20s/early 30s

word count: 5.3k

a/n: in which your decide with your good friend of many years that it's time to get you pregnant <3 this has been festering in my brain and i know it's pretty different than what i usually write but ! here it is! ahh! sounds of me screaming!

"this is weird, y'know?" you blurt out, watching as nanami hangs up his jacket by your front door before settling down beside you on the couch. he keeps a respectful distance, resting his hands on his broad thighs and smoothing down the fabric of his slacks, clearly nervous. "this is very, very weird. like, weird at levels i don't think people have achieved before."

"i know," nanami replies diplomatically, as if he could be anything but excruciatingly aware of how unconventional this is. "are you having second thoughts? because i completely understand --"

you shake your head abruptly. "no, no, just ... thinking aloud, i guess. just getting used to this, because it's really ... um ..."

"weird?" nanami offers helpfully, and you turn to nod.

"weird."

because what else do you call agreeing to have a baby with your platonic friend of 10 years?

you first met nanami on the second day of college and knew right away he'd be a good dad, even back when having kids wasn't even a consideration for you. it was obvious; he was already a good dad back then, with how he looked out for his underclassmen even as he progressed through his degree. how he stayed sober when he knew people would be going overboard, not sleeping until you texted him to confirm you'd gotten home safe after a party.

he helped you study at the weekends and, in return, you provided him with a discount at the local cafe where you worked. through this time spent knocking back americanos and proofing each other's work, you grew close.

even with all his responsibility and good sense contrasting your exuberance and recklessness, you found yourself enjoying being with him. and he could be funny, too, delivering sharp and witty quips when you least expected it.

you became inseparable. insufferable, some would call it; the matching-halloween-costume type of insufferable, a borderline codependent but obliviously happy friendship that can only be fostered on a college campus.

then right after college, when you had dived straight into your quarter-life crisis and dyed your hair every colour under the sun, got piercings in too many places, slept with questionable people and dated some even worse, nanami had gotten himself a decent, impressive, well-paying job. it was a job that had him wearing tailored suits at 23, paired with fancy glasses that cost more than your rent, and you'd laughed at him, at how serious he looked. but you also worried at how the bags under his eyes grew deeper and darker, how the amused lilt to his voice started to dissipate as time went on.

his 9 to 5 turned to an 8 to 6, and then he was working weekends and skipping movie nights, missing out on meeting new boyfriends of yours, fading into the periphery of your life with you unable to do anything about it.

as with all relationships in your twenties, it was hard to stay in touch. the higher he climbed up the career ladder, the further you grew apart.

soon, it was only on holidays or birthdays when you both would reach out, cordial and civil but achingly unfamiliar.

then, on your twenty-ninth birthday, drunk at a bar and having taken a couple minutes away from your raucous friend group, you had stepped outside to grab some fresh air only to walk head-on into nanami's firm chest.

you had spluttered apologies, lifting your head to see who you had headbutted, only to find your old friend looking down at you with an amused look on his face.

and just like that, things picked up where they left off. you spent the night talking, catching up over drinks and laughter.

with a tone that was only half-teasing, you had asked him what brought him out tonight -- it was hard enough to get him to come out for drinks when you were both in college, much less now with his big fancy job.

but he had laughed in that gentle, airy way you'd heard a thousand times, explaining that he had been out socialising with clients who had just left minutes before. he was just on his way out before running into you.

perfect timing. painfully perfect.

you stayed talking until last call, making exhilarated promises to get in touch the next day.

and to your surprise, you both actually stuck to that.

in the ten months since then, you've met up every sunday for breakfast at your favourite cafe. over lattes and freshly baked croissants, you fill each other in on the details of the half-decade spent apart. he had a serious girlfriend, serious to the point of moving in together, but she'd gotten spooked and left him last summer to go travelling. he was hurt, obviously, but understood her perspective in that annoyingly calm, measured way that is just part of his nature.

and on your end -- despite the drunken circumstances in which you'd been reacquainted, which is all part of moderation, after all -- you've actually calmed down considerably since your early twenties.

you have your own apartment. you have a rescue cat you care for immensely, even when he tries wriggling out of your arms to go stare out the window at passing cyclists. you have a retirement fund, started yoga, learned to bake your own bread.

you're not boring, you still have fun and let off steam whenever you can, but you're having the sort of revelations about life that nanami seems to have had years ago.

fun is good. fun is important. but it can't be everything, because then it starts to come at a cost.

truthfully, the birth of your nephew is what prompted you to make some changes. you didn't want to show up to babysit hungover. you wanted to have funds to hand in order to treat him to little toys and sweets when your sister allowed it, and soon found yourself amazed at how his little face lit up every time he saw you.

it made you grow up, and fast.

in the course of your cafe hangouts, you had mentioned your nephew to nanami. showed pictures of the boy's pudgy little hands reaching for the camera, told stories of how he could tell the difference between new episodes of Bluey versus reruns, and how he's changed your entire life without even realising.

soon, talk about your nephew turned to general musings about your own future.

then one night, when you decided to switch your meetup location from the cafe to a cocktail bar, you shared something that you had barely admitted to yourself.

you wanted to have a kid.

this realisation wasn't borne from some crisis about entering a new decade, it wasn't something forced on you by others or general societal pressure. it was something that grew organically, inspired by the honour of watching your little nephew grow up.

to your surprise, nanami didn't scoff or dismiss you. you figured he'd have rolled his eyes, laughing off your confession since you weren't in a committed relationship.

instead, he expressed similar sentiments, but for slightly different reasons.

"i'm sick of work being my whole life," he had mused quickly, sipping an old fashioned with a funny look in his eye. "it was only when we started hanging out again that i realised how much of my life I've wasted at a place that wouldn't care if i lived or died."

"do i need to be worried about you having the type of rebellious streak the rest of us went through ten years ago?" you asked, smiling and fidgeting with one of your rings without thinking.

he waved off your suggestion with a fond roll of his eyes. "i'm not impulsively quitting or anything, don't worry. just want to take a step back, i suppose, or find something with shorter hours. i just think there's more to life than endless hours slaving behind a desk."

you toasted to that sentiment, knocking back the last of your cosmo.

nanami continued, watching you set your empty glass back down with a soft grin on his lips. "the whole family, kids thing ... i get it, you know? it makes sense."

"yeah?" you pried carefully, interested to see where this is going.

"i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it, too. i have a nest egg saved up which means i'd be able to take time off to help with a kid, to actually be there to see them grow up. and it's not that i want to have one just because i think i need to -- i think i'd be decent at it, y'know? the whole parenting thing."

you obviously agreed. you'd thought the same for a while now, and getting reacquainted with the man has only spurred on those thoughts.

he really would be perfect.

the issue wasn't discussed further that night, but it was brought up again at coffee the following sunday, then at the bakery the week after that, and before long, it was your birthday again.

after a massive party with all your friends and family -- and a little too much wine -- nanami had stayed behind to help you clean up, because of course he would, and you got to talking again, got to revisiting that topic that had been at the back of both of your minds.

you can't remember the exact wording of the discussion or how many bottles of prosecco fuelled the conversation, but what you do know is that when you sobered up, you didn't regret agreeing to it.

you were gonna have a kid together.

you and nanami.

coparenting.

as outlandish an idea as it might seme on the surface, when looking at it a little deeper, it made sense to you. this wasn't decided on a whim. this was something that had momentum building behind it for months and months, perhaps even years, without you even realising.

when meeting up for coffee the following week, you both gave each other an out. said there'd be no big deal if things were called off. but neither one of you took it, despite laughing for what felt like hours about how bizarre it all felt.

still, no sign of backing out.

which brings you to tonight, the agreed-upon date of when you'd start trying.

nanami had suggested using artificial fertility methods if that made you more comfortable, but you politely turned him down, thinking it unnecessary. he wasn't a stranger -- plus, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't objectively attractive -- so if he had no objections to trying things the old-fashioned way, then you didn't either.

and he obviously didn't mind too much since he's now here on your couch, folding his arms and then unfolding them as he waited for you to make the first move.

he looks good, despite all the nerves. he's filled out over the years, though he was always strong, with every muscle in his body well-defined and perfectly proportional. his hair is still blond but with the faintest specks of grey, his skin brighter and more well-rested than that night you got reacquainted.

his deep brown eyes stay fixed on you and your skin heats as his gaze traces over you.

"do you want me to kiss you?" you break the silence, the words tumble messily from your mouth.

he looks taken aback, as if this was something he'd vaguely considered but never thought would actually happen.

"do ... do you want to?"

his earnestness has you smiling, cutting through the tension, and you meet his eyes properly for the first time since he arrived tonight. he always has this way of making you feel comfortable, his presence alone is like an embrace that calms the racing thoughts that constantly occupy your mind.

it's only now that you're close, so close, you realise that maybe you really do want to --

"i wouldn't suggest it otherwise," you murmur softly as if your heart isn't hammering against your ribcage, shifting nearer to him on the couch but keeping that last bridge of distance for him to close.

his tongue swipes over his lower lip, almost subconsciously demonstrating his wishes as his line of sight drifts down to your mouth. he nods then, dipping his head, only a couple inches of space between you now.

"yeah -- yeah, okay."

you can see how his pupils dilate as you reach out to slip his glasses off, setting them down on the coffee table, cupping his face in your hands.

he returns your smile at that gesture, just the slightest hint of nerves in his eyes that disappear when he finally decides to press your lips to yours.

his lips are softer than you imagined ... though until this very moment, you hadn't even realised that this was something you had imagined.

he lets you set the rhythm but doesn't shy away; he meets your movements, your energy at every kiss, letting you stop for a moment to adjust yourself as things progress.

this should feel weird, right? you should have some lingering feeling of awkwardness at making out with your best friend, at taking his hand in yours and setting it down on your thigh to show you want him to touch you?

this was supposed to be a relatively unromantic event, after all. it wasn't meant to be the start of anything. though it was never clinical or unemotional -- you're technically starting a family together, after all, if an entirely unconventional one -- you never foresaw it going down like this.

this feels like something that was meant to happen.

he pulls back ever-so-slightly, lips still grazing against yours as he asks softly, "this okay?"

you nod by way of answer, not wanting to waste another second not kissing him. nanami captures your lips with his again, and with renewed enthusiasm, slips his tongue into your mouth, probing gently and barely hiding the low rumble of a groan deep in his throat.

all thoughts of propriety start to fade into the ether. his hand on your thigh burns hot, shifting up and down the exposed skin. you'd worn a nice dress for the evening, unsure of the dress code for an event as strange as this, but you find yourself grateful for choosing something that fell so far above the knee.

his hands are rougher than his lips but not in an unpleasant way. you figure it's from his only out-of-work hobby that doesn't consist of hanging out with you; his renovation group. nanami is part of a volunteer organisation that helps build and renovate houses for those in need -- as if he couldn't get any more painfully perfect, obviously.

you stay like that for a few more minutes, exploring these new sensations and becoming increasingly more aware of the ball of anticipation burning in your lower stomach. everywhere he touches you feels warm, every soft nip against your lips feels electric.

then, against every instinct in your body, you force yourself to pause to take a few steadying breaths. nanami responds in the same way, pulling his hands back to his own thighs, adjusting his stance on the couch.

he's hard, you can see as much from the awkward way he shuffles in his seat. not to mention the bulge very obviously visible in the front of his slacks -- just seeing it fills you with want, with the need to touch and be touched.

this is moving more fluidly than you had expected, arriving at each decision without a second thought. in that vein, you decide to ask:

"want to head to the bedroom?", hoping you don't sound as desperate as you're feeling. "if you're ready -"

"yes," he responds before you've even finished your sentence. you feel grateful that the eagerness is not one-sided as you get to your feet, taking nanami by the hand to pull him up with you.

when you've reached your room and the door is shut behind you, revealing the modest set up of your freshly-made bed and a single scented candle -- any more than that felt a little too forced, too awkward -- you marvel at the feeling of nanami's hands on your hips, somehow gentle and firm at the same time, manoeuvring you onto the bed with a pre-rehearsed confidence that never verges on forceful.

your head hasn't even hit the pillow before he's kissing you again like he's starving for it. it's messy this time, the gentle exploration from before giving way to something more primal and urgent.

you have to remind yourself that this is your nanami you're kissing. the nanami who was there for you through the most painful college breakups. the nanami who knows your coffee order, who helped zip up the back of your graduation dress.

but now, with his tongue against yours and the stiffness pressing against your stomach, all you can think is why you didn't do this sooner?

just as you're about to combust underneath him, he pulls back, balancing himself on an elbow as his eyes flick down to see how your dress is bunched at the top of your thighs. he closes his eyes, his breaths ragged and unsteady.

"i don't know how--" he whispers, tongue gliding over his kiss-slick lips, "how ... technical you might want to go about this."

you let out a little laugh, craning your neck to kiss his jawline so he knows it's not at his expense.

"i never really thought about the technicalities, but it doesn't have to be too clinical, or anything. i know you, you know me. we can just ... have sex."

"have sex," he repeats slowly, eyes open again, the hint of a grin on his face.

"yeah, have sex!" you answer with a chuckle. "or is there another way you'd like me to phrase it?"

he laughs then too, looking at you again as he shakes his head softly.

"what?" you press him with a mock indignance. "it's rude to laugh at my suggestion, actually. i felt it was pretty accurate."

"i'm not laughing at you," he says gently, lips still curved upwards. "just ... i must have pictured you saying those words a thousand times, and i never thought it -- it's just funny to hear out loud, is all."

it takes you a second to fully comprehend the words as they wash over you.

you'd be ignorant to say that the realisation never dawned on you, but it was something you thought was a relic of your college years. he had blushed a few times too many whenever the topic of sex came up at parties, had a hint of jealousy in his voice when giving advice about one particular ex-boyfriend. at your apartment complex's winter party in senior year, you can tell he was thinking about kissing you.

but that was when you were young and naive, inexperienced with life, and the thought of this nanami desiring you, of picturing you in his life, of imagining what you'd look like spread out underneath him like this --

you lift your head and grab his shirt collar, yanking him in for another kiss. when he's settled back against you, your hands weave down to unbutton his shirt. you feel him smile against your lips as he starts to unzip your dress in return.

you're a mess of limbs as items of clothing get strewn across your bedroom carpet. before long, it's all skin-on-skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours before he grabs your waist and flips you over until you're straddling him.

you feel the length of him pressed against your stomach, hot and painfully hard, but from the way he cups his hand against your neck and starts to kiss your throat, you know he's not going to rush this.

just as you gasp out his name as his teeth nip against your pulse point, he brings his other hand to the apex of your thighs, fingertips resting just over your pubic bone, barely brushing against the sensitive skin.

"want me to touch you?" he mumbles quietly against your throat, the way his breath fans over you making you shiver.

you nod pitifully, hips canting towards him, but he doesn't budge.

"need you to say it," he says low, quiet, thumb shifting down by the millimetre, "need to know how much you want it."

"i want it," you gasp, the arch of your back deepening the closer he gets to your aching core, all concerns about appearing desperate evaporating with every press of his lips to your skin. "i want it, kento, p- please touch me."

nanami obliges, fingertips trailing down until his thumb is brushing over your clit. he slides his hand lower, fingers slipping through your damp lips, and then uses your own wetness to start rubbing you in earnest.

any form of articulate thought slips from your mind, replaced with only those that can get you more of this -- nanami's fingers playing with your clit, the other hand possessively resting at your nape, his cock pressed between you with precum beading at the tip.

you want it in your mouth. you want it inside you, and as you go to shift your hips, nanami shifts his back.

"want to see what you look like when you come first," he says, slipping his middle and ring finger inside you as if to prove he's going about it the right way.

and he really is, because after only a few strokes of his fingers, your vision is getting hazy. you've never been this turned on so quickly before, never felt this desperate, all-consuming urge -- but then again, you've never had a man look at you like this before now either.

you try to focus on the sensation of his fingers stretching you open, his thumb still stroking your clit in the perfect rhythm, but your mind wanders to the thick cock pressed up against you. you want to rub against him, let him fill you up, make him feel good too --

but looking at his face now, pupils blown and lower lip raw from biting down on it, you can tell this is as much for him as it is for you.

less than a minute later it hits you, the explosion of warmth radiates out to every cell in your body, rendering you a boneless mess in nanami's arms.

he holds you as the aftershock subsides, strong arms keeping you steady even when your legs feel as though they've turned to jelly. when you feel capable of supporting yourself, you slide ungracefully from where you were perched on his thighs and fall back against your pillows, head spinning blissfully.

nanami leans down next to you and kisses your forehead, whispering words of praise that fill you with a strange sensation you can't quite place.

"want to take a break?" he ask after a few moments have passed, "or if you're tired, we can try again later --"

"no," you cut him off, turning your head to look at him directly, face splitting into a smile through the post-orgasm haze. "i just need a second is all, i still -- if you want to --"

"i do."

and so to ease yourself back into it, you kiss him slowly, intimately, bodies gently intertwining as he shifts closer to you on the bed. you guide his hands to your chest, gasping as his thumb circles a nipple.

"you're just ... beautiful in a way i don't really have words for," he mumbles, watching you squirm pleasurably under him.

"nanami kento lost for words? a first time for everything," you manage to quip through it all, earning a pinch of the other nipple that turns your laugh into a moan.

"we've plenty more firsts to get through tonight."

at that, nanami shifts halfway down the mattress and gets to his knees, hands gripping your thighs as he spreads them open. he takes his cock in his hand and slowly drags the head through your folds, up and down but not yet penetrating you, appreciating how you're almost sucking him in, the eager way you pull back your legs to accommodate him.

he stays like that for a minute. every time you think he's about to sink in, he holds himself back as if transfixed by the obscene sounds that come from playing with your pussy, of using you to stroke himself off.

he looks to be on the verge of a choice, like his brain is fighting between two options: taking you slow and gentle like you deserve, or sinking in and fucked into you desperately, filling you up until he knows he's bred you, that you're his and only his.

you soon glean that he wants you to actually say it out loud, wants to hear those words he's fantasised about for so long.

"fuck me, kento."

now utterly unable to hold off any longer, he heeds your request, lining up and thrusting inside you in one fluid motion.

it's a pleasant stretch; he's still careful to let you adjust to his size but you're soon relishing the feeling of being so full, and the fucked-out grin on your face spurs him on.

his hips shift back inch by inch until he's almost fully pulled out, letting out a low groan as he sinks back in again, and at that, he knows he's a goner, completely lost to the feeling of his entire length buried inside you.

this is nanami at his most possessive, fucking into you as you're caged in by his strong arms, your knees now pulled back as far as they'll go. the skin on the back of your thighs is raw from your nails digging into them but you don't care, single-minded in your aim to keep the head of his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you.

your shoulder blades press into your soft pillows as you try to keep from writhing too much, wanting with all of your might to avoid upsetting this perfect rhythm.

above you, nanami's perfect cheekbones are flushed, his brows knit tightly together, your silky walls wrapping tight around his cock in a way that's driving him to the brink sooner than he'd like. against all better judgment, he slows down just slightly, allowing himself to indulge in the sensation.

"you take my cock so well, y'know that?" he mumbles in between quiet grunts, "with that pretty look on your face when i fill you up... you're trying to kill me, i swear to god."

you both laugh breathlessly before yours breaks off in a moan, slurring his name as he speeds up subconsciously. he presses his lips to every inch of your neck, jaw, collarbone, thrusts unrelenting but never too much.

if you weren't already aware of how soaked you are, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you provide more than enough proof, melding with the soft squeak of your bedsprings to just about cut through the muffled sound of your moans.

your body now guided more by instinct than intention, you slip your hand down to where your hips are pressed together, two fingers circling the swollen bud of your clit. the angle of his ruts means his cock grazes your fingertips as he pulls out, the desperate rubbing of your hand between your legs spurring him on.

"still want me to come inside you?" he says then, strands of hair coming loose, sticking to his forehead, "want me to fill you up?"

you nod feebly -- the answer clearly not sufficient in itself, since he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours as he meets you for a wet, messy kiss. continuing his question with his lips still touching yours, he asks;

"want me to take care of you? want to be my pretty wife, hm, wanna -- fuck -- wanna be mine, yeah?"

you slur something unintelligible, focusing on the second orgasm gathering quick and hot in your core. you lose your grip on your thighs and fumble to pull your legs back up.

nanami helps to hike your legs back up -- but not in their original position. instead, he guides them until your ankles rest on his shoulders, and after taking just a second to press a kiss to your calf, he sinks back to the hilt. feeling him bottom out, your vision nearly goes white; this new angle allows him to slide in so deep it's practically splitting you open, so deep you can tell he's serious about breeding you.

somehow, the sensation remains just shy of too much -- it's not too much of a stretch or causing too much sensitivity -- it's more than you've ever taken but you honestly feel you could stay like this forever, taking nanami's cock like you were made for it, with him looking down at you with a mixture of reverence and pure lust.

you want him like this for the rest of your life.

"i'm gonna need you to answer, cos I'm pretty close," he half-pleads as if reading your mind, his voice deep and strained, firm chest heaving as the thrusts get messier and less coordinated.

though your mind is near-blank and your lungs feel they can't get enough air, you manage to mumble a "fuck, yes. want -- want you to come inside, kento ... please."

that last word tips him over with you following almost immediately after, clenching around his cock as you feel him pulsing inside you, feeling more full than you've ever felt in your life. his head tips back as he cums, moaning beautiful praise you can just about make out, strands of sentences about you being the only one he wants taking his come, about how he's going to keep fucking you full for as long as it takes.

sparks of electricity reverberate through your body, hips pushing against his as you ride out your orgasm, pretty little whimpers harmonising with nanami's continued praise.

you stay like that for what seems like forever, basking in the wave of pleasure that's just swept you away effortlessly.

everything is just ... warm. purely and blissfully warm. the warmth of his hands still gripping your legs, the warmth of your own breath fanning over your sweaty chest, the warmth between your legs that starts to dribble down the backs of your thighs when nanami pulls out.

for good measure, nanami uses two fingers to push some of his come back inside, grinning as aftershocks pulse around the digits.

you lower your tired legs to rest on the mattress, thighs aching from being bent practically in half, but it's easy to disregard any physical exhaustion when you feel this level of contentment.

nanami's arms are soon wrapped around you, pulling you to rest on top of his chest where you spend some moments of perfect silence.

you can hear his heart beating in his chest, skipping a beat when you angle your head up to meet his gaze again.

"well?" you ask, a smile imbued in your words. "still lost for words?"

"just thinking about how every second of this was worth waiting for," he replies without missing a beat, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches how his answer flusters you.

with one hand behind his head as he rests of the pillow and the other wrapped around your shoulders, nanami looks more relaxed than you've maybe ever seen him.

this is a man who looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown when you reconnected less than a year ago; he's almost unrecognisable now, the dark circles under his eyes have faded, his face filling out a bit more, the smile on his face entirely genuine.

and in this moment you feel a burst of clarity, a sudden realisation that's eluded you since that first night you met in college.

maybe -- just maybe -- you're as good an influence on him as he is on you.

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #may tries to write #oh lord #im not even going to tell you how long i spent drafting this bad boy #please join me in the brainrot please

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hyunniesgirl · 10 months ago

Text

Can I be your favorite?

Pairing: Lee know x reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Summary: Lee Minho is unreachable, someone you can only just dream of being with. Until one day, you enter the wrong door at a party and ends up with him inviting you to sit on his lap.

Part 2

THIS CONTENT IS +18 ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: corruption kink, protected piv, fingering, Minho is kinda possessive.

You're okay with not being popular, it's not like you'll be like that forever, it's just college and in a few years everything will be forgotten so you just keep living your life, going to your classes and hanging out with your best friend.

The only time you ever wish you were popular, though, is when you see him. Lee Minho. The guy of your dreams. He's vice president of the greatest fraternity on campus, so everyone knows him.

Lee Minho is someone mysterious, no one knows much about him other than that he changes girlfriends faster than he changes clothes. So more than half of the girls in this university already had their heart broken by him.

That doesn't make you like him less though, it's not like something will ever happen between you two so a little crush on him is not something to worry about, even more so when he doesn't even know about your existence.

Your best friend, Jihyo is the opposite of you, she likes partying and she always tries to drag you to one of her nights out. That's how you ended up in the situation you're in right now. Alone in the kitchen of a frat house, listening to a drunk guy teaching you about your own major, while sipping on a drink you're not even sure about the contents.

You watch as a group of people play beer pong on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, everyone is sweating and there's alcohol being spilled all over the place. You're at a safe distance but you pity the person who's going to clean this up later on.

You have no idea where Jihyo went, she told you she was going to the bathroom half an hour ago and never came back. You're tired of hearing this guy too, he's talking about first year contents when you're already in your third year.

“That's so interesting”, you smile at him, “but I have to go find my friend now”, you don't let him say a word, quickly sneaking away from the kitchen.

You look around, trying to find your best friend, but she's nowhere to be seen. Maybe she's on the second floor, you ask people and they tell you exactly where the bathroom is. However, you shouldn't be so quick as to trust drunk people.

Because when you open the door people pointed out as the bathroom, you find a room with red lights brightening the dark space.

There's a bed in the middle of the room and in that bed there's a couple and that couple happens to be Lee Minho and someone you have no idea who it is. They are luckily not in a compromising position, not making out or something worse. She's just sitting on his lap, having her giggles stopped by the bright light that comes from the door when you open it.

Your eyes grow wide when Minho looks at you with his fierce unfriendly eyes.

“Hm- I'm- sorry, I thought this was the bathroom”, you smile sheepishly, fidgeting on your feet.

Minho looks at you up and down and you swear you can see a smirk forming on his lips, but you're not sure since the light is not great.

“I guess the sign with my name on the wall is not very visible”, he points out dryly, making your face turn red. Great, that's great. Nice way to be humiliated by your crush, y/n.

“I apologize, I really didn't see it”, you say again. You should already have gotten out of there but for some reason it seems that your feet are stuck on the ground.

“Honey, why don't you go downstairs, I'll talk to you later”, Minho says to the girl on his lap, making her groan in frustration. She gets up, angrily walking past you. “You should close the door if you're going to stay”, he tells you and your feet finally move just enough to be able to close the door with you still inside.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” You ask like an idiot.

“I live here”, he says obviously, “but I don't think you're still looking for the bathroom”, he grins, seeing you lick your lips. “Why don't you come and take a seat?”

Your legs move on it's own once more, giving slow unsure steps in his direction. You sit on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully as he leans back, supporting his upper body on his hands, arms spread on the mattress.

He stares at you, surprised. Minho chuckles, shaking his head.

“That's not what I was talking about”, he tells you, landing his hand on his thigh and tapping there. “Why don't you try sitting here?” He asks.

You feel your whole body turning hot, why is he asking for you to sit on his lap?

“I-I should get going”, you stand up fast, but before you can walk away he takes a deep breath.

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Minho tilts his head, waiting for your answer.

No, that's not what you want. You really, really want to sit on his lap and let him do anything he wants with you. So you give in to your desires, stepping closer to him and bending down to sit on his thigh.

He bites on his bottom lip, watching you fidgeting and trying to get comfortable. By the way you're stiff, it's obvious you have never done this before and that gets him excited.

He corrects his posture, sitting with his chest close to you. One of his hands lands on your left thigh and the other goes to your waist.

Minho doesn't need to waste another second to find out that he likes you. You're just his type, shy and reserved, someone who he can corrupt. Someone who can make him go absolutely crazy.

“You see, I see the way you look at me”, he says, caressing your back with the hand he had on your waist. “Jihyo is not very quiet and every time she catches my attention you're there and every time I look at you, you're looking at me”, he says, like he's saying something you don't know. “After some time I just came to the conclusion that you may like me. Am I right about that?”

You nod automatically, like you're obligated to tell him the truth. Maybe your brain just doesn't work when you're near him.

“Hmm”, Minho hums, “tell me then, what can you do for me?”

“W-what do you mean?” You manage to ask, getting goosebumps with every touch of his.

“I mean to say, why should I choose you? I have a great number of options”, he smirks. He's teasing now, even though he's already set on making you his, he just wants to hear your answer.

You have so many things to use at your advantage, pretty lips that he wants to kiss, soft skin that he wants to leave marks all over and the sweetest voice that he wants to hear crying his name while he fucks you so deeply you'll beg him to keep going.

“Anything”, you gulp, “you can do anything you want with me, I'm entirely yours”, and that is better than anything else he could hear. That is the last straw.

Minho puts his hand behind your neck, pulling you to him and kissing you in a hungry, hot kiss. He grabs your hair with the other hand, pulling a handful and making you groan with the sudden pain but it's still so good. His tongue brushes on your lips, entering your mouth and slightly caressing yours. The way he's grabbing you is just too much, you feel like you're going to explode at any moment.

Minho lets go of you for a moment just to take his shirt off, showing you his bare chest. He gets back on grabbing you, pressing you against his body. You're not sure if this is right but it definitely doesn't feel wrong.

You take your crop top off, throw it on the floor and pray that Jihyo will forgive you for doing that with her clothes. Wrapping your arms around Minho's neck, you kiss him again, feeling his bulge beneath you.

He sneaks a hand down your stomach, unbuttoning your jeans and pushing your panties to the side as soon as he manages to reach your soaking cunt.

Minho presses a finger on your clit, you stop the kiss just to gasp and he pulls away, staring at you while he inserts a finger between your folds.

“Has anyone ever fingered you?” He whispers, listening to your low moans, you're cute trying to hold back.

You open your eyes to look at him, shaking your head. That's beautiful, he gets even more excited to know he's the first one giving you pleasure like that.

“And what about sex, have you had it before?” He asks one more question, pushing his finger in and out of you.

“A-a few times”, you struggle to say, feeling your cheeks hot.

“That's good, virgins aren't really my thing”, he smirks, “then, you can handle one more finger, right?” He asks, not waiting for your answer and pushing in another finger inside of you.

“Oh”, it's the only sound you can make. You hold him harder, with your mind dizzy. “It's too much”, you sob, feeling the stretch, it burns a bit but it's so good.

“Oh, Kitten”, he pouts. “How are you supposed to handle my cock if you can't handle two fingers? I'm bigger than that”, he smirks while saying that.

“I can do it, I can”, you nod frantically, too drunk on the pleasure of his fingers inside you to think straight.

“I'm glad you're confident”, he takes his fingers out of you and takes them to his mouth, liking every drop of your juice. “Your taste might be my new favorite”

He helps you get up, your legs are weak even though you didn't cum. Minho helps you lie on the bed, pulling your jeans down, trailing kisses down your legs while dragging out the fabric.

“You are pretty”, he mutters, taking off his pants and underwear, crawling back to stay on top of you, kissing your chest and your collarbone, biting on the skin and leaving a couple of hickeys there. Minho goes down your breasts, sucking and licking your nipples, kneading at the other with his hand. He's humping on your leg, rubbing his hard cock on your thigh.

His touch makes you feel like you're on fire, tingling sensations spreading all over your body. His kisses leave you so turned on, you don't think you ever felt this horny.

“Kitten”, he calls you, making you blush. It's crazy to think that even though you two are naked in front of each other, him calling you a pet name is what makes you flustered.

Minho gives you a peck on the lips, leaning over to the bedside table to look for a condom. He opens the package with his teeth, spitting the piece of plastic and stroking his cock on hand.

He looks so good, standing on his knees in between your legs, eyes closed feeling his fist caressing him.

“Let me do it”, you take the courage to say, sitting and taking the package out of his mouth into your hands. Minho watches you attentively as you grab the base of his cock, sliding the condom down his length.

“Fuck”, he murmurs, grabbing your face on his hands and kissing you so hard you can taste blood, not sure from which of you.

Minho positions himself in your entrance, looking at you to wait for your consent and when you nod he pushes in. You wrap your legs around his hips, trying to bring him closer even though it hurts a bit, it's so good you think you will go crazy.

“M-minho”, you moan, throwing your arms around his waist, digging your nails on his skin.

“Shit, you're perfect”, he starts moving, each trust making you moan louder. Your walls are squeezing him so deliciously that he can cum at any moment. His cock feels so good, reaching all the places you didn't even know existed.

Minho kisses you, fucking into you so fast you can barely breath. You never thought he could be even more beautiful, hair stuck on his sweaty forehead, eyes staring intensely at yours, bottom lip stuck between his teeth while he fucks you senseless. He leans closer, kissing your neck, leaving a long and a bit painful mark there.

“You're mine now”, he smiles shakily, clearly close to his release. You can feel your orgasm approaching too, cumming and tightening your legs around his hips, making his release follow yours.

Minho gives you a kiss before falling to your side, breathing heavily accompanied by you. You don't know what to say and you're scared he'll pretend this was nothing so you get up, collecting your things, not waiting for him to kick you out.

“What are you doing?” He asks, scowling.

“Getting dressed so I can get out”, you explain naively, being watched by him like you're the prey and he is the predator.

“What part of “you're mine now”, you didn't understand?” He asks, laying down with an arm beneath his head and the other stretched to the side of the bed, waiting for you to lie there. “Come back here, I'm not even nearly done with you”, he smirks, watching you blush again.

You drop the clothes you have collected, crawling back on the bed and snuggling close to him. Minho pulls you closer, turning to you and wrapping his free arm around your waist.

“I'll tell you what we're gonna do”, he explains and you nod, “I'm going to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is my name and after that I'll take you out to dinner”

Lee Know presses his body on yours, showing you that his cock is already hardening again and you giggle, blushing once more.

Never have you felt so happy to trust drunk people's instructions.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

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verdenz · 4 months ago

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HI! so I just read the one where they are drunk and doesn't recognise their gf and itis so damn cute

Could you do pierre and yuki??

And perhaps a morning after? Where they finally see where they are and gf saying that was cute??

HE'S DRUNK AND DOESN'T RECOGNIZE YOU.

FEATURING:⠀⠀George Russell, Yuki Tsunoda, Oscar Piastri, Pierre Gasly.

OTHER PARTS:⠀⠀Part one for context. Part two.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ⠀⠀I'll soon make a separate part/post for the morning after. <3 Also, sorry this isn't really good, I wrote it in the middle of the night and I wasn't awake enough, I guess.

୨୧⠀⠀⠀GEORGE RUSSELL

When you had to pick up your boyfriend from the party, you expected anything but for him to be so drunk that he couldn’t recognize you. Maybe it was just the bad street lighting, or just too much alcohol in his system, but it was still... well, surprising.

Even though he couldn’t recognize you, he was quite calm when his friend told him that you would drive him home.

On the way, though, he suddenly turned serious. "Listen, miss, I don’t think it’s right for a woman to drive me home. I have a girlfriend, and I don't think this is right." You can’t help but laugh, asking him what his girlfriend would prefer. “I should walk."

It was adorable how, even while excessively drunk, he still thought of you and your feelings. You looked at him through the rearview mirror, smiling. "Oh, actually, she’s the one who asked me to take you home. It’s dangerous to leave someone like you wandering around alone."

୨୧⠀⠀⠀YUKI TSUNODA

As you help him into the car, he suddenly stops and looks at you seriously. “You’re not my girlfriend, you’re a decoy! She’s testing me, isn’t she? Well, I won’t fall for it!”

You took a deep breath and smiled, trying not to get stressed, even though you were already irritated enough from being woken up in the middle of the night. "Ok, and what would your girlfriend do in this situation?"

“She’d probably smack me for being dumb enough to trust a stranger. So, no offense, but I’m keeping my distance,” Yuki said, smiling proudly at his reasoning. His friend swallowed hard, looking at you.

After several minutes of trying to convince him to get in the car before attracting more unwanted attention, he finally gave in and agreed.

As you start driving, he turns to you, dead serious. “Listen, I’ll go with you, but there’s no funny business, got it? I’m in love with my girlfriend, and nothing you do will change that.” You hummed, trying not to laugh, and he nodded, satisfied. “Good. I just needed to make that clear. You’re welcome to drop me off, but that’s it.”

୨୧⠀⠀⠀OSCAR PIASTRI

When you finished talking to the party’s security and returned to where you left your boyfriend, you found him talking to his friend, who was trying to get him into the car. “I can’t do it…” he says stubbornly. “My girlfriend will have my head.”

His friend sighs, “That’s your actual girlfriend, dude!”

He looked at you, squinting as if that would help somehow. He shakes his head sadly. “No way. She’s too... perfect to be at a place like this. And she said she’d stay home."

“And how do you plan on getting home, Oscar? Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” You tried to convince him, knowing there was no way to make him recognize who you were, at least not when he was in that state.

He stands up straight, smoothing his clothes. “Thank you for the offer, miss, but I can’t accept a ride from you. My girlfriend wouldn’t approve. She’s very particular about who I associate with.” He gives a slight bow, smiling politely. “I’ll just walk home, if you don’t mind.” He takes one step, wobbles, and nearly falls over.

“So... Do you want to wait until he falls asleep on the middle of the sidewalk, or do like a quick kidnapping?” His friend asked, watching your boyfriend, who had barely walked a meter and was already leaning against a wall, trying to keep his balance.

୨୧⠀⠀⠀PIERRE GASLY

As you approach him, his friend calls out, "Your ride's here, Pierre." You could see in the poor man's eyes that he was tired of dealing with your boyfriend for the night.

"No way! This is a trap. Some paparazzi paid you, right? You want a scandalous photo of me with another woman! My girlfriend will never believe this." He pointed at the two of you.

You glanced at his friend, who just sighed and walked over, dragging him into the car. Whoever was passing by would probably think it was some kind of kidnapping, but luckily, anyone passing was just as drunk as your boyfriend, if not more.

Pierre tried to struggle, despite not having much energy left for it. You held his hand before he could undo the seatbelt for the fourth time. "Stay quiet, or I'll tell your girlfriend that you drank more than you should have."

#f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #george russell #yuki tsunoda #pierre gasly #oscar piastri #oscar x reader #george russell x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader

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barefoothighlander · 2 years ago

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Protective Ghost perhaps ?

Love me a protective hulk of a man and clapping my cheeks like a mad man 🫣

scary boyfriend privileges for real

warnings: mdni (18+), unwanted male attention, insinuation of assault, smut, unprotected pinv, est relationship, masturbation (fem), fingering, creampie, rough sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, lil bit of choking, possessive!ghost, rank kink if u squint

"Hey, where are you?"

"Just at the house, Is everything alright love?" He can sense the panic in your voice through the phone,

"Everything's fine just, do you think you'd be able to pick me up?"

"Be there in 10"

He ends the call, leaving you to listen to the echoes of strangers in the streets, standing alone outside your office building, you didn't intend on working late but something had come up and you told Simon that you'd just walk home after work, it was only a few blocks to your shared flat.

At first, he blatantly refused the idea, arguing that he'd just pick you up even if it meant waiting around for a few hours when he already had plans, you argued back stating that it wouldn't be dark considering the sun wouldn't set till later, and the walk was short. Eventually, he gave in, agreeing to your terms of having your location on during your walk and keeping a finger on the pepper spray he had placed in your purse.

Everything was going fine until you actually stepped out of the office, ignorant to the fact that there was a football match that night, and the pubs would be littered with drunk patrons, shouting from every street corner. The echoes of their voices made you nervous, the fact that you didn't have your scary boyfriend to protect you made it worse, a small panic setting into your nerves as you picked at your nails.

You move to the curb to watch for his truck, eyes glazing over every pair of headlights that made their way down the street, tapping your foot in an effort to ease yourself.

"OI"

You turn your attention to the shout,

"Yea you, whatcha doin all alone out here love?" A man standing a few feet away begins walking towards you, even from the distance you can smell the alcohol on him, turning away to ignore him.

"Ah c'mon then, just tryna have a chat"

"M'not interested, sorry"

"Inna chat? Don't worry I won't bite"

You take a few steps back as the man gets closer, invading your space as he continues to speak,

"Don't have to be a priss, just wondering why a pretty lil thing like you s'all alone"

"I'm waiting for someone" You nervously dart your eyes around, willing Simon to appear,

He stumbles closer "You gotta boyfriend?"

"Yep" You cross your arms over your chest, walking backwards as the man continues to get closer

"Bet I'd treat ya better, wouldn't let you walk around all alone" He drags out the last word, staring directly at you,

"You know, I'm just gonna walk, have a good night" You turn to walk down the street, moving at a rushed pace,

"I'll walk you home" He moves in tandem with you

"No that's alright, I'll manage"

Your body freezes as his hand makes contact with your arm, tugging you back a step as he grips the skin, "Why've you got to be such a bitch?"

You try to pull your arm from his hold, "Excuse me?"

"Just tryna be nice"

"You're hurting me" Your body is in full panic, your mind racing as the man's stare pins you down, his grip firing you backwards until your back collides with the wall.

"You know it'd be a lot easier if you played along"

His words make your chest feel hollow, your eyes moving to avoid his gaze before they land on a pair of headlights in front of you, the slam of a car door breaking your focus as you let out a sigh at the sight of your boyfriend moving towards you.

In a flash the man is off you, Simon's grip around his collar as he pins him to the wall, the back of his head hitting against the stone as you gasp.

"Si-"

"Get the fuck out of here"

The stranger's eyes widen at the sight of the masked man, Simon's large form dwarfing his as his arm holds his shirt tight around his neck, Simon releases him, the man gasping for air, sparing you a final look before rushing down the street.

"I'm sorry I-"

He cuts you off, "Get in the car"

You spend the short ride home in silence, not even bothering to turn the radio on, the tension in the air palpable as you let yourself out of the truck, following behind Simon as he makes his way into the house.

You flinch as he slams the door behind him,

"M'not mad at you" His voice comes from behind you

"I know"

You watch as he storms toward the bedroom in a fury, his fists clenched as he breezes by you. following him through the room. Your eyes are glued to him as he sits in a chair, alone in the corner facing the bed, his legs spread as his hands settle on the arms of the seat.

"Take your clothes off"

You do as he says, nervous fingers working to remove your shirt before reaching for the belt on your pants, tugging them down your legs,

"All your clothes"

You stand naked before him, his eyes roaming over your form, his stare making goosebumps rise on your skin,

"Get on the bed"

You sit on the edge of the mattress, shuffling your body backwards as you rest against your arms,

"I want you to touch yourself, and keep your eyes on me"

Your throat dries at his words, your eyes looking for some sign of sympathy but there's nothing behind the mask, doing as you're told you snake a hand down your torso, settling your fingers against your clit, cursing yourself at how wet you already were.

You work your fingers around the bud, keeping your gaze locked on him as pleasure blossoms in your chest, your heels digging into the sheets as you find a rhythm.

He doesn't say anything but you can see the strain on his knuckles as he grips the armrests of the chair, his pants growing tighter with every moan that falls from your lips. You're teetering on the edge but it's not enough,

"Simon, please,"

"Your fingers not enough?"

You shake your head, "Need you"

"Need me to what?"

"Need you to fuck me, please"

He wastes no time in standing from the chair, practically tearing his pants down before his hands grip your waist, flipping you with ease so that your chest presses against the mattress, your cheek digging into the sheets as he presses his length against you.

He groans at the feeling of your weeping pussy against his length, his palms spreading you so he can get a better view,

“So fucking perfect, you gonna be good for me?”

You wriggle your hips for him, “Yes, all for you”

“Good girl” He drags his palm along the length of your spine, settling his fingers around the nape of your neck as he lines himself up, teasing his head through your folds, collecting your slick before inserting himself.

He bottoms out with a grunt, his pubic bone pressing against your ass as he leans over your form, caging you and forcing you to take every inch of him. You whimper below him, begging him to move as he holds himself still inside you.

He pulls himself nearly all the way out before thrusting back in, forcing a yelp from you as he begins pumping into your pussy, your slick gathering around his shaft as his cock splits you open.

“So fuckin tight love”

His fingers dig into your waist with a bruising grip, holding you still as he thrusts into you, you can feel the coil inside you still burning but it’s still not enough,

“Si, please, need more”

His hand reaches around your neck, pulling you from the bed so your back is flush with his chest, his fingers teasing on your pulse point. He snakes his other hand around to toy with your clit, you clench down on him as he makes contact, his rough fingers circling the bud.

“Can’t cum unless it’s me huh?”

You shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut,

“Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You Si, fuck”

“Not good enough” His hand constricts around your throat

You struggle to find your words, his cock driving into you from below, “It’s yours Lieutenant, only yours”

“Much better” His hand releases your throat allowing you to gasp for air in between your moans, your orgasm threatening to erupt from inside you.

His hands knead at your breasts, teasing and pinching the raised buds as his fingers work in tandem with his strokes, you reach behind you to touch him, to grab anything to ground yourself , your fingers settling on the hem of his mask.

“That’s it love, soak my cock, show me how good I make you feel”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire as all your muscles tense, Ghosts moans fill your ears as your pussy clenches down on him, his hips stuttering for a moment as he fucks you through your high.

When he feels you come down he pulls himself out, groaning at the loss of contact as his hands find their way back to your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting himself between your legs.

You wrap your limbs around him, holding him to you as he pushes deep inside you, his face is inches from yours, his eyes glued to where you meet.

“Gonna fill this fucking pussy, maybe i’ll fuck a baby into you, s’that what you want? Want everyone to see your stomach grow with my fuckin seed? Let them know who you belong to?”

His gaze turns to you, his dark eyes staring back at you, you struggle to form a response, your hand moving to tug at the hem of his mask as your hooded eyes watch him. Like he’s reading your mind he tears the mask off in seconds, revealing his face to you, his rosy cheeks and plump lips, the way his jaw clenches with every thrust.

“I’m yours, only yours”

His lips crash into yours, swallowing your moans as he kisses you, rough and messy as your arms snake around his neck, holding him to you.

He pulls back, his forehead resting on yours, “Fuck, squeezing me so tight beautiful”

“Cum in me Si, need to feel you”

He watches your eyes fill with lust, your soaking pussy swallowing him as he bottoms out, your heels dig into his back as he spills his seed into you, coating your walls.

“Fuckin hell” He holds himself inside you as he finishes, his softening cock holding his cum deep in your pussy as he leans in for another kiss, it’s more tender this time.

He pulls out of you slowly, pushing up the bed and lying back as his arms tug you to him, your legs tangling with him as your hands find their spot on his chest.

“M’sorry”

His fingers thread through your hair, “S’not your fault love”

“I know I just feel stupid”

“You’re not stupid, you shouldn’t have to deal with shit like that”

You give a small hun in response,

“I would’ve killed him”

“I know”

“Like terrible, awful, excruciating pain kinda murder”

You huff a small laugh in response, knowing that he was deadly serious as you push yourself from his side, your palms nudging him over,

“C’mon go get dressed for bed”

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kislnd · 4 months ago

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possessive - george clarke~

synopsis: george has to collect a tipsy y/n after a night out with her friends - there he is introduced to one of her old coworkers.

notes: i managed to accidentally post this several times before finishing it lol (pain) 😭 thanks to anon for requesting this plot x

warnings: alcohol & angst (good resolution dw guys)

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

"are you almost ready?" george called out to y/n, who was in the bathroom finishing up her makeup. she knew her friends were here to collect her for their night out and george was just making sure she didn't end up keeping them waiting for too long. "yes, just give me a sec!" she replies, throwing a brush in the general direction of her makeup bag haphazardly.

"all done," she smiles, coming out of the bathroom, finishing touches all complete. "you look gorgeous y/n." george beams, wrapping his arms around her middle. "thank you." she returns the hug and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to walk towards the front door, with george following behind her. "have fun and be safe," he says, "and when you're ready to be picked up just give me a text." y/n nods, she was always grateful that he was willing to do things like that for her no matter what time of the night it was. "see you later then," she grins, a grin that he couldn't help but reciprocate, and steps outside to join her friends.

the pub that y/n's friends had chosen was a local one, but one that she had walked past countless times without ever giving it a second thought. she wasn't sure what to expect upon entering the establishment, but that didn't make her nervous. she had always thought that trying out new things or places was one of the things that kept life exciting.

once over the threshold, her senses were immediately flooded - loud music blaring from what appeared to be karaoke (something she anticipated she would have to pry her drunk friends away from later in the evening), several conversations, most of which were shouted in a desperate attempt to be heard over the music, and a strong smell of alcohol. at least, y/n thought, the people seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"we can either sit next to the speaker and go deaf or nearer to that group," one of her friends gestured to a fairly large group of rowdy guys near the bar, "and also go deaf." they all laugh at this, although their laughter was short-lived - the options really weren't good. "i vote anything but that," y/n scrunches her nose up thinking about the group - if they were already unpleasant from the safe distance at which she was observing them, god knows how insufferable it would be to spend a few hours practically on top of them.

after some deliberation, y/n and her friends settled on a table closer to the music. with everyone situated and ready for the night, a few of the girls made their way to the bar to grab some drinks.

"is that everything?" y/n questioned, scanning the array of drinks that had been poured for them. "seems about right," her friend shrugged, "we'll figure out if we ordered everyone something when we give them out." y/n nods, she was right. thankfully, enough of them had come to the bar to help out that what would have otherwise been a horrendous balancing act, was actually a swift and tidy transportation of drinks. y/n placed the last few glasses down on the table before turning to one of the girls and saying quietly, "i'm just going to pop to the toilet."

"do you want one of us to come with?" she asked, to which y/n shook her head - the bathroom wasn't far from where they were sitting and she wasn't worried about anything else. they had specifically chosen to sit across the room from the disruptive group of guys so she figured they wouldn't bother her.

either way, y/n decided she would move as quickly as possible, sliding past the few people nearby and into the room. she didn't want to spend more time than she needed to in there - pub toilets were unpleasant at the best of times and she also didn't really want to miss out on anything. nevertheless, she took a moment to freshen up - her makeup was still in position and her hair didn't seem to be so different from when she originally styled it so she simply gave her hands a wash and made for the door.

grabbing the cool metal handle, y/n threw the door open and set off with the intention of walking briskly back in the direction of her friends. instead, her stride was broken by a figure colliding with her as she stepped out of the bathroom. "oh!" she jumped back, her body flush with the door, "i'm so sorry." she exclaimed. the person, whom she had now realised was a man who had just come out of the bathroom himself, smiled warmly down at her. "don't worry, i wasn't really looking where i was going." y/n studied his face for a moment, she could've sworn she recognised him but she couldn't quite put her finger on where from. "sorry," she brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, "do i know you from somewhere?" she paused, wondering if that had been a strange question, "i just feel like you look familiar," she added.

"you're y/n aren't you?" the man cocked his eyebrow, but didn't wait for a response. "we used to work together." realisation hit y/n, she couldn't believe she had managed to briefly forget him, they had spent almost every day for a number of years side by side. she couldn't even blame this one on alcohol. "of course!" she laughed at her own silliness and also in the hopes of relieving some tension - she was praying she hadn't offended him. "we had some good times." she smiled. much to her relief, he smiled back, "absolutely, i can't believe how much time has passed. i'd love to catch up with you." y/n liked the idea - she had to admit that she had wondered what he was up to and this would be the perfect opportunity to check in. however, she also recognised that she was here with her friends and it would be wrong to abandon them, especially when they were the ones that organised the evening.

"i'm kind of with people at the moment," y/n gave him an apologetic look, she had tried to word it kindly, in a way that didn't seem like a harsh refusal of his offer. "no worries, just whenever you have a free moment later on," he smiles, "drinks on me, of course." y/n returns the smile, "see you later then."

y/n could feel her head growing fuzzy and she could tell her friends felt the same, so it had been a collective decision to end the night there. with everyone calling taxis or friends to collect them, y/n decided to drop george a text to come and collect her in around half an hour's time. as promised, she found her way to her ex-coworker's table, telling herself that she could only accept one drink out of politeness and as to not hate herself too much the next morning.

"so what'll it be?" he asks grinning, digging into his pocket to find his wallet. "just whatever you're having," y/n slid into a chair and waited for him to return with the drink. soon enough, the drinks arrived and after getting over some initial awkwardness, they were back to chatting like old friends. y/n was so caught up in conversation that she hadn't realised george had texted her numerous times that he had arrived until he entered the pub himself and informed her.

"i've been trying to get you to come outside for a bit now," george says, approaching the table where they were sitting. he wasn't angry, he was aware that y/n would be caught up with her friends and therefore a little slower to check her phone, but he was confused. who was this guy? he'd met y/n's friends on countless occasions, and she often mentioned them, but this stranger hadn't ever seemed to come up in conversation. "i'm sorry," she looked up at him with flushed cheeks, the alcohol had definitely gotten to her. george was about to open his mouth to ask her who the mystery man was but before he could get there, she interjected, "this is my old coworker, from when i worked at the shop."

suddenly it made sense - maybe y/n had mentioned him in passing, he was sure she'd talked about her time at the shop a couple of times previously. "well nice meeting you," george didn't really feel like engaging in any formalities, all he really wanted was to get y/n home and go to bed. "we'd better get home." he smiled somewhat apologetically, and took y/n by the hand in an attempt to coax her to stand up. "honestly, please join us," the man, who george still didn't know the name of (nor did he really care to find out either), said. "we were only just beginning to catch up." george glanced at y/n, although he wasn't so sure if she was in a good position to be passing judgement.

"that would be nice," she smiled softly, "george?" she looked up at him with big eyes, eyes that he often found very hard to resist. george still wasn't sold on the idea. "are you sure? it's getting quite late now." he questioned, in the hopes that she would agree and they could go. he really was not a fan of how eager this guy was to spend time with her, and it was made worse by the fact that he hardly knew the guy. "please?" y/n tightened her grip on his hand, willing him to just take the seat next to her.

at this point, george obliged. it was clear y/n was enjoying herself and this guy didn't make her uncomfortable. it was not worth ruining her night and mood by forcing her to come with him. "alright." he said flatly, admittedly through gritted teeth. y/n raised an eyebrow at his tone but brushed it off, maybe he was just tired and besides, he absolutely could tolerate sitting down and talking for a short while.

the more he talked, the more george was sure he couldn't stand the guy. the way he looked at y/n with such blind adoration in his eyes, the way he kept reaching out to touch her on the arm briefly during the conversation and his body language, completely focused towards y/n as if he wasn't there - it was all far too much.

george made a point of blatantly checking the time and announcing it to the table, "right, i think we should call it a night here?" he turned to y/n, who was obviously more tired than she had been when he first arrived, who solemnly agreed. george stood up first, quickly helping y/n up and wrapping his arm around her shoulder protectively. "thank you, that was a lovely evening," her former coworker smiled, "we should do this again y/n." the fact he had purposely left george out of the conversation, without even having the decency to offer an invite to him (or to any of her friends) confirmed every suspicion.

george's body stiffened, his grip on y/n tightening slightly. "i don't think that would be appropriate." he said calmly, masking how truly infuriating it was for him to be witnessing this behaviour. "we're leaving now." he didn't give y/n a chance to wave goodbye or say thank you to her old friend, and instead took off briskly towards the exit and to the car.

"what was that about?" y/n looked puzzled, to her the night had simply been catching up with someone from her past and nothing more. "could you seriously not tell?" george himself was dumbfounded, it was beyond him how she could be so oblivious. "tell what?" y/n snapped back at him, "all i could tell was that you hated him. your face was sour the entire night."

"well forgive me for not taking a liking to the guy who was practically undressing you with his eyes," george began to raise his voice, he didn't like getting angry and wouldn't ever want to upset y/n but it was impossible to contain his rage in the moment. "he was not!" y/n protested, "he is just an ex-colleague, what has gotten into you?"

"to you maybe," george still felt disgusted, "i mean, did you even notice that he was constantly trying to touch you?" y/n shook her head in disbelief, "i think you're being dramatic. even if he was flirting with me, why would it matter?" silence clung to the air. george stared at the ground helplessly, he knew that no matter the number of ways he tried to explain this to y/n she would just be adamant he wasn't making advances on her. "i like you not him." she reached out to touch him on the arm, "george, i'm not angry at you. i think i was just surprised."

y/n stepped closer to him carefully and slotted herself under his chin, wrapping her arms around him in the most reassuring hug she could muster - he did the same. "i'm sorry." he mumbled into her hair where he had buried his face, "it's hard to not get jealous when you have such a beautiful girlfriend." y/n grinned, "you are silly." she paused, contemplating whether or not to share her thoughts. "and for the record, i do think you are extra hot when you're jealous."

"oh?" george raised his eyebrow, "well, as long as you don't keep meeting up with random co-workers that definitely have a crush on you, i can live with that." he chuckled. "don't worry, you definitely scared him away." y/n laughed, "i am not at risk." george mocked offense, "hilarious y/n," he smiled sarcastically, guiding her towards the car and opening the passenger door for her to climb in before getting in himself.

"i do love you, you know," she stared out of the windscreen in thought. "i know you do, and i love you," george patted her knee, "let's just worry about getting you home now."

#george clarke #george clarkey #george clarke imagine #george clarke x reader #george clarkey x reader #george clarke fluff #george clarke fics

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azzifuddslover · 1 month ago

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༯ OFF THE COURT — CHAPTER FOUR 𝜗𝜚

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: angst, pining, light jealousy

word count: 3.6k

tw: swearing, talks of alcohol use

a/n: very proud of myself for finishing this as quick as i did. ngl i was so giddy writing this chapter, it might be my favorite so far! please lemme know how y’all are liking it, enjoy! 🩷

paige wakes up in her bed, in the same clothes as the night before. her pounding headache is evident, and her memory is foggy. she recalls drinking far too much, but there’s still a gap in her mind regarding the last few hours. how did she end up in her dorm?

she came to the conclusion that nika or aubrey had brought her back home. i mean, they did witness her drinking more than she should on a thursday night, so it’s a solid assumption.

paige reaches for her phone; there’s three missed calls from nika, two from aubrey, and one message from coach auriemma. fuck. she’s late for practice.

the memory of azzi rejecting her floods her mind, which makes paige contempt staying in her bed for the remainder of practice.

as paige scrambles to get dressed and head out, she’s physically off balanced, still dizzy from all the alcohol she had consumed. she grabs an advil and quickly shallows out before throwing her basketball bag on and rushing out the door.

heads turn to look at paige as she strides through the gym door, already out of breath.

nika is the first to pull paige aside; “girl, where were you? are you good?” she questions, concerned.

paige fakes a smile, “i’m good nik. i just overslept.”

“you sure you’re okay? you were drinking a lot yesterday.”

“really, i’m okay.”

nika gives paige a reassuring squeeze on her shoulders, “alright. if you say so.”

paige begins to walk to the lockers rooms, purposefully avoiding coach, who calls her over anyway.

“where were you?” he asks, clearly furious at paige’s absence.

“i’m sorry coach, i overslept.”

“you should know better, paige,” he says firmly, “everyone, run 10 laps.”

loud groans come from each of the players. coach auriemma’s eyes widen in challenge, “don’t like that? make it 20.”

paige’s lips curl; she receives dirty looks from her teammates, annoyance bouncing off them. she desperately wants to run away, go anywhere but here, yet she sets her bag down and runs with her team.

practice is the slowest it’s ever been for paige. and the pounding headache she continues to have doesn’t help one bit. she remains out of sync, constantly missing easy layups and wide open 3 pointers. all she wants is for this damn practice to end so she can sleep the rest of the day away.

she’s been intentionally avoiding azzi, not meeting her eyes, building distance between the two, not even passing her the ball, regardless if she was open or not.

but when azzi throws a soft glance at paige does she meet her eye contact. azzi wears a concerned, light expression on her face, with an ounce of sadness in her gaze.

paige shoots a glare at the younger girl as she remembers the events of yesterday. azzi and paige’s bodies flush together. their lips inches apart. azzi’s rejection. azzi running away from her.

paige is first the break eye contact, going back to shooting. or atleast, attempting to shoot.

once practice comes to an end, everyone is eager to leave. it’s been a long day, and they all needed rest.

as azzi was about to exit out the gym door, paige pulls her into the locker room, quickly and swiftly.

“jesus, paige—“

paige places her hand on azzi’s forearm, “look, azzi. about yesterday,” she begins.

azzi’s cheeks flush, “paige—“

“listen, i was drunk out of my mind. i didn’t realize what i was doing or who i was doing it with. i hope you’d know i would never do that sober.”

pain hits azzi like a brick. she knew paige would regret it in the morning.

although azzi had been the one to pull away, it didn’t mean she didn’t want to kiss paige— she did. she desperately did. she still does.

“i.. okay,” azzi whispers, eyes flicking to the floor.

paige pulls her hand away from azzi’s arm, while continuing to look at the brunette.

“alright then,” she nods, “we good here?”

azzi opens her mouth, then shuts it and nods as well.

paige flings her bag over her shoulder and casually moves for the door. azzi’s not far behind her, placing her bag on her own shoulders and leaving the locker room.

the two girls walk in opposite directions, not bothering to glance back. paige closes her eyes as regret strikes her hard. she had lied to azzi. she wanted to kiss her yesterday, still wants to, but what else could she do? azzi pulled away. she pulled away. she had to at least try to act like it was a mistake.

later that evening, paige is in bed, with her phone in her hand. ever since practice earlier in the day, she had been completely worn out, still suffering from a terrible headache.

paige scrolls on tiktok for while, before switching over to her favorite app, instagram. she views her teammates stories and likes a few posts. she sees caroline posted a photo dump, and as she scrolls through the photos, observing each one, she notices azzi in the last photo.

it was a picture of her and caroline in one of their dorm rooms, arms around each other, and azzi’s lips on carol’s cheek, in a friendly manner. it doesn’t settle the blinding jealousy paige feels, though. her fingers tighten in her hands, causing marks on her palms.

god, azzi looks so good in that photo. her hair was loose at her shoulders; she had on a bright pink hoodie paired with black leggings. paige never wished more to be someone else in this given moment.

paige clicks on caroline’s photo, causing azzi’s instagram page to pop up. she quickly hits it to reveal lots of posts from throughout the years.

she scrolls through all her posts, way back to 2015, and she’s reminded of USA basketball days. when azzi dmed her about accidentally liking an old photo of hers. red covers her cheeks in embarrassment.

she views azzi’s most recent photo dump; it was a few pictures of her playing basketball and some with their teammates.

with a slip of a finger, paige likes the photo. again.

“god fucking dammit!” paige exclaims, shifting up in a sitting position while nerves stir in her stomach.

she shuts her phone off and tosses it on the bed. paige covers her face with both hands, shaking it head at her stupidity.

her phone buzzes against her bed; paige already knows what it’s going to be. and as expected, it’s an instagram dm.

i’m getting deja vu, it read. paige’s lips tilt up, somewhat pleased that azzi still remembers their interaction from years prior.

would u believe me if i say it was another glitch? paige texts.

anxiously waiting for azzi’s respond, paige fiddles with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers.

i’d say these glitches are awfully convenient, aren’t they?

a soft giggle escapes the older girl’s lips, as she swiftly replies.

they most definitely are, she sends.

after a couple minutes, azzi finally replies: sooo watcha doing?

paige arches an eyebrow, surprised to find azzi continuing the conversation.

laying in bed, what about u? she types almost instantly.

yeah same, i’m so bored, azzi’s message read.

an idea arises in her mind: same. wanna maybe come over? dorka isn’t here rn.

minutes pass without a respond from azzi. was that too much? does azzi not want to hang out with her? does azzi still hate her?

and do what? azzi finally sent.

paige tilts her head— what would they do? she hadn’t thought that far ahead.

not really sure. we could watch a movie or something, whatever you want.

seconds later azzi responds. sounds good, i’ll be there in 5.

paige scurries off her bed, frantically trying to make her room look somewhat presentable for the younger girl. not that she wanted to make an impression, or anything.

she stuffs dirty clothes in her bed, throws away old water bottles and miscellaneous wrappers before lowering the lighting to appear slightly darker.

as she replaces her current hoodie for a cuter one, she hears a quiet knock at the door. her head whips in that direction while nerves erupt in her stomach.

she opens the door to reveal a smiling azzi. she has on a simple white sweatshirt, baggy black sweatpants, with a pair of nike slides.

“hey,” azzi says, looking into paige’s eyes.

“hi,” paige replies, holding eye contact, “come on in.”

paige moves to the side, allowing azzi to enter her dorm room, cautiously. azzi observes her room better than she previously had when they were first in here alone, taking in the posters, books, decorations. it was all so paige.

paige gently shuts the door before going to sit back on her bed.

“you played really well yesterday, you know,” paige compliments.

azzi’s smile grows, revealing her dimples that paige loves a little too much, “thank you. that means a lot.”

blush reaches paige’s face, “yeah, of course. but i’m sure you already knew that.”

azzi arches a brow, “what do you mean?”

“how coach compliments your game all the time. you’re the team’s princess, practically,” paige notes.

“well, i wouldn’t—“

“not that i can blame him, though. your skills are undeniable, az,” paige cuts her off, the tips of her lips lifting.

azzi brings a hand up to cover her wide grin at paige’s compliment and the use of her nickname.

“getting soft on me, bueckers?”

paige playfully rolls her eyes, “you wish.”

paige shifts over on the bed, making enough room for azzi to sit as well. “you can come sit, y’know.”

azzi is hesitant, but regardless, walks over to paige’s bed and sits alongside the older girl. their thighs brush against each other’s, sending butterflies to azzi’s stomach.

the two girls settle on a movie, the notebook, to watch for the evening.

“want something to drink?” paige offers.

“um, water is fine, thanks,” azzi answers.

paige simply nods and walks out the bedroom, out to the small kitchen her and dorka share. while she’s gone for a quick moment, azzi decides to get more comfortable, allowing herself to lay out in paige’s medium sized bed.

paige comes back to the room and brings herself to a halt. god. azzi laying on her bed was not one she’d imagine actually happening, but is damn grateful it is.

“thought i’d get more comfortable for the movie,” azzi says, like the answer is obvious.

“that makes sense,” paige replies, breathlessly. she sets down azzi’s requested water and her own on the bedside table, while she carefully crawls in bed next to azzi, laying out as well.

the two girls bodies’ are side by side, full on touching one another’s. and paige couldn’t be happier.

“y’know, you’re a really great player too, paige,” azzi whispers, a couple minutes into the romantic film.

“thank you,” paige begins, “i thought i’d never hear those words come out of your mouth.”

azzi snorts, “yeah, well, me either to be honest. i’ve always hated you.”

paige’s lips turn slightly downward, yet is unsurprised at azzi’s comment. she knew azzi had hated her, ever since USA basketball. she hated azzi, too. well, tried to hate her.

“i hated you, too,” paige lies right through her teeth.

azzi turns her body to face paige, “do you still hate me?”

paige scoffs, because how could she, or anyone for that matter, ever hate someone like azzi? paige shifts her body, facing the brunette’s; “i don’t know, my opinion on you changes everyday,” she teases.

azzi smiles— her brown eyes roam paige’s face, then drop to her pink lips. she knows better; paige literally said mere hours ago she would never kiss azzi sober.

“i’m kidding. i don’t. i could never hate you,” paige mutters, barely loud enough for azzi to hear.

just as azzi’s about to respond, exhaustion washes over her, causing her to drift to sleep. in paige’s dorm. in her bed.

paige’s eyelids flutter open as the remnants of sleep faded. the warmth of her bed surrounds her as she was the first to wake. she glances at the body in front of her, taken aback at the sight of the curly headed brunette. her breathing is steady and peaceful, lips slightly ajar. paige lays motionless for a moment, listening to the gentle rhythm of her own heart, before carefully, slowly reaching around to grip her phone.

paige’s eyes widen as she views the current time— 3:01 am in the morning. they had been asleep for several hours at this point, right alongside of each other.

paige looks over at dorka’s empty bed and is surprised not to see her. she figures she’s staying at one of their teammates room.

paige sets her phone back on the bedside table, takes a swig of water, before returning to her laying position in front of azzi, who remains asleep. she slowly reaches her hand out to graze azzi’s cheek, then twirl a loose curl around her finger, careful not to wake the younger girl.

minutes later, with paige continuing to stare at azzi, her eyelids finally open. she stretches slightly, lets out a faint yawn, before making eye contact with the blonde.

“hi,” azzi whispers, still dazed from her long rest.

paige gently smirks, “hey.”

“we fell asleep?”

“guess so. i don’t think i watched past 10 minutes of the movie,” paige laughs.

“same,” azzi shares the laughter.

the two girls shift into a sitting position, not caring enough to move when they touch one another.

“pass me my water?” azzi asks.

paige nods, grabbing azzi’s water bottle, as well as her own.

“thanks,” azzi says once paige hands it to her. she downs the entire bottle as paige silently watches in admiration.

“thirsty?” paige teases.

“you have no idea,” azzi replies, out of breath, “can i have some of yours?”

paige’s eyebrows rise, kind of surprised at the question. “yeah, ‘course.”

she passes her water off the azzi, who gratefully takes it. she takes several sips.

“what time is it?” azzi questions the older girl.

“3 am,” paige replies.

azzi turns her head at paige in surprise, “are you joking? we slept for that long?”

“i know right,” paige says, equally as shocked.

“i should probably get going then,” azzi says, beginning to get off the bed.

paige turns her head to azzi, “what? you don’t have to. it’s the middle of the night, azzi.”

“you want me to stay?”

paige looks away, flustered, “um, i didn’t say that. i’m just saying you’re allowed to stay if you want to. dorka’s probably at one of the girls’ room, so we have enough space.”

“alright then,” azzi nods, “do you have a shirt i can borrow? i hate sleeping in sweatshirts.”

“didn’t seem to have a problem with it earlier,” paige notes, “but yeah, i do.”

the blonde rises off her bed, scrambles in her messy closet, blocking it with her body to avoid azzi seeing the clutter. she pulls out an old USA basketball t-shirt that she figures azzi would be fine with.

“this good?” paige questions.

glancing at the shirt, azzi’s lips turn up, “that’s great. thanks, paige.”

she throws the shirt to azzi, who also pushes herself off the bed, easily catching it. paige exits the room, going to get more waters for the two of them. azzi lifts off her sweatshirt, tosses it to the ground when paige quickly returns.

paige nearly drops the bottles of water at the sight of azzi’s bare back. her eyes widen, her breath hitches. she wasn’t wearing a bra this entire time?

azzi pulls on the t-shirt paige kindly let her borrow, before turning around, noticing paige staring at her with her jaw dropped.

“i— i’m sorry…” paige stammers, shaking her head at herself.

azzi’s heart is basically beating out of her goddamn chest. she smiles gently, “you’re fine.”

paige finally moves from her spot at the door and places the bottles down. she stares at azzi, wondering if they’d continue to share the bed or if one of them would move to dorka’s.

azzi stares back at the older girl, thinking the same think but not voicing it.

eventually, paige breaks the silence. “i can sleep on dorka’s bed.” she walks over to the empty, made bed, slightly disappointed azzi isn’t protesting against it.

panic soon sets in for azzi, “what? no, it’s your bed, paige. you should sleep it in.”

“really, it’s fine, i don’t mind,” she lowers herself on the bed.

“paige, cmon. i’m not making you sleep in a different bed,” azzi argues.

“okay then..” paige says, confusion setting in.

azzi plops back onto paige’s bed, moving over so there’s enough room for the older girl, “just come back over here.”

paige’s cheeks blush against her will, a smirk settling on her face. “if you insist.”

the two girls get comfortable on the bed, legs touching ever so slightly.

“night,” azzi whispers.

“night, az.”

azzi, this time, is first to wake. paige is much, much closer to her than she had been when they first fell asleep. azzi suddenly feels an arm wrapped tightly around her waist that has her pulled practically flushed against paige’s body. paige’s hand is underneath azzi’s shirt, on her bare back. azzi allows herself to admire a sleeping paige for a quick moment.

she checks her phone— 8:30 in the morning. azzi carefully takes paige’s arm and places it gently on the bed, then crawls out of the warm bed, trying her best not to disturb the blonde.

with her phone in her hand, she glances back at paige, and exits the room.

later that day, in the afternoon, the entire uconn women’s basketball team is scattered in paige and dorka’s room. there’s players on both beds, on the small couch, on the floor. azzi is planted against paige’s bed, while paige is seated on the couch.

the team had been chatting about a variety of things when kk comes up with an idea for the girls.

“guys, we should play spin the bottle!” kk announces, loudly.

“what are we, 10?” paige scoffs, rolling her eyes at the game idea.

“cmon, p, don’t be blame. plus, i’m so bored,” kk whines.

“i’m down,” nika agrees.

“same, why not,” jana says.

soon, each player agrees to a game of spin the bottle, even though paige is convinced it’s a stupid idea. they all sit in a circle, tight enough so they’re all touching, due to the size of the dorm. kk places a bottle in the middle of the circle and gives it a gentle spin.

it lands on aubrey and lou. nika lets out a soft chuckle, causing aubrey to laugh as well.

“pucker up, lou lou,” aubrey smiles before swiftly placing a kiss on lou’s lips, not lasting more than 2 seconds.

the bottle is once again spun, fast this time. it lands on nika and jana, who smirk and touch lips.

paige shifts in her seating, silently wondering if the bottle would ever land on her. she doubts it.

kk gives the bottle a good spin, making it travel faster than before. paige anxiously watches the bottle, fidgeting with her fingers as nerves take over her body.

the first spin lands on azzi. oh jesus. whoever this next spin lands on should consider themselves lucky, paige thinks. she then takes in account that azzi still is wearing her USA basketball shirt.

it’s azzi’s turn for nerves to overpower her. her heart quickens, palms begin to sweat in anticipation for whoever she’s about to kiss.

the next spin seems to last an eternity. paige swears it goes in slow motion. but eventually, it points directly at the blonde.

azzi’s eyes practically bulge out of socket. her jaw drops as she locks eyes with paige, who looks equally as surprised.

ignoring the o’s and ah’s she receives from her teammates, paige makes her way over to the curly headed brunette, careful not to show how nervous she is to kiss azzi.

the older girl settles comfortably in front of azzi. her gaze roams azzi’s flushed face, which causes paige to smirk knowingly.

there is a heavy silence, the air between them electric, both eager and tentative. slowly, paige places her hand on azzi’s hot cheek, and leans in. when their lips finally brush, it was gentle— hesitant at first— but the warmth between them quickly grew, the kiss only deepening as both hearts speed up. a soft, trembling sigh escapes azzi’s mouth while paige’s deepens the kiss even further. she slips her tongue into the younger girl’s mouth, swirling and testing the waters.

after what feels like forever but not nearly enough, paige pulls away, disconnecting their lips. she removes her hand off azzi’s waist— which uncontrollably moved there from her cheek— and crawls back to her original spot, besides dorka and jana.

she glances back at azzi, who’s lips are pluffy and a darker shade of pink, while her cheeks are a softer pink.

the room continued to buzz with energy, the laughter of her teammates echoing from the game, but all paige could hear is the steady of her own heart. her pulse quickens when azzi meets her gaze, heat and want in her lingering eyes. for a moment, the noise of their friends fade away, leaving only the weight of a shared silence between the two.

the blonde didn’t take her focus off azzi. she didn’t smile, didn’t do or say anything. just watched.

azzi clears her throat, trying to act as casual as possible, but her hands betray her, nervously fiddling in her lap. she quickly flicks her eyes to the ground, but not before noticing paige’s lips twitch softly, as she was fighting off a grin.

then, without a word, paige turns her attention back to the silly game her teammates were continuing to play, yet azzi couldn’t shake the warmth in her chest or the growing electricity still intensely present between them.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #uconn wbb #nika muhl #uconn huskies #basketball #paige x azzi #fanfic #pazzi fics #paige buckets #fan fiction #uconn women’s basketball

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devourable · 2 years ago

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✘ delinquents

sfw | tws : yandere behavior; stalking, obsessive thoughts, mildly implied violence

delinquent male yanderes x reader! only pronoun used for reader is ‘you’ 😌 i took a bit longer than expected so i hope yall enjoy these knuckleheads

mattias was the first to take notice of you.

he caught sight of you during one of his typical late night walks with his friends, semi-drunkenly cracked jokes amongst themselves as they passed around liquor that they had stolen earlier in the day. and when his gaze fell onto you from some distance away, he stopped walking.

you were doing nothing but sitting at a bus stop, but... what was it about you? the way the street lamp bathed you in its light, illuminating you with an amber glow like you were the only thing on the street? it made the boy's heart stutter in a way he'd never felt before!

when his friends returned to his side upon noticing he had stopped walking, mattie quickly pointed you out to his friends ("guys, check out that cutie!"), and an additional three pairs of eyes landed on you as your bus rumbled down the road. and they all had the same reaction as him — you were adorable! what were you doing out on your own so late? didn’t you know there were criminals around here? poor little thing you were, you must’ve not had any other choice…

clearly, you needed someone to protect you!

they were too far away to approach then and there, but it was probably for the best. getting talked up by four drunk, imposing male strangers so late at night would probably not make the best first impression, one of them pointed out as they watches you board your bus. so completely unbeknownst to you, your four new admirers had already began to devise a plan to meet you formally.

it was strange how naturally their collective desire for you fell together. any other time, if even just two of them liked the same person, it was enough to cause infighting and strife among the friend group. but you? the way you united them simply by existing, you had to be something special! it must’ve been destiny that they noticed you that night.

the four would slowly trickle their way into your life, one by one. despite mattias begging to be the one to do it, dominic would be the first of the four you’d actually meet. in his eyes, he was the least intimidating, the most suave, the most manipulative. his charmingly crooked smile had always helped him charm his way into and out of most situations, and you were no different.

he’d casually start riding the same bus as you at the same times you did, using it as an excuse to talk to you. coincidentally, you and him had the same stops, too! and he even got the driver to give you free lifts, even when he wasn't around. it was an old favor he was owed, he'd say, so you didn't have to pay any mind to the tense demeanor of the bus driver whenever you boarded.

naturally he’d offer to walk you home, too, but if you weren’t comfortable with that, it was no biggie (he’d figure out where you lived regardless). he was content with waving you off and walking in a different direction for the meantime.

mattias and judas came next. when dom had managed to convince you to stop by the nearby corner store with him one day, his friends just so happened to be there! as if they weren’t waiting there every day after you and dom had established a friendship.

it was all mattias could do to not scoop you up the moment you met. you were even cuter up close! he was so happy when his patience was rewarded by being graced with your voice, your laughs at his witty sense of humor, and your little smile when you looked at him. did you like him back? did you think he was half as attractive as he found you to be? he desperately wanted to know what you thought of him, but he choked back his questions to keep from scaring you off. in spite of his usually energetic persona, he played it cool to gain your favor.

judas, meanwhile, observed you in relative silence — he wasn’t much of a talker, dom explained — but it didn’t mean his thoughts weren’t any less intense than mattias’s. he couldn’t deny it — he liked you, quite a lot. more than he thought he would. despite finding you attractive too, he didn’t think much of you when he had first grown aware of your existence. he’d simply chalked you up to be the temporary fixation of his friends. but the second you did meet, judas’s mind went to places he had never expected it to go.

for once, he found himself… wanting someone. wanting you. and for once, he was happy his friends had dragged them into this whole scheme.

the four of you all got along so well! and when aaron was finally introduced to you as well, he was no exception. aaron was the only of the four to have a car, so when he ‘learned’ that you were taking the bus so late to get around, he was quick to offer up his own services to help you out ("dom is too much of a nuisance to drive around," he'd claim). an excuse to be able to spend more time with you, with and without his friends around, and you don’t have to deal with public transportation anymore! a win-win, right? and when you accepted, he was over the moon.

it didn't take long for them to sweep you right off your feet after you had met all four of them. they were relentless in capturing your heart and all four of them worked together to ensure you were theirs.

on top of that, none of them were afraid of breaking a few rules or laws to do that, either.

you found yourself always with at least one of the four — usually mattias, as he had the most free time and arguably liked you the most — and the few times you weren't, you could bet they were doing everything in their power to get back to you. other people in your life suddenly began to pull away from you, never having time or simply not wanting to be around you, or so they claimed. it left you with little else to turn to outside of the boys. they had started to puppeteer your life without you ever even knowing it.

they didn't quite understand the pull you had on them — hell, you didn't even realize what you were doing to them! and they even started to question if what they were doing was okay. was what they were doing to your life just to keep you in theirs worth it?

but dominic, mattias, judas, and aaron all came to the same decision the day you agreed to be in a relationship with all four of them...

it was definitely worth it. and they'd keep doing whatever it took to keep things going exactly as they were.

#🚬 the delinquents #mattias callahan #aaron diaz #dominic graves #judas jones #mine | fics #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere boy #yandere x you #yandere x oc #polyam yanderes

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strwbrychffncake · 7 days ago

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"and so i drank one ,it became four ,and when i fell on the floor i drank more,, 2.4k words synopsis: lads men taking care of you when you're drunk contains: lads (separate) x drunk!reader ,f!reader (use she/her pronouns around + femme petnames) ,fluff, some drunk comfort ,completely self-indulgent (based on me when i drink so keep in mind) ,reader is a lightweight (lol) ,some suggestive dialogue but nothing happens its mostly teasing ,that might be it note: unedited! wrote after drinking myself so beware of typos lolol, this was written in honor of the new yrs :x

zayne

(implied) established relationship, you're at his place, doctor zayne mode activates, reader is pretty clingy, zayne gets you water, you get carried, you sleep in his bed, he hides the alcohol from you (lol???)

"it looks like someone overindulged themselves tonight."

"huuuuuh?"

you tilt your head, innocent eyes finding zayne's hard gaze.

"whad'y mean?"

coming home to see various alcohol bottles sprawled out across the kitchen counter, and a couple of empty bottles of some sweet mixed drinks you had sitting in the fridge for who knows how long was not something he expected after another long shift at the hospital.

he only sighs in response to your question, walking towards you to check you over before you cling to him.

"zayyyyne, missed you soooo much," you mumble, arms encircling around one of his tugging him closer.

"you're drunk."

you burst into a fit of giggles before refuting.

"no im nottt."

"just how much did you drink this time?"

you think it over for a long moment before deciding on your answer.

"just a little," you emphasize by holding your index and thumb fingers up, a small distance in between them.

zayne leans towards you, hand rising to rest on your forehead.

"how do you feel?"

"my head feels like its going to fall off...." suddenly your expression morphs into one of worry, and your eyes water as you look up pleadingly at zayne.

"it won't fall off, will it doctor?? its so heavy, it feels like its going to fall off...."

"no, its not going to fall off," he reassures pointedly, drawing his hand back in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose.

"really????"

you look up at him, eyes wide and hopeful, and when he looks back down at you he can't help but to pat your head.

"really. now, let me examine you further."

you give a short nod, small giggles escaping your lips as he gives you a good once-over, dragging his index finger across your line of vision (noticing how you quickly lose focus and laugh instead) and taking note of your hazy, half-lidded eyes.

"my diagnosis is that you're drunk."

"i'm nooot," you whine.

"i'm going to get you some water, and then you'll get some rest."

you let out an involuntary yawn, proving his point before he stands up and turns towards the kitchen.

"i'll be right back," he says, but only manages a single step before you latch onto his hand with both of yours.

"don't leave," you whine, looking up at him again with those wide, tearful eyes.

seriously, how much did you drink????

"i'm only grabbing some water for you. i'll be back in a moment."

with that, he takes off, leaving you to giggle to yourself for a moment before calling out to him.

"zayne.... zayyyyne.... come baaaaack............ where did you gooooo?"

he's back in under a minute, and you're quick to cling to him once he's back in your sight.

"zaaaaaaayne!"

"let's get you to bed."

"carry me?" you ask, reaching your arms up as your lips curl up cutely.

he sighs before promptly reaching down for you.

"it seems this particular patient requires plenty of rest given the way she's acting."

with those words, he lifts you up with ease, carrying you bridal style towards your shared room, quickly noticing the way you almost seem to go limp in his arms by the time he gets to the bed.

you already managed to fall asleep?

after he tucks you in, he makes sure to hide every liquor bottle properly while making a mental note to tell him when you wanted to drink so that he could make sure to be with you when you did.

even if your drunk self was a handful, he thought you were still quite cute.

who knew you were such an easily amused drunk?

xavier

established relationship, out together before he takes you to his place, sleepy!reader (+ xav), he gives you water, affectionate!reader moment, he changes you (freak mode is not activated), cuddling

tonight, the hunter's association went out drinking to celebrate a particularly grueling mission that turned into a success.

while neither you or xavier drank much, you decided to indulge just a little given the nature of the mission.

though, despite xavier's warning for you to not overdo it, he watches as you down your second drink as he sips on his water, already preparing himself for the trouble you'll be causing later.

which leads to now, supporting you (almost like half-carrying you) as he unlocks and leads you through the entrance of his apartment.

"ah, im so.. sleepy...."

"yes, me too. the sooner we get you in, the sooner we can get to bed," he reassures.

you're led to his sofa, falling back into the cushions as he runs off to retrieve water from his fridge for you.

when he comes back, your eyes are closed.

he bends himself to your level, nudging your cheek with his finger.

"hey, don't fall asleep before drinking some water."

"head hurts.." you mumble.

"the water will help, come on."

he opens it for you, pushing it towards your lips.

they part, and he takes the opportunity to tilt the bottle slightly, hydrating you himself.

after ten seconds, he pulls it back, wiping a stray droplet from the corner of your lips before screwing the lid back on.

"why would you drink so much when you can't handle it at all?"

you chuckle at this, and he sighs.

"come on, let's get to bed, i'm tired too."

"sleepy time," you mumble as he grabs your hand and helps you to your feet, steadying you with both his hands.

"sleepy time indeed," he nods once, leading you to his bedroom.

right at the doorway, you suddenly wrap your arms around him, planting sleepy kisses across his cheek.

"oh?"

xavier is stunned for a moment but accepts the drunken affection, wry smile forming on his lips.

you pull away to look at him.

"you're so pretty," you sigh, gaze faraway yet almost enchanted by him.

he laughs at this.

"come on, lets get to bed already."

he helps you shed your outer clothes before ridding of his own, pulling one of his sweaters over your head as he pulls on sweatpants, tugging you to fall into the mattress with him.

he hugs you close, planting a kiss on your head, then your cheek, your nose, and then your lips as your breaths even out.

"sleep well, my lovely star."

rafayel

implied established relationship, whiny!reader, teasing!raf, he calls you "cutie," you're at his studio/home

truth be told, rafayel loved when you got like this.

since you didn't drink often, it was quite the treat for him to see you as clingy and needy as he felt for you on a daily basis.

"raaaaaaaaf," you whined.

"yes, cutie?"

you hugged him.

"'s so hot," you breathed out, slumping beside him.

he laughed.

"but i opened the window to let the sea breeze in awhile ago, isn't it working?"

you pout, shaking your head before quickly regretting it, laying it back down against his shoulder.

"not at all."

"you poor thing," he said half-teasing, reaching his free hand out to pat your head.

"raf."

"hm?"

"rafayel."

"yes?"

"ra-fa-yeeeeel."

he broke into a wide smile.

"need somethin', cutie?"

"jus' like your name," you mumbled.

"oh? really?"

"mhm."

"well, i like yours more."

"nope."

"mhm."

"no."

"do too."

suddenly, you reach for his hand.

you tug it towards you before beginning to trace his fingers.

"are you a fortune teller now or something?

he maneuvers his hand so that his fingers intertwine with yours.

"too bad, looks like you can't see it anymore."

you giggle at him.

"stay like this?" your words come out as a question.

"there's nothing i'd want more," he answers, heart full at the satisfied smile on your face before cuddling into him once more.

sylus

relationship can be seen as established or not tbh, he calls you "kitten" several times, incorrect use of evol? (but its to save reader from falling lol), you get carried, he comforts you

sylus walks into the kitchen as you step out, taking note of the various alcoholic beverage cans and bottles across the counter.

"having a party without me, kitten?"

you shake your head.

"no, no," you smile. "jus' needed t' grab som'ing" you manage to slur out, headed towards the stairs.

he watches you as you begin making your way up some stairs before you stumble.

before you can even register that you're falling, black and red tendrils wrap around your body, catching you with ease.

your airy laughs fill the room, uncaring of you almost falling down the stairs, the feeling of the tendrils circling your waist and thighs almost electrifying against your sensitive skin.

"s-s-sylus! aha! tickles, hahaha-!"

the man in question half grins at your reaction, none the wiser to the surge of panic you just caused him.

in no time at all, he's beside you, tendrils gently uncurling from you as he looks down at you.

"such a clumsy kitten," he shakes his head. "what will i do with you?"

you're still swaying slightly, blinking up at him, and he doesn't wait for an answer that you may or may not give before hauling you over his shoulder, causing a surprised sound and you erupting into another fit of giggles.

he holds you securely, making his way towards his room with you, the pleasant sound of your amused laughs his favorite melody.

he passes by luke and kieran, asking them to do away with the beverages that are still out on the counter.

"is she... alright?" luke asks out of concern.

"oh, she's just fine. it seems a little kitten can't hold her liquor very well," he shakes his head.

after they leave (you waving at them as they disappear into the distance) sylus feels you shiver against him.

"cold?"

"so cold..."

"don't worry, kitten," he begins, pushing the door to his room open. "you'll be warmed up in no time."

he wastes no time gently dropping you into bed, watching as you bounce slightly on the mattress, a pleased sound escaping you as you waste no time to get under the covers.

"are you alright?" he asks, head tilted and concern lacing his tone.

you nod before you frown.

"stomach hurts...."

"my poor kitten."

sylus quickly turns out the light, settling beside you as his large hand comes up to rub over your belly.

you curl into him, pleased grin stretching across your lips, and without realizing it, you've drifted off in sylus comfort and warmth.

he doesn't know how long he stays by your side, gaze fixed on your sleeping face as he continues soothing the spot of pain, but he knows that in this moment, there's nowhere he'd rather be.

caleb

implied established relationship, slight suggestive remarks, worried!caleb, caleb teasing you

when you stumble your way through the front entrance of your home, the first thing you're met with is caleb, hands crossed over his chest as he stares down at you, unamused.

before you can greet him, he speaks up.

"do you have any idea what time it is?"

your eyes slowly shift up to his, and you can't help but to burst into a fit of giggles.

"hiiii," you drag out once your laughing begins to subside.

caleb stares down at you for a moment, taking in your slightly disheveled state and your lack of comeback, hardened expression softening just slightly.

"are you.... drunk?"

you burst into giggles again as you deny his accusation.

"not at alllll," you deny, swaying side to side.

"ok, you're literally just lying."

you move to take another step but somehow stumble right into caleb, who quickly wraps his arms around you.

"what the hell did you drink, pipsqueak?"

"dunno..." you trail off, closing your eyes, feeling comforted by caleb's embrace.

"'m dizzy.. so sleepy...."

"ok, let me just get you to your room first, yeah?"

you nod, allowing yourself to be led by caleb to your bedroom.

you make it quickly, not without a few more stumbles, mostly leaning on caleb's large frame for support as you're led to sit down in your desk chair.

"ok, wait here, i'll be right back."

when he leaves your gaze lingers around your room, darting across the shelves and decorations as if its unfamiliar before you slump down in the chair.

you sway side to side for a bit before you allow yourself to slip down further, sinking down down down until you're splayed out on the soft carpet.

just as you make yourself comfortable, hurried footsteps get closer and enter through the doorway.

"ok, i'm back, i have-"

caleb pauses, staring down at you before his eyes crease in amusement.

"pipsqueak, what are you doing on the floor?"

"'s comfy," you answer, grabbing a nearby plushie (that caleb won for you) and hugging it to your chest. "wanna sleep here."

"well, you can't."

"why?"

"because your bed is right there."

"don' wanna get up..." you whine, eyes shut and curling up comfortably.

he sets down the water and medicine bottles he brought in on your bedside table before his attention is on you again.

"making me do the work like usual, huh?"

you don't have time to try and process the underlying meaning of his words before you feel yourself being lifted, erupting into laughs at the action before you're tossed onto your bed, bouncing against the mattress before you're settled, amusement still circulating the room.

"caleb!"

you're looking at him through your creased eyes, half closed as you slowly recover from your fit, watching as he shrugs, teasing smile playing at his lips.

"you said you couldn't get up, so i helped you."

when the giggles subside, you're both staring at each other for awhile before caleb breaks his gaze away.

"ok, you should really sleep now. do you need anything else before i go?"

"you?"

your answer comes out so simply, so honestly, that it catches him off guard, stuck in momentary shock when you speak up again.

"sleep with me," you pat the side of your bed.

he recovers from his shock at these words, smirk breaking out.

"oh? really, pipsqueak?"

"caleeeeb," you whine.

he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

"kidding, kidding," he closes the distance, standing right at the side of the bed.

"you sure you want me to sleep with you?"

"yes," you say, grabbing his hand.

"ok, ok, let me just get the light first."

he switches the light off, making his way back over before being tugged into bed by your eager pull.

even after he falls into the mattress with an oof, he quickly settles in before teasing you again.

"you sure you don't have any ulterior motives in pulling me into bed with you this time?"

when you don't pipe up again, he takes a look to see you having already dozed off.

he sighs, hand reaching up to cup and caress your cheek.

"sleep well, my pipsqueak. i'll be sure to punish you for worrying me so much tomorrow," he whispers his promise into the night, sealing with a kiss to the corner of your lips before slipping his eyes shut.

with you safe and secure in his arms, he could finally fall asleep peacefully tonight.

a/n: writing this after drinking hehe... i want to write more detailed (maybe full fics) of lads x drunk!reader but wrote these little imagines up for nowwww... i would like them all to dote on me but i think im quite funny in this state hehe -

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sundew199 · 2 months ago

Text

First Time w/ Luffy and Zoro

a/n: this was an anon request from the beginning of October, hope you enjoy and thank you for the request! ♡

Tags: Luffy x f!reader, Zoro x f!reader, first times, oral f!recieving, fingering, smut, aftercare, fluff

Luffy

you're first time with Luffy was somewhat unconventional. And not in the sense that was bad or unenjoyable, more on the lines of unexpected and very spur of the moment.

A party had been thrown that night, lots of drinking, laughing, and pestering, your captain celebrating another victory over taking down an unfair/unjust ruler of an island.

His smile lit up the party in the town square, so joyful and carefree, childlike but not innocent, one of the many reason you held such strong romantic feelings for the captain. It wouldn't be fair to call what you and him had a relationship, neither of you minded, seeing as he had a goal to meet and a crew to run, but he was there for you when you needed him and vice versa.

Luffy was stumbling back to his cabin when he spotted you talking to Robin and Nami, slurring the request to help him find more booze somewhere on the ship. You giggled drunkenly as you stood, coyly waving to the other two ladies who kept you company as you sauntered off to join your captain.

Neither of you found what you were looking for, and honestly you didn't expect that to happen in the first place, not when your drunken stupor began a churn of lust and want in your stomach just walking alone down the hallway to wherever.

"Luffy..."

"Yea?"

Both of you were frozen where you stood, gazing at each other with hazy vision and wondering how to proceed next. Deep down you hoped Luffy wanted you like you wanted him, but wasn't keen on ruining what the two of you already had by confessing.

"I think I have some booze in my room, we could grab that." Suggesting with a smirk, Luffy not picking up on the underlying meaning of your words, or maybe he did and you were just too gone to notice.

"Oh right, I remember seeing it last time we were in there, good call."

Taking your hand and his and stumbling down the other way from where you were going to your room. Excitement and anticipation swelled and burned throughout your body, coming up with a loose plan for once the two of you were alone.

The door shut softly, followed by the click of the lock, Luffy rummaging through your stuff to find the booze, muttering under his breath and pulling a giggle from you. Your captain may not always be the most sound of mind person, but when he set a goal to something, he would complete it.

"Luffy"

Barely whispering his name again, standing behind him at a distance, your cheeks flared with heat when he popped up to look at you, a sly drunk smile across his face, nerves tingling as you took a step closer. Your hands moved faster than your lips, grasping the side of his face and locking your lips together. He didn't kiss back immediately, stunned by the boldness of your actions, but eventually succumbing to the warmth and softness pressed to him.

Slow unhurried drunk kisses continued as both of you gained more confidence with your actions, Luffy running his hands up from your hips to your ribs, tracing your torso and stomach as he stood there and kissed you.

Arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, humming into the kisses eventually and allowing him to back peddle towards the bed, guiding you to sit on his lap. Everything was so hazy, time was dragging but going by fast at the same time it was incomprehensible for either of you.

Eventually you found yourself pinned to the bed with nothing on, Luffy running his lips and tongue down your heated skin, reaching down between your legs and peppering your inner thighs in bites and kisses. You would've never thought of him to be so attentive, so purposeful with his touches. It was all bliss, arching to his featherlight touches and later writhing from the heat of his mouth on your cunt.

For a man who liked to eat more than the average person, it shouldn't have surprised you how Luffy absolutely devoured your cunt, not even letting up after your first orgasm, instead taking it on as a challenge and working his tongue and fingers in and around you.

When you couldn't take anymore, you whined his name so prettily and huffed out the plea for him to fuck you, needing to be filled and quell the ache of emptiness. Luffy laughed and shed the rest of his clothes, distracting you with a kiss as he lined himself up, swallowing your moan and gasp as the tip of his cock pushed past the tight ring of muscle.

The stretch was satisfying, delightful almost from how perfect it felt as you weren't given a chance to see anything from his distraction, you welcomed it nonetheless. His breath fanned over your face once he began to move, holding back the sounds of pleasure and bliss which appeared so obvious and blatantly on his face.

"Luffy, god Luffy."

Moaning to him, threading your fingers into the back of his hair and pulling down for a kiss. The world was fading behind you, into the background the only thing that you could focus on was the feel of your captain above you.

So much could be said, but it was uncertain if you should confess the deep affection you felt for him, even though Luffy was thrusting in and out of you at a pleasant rhythm, the conversation you desired to have instantly forgotten with the brush along the deepest part of you.

Arching off the bed with a whine, Luffy chuckled and latched onto your neck, sucking a welt that would be red and purplish and somehow that sent another rush of arousal down to your cunt, clenching around him.

"Damn, d-do that again,"

Stuttering a little as he spoke, faltering in his pace a little and giving an indication that he might be close. Both of you were still loopy from the alcohol, a faint buzz running along side the lust throughout your beings.

Clenching around him again, Luffy buried his face into your neck, increasing his thrusts to chase the impending reward that was his release, your nails digging into his scalp along with your face pressing into his hair to muffle the sweet sound of your moans.

Silence overtook the room, but not completely, the sound of skin meeting skin in a frenzy disturbed the air, adding the weight of mutual longing and affection. Luffy managed to bring himself off of your neck just enough to messily kiss you, groaning into your lips and pressing harder when his hips finally still and the rush of warmth came to fill the emptiness inside you.

For an extended moment, neither of you moved, looking each other in the eyes almost blankly, but not empty like one could assume if they were witnesses to the entire interaction.

Luffy finally pulled himself out, briefly looking at the mess created between your legs, lazily smiling and then looking back up at you, like he were proud of the result. Neither of you had the energy to get up and properly clean yourself, falling into each other's embrace on your bed and staring at the ceiling.

"Should we talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

Luffy's response should've been expected, but you still laughed a little at the obliviousness, whether it was on purpose or not.

"Well about us and what just happened." Sitting up to get a better look at him, the bed sheet held up to your chest to give you a bit of decency, Luffy shuffling to prop himself up on an elbow.

"What's there to talk about, I like you, in a different way than the rest of the crew, ya know?"

A nod offered as part of your response, leaning closer to gently kiss his lips and hold the side of his face. Maybe this were a sign to not rush whatever it was between you and your captain, enjoy the steadiness of what you had already.

"Yea, I like you too, a lot."

Zoro

you're first time with Zoro was almost anticipated, by you at least, happening during one of his training sessions you were sitting in on, a gloomy rainy afternoon. Zoro had recently just confessed his feelings, asking you if you'd like to be his girlfriend in the sweetest and most awkward way, he reminded you so much of a lovesick kid the way he kind of stumbled over his words then. Of course you said yes, and three or so months later you found yourself pinned to the mat by your wrists, held by your head in his sweaty hands.

Earlier during his training session you'd been teasing him with little remarks, sexual innuendos more like and the frustration had built rather quickly inside him, warning you with a chuckle and dead lifting the comically large barbell from the floor.

"That mouth is going to get you in trouble at some point."

Remarking as he let the barbell crash back down to the floor, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and twisting to face you.

"By who? You?"

Shooting back with a knowing smile, swinging your legs back and forth on the bench seat by the window, easing the grip you had on the wood edge of the seat.

"Maybe not me, but someone who may not like you as much as I do."

You laughed a little, watching his back muscles tense as he bent back over to retrieve the barbell at his feet, hearing the large intake of air he took before lifting it from the ground. Watching Zoro train was a new light of attractiveness, and god did it make you so needy. But not enough for you to make the first move, unfortunately.

Zoro did though, having been thinking about taking you for the first time long before he confessed his feelings. With you being so obvious, despite knowing you were unaware, Zoro dropped the barbell again and sauntered over to you, leaning over just enough to kiss you suddenly while holding the sides of your face. You tasted so sweet, so divine it was like drinking sake from heaven, only better. Your confidence grew after a moment of kissing him, standing up and walking him backwards and away from the bench, almost succeeding until he flipped while standing still and laying you down on the mat.

A switch had flipped in Zoro's brain, the taste of your skin flooding his mind with a fog that guided all his actions, letting his hands roam as if this weren't the first time he were taking his time in feeling the dips and curves of your body. You started to squirm and that's when he pinned your wrists with his hands, eventually moving to hold both of them with one hand above your head as he needed at least one to please you.

No words were spoken between you two, caught up in your respective wants and letting your body do the speaking per se. Your clothes were gone in a matter of minutes, the humid damp air of the crow's nest clinging to the sweat beading on your skin, adding to the intensity. Zoro's lips dragged down your sterum, kissing all around your stomach and leaving long stripes with his tongue and you were falling deeper and deeper into bliss.

"Spread your legs?"

Suddenly hearing his rasp of a question, lifting your head enough to see and feel his free hand dancing along your inner thighs, ticking the skin to goosebumps, filling your gut with anticipation.

Following his command, letting your head fall back onto the mat, you gasped at the single thick finger barely prodding your entrance, gathering the slick to better help push its way in. Zoro soothed you with a kiss to your inner thigh, occupying his mouth there as he pushed his middle finger all the way in, groaning at how tight you were. You moaned as quietly as you could at the slow pump, the sensation of his single finger prepping and stretching you for what was to come, running hot underneath your skin.

A second finger was added and your back arched off the mat, a leg thrown over his shoulder and the grip his hand still had on your wrist tightened. His speed increased as well, impatience taking over and wanting to replace his fingers with his cock. He sighed for you to cum, promising himself to let you reach an orgasm before allowing himself to be selfish.

Thick fingers squelching in a and out of your pussy helped you reach one faster than excepted, clenching down on them and tossing your head side to side as a gush of arousal came from your cunt onto Zoro's hand. He cleaned the fingers off himself, making sure you could see, and also subtly distracting you as he freed his cock from it's confines, sliding it between your folds.

Zoro's hand loosened around your wrists, holding the side of your face as he pushed into you, groaning into a kiss and doing his best not to end his first time with you too quickly. You were grappling onto him, bending to meet his sweaty skin with yours, clawing at the back of his hair as he sunk in inch by inch.

God he was thick, thankful for the prep beforehand, allowing you to relax all the way after he bottomed out. Zoro kept his mouth busy with yours, inhaling into each kiss in time with his thrusts, starting out measured and slow to keep from hurting you.

But you felt so good, so tight and warm, Zoro couldn't help the change of pace and snapping of his hips, holding you tight and close as he stretched you open on his cock.

Everything felt fuzzy, taking a moment to let it all soak in, the sound of his skin colliding with yours, his soft grunts into your neck and the grip of his hand on the back of your neck. You never set expectations with your first time with Zoro, but if you did, they would've certainly been exceeded.

"Shit, oh fuck baby-"

Coming off of your neck to press his forehead to yours, scrunching his entire face, moving his hips faster and faster, giving you the signs that he was close. You whined and locked your ankles around him, grabbing him another kiss as he continued to ram into that certain spot deep inside you, bringing you both close to the end.

Zoro came with a vocal groan, clinging to you with what little energy he had left, sweating even more than before. You came maybe a second after him, shuttering from the waves of euphoria cascading throughout. It took a minute for either of you to move, tired but also relishing in these last moments of having sex together for the first time, cherishing it sort of.

"Here, let me."

After disconnecting from you, Zoro grabbed a rag from one of the shelves in the crow's nest, sitting back on his feet as he gently ran it over the sticky residue on your inner thighs. Leaning back on your palms, you watched, admiring how careful he was being and the diligence behind wanting to clean you completely.

Tossing the rag into the bin, Zoro fell down to lay beside you, using one arm to grab you and lay you across his chest. You squealed delightfully, laughing in time with his chuckle and kissing his lips in a small peck.

"Does this count as getting in trouble with 'that mouth' of mine?"

Quoting him from earlier, watching the way his features softened with amusement and giving a small disapproving shake to your question.

"Nah, you won't have to worry about getting in trouble with me, unless you want to."

Holding the back of your head and kissing the tip of your nose, another chuckle rumbling in his chest and he brought you to tuck your head into the side of his neck, presumably for a nap, a reward for such a rigorous training session.

#monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #luffy x reader #luffy x you #one piece luffy #op luffy #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #zoro x you #zoro x reader #op zoro #one piece zoro #one piece

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