#and then insisted on opening/closing the passenger side door of his car

[nico-di-genova]

WAITT are pato and alex going to get together in a lesson in breaking because.. idk they're just so dear to me <3 i originally thought he might end up witu david, but honestly david seems more like a little brother he forcefully adopted

…maybe 🤭

Like, eventually yes, but also it’s so far down the line tbh. I just like working seven hundred steps ahead. But yes, their plot line is outlined and happening.

And yeah, David’s 100% just the little bro he’s forcefully bringing to the function. They’re fighting for control of the aux chord and have so many inside jokes that Esteban’s sitting in the backseat of that car feeling increasingly confused.

Anyway, I like to think of the Alex/Pato dynamic in alib as something like this:

[rayhalloffame]

!NSFW! Minors DNI***

Older boyfriend art picking you up from the bar when you’re drunk mhm mhm

He’s watching you stumble toward the parking lot, head tucked into your phone in what looks like following directions to where his phone is pinging his location. Normally he’d scold you for not being aware of your surroundings, but he’s got his eye on you and is amused, so he’ll let it slide.

He’s leaning against the hood of his truck, arms crossed over his chest and mouth tilted in a grin. When you can see the proximity on your screen you look up, about to scan your surroundings but he’s right in front of you. Your face breaks out into a large smile and art is helpless but to reciprocate.

You shuffle the rest of the distance, falling against him when his arms unfold and come around you. “Hi, baby,” you greet, looking up at him through your heavy lids. You pucker your lips up at him, humming against his mouth when he leans down to meet you.

He moves a hand to push your hair back from your face. “Hi, angel. Did you have fun?” He chuckles when you ignore him, leaning up on your tippy toes insisting he give you more kisses. He indulges you, as he always does, until you’re pushing your hips against him. He halts your movements with a squeeze to your waist. “Behave,” he chides, inches from your face. It makes you want to challenge him but he’s already steering you towards the passenger door.

He buckles your seat belt when you’re in the car, kissing the side of your neck when he leans. His hand is on your thigh the minute he has himself buckled into the driver’s seat and shifts into gear. The warmness of his palm on your bare thigh makes you squeeze your legs together.

You gaze over at him while he drives, the perfect angles of his face, the tightness of the gray sweatshirt over his chest, the veins protruding from his hand gripping the wheel. You become overwhelmed. “You’re so beautiful,” you say dreamily. You reach out to trace across his jaw with your fingers.

It makes the corner of his mouth twitch. He moves his hand from your thigh to grasp yours, pulls your intwined fingers to his lips and presses a soft kiss. “Thank you, baby,” he says, words drawn out and saccharine sweet. The rest of the ride home you’re squirming in your seat, the effects of the alcohol making it almost impossible to keep your hands to yourself. Your hand is so close to his mouth, you have to stop yourself from sticking your fingers inside to rest against his tongue.

You do, however, follow those impulses the minute you’re through the front door. Art is surprised to have the pads of two of your fingers exploring the inside of his mouth, but he allows it, licks and sucks.

You draw in a drunken breath, whisper almost so quiet that he strains to hear. “Need your tongue.” He pulls your wrist so your fingers pop out of his mouth and he seeks for your lips. He has a hand on your ass pressing you against him. You’re kissing him so sloppily he has to chase your tongue that seems to run outside the boundaries of his lips. A hand at the back of your skull keeps you where he wants you.

He guides you back until the backs of your knees brush the couch, falling into a sit. Art gets on his knees in front of you, pulls your heels off and kisses each ankle. He kisses a path up your calves, knees, inner thighs. He licks the flat of his hot tongue up your sopping center, right over your thong.

“Naughty,” he says, pressing a thumb to your clothed clit and you whine. “Your skirt is so short I bet everyone in that bar was trying to get a look at you under here.” He pulls your panties to the side, strokes his thumb between your folds. You whimper about wanting him, needing him, and he dives in.

His large hands are holding your thighs apart while he eats you. His tongue circles your clit, fucks into your opening right where you need him. He adds a finger and then two, pumping into your cunt rapidly. You’re keening, rambling, making no sense. He flicks his tongue rapidly against you, looking up at the way your eyes scrunch with the focus of reaching your release.

It takes him a second to hear you begging to kiss him. You’re so loud now, you could be blubbering. He keeps pace with his fingers but he does come to a tall kneel in front of you. Your mascara has started to run. “C’mere, pretty girl,” he beckons. You push yourself toward him, hunching forward so you can lick into his mouth in desperation.

You hold your foreheads together when focusing on the coordination of your tongue becomes too tedious. You have a grip on the back of his neck. You’re grunting into his face with the rhythm of his fingers. He’s pumping one, two, three more times before you let go. Art talks your through it, all “yeah, give it to me” and “gone all dumb on my fingers”. He kisses your slack mouth, then pulls himself from your grasp to dip down and taste you. He smirks in satisfaction when you hiss at the overstimulation.

Then he’s standing, sitting next to you and unbuckling his pants. He’s going to have you ride him until your legs grow exhausted, already weak from dancing and cumming on his fingers. And then he’s going to make you cum again.

[lilacwants]

casual.

18+ notes: this song tugs at my heart like no other... i love chappell so much :'( summary: you said, "baby, no attachment" but we're knee-deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out, is it casual now? warnings: a little angsty, mature/explicit content, homelander being homelander. word count: 1.6k

You’d always known that getting involved with Homelander was a dangerous game. From the very first moment you laid eyes on him, his charm had been undeniable, but so was the sense of danger that accompanied every smile, every touch. The problem was, that you couldn’t resist the pull. He was intoxicating, a deadly cocktail of power and allure that you couldn't escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

It all started casually enough, or at least that’s what you told yourself. A chance meeting at a charity gala, a few drinks, some flirtatious banter. But the connection was immediate and intense. Homelander— John, as he insisted you call him in private — had a way of making you feel like the centre of the universe, his blue eyes piercing through to your soul.

“Sweetheart, no attachment,” he’d whispered in your ear one night after a particularly passionate encounter. “This is just…casual.”

You’d nodded, even as your heart sank a little. You’d agreed to his terms because, let’s face it, who wouldn’t want even a piece of Homelander’s attention? But as the weeks passed, the lines between casual and something more started to blur.

One night, after a particularly late Vought meeting, he’d picked you up, taking you for a drive in his sleek black SUV. The city lights blurred past as you sat in the passenger seat, his hand resting on your thigh. The tension between you was palpable, the kind that made your skin tingle and your breath hitch.

“John, this isn’t exactly what I’d call casual,” you murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh.

He glanced over at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Why? Because you’re in my car?”

“No,” you replied, leaning closer. “Because you’re taking me out in public, letting people see us together. Doesn’t seem very ‘no attachment’ to me.”

He pulled over to the side of the road, turning off the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You're overthinking this, sweetheart,” he whispered before pulling you into a deep, bruising kiss.

The next thing you knew, you were knee-deep in the passenger seat, your dress hiked up around your waist, and John was eating you out with a fervour that made your head spin. His hands gripped your thighs, his tongue working it’s magic, but all you could think was, is it casual now?

A few weeks later, you found yourself being introduced to his close friends from Vought, a move that surprised you. They welcomed you with open arms, treating you like part of the group. As you sipped champagne and laughed at their stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a fling.

One evening, after a particularly long day, John showed up at your door with takeout and a bottle of wine. He looked exhausted, but his eyes lit up when he saw you. You spent the night on the couch, eating, drinking, and talking about everything and nothing.

“John, this doesn’t feel casual,” you said softly, your head resting on his shoulder.

He sighed, wrapping an arm around you. “Why does it have to be anything more than what it is?”

“Because I need to know where I stand,” you replied, looking up at him. “I need to know if I’m just another distraction for you or if this means something.”

He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Sweetheart, I told you from the beginning that I don’t do attachments.”

“I know,” you said, your voice trembling. “But this doesn’t feel like no attachment to me.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Let’s just enjoy what we have,” he murmured. “No labels, no expectations.”

You wanted to argue, but the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his words melted your resolve. For now, you would take what you could get, even if it meant pretending this was enough.

Over the next few months, your relationship continued to evolve in ways you never expected. John was still adamant about keeping things casual, but his actions spoke louder than his words. He introduced you to more of his colleagues, took you on romantic getaways and even started leaving some of his things at your apartment.

It was hard being casual when your favourite bra lived in his dresser. You really, really tried to be the chill girlfriend, the one who held her tongue and gave him space. But to be honest, you weren’t and you didn’t even want to be one. Doubts were eating at your chest and you always felt a pang of hurt when he reminded you things between the two of you were simply casual. Nothing more.

You tried to ignore the nagging thoughts that crept into your mind during quiet moments. You tried to be satisfied with what you had, even as you found yourself wanting more. Every time he kissed you, a part of you couldn’t help but feel the anger simmering beneath the surface. He said it was casual, so why did it feel so much deeper?

“I’m just a girl that you bang on your couch, aren't I?” you blurted out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. “I thought you thought of me better. I thought I meant something to you.”

He looked at you, taken aback by your sudden outburst. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

“You said, ‘We’re not together,’” you continued, tears streaming down your face. “So now when we kiss, i jut feel so bitter. I don’t want to be just another fling to you, John. I want to mean something.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered. “I care about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

“Then why can’t you just admit that this is more than casual?” you demanded, pulling back to look at him. “Why can’t you admit that you love me?”

“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’m scared of losing you, of getting too close and having it all fall apart.”

You took a deep breath, wiping away your tears. “I’m scared too, John. But we can’t keep pretending that this is nothing. We can’t keep lying to ourselves.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hope. “You’re right. I don’t want to lose you, sweetheart. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“Then let’s stop pretending,” you said softly. “Let’s stop hiding and start being honest with each other.”

From that moment on, everything changed. John was still the same intense, powerful man you’d fallen for, but there was a new softness to him, a willingness to open up and let you in. He started spending more time at your apartment, making it clear that he considered it home. You began to make plans for the future, talking about where you wanted to live, and the things you wanted to do together.

One warm evening, as you walked along the pier hand in hand, he stopped and turned to you, a serious look in his eyes. “Sweetheart, I want you to know something.”

“What is it?” you asked, your heart racing.

“I’m in love with you,” he said simply. “I know I haven’t said it before, but it’s true. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Tears filled your eyes as you smiled up at him. “I love you too, John. So much.”

He pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply as the sun set behind you. At that moment, everything felt perfect. For the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

As the months turned into years, your relationship continued to grow stronger. You moved into his luxurious penthouse, now filled with love and laughter. John was still the same hero the world adored, but to you, he was just John—the man who held your heart.

But as you settled into your new life together, there were moments of doubt. Homelander’s public persona often clashed with the man you knew in private. There were times when his temper flared, when his need for control threatened to overshadow everything else. You had arguments, some more intense than others, but each time, he would come back, apologizing, promising to do better.

One particularly bad night, he came home late, his face a mask of anger and frustration. “Sweetheart, why can’t you just understand that I’m trying?”

You stood your ground, your eyes glossy. “John, I do understand. But you can’t keep shutting me out whenever things get tough.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” he snapped, his eyes blazing.

“Then what do you call this?” you demanded, gesturing to the space between you. “We’re supposed to be in this together.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

He nodded, pulling you into his arms. “I love you. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“And you won’t,” you whispered, holding him tightly. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

The road ahead wasn’t easy, but you faced it together. With time, you learned to navigate the complexities of your relationship, finding a balance between the man he was and the hero the world needed. You built a life filled with love, trust, and understanding, knowing that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them side by side.

In the end, love was anything but casual. It was messy, complicated, and beautiful. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that no matter what, this man held your heart in the palm of his hand. You will always love him, as Homelander or as John. You just can't help it.

[babydollmarauders]

SWEETEST GIFT — LUKE HUGHES

luke hughes x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Luke gives y/n the sweetest gift, resulting in an eventful christmas night

warnings: anxiety, NSFW CONTENT, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v (protected). (5k words)

notes: merry christmas and welcome to the final day of kinkmas! i hope you’ve all enjoyed these past 12 days and that everyone has a wonderful holiday! this is the longest fic of them all because apparently i’m actually incapable of writing a short luke smut…

i’m late.

it’s arguably the most important date so far in my relationship, and i’m late.

i don’t mean to be, obviously; the last thing i wanna do is make a bad first impression on my boyfriend’s teammates, but under the circumstances, it was completely out of my control.

i told my family several times that i needed to be out the door by four o’clock, and i thought they understood that. but then christmas breakfast turned into christmas brunch and gifts were opened late and then my mother insisted i stayed until my little cousins arrived and i still had to get changed and it was a chaotic mess all the way until i got out the door.

at five o’clock.

an entire hour later than i was supposed to leave.

so now here i am, having driven barefoot to my boyfriends apartment and only just now pulling my boots on, messy bun unreasonably… messy, and his gift having fallen onto the floor of my car after some definite traffic law violations in order to arrive as quick as possible.

once my boots are zipped securely on my feet, i’m leaning almost entirely over the center console, my hand patting at the passengers side floor until i finally grasp the present; a box wrapped in shiny red paper.

i quickly stumble out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me before i take off into the apartment complex. the wait for the elevator feels infinite, and the ride up even longer, but i finally reach the apartment door.

faint music drifts through the cracked open door, the sounds of multiple men talking each other overpowering the melodies that play, and i knock lightly upon the wood. after one more knock and two minutes of nobody answering, i push the door open, peeking my head in to find nobody in the entry way.

tip-toeing in, i close the door behind me, the short heels of my boots clicking against the hardwood floor as i shrug my coat off, hanging it on the overcrowded coat rack by the door before i wander further into the apartment.

i determine the source of the voices as the kitchen, but opt to veer off and drop Luke’s present off in his bedroom before i join them, as i know we won’t be exchanging gifts until after dinner. i set the gift on his bed, leaving his bedroom door open on my way out, but rather than walking into the empty hallway, i find myself colliding with a hard chest as someone leaves the restroom.

“oh shit, sorry!” i squeak, looking up to find a confused face staring back at me.

the unfamiliar man is tall, at least a couple inches taller than my boyfriend, with blue-green eyes and brown buzzed hair. he stares down at me a frown and threaded brows.

“excuse me, are you supposed to be here?” he questions, and i nod quickly, swallowing harshly as i try to push down the anxiety of meeting this new person.

i glance down the hallway in hopes that Luke will miraculously appear, but i can still hear him laughing in the kitchen, “yes, yeah! i am!”

the man narrows his eyes at me, “yeah, ‘cause that didn’t sound suspicious.”

he stalks down the hallway quickly towards the kitchen, my shorter legs following behind him.

“guys, there’s a girl over here! never seen her before!” the man calls out, his voice carrying over the sound of all the others and gaining the guys attention.

one by one i see heads peeking out from the kitchen, making me stop in my tracks. my hands shake with anxiety as they all peer back at me, some faces looking frustrated or annoyed, until finally my boyfriend emerges from the kitchen.

a small smile is painted across his lips, but it drops as he sees my nervous body languages. picking my steps back up, i walk slowly into his arms, incredibly perceptive of the amount of eyes that watch me.

“hi, angel.” Luke’s arms enclose around my waist, pulling me tight against him as he speaks.

“hi, Lukey. sorry, i’m late.” his body shakes as he chuckles, brushing off my apologies.

“it’s okay,” he assures me as i pull away, “i see you met Bass.”

i turn, my back pressing against Luke’s chest as his arm winds around to hug around my stomach, facing his teammates, who all seem a lot less menacing now that they know i’m not a crazy fangirl who found her way in.

“Bass,” i repeat, staring at the man whom i ran into. i rack my brain for a moment, trying to remember who Luke has said this man is in the past, “ah, yes, Nathan!”

Nathan nods with a smile, “you can just call me Nate or Bass, all the guys do. sorry about scaring you, didn’t realize you were Rusty’s girl.”

i bite back a laugh at my boyfriend’s hockey nickname. i’ve heard it before, but it’ll take some getting used to.

“it’s okay.”

Luke points out each friend, introducing them one by one until i’ve met all five; Nico, Dawson, John, Timo, and Nathan.

“and then you know Jack.” Luke waves his brother off, making me chuckle.

“yeah, hi, Jack.”

Jack smiles, “hi, y/n. there’s some wine in the kitchen, if you want some.”

the guys retreat to living room after Luke promises to check on the ham in the oven, guiding me into the kitchen. grabbing a wine glass from a cupboard, he fills it with a red wine before turning and leaning against the counter, handing the glass off to me.

“you look like you could use it.” he laughs, making me slap his chest in playful annoyance.

“i could! my family is batshit crazy,” i sigh, taking a big gulp of the wine before i set the glass down on the counter, “i was supposed to be here an hour ago but apparently my mother can’t tell time and lord knows i’m not allowed to leave until she deems christmas over.”

i walk myself between his slightly spread legs, dropping my forehead on his chest as i groan, “i just need food and cuddles.”

“well, i can check one thing off that list, but i can’t promise the ham will be edible, after all, Jack made it so…”

a giggle falls from my lips as i peer up into his eyes, shrugging my shoulders, “yeah, maybe i’ll stick to the mashed potatoes.”

the rest of the evening goes about as smoothly as i figured it would; i had to end up finishing the ham because i had absolutely no faith in Jack to not overcook it, the guys playfully teased Luke and told me funny stories of things he’s done on roadies or in the locker room, and we all sat around the living room and ate christmas dinner as Jack and Dawson heavily debated what the best christmas movie is.

finally, about three hours later, the guys took off to a local bar for some drinks and darts, Luke and i staying back in order to spend some alone time together.

“c’mon, i wanna give you your gift.” Luke smiles, hand slipping into mine as we rise from the couch, walking down the hallways and into his room.

he shuts the door behind us, grabbing a small, poorly wrapped present off of his dresser before we both sit on his bed.

“okay, wait, you first.” i tell him, picking the red present up off the mattress and pushing it into his hands.

my boyfriend was a bit difficult to shop for, seeing ad when he wants something, he usually just buys it. but i figured i could never go wrong by combining something he loves with one of his favorite hobbies.

he hands me my present, but i wait to unwrap it until he wraps his, rather enjoying watching him shed the paper from the box. a smile spreads across his face as he looks up at me.

“it’s a lego model of the UMich football stadium! i figured it was something for you to do over the next couple free days, or just whenever you want, but i thought it was perfect because you love building lego sets and you love michigan and-”

my ramble is cut off gently by his lips, his hand cupping my cheek as he kisses me slowly.

“i love it,” he says as he pulls away, eyes gazing straight into mine as he smiles, “it’s extremely thoughtful. maybe you can help me build it?”

i nod, leaning in to press my lips against his once more, “if you want me to, i’ll happily do so. or i’ll just keep you company as you build it.”

“that sounds great, angel. alright, you’re turn!”

i giggle at his enthusiasm, looking down at the small gift in my hands. i slowly peel the wrapping paper off, making a mental note to teach him how to wrap in the new year, until i finally unveil a velvet jewelry box.

my eyes widen, flickering up to my boyfriend in surprise, but he just gives me a small, encouraging nod.

flipping open the top, a simple yet beautiful necklace comes into view; a dainty silver chain with a tiny, minimalistic ‘L’ in the middle.

“oh my god,” i breathe out, my hand rising to my lips in shock, “Luke, this is beautiful.”

“i thought maybe you could wear it when you come to watch me play.” his cheeks blush a rosy pink as i look back up at him, obviously a bit more self-conscious now than he was merely minutes ago.

“can you put it on me?” i ask him, and he nods, taking the box from my hands in order to pull the necklace from the velvet interior.

i twist around, holding my hair up and allowing him to gently clasp the necklace around my neck. his fingers graze the back of my neck, sending shockwaves throughout my body as he makes sure the necklace is secure before he lets go, his hands smoothing over my shoulders and down my arms when he finishes.

i turn again, facing him once more as my hand reaches up to my collarbone, my fingertips running over the cool metal as i grin.

“it’s so beautiful, Lukey. i love it.” i cup his cheeks, pulling his face forward to press an excited kiss against his lips.

i kiss him breathlessly, our lips locking as i crawl into his lap, one leg on each side of his body, “i love you.”

i tense after the three monumental words leave my mouth, a heat of the moment confession that i wasn’t sure he was ready to hear; but, i know i’ve been ready to say.

“shit, you- uh- you don’t have to say it back. please, don’t feel like you have to say it if you aren’t ready. i mean, i know i was ready, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. you can take your ti-”

for the second time tonight, my words are shortened by my boyfriend’s lips against mine, a smile fighting against his facial muscles as he kisses me.

“i love you too.” he whispers.

my heart races, beating so strongly it feels as though it’s about to escape my chest, but my body relaxes, my eyes gazing into his as i sigh.

“you do?”

he nods, hands rubbing gently up my sides in comforting movements, “i do. i love you so much.”

i’m overwhelmed with relief and joy, the corners of my lips quirking up in a wide grin; absolutely bewitched by the beautiful boy in front of me.

i’m not sure what i’ve done in life to have deserved someone as kind, humorous, and caring as Luke; someone who gets me sweet, thoughtful gifts; who does anything to ease my anxiety the moment he spots the signs; who loves me for exactly who i am, and who reminds me every day that i’m gorgeous and perfect in my own way. but, i know that i’m incredibly grateful to have him in my life, and i want to share all of life’s beautiful moments with him.

my lips descend upon his, a breathy sigh blowing from my nose as my eyes flutter closed, pulling him deeper into the kiss with my grip on the back of his neck. his hands still on my waist, fingers gripping a little tighter as i begin to rock my hips slowly against his.

he groans into my lips, hands stilling my hips as he pulls away, our faces still close enough that i can feel his breath against my lips, and i whine at the loss of the delicious feeling that had begun rolling through my body.

“you gotta stop, angel.” he gulps, voice tight and shaky, “if you don’t, i’m gonna have a… situation, and i don’t wanna make you feel like you have to do anything yet.”

my skin feels hot, uncomfortable even, and i register it quickly as want.

despite the fact that Luke and i haven’t actually done anything yet, it’s not like i’m unfamiliar with being horny, or even having had sex. i just wanted to take things slow him; wanted to take time to enjoy our relationship without the physicality that’s made my past relationships messy.

i heave in a breath, my chest brushing against his, and the feeling of my peaked nipples skimming against his hard body makes me all the more aroused.

“i’m ready, Lukey.” i tell him in a breathy whine.

his eyes flicker in size, swallowing harshly before he speaks, “are you sure?”

“yes.” i nod, placing a short kiss on his lips, “i’m ready, and now is the perfect time; the apartment is empty, it’s just us two, and i love you so much.”

“if you don’t want to, i’m not pushing! i’m okay with just watching a movie or cuddling, we don’t have to do anything.” i add.

Luke’s hand cradles my face, pulling me into another kiss, “of course, i want to. you’re the most stunning, most thoughtful and sweetest girl i’ve ever met; i’d be a damn fool not to want this.”

i bite back a giggle, blood rushing to my cheeks from his affectionate words.

“but i don’t want you to feel rushed. i’ll wait as long as you want, because i don’t want you to feel like you have to sleep with me just because i said i love you.”

“i don’t feel like that.” i shake my head, the back of my hand ghosting over his cheek, “i really want this, Luke. i mean it. i feel safe with you, i trust you.”

he smiles, a divine smile that makes my heart do flips, overwhelmed with love for the pure soul that has entangled with mine in the absolute best ways.

“you trust me?” he echoes, hands sliding down to cup my ass, making me shiver in anticipation.

“mhm.”

with my hum of a response, i’m suddenly flipped over, my back bouncing onto the mattress, my hair sprawling over the pillows as my boyfriend hovers over top of me. his hot breath fans over my neck, lips pressing against my heated skin and making me sigh in contentment.

he paves a path with his lips, soft and slow, down to the collar of my sweater, the only sound in the room being my heavy pants and his wet kisses.

“Luke.” i sigh as his hands travel up my sides, sliding underneath my top. he hums against my collarbone, his thumbs grazing over my ribs until his hands cup underneath my breasts, my sweater bunched up.

chilled air hits against my stomach, my abdomen tightening in response, and i desire nothing more than to rid the layers between us.

“take it off me, please.”

he pulls away at my plea, hands shimmying my sweater up and over my head, pulling my arms free before he flings the fabric to the floor.

his eyes rake my body in silence for several moments, and i begin to feel self-consciousness creep up on me, my arms wrapping over my stomach. but he’s not having it, fingers enclosing around my wrists and pulling them away.

“uh-uh, none of that.” he whispers breathlessly, “you’re beautiful, angel. so fucking perfect.”

my cheeks flush, confidence filling me from the inside out as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes blown out and darkened with lust.

“thank you.” he shakes his head at my response.

“don’t thank me.” he says, “if you knew the things i’m thinking of doing to you right now, you wouldn’t be thanking me.”

his words light a fire deep in my core, my panties dampening with every word that drops from his perfect lips.

“no, i think i would.” i rasp, voice low and dripping with lust, “i think i would want to thank you a million times over.”

“i need you so bad.” i confess.

my hands lock around his neck, pulling him back down to me. he kisses me in earnest, hips rolling down into mine, his quickly hardening erection pressing against my jean clad core.

i moan against him, a low guttural sound that pours out when his hands come up to massage my breasts over my padless red bra. he dips down, embedding open mouthed kisses upon my skin, leading down to my cleavage.

“can i?” he asks, fingers edging the cups of my bra, and i nod in approval.

he rolls his hips into mine again, my back arching, and he slips his hand underneath me, unhooking my bra with fumbling fingers. he pulls it off my body, once again discarding the clothing to the floor.

his thumbs circle my nipples and he watches me as my eyes fly shut, my lips parting as i let out a shaky breath in response to his actions.

“i’m the luckiest guy in the damn world.” he huffs, so quietly that i’m not sure he was even talking to me, more so whispering to himself.

“Luke, please,” i whine, “less talking, more touching.”

my words earn a melodious chuckle from his lips before he lowers his head to my chest, continuing to play with one nipple as the other gets extra attention. his tongue drags around the stiffed peak before its caught between his lips, softly sucked and grazed extra lightly by his teeth, making my body tremble.

after a few moments he switches, giving proper love to the other side. my leg hooks around his waist, hips bucking up to rub my clothes cunt against his now fully hardened erection.

my hands fist his shirt at his shoulder blades, tugging lightly.

“off,” i breathe, “i want this off. i wanna feel you.”

Luke pulls away from my breast, my nipple dropping from his mouth with a pop, and within seconds he’s leaning back, tugging the shirt over his head. suddenly it’s my turn to gape and stare.

obviously, i’ve seen him shirtless, but his body is one i’ll never tire of; the sight will forever and always make my heart beat faster, my core get wetter, and my soul sigh.

“take a picture, angel,” he winks, “it’ll last longer.”

he’s joking, but if i had my phone on me, i would.

“kiss me, please?”

i don’t have to say any more, those words enough to bring his lips back to mine, our bare chests pressing against one another. we take our time, tossing and turning in the bed, our lips rarely straying from each other’s, until i finally rid myself of my jeans, entirely too ready to move on.

“look at me,” he says, his lips dragging on my stomach as he speaks, “you trust me, yeah?”

“yes,” i nod, breath shaky, “i do.”

“i want you to relax. keep your eyes on me, angel.”

i nod again, eyes trained on his unruly mess of curls as his thumbs tuck into the waistband of my panties, his eyes lifting back to mine in await of approval. when i give him the go ahead, he’s pulling the last fabric that adorns my body down my thighs, past my calves, and throwing them onto the floor.

i lay stripped down in front of him, in a state of complete and utter vulnerability, yet too needy and love drunk to bring myself to care about the way i look.

he lays down on his stomach between my legs, making my breath hitch as his warm breath hits my wet pussy. but when i feel his tongue glide through my folds, tensing when he reaches my clit to provide pressure, that breath is released in a heavy yet quivering sigh.

my hands reach out to tangle in his curls as he slowly drags his tongue around my achingly wet cunt, flexing and flattening the oral muscle depending on where it is on my body.

“Lukey,” i pant, body shaking as his lips enclose around my puffy clit, rolling it between them lightly before letting it go.

he pulls back with a smile, juices glistening around his mouth and chin, “you think you can take my fingers, angel?”

“mhm,” i nod, “yes, please!”

he dives back in, this time picking up his pace; and not a moment later, i’m squirming, a cry of contentment echoing through the room as he pushes two fingers in, curling them up with every thrust he makes.

i’ve given up on words, relying on the sounds that fall from my lips to let him know how surreal his movements feel.

his fingers begin to scissor, adding a pleasurably painful stretch in order to help me ready for him, and at the same time, he flicks his tongue against my clit, successfully drawing my mind away from the pain and towards the immense pleasure he’s bringing me.

my stomach feels tight, pressure building with every movement of his tongue and every thrust of his fingers.

“i’m so close.” i tell him in a breathless whimper, my hips grinding down upon his face and hand.

he moans against me in response, vibrations reverberating through me, and my walls begin to tighten around his fingers, the familiar feeling of balancing on the edge of orgasm spreading through my body.

my thighs close around his head, but he just hums against me again, making my toes curl against the sheets.

“Luke, i’m gonna cum.” i warn him, voice tightly strained, my breath catching in my throat.

my body is hot and sticky, the air moist as his hand begins smoothing up and down my thigh, and i take that as the sign to let go, my legs shaking as i finally reach my release.

Luke continues to lap at my clit, while his fingers work me through my orgasm until i can’t take anymore. breath heavy and body trembling, i push his head away, his face finally emerging with wet, swollen lips and a soft smirk.

“did so good for me.” he praises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he hovers back over me, pressing his lips against mine.

his tongue tangles with mine, tasting salty yet a little sweet, and i moan against his lips, my hands trail down his abs to hook into the waistband of his jeans.

“you gotta wait a second, angel,” he mumbles against my lips, “don’t wanna overwork you.”

i groan, turning my head, and his lips press against my neck.

“fuck that,” i tell him, fingers fumbling with the button of his pants, “i want you now.”

“if you’re sure?” i nod quickly at his words, making him sit back.

he hastily unbuckles his belt, not bothering to take it off before he’s unzipping his jeans, kicking them off and onto the floor before he rids himself of his boxers.

his cock springs free, his tip a harsh red and precum beads at the slit, glistening in the low light of the bedroom.

leaning over to his nightstand, he digs around in the drawer for a moment before his hand emerges with a shiny foil packet. he tears the packet open, pulling the condom out and carefully sliding it onto himself, and i watch with desperate eyes as he gives himself a few tugs before turning back to me.

he hovers above me, bent on one forearm as his other hand grasps his shaft. he spreads my wetness around with his tip, sliding through my folds easily, and when he taps against my clit, my whole body aches with need.

“please.” i beg, and that’s all it takes for him to line up with my entrance, his lips connecting with mine as he slowly pushes in.

i whimper against his lips, his cock stretching me with a stinging sensation with every inch that he pushes in, and he stills, opening his eyes to peer down at me.

“are you okay?” he asks softly, petting hair out of my face gently as he speaks.

“mhm,” i nod, hands grasping at his back, “keep going.”

he does as i say, this time giving shallow thrusts in order to work himself in slowly, only taking what my body allows him until he can finally sink into me entirely. by the time he’s completely in, the stinging pain has subsided, making way for blissful pleasure, but he still stops to check again.

after my reassurance, he picks up again, thrusting properly, but still slowly. his lips press back against mine, kissing me with raw passion and love.

“faster.” i whisper against his lips.

his hips speed up into fast, deep strokes, a hand snaking down to grip my waist. my moans carry through the room, conjoining with the sounds of sex and his hips slapping against mine as my leg hooks around his waist.

gripping his back, my nails scratch into his skin, earning a groaned whine from my boyfriend as his face buries into my neck, his thrusts gaining a harshness that they hadn’t held before.

“say you love me.” he gruffs against my skin, so low that i almost didn’t hear him.

“i love you,” i breathe out, “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

his lips connect with my collarbone, each kiss broken up by a single confession of love muttered from his tongue.

i can feel the knots forming in my stomach again, like a ball of yarn tangling and tangling, further tying together with each thrust of his hips. the tip of his cock smacks against my g-spot, my back arching from the mattress as i make a particularly loud cry.

“right there!” i tell him in a broken sob.

he smirks against my skin, angling his hips just right before thrusting back in to hit the spot again. now with each stroke, my orgasm builds even quicker, my nails scratching down his back.

my walls clench around him, making him grunt into my neck, and he picks his head up to kiss my lips, his thrusts becoming quicker and slowly losing rhythm.

“i’m close,” he mumbles, “so close.”

i nod in agreement, “me too.”

his hand slides between us, his thumb finding its way to my swollen clit, and he begins rubbing harsh circles into it, making my hips jolt, my breath catching i’m my throat.

“cum for me, angel,” he whispers, “let go.”

i nod, for what i’m not sure, but my body tenses up underneath him, walls tightening around his cock as he continues to thrust, and my eyes roll back, legs shaking as i come undone around him.

he fucks me through my orgasm, kissing me through my heavy breathing as his thrusts speed up, becoming sloppier and sloppier as he chases his high until he finally stills. his hips stutter as he grunts, releasing into the condom.

his body collapses on mine, the grounding weight bringing me back down to earth as we both pant in uneven breaths, our chests rising and falling rapidly.

we lay in silence for several minutes, enjoying the serenity of the quiet until he rolls off of me, slipping out from inside me.

“that was…” he trails off and i giggle, nodding my head.

“why did i wanna wait again?” he laughs at my response, shaking his head.

“i’m glad we did,” his fingers trail over my stomach, drawing shapes in my skin. “it was worth the wait, and i think knowing we love each other just made it more special.”

i hum in agreement, wrapping my hand around his before lifting it to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

he presses a kiss to my cheek before getting up to dispose of the condom. pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he assures me that he’ll be right back before leaving the room, reappearing a few minutes later with a granola bar and a water, along with a damp washcloth.

“head up,” he coos holding the water to my lips, and i let him help me take a few sips before he hands me the granola bar.

he cleans me up, my body shaking as he runs the cloth through my sensitive core, as i eat the snack, resting the wrapper on his nightstand.

he rifles through his dresser, coming back to the bed with a pair of of boxers and a t-shirt, and he helps me into them before climbing into the bed beside me. he pulls me back into him, his nose burying into the side of my neck as he kisses the back of it.

“i love you.” he tells me, arm winding around my stomach as he spoons me, my back to his chest.

my eyes feel as heavy as lead, but my heart races at his words, my entire world shifting into a golden state.

“i love you too.” i repeat, immediately followed by a heavy yawn.

“go to sleep, angel,” he hums and i can feel his eyelids flutter closed against my skin, “i’m right here.”

and with his reassurance and the feeling of his body pressed to mine, i allow by body to shut down, my breathing evening out as i fall asleep.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Sarah’s out of town and calls for her father to pick you up at the bar. While drunk and feeling lonely you say things to your best friend’s father that only make it hard for him to resist you.

Teasing, age difference, masturbation

“That was of course the main secret…you had no idea just how much you aroused him. You had no idea you left him with an ache that he knew he couldn’t fulfill…not with you being Sarah’s friend. “

It was one in the morning on a Saturday night and Joel found himself dozing off on the couch until a call from his daughter woke him up.

“Sarah, what’s the matter?” He sat forward not expecting a call from Sarah so late.

“I’m sorry to bother, I know it’s late. It’s y/n”

“What is it?” He asked.

“She’s super drunk and she thought I was in town and asked me for a ride, I’d call a cab for her but she sounds really out of it. Can you please just pick her up, just let her sleep it off in my room”

“Of course, baby” he stood up and grabbed his keys as his daughter instructed him on where to find you.

Once arriving Joel noticed you out front talking to a man by yourself. Pulling up a few feet away from you, the car screeched as he quickly got out and walked towards you.

“Mr…Miller?” You looked at him confused as he approached you giving the man you spoke to a threatening look.

“Come on, let’s go”

“I was just about to give her a ride home” the man insisted with a beer in hand.

“No need for that, you can leave”

“Mr. Miller….what are you doing…here?” You began to giggle leaning back against the wall. Joel had never seen you this way before, a dress, thigh high tights with heels that you were struggling to balance on while clearly very heavily intoxicated.

“I’m takin’ ya home”

“Oh but I don’t…I don’t wanna go home yet. I was just making a friend…” you grinned.

“Come on, it’s time to go” he took hold of your hand as you stumbled to the side.

“I can take her home man, trust me” the guy insisted as Joel looked at him directly in the eye without letting you go.

“I got about two seconds left in me before ya really piss me off so I suggest you get on outta here” the guy took a step back eventually leaving as you sighed.

“Oh no….whys he leaving?” Joel could tell you were going to give him a hard time and took a deep breath.

“Sorry honey” he whispered before unexpectedly throwing you over his shoulder. You squealed kicking your legs as he held you tightly walking back to his truck.

“What are you doing?!” You yelled as he sat you down in the passenger seat and put the seatbelt over your chest.

“I’m gettin you home” he whispered slightly irritated. Not fighting it you watched as he clicked the belt in and closed the door. His cellphone ringing as he made his way around to the drivers seat.

“Yeah, baby I got her” Joel answered seeing it was Sarah. You looked up hearing him talk as he started the car.

“Where’s Sarah?” You asked as you rubbed your eyes realizing he was speaking to her.

“She’ll be back in the mornin’” Joel responded still holding the phone to his ear.

“I think your dad’s pissed at me” you spoke loud enough for Sarah to hear.

“Sorry dad, she never drinks this much, I guess she was just very upset her boyfriend broke up with her” Sarah sighed.

“It’s alright, I’ll get her home. She’ll be fine” he assured her before driving off.

“You’re soooo mad at me” you spoke softly with your eyes half closed.

“No, honey I ain’t” he responded without looking your way.

Once Joel pulled up into his driveway he looked over at you to see you were asleep.

Picking you up in his arms he bought you inside laying you on the couch so he could prep the room. Once he lay you down you mumbled something in your sleep that he couldn’t understand before opening your eyes.

“What time is it?” You pushed yourself up turning towards him barely balancing yourself.

“Its about to be two”

“Two? I gotta get home-“ you tried to stand up before he quickly sat you back down.

“No, honey you’re stayin’ here tonight. Lay down” your eyes half open as you leaned back and noticed you still had your heels on.

“My shoes…”

“I got em” Joel got down on one knee as he took off the straps sliding each shoe off your foot and placing them aside.

“I hate men…men are such…assholes” you suddenly spoke with your eyes closed. Joel looked up at you silently before your eyes fluttered open.

“Sorry..my stupid…ex left me for some other girl and-“ you raised your brows as you lost train of thought.

“Mr.Miller…” you sighed as you swayed your head from left to right. Your mind not making sense as you thought of how low your ex made you feel.

“Can I ask you something…?” He raised a brow curiously.

“Sure”

“Do you…do you think I’m pretty…?” Your question catching him off guard.

“Honey, I think you need to get some rest-“

“Can you just answer the question” you blurt out. Desperate for anything to make you feel better after being rejected by a man you had loved for four years.

“Course I do” he whispered. You gave him a lazy smile pleased with his response. Of course he thought you were pretty, he always did. Looking down you realized your stockings had rolled down and sighed. Attempting to lean forward to fix them you almost fell towards him until he caught you.

“I got cha” he whispered with his hands on your arms.

“My stockings…I’m trying to fix-“

“I got em, sit still” you leaned back as he propped your foot on his leg. Joels eyes quickly roamed up your legs as you sat before him until he caught himself and cleared his throat. You watched as he lifted the stocking back in place but stopped before your knee.

“They go higher…” of course he knew they went higher but that meant his hands would move further up your legs and he couldn’t have that…not with the feelings he was beginning to have. Feelings he knew he couldn’t have towards his daughter’s friend, it wasn’t appropriate. The thought of his hand coming so close to your-

“Mr.Miller?” He looked up at you with his big brown eyes realizing once again where his mind was drifting off to.

“Hm?” He responded with your foot still on him.

“Can you…can you put them higher?” You asked softly.

Why the hell did you need them higher for? You were only making this harder for him. Taking a deep breath he slowly slid them up to your thighs. You looked down and watched as his hands brushed along your inner thigh making his body tense.

“You have…you have big hands” you whispered as he proceeded to fix the next one. The feel of his hands touching your thighs, you found yourself getting aroused. His eyes focused on where his hands moved as a soft moan escaped your lips making him look up. His heart practically beating out of his chest as he watched your hips slightly squirm moving close against him.

“Mr.Miller?” You murmured.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Mhm” he held his breath, your leg still on his.

“So you don’t think there’s anything wrong with me..?”

“Not at all” he whispered anxiously awaiting what you had to say. Your eyes struggling to stay open, your words still slurring as you spoke.

“So….if I asked you to…would you fuck me…?”

He froze, speaking your drunken thoughts loudly you didn’t think twice.

“Would you…?” You began to pull the straps of your dress off your shoulder.

“Don’t” he quickly stopped your hand from pulling your straps any further.

“Why…?” You pushed yourself up towards him, barely able to balance your body he held you by your waist keeping you still. Your eyes struggling to stay open as your hands fell on his shoulders slowly moving to his chest.

“Why don’t you wanna fuck me…?”You whispered with a slight frown.

“Just this one time….please…I’m so wet right now..” His jaw clenching as he felt you tug at his shirt, the ache he began to feel throbbing in his pants becoming too much to bear.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed” he abruptly stood up and picked you up as you mumbled things he couldn’t understand drifting in and out of sleep. Drunk wasn’t the word, he wondered if you’d remember any of this in the morning. A part of him hoping you would.

Laying you down, he watched you turn towards the wall falling into a deeper sleep.

Slowly he pulled a blanket over you before taking a step back. Rubbing his face he tried to snap himself out of the thoughts you put in his mind. Thoughts that he knew couldn’t happen as aroused as they may have made him. His phone suddenly buzzing distracting him when he noticed his daughter was calling.

“Hey, she in bed?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s asleep” he assured her.

“Was she crying? Or talking your ear off?” She chuckled.

“No no, she uh, went straight to sleep” he responded as if you hadn’t just been asking him to fuck you giving him a massive hard on.

“Oh good, so I’ll be there around eight. See you soon, thanks and goodnight dad”

“Goodnight baby” he clicked his phone off and took a deep breath.

He could barely walk with how hard you left him, he hoped a cold shower would help him as he began to run the water.

Standing in the shower he let the cold water fall over him but nothing seemed to help. His cock was solid as he struggled to stop thinking about the way you practically begged for him.

“Just this one time..” he could hear your voice in his head repeatedly. Unable to help himself any longer he began to stroke himself, picturing you taking in every inch of him. Begging for more and more until you couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes rolling back as his hand moved faster, his body leaned sideways against the wall, he knew he was about to explode. After how long he held himself he couldn’t control it any longer. Balancing himself with one hand on the wall in front of him, he leaned over as he came heavily..

“Holy fuck” he breathed deeply, stroking himself slowly. The cold shower refreshing him as he took a step back and let the water wash over him.

The next day you woke up to a pounding headache and slight nausea.

“I’m never drinking again” you grumbled rubbing your head before you began to look around and noticed where you were.

“Sarah?” You looked to the other side of the room to see you were alone.

“Shit” you sighed, you forgot she had left town a few days ago which only meant her father had bought you here. Struggling to understand how that even came to be you began to get little flashbacks of the night before. His large hands rolling up your stockings you covered your lips in shock with yourself when you remembered something you said.

Did you say it? Or did you just think it?

“Jesus Christ” you whispered rubbing your forehead.

Slowly opening Sarah’s bedroom door tip toed to the bathroom before Joel could see you. Freshening yourself up you looked at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath. The cold water touching your skin slightly relieving a bit of your headache before you walked out.

Walking to the kitchen you could see Joel with his back to you reading something on the counter. Unsure of what to say you hesitated to walk towards him when he turned around.

“Hi” you whispered awkwardly as he stared at you at the doorway.

“Mornin’” he mumbled low, he wondered if you remembered anything from the night before.

“I um..-“ you took a few steps forward.

“Did Sarah ask you to bring me here?”

“Mhm. You were upset and drunk…she was worried. I found ya outside with some jackass tryna take ya home” you looked down a bit embarrassed.

“But I wasn’t gonna let that happen, I bought cha right back here like Sarah asked” he assured you as he took a couple steps forward.

“Look, I’m so sorry if I said anything-“ you looked up at him noticing how much closer he was. Eagerness in his eyes as he looked down at you holding back from all the things he truly wanted to say.

Just by the look he gave you, you knew what you remembered wasn’t a dream. Last night you were asking your best friends dad to fuck you, your realization leaving you speechless. You wondered if it had gone any further, you wondered what else was said.

“Did we-“

“No” he quickly cut in.

“I wouldn’t have allowed that in your state” he assured you but you could tell he wanted to say more. The tension between you two was something you couldn’t describe.

”What else did I say or do..?” You asked hesitantly. Joel stood silent for a moment, looking to the side he remembered how you attempted to pull your dress down, he remembered how you wrapped your arms around him, tugged at his shirt as you begged to have him inside you…but he didn’t dare admit it. He knew you were embarrassed enough to then go into detail on all the things that aroused him. That was of course the main secret…you had no idea just how much you aroused him. You had no idea you left him with an ache that he knew he couldn’t fulfill…not with you being Sarah’s friend.

“Mr.Miller?” Your voice distracting him from his thoughts making him look up.

“Did I say anything else?” You asked once again as his body language became tense.

“No” he turned away finding something to keep himself busy with in the kitchen. He could feel himself getting hard just thinking about last night and he needed you gone. Now.

“I didn’t expect for Sarah to call you nor did I even plan on drinking that much, I just..” your voice trailing off in the background as he fought the urge he felt.

“I just wanted to apologize” he suddenly slammed his fist down on the counter cutting you off. He couldn’t take it any longer.

“You need to leave” he blurt out without turning back to you

“Oh…I...” he left you speechless, never had he spoken to you this way, you hadn’t even realized he was pissed.

“I’m sorry Mr.Miller” you whispered before grabbing your belongings and quickly walking out. Joel felt guilty asking you to leave the way he did but he knew there was no other way out of this.

Fifteen minutes later Sarah walked in humming to herself expecting to see you.

Joel stood quietly in the kitchen taking a sip of his coffee.

“Hey, how’d you sleep? I was just about to give y/n a ride home” she began to walk towards her room as her father responded.

“She left” she stopped and turned to him with a raised brow.

“When?”

“Just now” he motioned towards the front door without looking at Sarah.

“Why would she leave? Why wouldn’t she wait for me?” Joel stood silent as Sarah walked towards her father in curiosity.

“Did she say anything-“

“Look” he suddenly looked directly into Sarah’s eyes.

“She’s not to come here for some time” his words confusing Sarah. She furrowed her brows dropping her bags.

“What? Why not? Did she do something”

“I don’t need you having that damn influence around ya” he struggled in finding an excuse turning away from her.

“What influence? You know she barely ever drinks, she’s never done this before-“

“Yeah well that’s where it starts and before ya know it you’ll be drunk at some bar with someone loser tryna take ya home” Joel hoped Sarah would drop it. There was no way he could admit the true reason he couldn’t take having you around. Sarah didn’t understand it, shaking her head she crossed her arms.

“Dad she’s my best friend, what am I suppose to tell her?” Joel suddenly turned to Sarah, his eyes looking for answers, wondering what to say.

“Tell her the truth, she’ll understand” he whispered before walking off to his room and slamming the door shut.

Joel frustratedly sat on the edge of his bed. He knew he couldn’t avoid you forever but he hoped the craving he had for you would eventually go away. It had to. He knew nothing could happen between you and him as much as he wanted it to yet his mind couldn’t stop pushing him, pushing him to a point of no return….

@l0veang3l @moonpascal @katmoonz @joelsteinfeld @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @mangoslushcrush @guelyury @mynameistokyo @katiemarieeee

[rafeandonlyrafe]

tracked

words: 1.5k

warnings: stalker!rafe but hes so cute and sweet about it hehe, fluffy, brief drinking, slut shaming (not by rafe), protective!rafe

rafe whips out his phone the second it beeps, the familiar chime that has kelce and topper rolling their eyes.

“dude, come on. if it's some dumb mobile game, we won't judge you.” topper says, wanting to know what draws rafe to his phone every so often, interrupting whatever it is they're doing to check it, staring intensely and hiding it away from their view.

“yeah man, i once spent $40 on candy crush, no judgement.” kelce says, and even rafe looks up to give him an incredulous look.

“it's nothing.” rafe hums, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“well, it's your stroke then man.” topper gestures down at the golf ball at rafes feet.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nods, mind still elsewhere.

--

“funny seeing you here, y/n.” rafe says with a grin, his arm swinging around your shoulder and tugging you into his side.

“oh my god, how do we keep ending up at the same places?” you laugh, stepping away from your friends that all look at you with a mix of jealousy and confusion, unsure why you can't see that rafe is so obviously into you.

“well, i was craving something sweet.” rafe places a hand on his chest as he looks at you. “and i guess i found it.”

“so whatcha gonna order?” you ask, aware that the line is moving fast.

“chocolate cone, and you?” rafe already knows he's going to insist on paying for whatever it is you want from the ice cream shop.

“um…” you tap your finger against your lips, rafes eyes staying on your mouth as you reply. “sprinkles flurry.”

“just sprinkles?” rafe raises his eyebrows.

“yup.” you nod, popping the p.

“damn, i really have found something sweet.”

--

“shit, shit, shit!” you squeal, looking at the deflated tire that you certainly can't drive on.

you groan as you pull your phone out of your pocket, not sure if you should call a tow truck at this hour of night or just a friend to pick you up.

before you can decide, your phone rings, your heart fluttering with relief when you see it's rafe.

“hey.” you answer quickly. 

“hey.” you can hear the smile on rafes face. “just had a feeling i should check on you. everything okay?”

“actually my car just got a flat out on old stoney road. is there any way you can come pick me up?”

you can instantly hear rafe shift and the jingle of keys. “im on my way, stay in your car.”

you do as rafe says, staying on the phone with him until he arrives, allowing him to pull you into a hug.

“ill call a tow in the morning, okay?” rafes hand gently moves up and down your back as he leads you towards his truck.

“mkay.” you say thankfully, climbing into the passenger side. you look at rafe as he rounds the truck and gets into the driver's seat. “how do you always know when i need you?”

“i guess you could say sixth sense.” rafe says with a soft smile.

--

rafe watches the blue dot move on his phone, watching it turn down streets and get closer and closer to his house.

rafe closes the app and shoves his phone in his pocket once he's sure.

he quickly tidies up his room, just in case he manages to get you into his bed.

rafe manages to hurry downstairs and open the door before you even knock, your eyebrows raising in surprise.

“hi rafe!” you say quickly.

“what's up darling?” he questions, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“well-” you clear your throat. “you always check on me, and i figured i should do the same for you.” you shrug.

“oh, how sweet.” rafe steps back so you can walk into tanneyhill, shutting the door behind you and making sure to lock it now that he has precious you inside.

rafes eyes are unashamedly on your ass as you walk further into the house. one day he'll make his move, but he's too into the chase.

--

“so how do you know tina?” you ask, taking a sip of your strawberry margarita. you thought you would hate a blind date, but the man sitting across from you actually isn't too bad so far.

“im friends with her brother.” joshua explains, leaning back in his chair and taking an aggressive gulp of his beer.

“ahh, leroy.” you frown slightly at this. you've never been a fan of tinas family, considering her the only true good one out of the bunch.

you try not to let it affect you for the rest of the date, even though the thought is at the back of your mind during every awkward silence.

“well i had a really good time.” you tell him, heading towards your car, purposely only having one drink along with your food so you could drive yourself home from the restaurant.

“i did too, darling.” the word coming from joshuas mouth makes your nose crinkle up, realizing how you only like it when rafe says it to you.

“ill text you.” you take a step away, but joshua follows.

“don't you wanna keep the good time going?”

“oh, um…” you shake your head no. “it's not that i don't like you, but i don't do that on a first date.”

“really?” joshua hums. “i figured you'd be a slut like tina.”

“excuse-” you can't even finish your sentence before you feel his chest pressing into your back. his scent envelops you and you don't even have to turn around to know who has come to your rescue yet again.

“you can go now.” rafe simply says before placing his hands on your shoulders, guiding you towards his truck.

“shit.” you take a deep breath as you climb into his passenger side. “thank god you're always here to save me.”

“mhm.” rafe starts up his truck, it's not even a discussion on whether or not he's taking you home.

“how do you always know?” you question.

“don't worry about it.” rafe says, reaching over to pat your thigh.

--

“rafe.” you hum out, stepping into the shade and leaving your friends behind to tan on the front of the large boat.

“what's up?” he sits up quickly, having been watching you the entire time, loving your new bikini that shows off even more skin.

“i found this weird app on my phone.” you open up the device and hand it to him. “you're good with this stuff so.” you shrug, explaining why you're coming to him.

last time you had an issue with your screen brightness randomly turning up and down, and rafe fixed it for you.

“hm, just leave it.” rafe says, trying to keep his voice casual despite his nerves skyrocketing.

“are you sure?” you question. “it looks a little suspicious…”

“it's not, babe.” rafe throws your phone down, needing to find something to immediately distract you, knowing how your mind could spiral. 

he whips his shirt off so he's in just his swim trunks. “wanna swim?”

--

location services are no longer transmitting. please redownload application. now showing last location.

“shit!” rafe groans. he honestly can't think of a worse notification to wake up to as he rushes out of bed, getting ready as quickly as he possibly can to jump into his truck.

rafe knocks on tinas door. he swears if her brother or joshua opens it he's going to freak out, his heart already pounding thinking about what you could be doing in there.

“rafe?” you question, surprised when he quickly tugs you into a tight hug.

“god, im glad you're alright.” rafe sighs deeply, eyes flickering up to see tina watching the two of you in the doorway.

“what happened?” you question, pulling away to look at rafe, placing your hand on his cheek to bring his eyes back down to you.

“i-” rafe begins to explain himself when tina interrupts.

“i told you that app was sending your location. now we know who was on the other end.”

you take a step back from rafe, your mind slowly putting the pieces together.

“baby, i can explain-” rafe looks like he's ready to drop to his knees and beg, but you instantly know that's not necessary.

“you could have just asked.” you say with a small chuckle as rafe looks at you in confusion.

“you could have just asked.” you say again. “for my location. i would have given it to you without you having to be all sneaky.”

“im so sorry, i never should have done it without your permission.” rafe says as tina quietly slips away, realizing this isn't something she needs to be watching.

“i forgive you for all the times you saved me.” 

“so um… we're good?” rafe asks.

“not quite.” rafe is ready to apologize a million times over when you place your hands on his shoulders and push up to your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

it takes rafe a second to realize what is happening, and then his arms are around you, depending the kiss as he holds you tight to your body.

“now we're good.” you giggle as you pull away. 

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[daisymbin]

do you hate me? (no, i don't, princess.) - choi seungcheol

warnings: mentions of alcohol (slightly intoxicated reader)

pairings: choi seungcheol x afab reader

genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst

a/n: i know i did best friends to lovers for wonwoo already but this has been sitting in my drafts for quite awhile and also, tbh this is probably one of my fav tropes hahaha enjoy!

requests open!

check out my masterlist!

seungcheol's pov

''cheol-ah...do you hate me?''

''no, my love, i dont.'' i watch as a small smile flashes across her flushed cheeks. im not sure why i even responded to her at all seeing how drunk she was. she probably wont remember any of this in the morning when she wakes up anyway.

''who the hell gave her this much to drink? you guys know she can't hold her liquor well! you should have stopped her!'' i was honestly no where near as upset as i sounded. while a part of me is slightly upset, im also rather glad and relieved. glad that i can be here to take care of her and relieved because...its me who gets the privilege of taking care of her.

''im sorry hyung, i didnt expect her to drink so much and so quickly as well. soonyoung hyung and i were just getting dinner after work together but we ran into her so we went together. i swear i tried stopping her but im no match for the two of them! i couldnt even stop soonyoung hyung.'' dino said with a pout. ''i wanted to send her back home but she kept insisting that she wont leave with anyone else but you. i dont think she even recognises me right now. she kept calling me a stranger and said if i dont stop pestering her, her best friend would come fight me... i didnt have a choice hyung...'' dino looks almost terrified and its funny. i was trying so hard to fight a smile from coming out.

dino thought that i was mad at him for calling me out this late at night on my day off but truth be told, if this is what you call a disturbance then this would be the best kind. i love her. not that i would ever admit that to anyone. although, i don't think i need to. i know that the boys can tell. ''oh hyung...you're here?'' soonyoung finally spoke out. i shook my head in slight disapproval as i watch soonyoung slouch on the chair, almost losing his balance and falling over. ''chan-ah, i think you should bring soonyoung home. he's wasted.''

''i will hyung. im sorry again for calling you but you're her best friend afterall and she was asking for you.'' yeah, best friend indeed.

i watched as dino hauled soonyoung towards an incoming cab before i finally sat down beside her. ''how are you feeling?'' i asked as i gently helped her get up to walk towards my car that was parked just by the side of the road. ''just a little dizzy and fuzzy.'' i chuckled at that. fuzzy? cute.

i opened the door to the passenger seat and helped her in. i buckled her seatbelt for her and stepped back. ''where are you going?'' she looked at me with a slight sadness to it. i chuckled as i gently patted the side of her head. ''to the driver's seat, princess. we've gotta get you home somehow, dont we?'' she smiles at my response and i finally manage to close her side of the door.

''cheol-ah, can you hold my hand? it feels empty..'' her hand comes up to where mine is and held it in place before i could even answer. i could feel my heart beating so loud. how does she do it with such ease? i wonder if she knows how nervous she makes me feel. ''cheol-ah, do you hate me?'' she asked as she tried to keep her eyes open. probably fighting sleep. ''no, i dont, princess. i thought i already told you that just now.'' i said with a smile.

''i just wanted to make sure.'' she said as she let out a deep breath.

''why would i hate you?'' and this time, she closes her eyes. ''i just feel like...if you knew how i really felt about you, you would hate me.''

''i could never hate you no matter what, and besides, you know you can tell me anything, right? i'll always be by your side.'' i tried to reassure her.

''you can't say that when you dont know anything.''

''tell me then.''

''i can't cheol.''

''why not? i thought we promised each other not to keep any secrets between us?'' i immediately bit my tongue as soon as i said that; knowing full well that im keeping my biggest secret from her as well.

''but if i tell you....can you promise me not to get mad?''

''i promise.''

''theres someone i like...no no..theres someone im in love with for the past 2 years but i dont think he feels the same way..i thought it was just a stupid crush at first and that it would go away but it never did and my crush only grew bigger...i thought i would be able to handle it and pretend like it doesnt affect me but it does and i cant take it anymore.''

and there it was. that churning feeling in the pit of my stomach. my hands start to get clammy and my throat starts to feel dry. ''for 2 years?'' i start to think back to when that time period was. was it 2022? i had already been in love with her for 2 years by 2022. was i a fool to not have noticed that she had her eyes on someone else while i had mine on her?

''yeah..2 years..isnt that so pathetic?'' pathetic? i've been in love with you for 4 years..who is the pathetic one here? but instead i said ''no, its not. i've been worse.'' i am worse. i let out a deep sigh as i felt my heart slowly breaking. i felt like my heart was hard candy and a kid is just throwing me onto the ground and stomping on my heart with no regards whatsoever other than to smash this piece of candy into broken bits for the fun of it.

''come on. we're here.'' i parked the car and got out of the driver's seat and walked over to open the door of the passenger seat. ''cheol-ah...can you carry me in? my legs are not working.'' i wanted to say: of course, princess. anything for you. but i held my tongue. without saying a word, i lifted her up and closed the car door.

i punched in the code to the door, kicked my shoes off and carried her straight to her bedroom. i laid her down gently on her bed before kneeling down beside her to take her shoes off. i walked towards the bathroom to look for some cotton pads and make up remover as i returned to her bed, to her. ''come on my love, let's get your make up cleaned off hmm? otherwise you'll have a fit tomorrow about sleeping with your make up on.'' i smiled as i recalled that one time she slept in with her make up on and had the biggest fit in the morning about forgetting to take them off, screaming about how her skin will become worse and she'll turn even uglier, but she could never. it was just not possible. she is beautiful, always have been and always will be regardless of anything.

''no one takes care of me the way you do.'' she said softly against my ear as i helped her sit up to wipe her face clean. ''yet, you're still in love with some guy who i don't even know for 2 years!'' i tried to mask my sadness with some fake laughter. i hope she can't tell.

''i can't tell you...i can't tell anyone.''

''why not? is it that bad? plase don't tell me its soonyoung.''

''what? soonie? don't be crazy, he's like a brother to me.''

''then who is it?''

''mhm..can't say...''

i sighed and said ''lets get you to bed now. you're tired.'' as i get up to head to the bathroom, i felt her tug the sleeve of my jacket. forcing me to look back at her.

''can you stay here with me tonight? sleep with me.'' how could i ever say no to her? i would be the biggest idiot if i ever did. i always want to be close to her.

i let out a breath as i took my jacket off and throwing it on her work chair. ''come here, princess.'' i mindlessly held my hand out to her as i laid in bed with her. she rolled over clumsily to my side, putting her head on my chest. i wonder if she can hear the sound of my heartbeat picking up as strongly as i can feel it beating against my chest.

she took a deep inhale before she said ''you smell so good cheol, you always do.'' i smiled lightly as i pulled her in closer and tigher. nothing ever feels more right than when i have her in my arms.

''goodnight princess, sleep tight.''

''i love you.'' she said, almost too casually for my liking. telling each other we love each other isn't anything new, but how can she possibly say that to me after telling me she's been in love with someone else for the past 2 years? my heart broke again at the remembrance of that.

''goodnight, princess.'' i couldn't tell her i love her back, not when we don't love each other the same way. not when she doesn't love me the same way.

''why don't you say it back?'' she sounded hurt and it made me regret not saying it back...i never want to hurt her.

''do you hate me?'' she asked again.

''no i don't, princess. i love you.'' i said as i felt my heart sink little by little.

i carelessly start stroking her hair, hoping to put her to sleep soon. ''i love you.'' i said again.

when will i ever get the chance to tell her i love her again without having to hide my romantic feelings for her? when will i ever get to tell her i love her again without having to worry if she's finally figured me out? its so much easier to do it in the dark like this..where she can't see me, where i can hide. where i can love her proudly and openly without being afraid.

''i'm in love with you'' she said as she snuggled closer.

''let's sleep now its- wait what?'''

this time, its her turn to sigh. ''i said im in love with you, choi seungcheol.''

''you're drunk.''

''maybe..but i'm still in love with you. it doesn't change anything.''

i look down at her on my chest, but she was already looking at me. ''don't joke with me like that, princess. you know i don't take jokes well.''

''but i'm not.''

''you're not thinking clearly, princess. we've been best friends for forever, there's no way you're suddenly in love with me.''

''but its not sudden.''

i averted my eyes away from her to look back at the ceiling. i cant even look at her now. not when she's looking at me like that. not when she's looking at me like she means it, because i know it can't be.

''don't you have that guy you say you're in love with for 2 years? how would he feel if he found out that you're suddenly in love with me? how can you say it so casually? did u ever think about how i would feel? you can't just-'' and there it was. i felt my whole world stop, i felt it freeze. am i the one thats intoxicated tonight? what is happening because it can't be. that can't be her lips on mine.

she took advantage of my lips being slightly open from shock to slip her tongue in mine. and i let her. the same way she lets me run my hand through her hair, the same way she lets me kiss her back, and the same way she lets me pull her in closer by her neck to deepen the kiss.

''you're so noisy cheol.'' were not the words i expected to come out of her mouth after that kiss. ''what do you-''

''can i love you cheol? can i love you like that? can i be in love with you?''

i wanted so badly to screamYES but nothing comes out no matter how i try. i was dumbfounded. instead, all i did was let out a shakey breath.

''cheol...why are you not saying anything? are you....are you mad at me? i'm sorry i didn't mean to, i don't know what came over me im so-'' i felt her slowly removing her hands from my waist and letting go of my hand. ''no no no god im not upset i'm just.. i don't know what to say i don't know how to respond i just...'' i sighed at myself as reach out to hold her hand again.

''i'm in love with you too, i have for as long as i can remember.''

''really?''

''yes, really, princess.''

and it goes silent for awhile before i finally picked up the courage to ask ''did you..did you mean me? i mean...the guy that you were in love with. is it..is it me? because i understand if its not me and if this was a mistake-''

''yes, dummy. its you.'' this time i get to see her shy smile.

''oh...i see...cool.'' oh. oh? OH. it's me. i'm yet again rendered speechless. can i be blamed if the girl i've been in love with for the past 4 years suddenly kissed me and told me she loves me? that she's in love with me. she loves me. what am i to do or say when this all feels so surreal?

''so.....'' she starts out.

''so..?''

''do you hate me?''

''no, i don't, princess. i told you, i love you. i'm in love with you.''

i finally let myself break into a smile. it'll be over my dead body if i ever let her feel like i don't love her.

''really?''

''yes, princess, really. although, you might forget all this when you wake up tomorrow.''

''no, i won't. i'll tell you i love you again in the morning.''

''now, how about we go to bed and talk about this tomorrow over breakfast? i'll make you blueberry pancakes.'' i said as i stroked her cheek with my thumb. i pray she won't forget.

''i'd love that. goodnight cheol.''

''goodnight, princess.'' i waited a beat before i added ''i love you.'' but this time, i don't get a response. this time, i hear a light snore from her instead as i smile to myself. but for once, its okay if she doesn't tell me she loves me back because she fell asleep again. for once, my heart is not aching over questioning what her i love yous mean because for once, i know i won't have to tell her i love her just to hear her say she loves me too, because i know she will tell me that herself in the morning when she wakes up.

for once, i finally know what she truly means when she tells me she loves me. and for once, she knows what i truly mean when i tell her i love her.

[sophsbookstore]

Leclerc Family Beach Day

Charles Leclerc x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word count: 1,607

It was a perfect summer day in Monaco. So perfect in fact that the Leclerc family just had to get out and have a beach day. Charles, Y/N, their four year old son Jules, and their newly one year old daughter Ines. Charles had spent the last hour trying to figure out how to fit all of the beach toys in his Ferrari 488 pista. With the limited space in the car Y/N made the executive decision to move the family to her bigger, 5 seater car. Charles, slightly disappointed in the car change, insisted on driving.

As Charles finished loading the car, talking to a little Ines who was strapped to his chest in her baby pink bjorn. Jules runs out, crashing into a much taller Charles legs. “Hey buddy, are you excited to go to the beach with your sister?” Charles kneels down to face his son, keeping a hand on his daughter as well.

“Yes papa! Nessie will have so much fun!” the little boy cheers, jumping up and down in excitement for his baby sister.

Y/N comes out of the apartment, holding Ines’ baby bag over her shoulder, locking the door behind her as she makes her way to the car in the driveway. Charles walks over to his wife, giving her a quick kiss before taking the bag from her shoulder and placing it in the trunk, closing it, signifying the beginning of the trip.

“Are you excited mon bebe?” Y/N asks her son, scooping him up and showering him with kisses. “Yes maman!”

“Remember Jules, Nessie isn't as big as you yet. She is still very small which means she can't go as far out in the water as you can. She’ll probably stay closer to the sand with me the whole time”

“Can I still play on the sand with her?” Jules asks, looking up at his papa with big eyes.

“Of course, mon fils. I'm sure she would be so happy to play with you.”

Charles, Jules, and baby Ines walk towards the car together, Y/N giving her daughter a kiss on the head before taking her out of Charles' baby bjorn and placing her in the car seat behind the driver's seat of the car. Charles opens the passenger door for Jules, lifting the little four year old boy into his carseat, and buckling him in, Jules pretending his papa is his engineer strapping him in for a race. Charles and Y/N walk over to their respective sides, double checking that everyone is buckled, Charles starts the car and the family heads to the beach.

The drive to the beach is peaceful, light music playing in the background as Charles and Y/N listen to Jules talk about how excited for the long awaited beach day. Ines, sitting in her carseat, fighting the inevitable sleep, making little babble noises to herself.

After the fairly quick car ride, the Leclerc family arrives at the somewhat secluded part of the large Monaco beach. Charles parks the car, getting out and opening the trunk, loading as many bags on his arms as he can, trying to keep himself from making multiple trips. Y/N gets out, taking Ines, holding her to her chest as she uses her other free hand to help Jules out of the car.

The family of four makes their way down to the beach, quickly finding open seats, placing their towels down. Y/N makes herself comfortable on the chair, adjusting Ines to a comfortable position against her chest, digging through her bag to find the book she's currently reading. Charles places all the bags down, applying sunscreen to both him and Jules. The four sit for a minute, Y/N and Charles hyping up Jules for the ocean just a few meters away.

“Papa, can we go now!” the little boy cheers, staring at the ocean straight in front of him. Y/N gives Charles a nod in agreement, the driver giving his wife and daughter forehead kisses before walking with his son toward the water.

“You wanna go play in the water Nessie?” Y/N asks her daughter, who is now sleeping against her chest. “No? You wanna hang out with your maman? I think that sounds like a perfect idea” 

Down by the water Charles holds his son's hand as they walk into the water, Charles not wanting his son to get swept away by a current due to his small size. Once they find themselve deep enough for Jules (the water coming up to his hips) Charles sits down to play in the water.

Jules turns to his dad, hitting his hands against the water, splashing his dad in the face. Charles moves his hand against the water, lightly splashing his son in retaliation, Jules laughing at their water fight.

“You want to go on my shoulders mon fils?” Charles asks, the little boy nodding excitedly. 

Charles gets out of the water, lifting his son up and placing him comfortably on his shoulders, holding his little legs to steady him. Charles walks deeper into the water, holding his son so he can see farther out, but still staying safe with his papa.

Back at the shore Y/N is documenting the sweet moment between father and son. Holding her camera out, taking as many pictures as she can before Ines wakes up needing something. She puts her phone down, admiring the pictures, ultimately deciding on setting them as her iphone lock screen background.

A little yawn captures Y/N’s attention, the woman looks down at her daughter, now awake and staring back at her. The baby smiles at her maman, Y/N smiling back at her daughter's tiny face. “What do you say Nessie? Is it beach time?”

Y/N takes Ines’ gummy smile and little coo as a yes. Marking her page in her book and placing it back in her bag. She puts some more sunscreen on her daughter, adjusting her little sun hat before taking the girl in her arms and walking toward the beach.

“Look papa, it's maman and Nessie!” Jules cheers, Charles turning around to see his wife and daughter walking toward them. Y/N keeps Ines close to her, holding the little girl tightly as the two of them make their way to their boys. 

Charles starts walking closer, taking Jules off his shoulders and placing him down in the water when it becomes safest, the boy runs to his maman, hugging her legs, looking up at his little sister in admiration. “Is Nessie ready to go in the water?” Charles coos at his daughter, taking her from his wife's arms.

Charles sits down in the water again, placing his daughter against his chest so half her body is submerged. Her face contorts, not used to the warm ocean water. Jules kneels down too, looking at his little sister, waiting to see her reaction. The little girl's face turns into a smile, her chubby legs kicking back and forth under the water with excitement.

Y/N sits down with the rest of her family, the adults talking while their kids splash around in the water. “I would call this a successful beach day Mr. Leclerc.”

“I would have to agree with you Mrs. Leclerc.” Charles says, leaning over his kids to kiss his wife. “Thank you for giving me them, for giving me this.”

“Thank you for your contribution” Y/N laughs, “I’d say we make a pretty good team” 

“The best” Charles kisses his wife one more time, their attention going back to their kids.

“Maman, can Nessie and I go make a sand castle?” Jules stands up, making himself level with his parents

“Of course, I don't know how much help she’ll be but papa and I could help if you'd like?” Jules nods in excitement, taking his maman’s hand and pulling her out of the water, practically dragging her to the shore.

Charles laughs at his wife's expression, watching her get pulled away by their tiny son. “Papa, hurry up, youre so slow!” Jules yells back to his papa.

When they make it back to the shore, Jules plops himself down on the sand, digging through one of the many beach bags they brought, trying to find all of his supplies. Charles sits down across from his son, spreading his legs out against the sand, placing his daughter down in front of him so she's leaning against his stomach. 

Y/N sits off to the side, taking pictures of the family, talking with her boys as her son cautiously works on the delicate sand castle. Charles cheers his son on, only helping when his son asks. Ines reaches for the castle a couple times, Charles moving back, preventing his daughter from accidentally ruining his son's hard work.

As the sun starts setting, sleep starts to hit both of the Leclerc kids, Charles starts packing up the bags, taking trips back and forth to the car, loading them all up. Y/N insisted on helping her husband but Charles insisted she stay put and relax. Y/N lays on the beach chair, both of her kids asleep in her lap. Now it's Charles' turn to capture a beautiful family moment, setting the picture as his new background as well.

Charles lifts up Jules from his wife's lap, the boy's head resting on his papa’s shoulder, Charles helps Y/N, kissing her once more as the family walk to their car, kids in hand, leaving behind a beautiful beach and a successful beach day for all.

[leclsrc]

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach. 

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase. 

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting. 

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk. 

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly. 

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen. 

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.” 

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches. 

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously. 

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.” 

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking.  “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard. 

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum. 

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly. 

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting. 

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.  

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title. 

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while. 

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there. 

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot. 

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure. 

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?” 

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease. 

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

[plasticferal]

nervous | matt sturniolo.

authors love: my first write for the boys, definitely was a quick daydream i had, take it easy on me!

notes: fluff! short read. no trigger warnings i believe. enjoy.

you never understood why he refused to speak to you, or even look you in the eyes. he would mumble a hello, or look at you for a second before diverting his eyes again. you were always left wondering if he didn’t like you.

given that you were a lot closer to nick and chris, it made you uneasy seeing him open up to strangers but not someone he see’s almost every week, if not every day.

the restaurant table that you were seated at was filled with friends of friends, people you didn’t know, but they knew the brothers. you stayed close to nick, feeling more comfortable with someone you were the closest to. matt and chris sat across from you.

if you were being honest, you felt extremely out of place. almost overwhelmed. you loved going out to eat with them and trying new places, but you weren’t feeling it tonight. you poked and prodded the pasta dish in front of you, losing your appetite.

“hey guys, i think i’m gonna head home for the night, not feeling too hot” you shrug your shoulders lightly and give off an upset look, to say you’re sorry for leaving early without vocalising it.

nick pouts up at you as you raise from your chair, but understands completely.

“are you sure you don’t wanna stay?” he asks, but you shake your head with another apologetic look. you acknowledge everyone on the table, saying it was nice to meet them.

before you could grab your bag and coat, matt speaks up.

“i’ll drive you home,” he begins to stand from his booth seat.

you’re stunned for a moment, not registering he was speaking to you. you look at him with a furrowed eyebrow and softly shake your head.

“no no, it’s okay. i’ll uber. you drove me here, that’s more than enough,” you give a small smile before starting to tuck your chair in.

“please, let me take you home. it’s late, i don’t want you ubering by yourself,” he insists, throwing his hoodie over his arm and moving away from his brother. he gives a ‘i’ll be back’ nod to chris, and chris waves you goodbye, having a mouth full of bread he was occupied with.

he doesn’t waste time pulling his car keys out of his pocket and leading the way to the front door of the restaurant, pushing open the glass for you.

“thank you,” you speak, probably sounding more like a question as you’re trying to wrap your head around matt’s sudden eagerness to not only speak to you, but be alone with you.

his shiny black car is conveniently parked on the curb just outside, and you watch the orange lights flicker as he unlocks it. you observe him as he looks around, making sure there’s no traffic before he jogs around the passenger side and pulls open the door for you.

you slide in, him joining you within seconds. he sighs as soon as he gets behind the wheel, a deep breath to centre himself.

“thank god,” he mumbles.

you chuckle lightly, watching as the weight off his shoulders almost visibly lifts.

“you okay?” you raise an eyebrow. he exhales a laugh.

“yeah, just wanted to get out of there,”

“oh, so you didn’t actually want to take me home, i was just a good excuse?” you speak in a teasing tone, if not to try and lighten the slight awkwardness between you two. you’ve never spoken to him this much. you’ve tried, you speak to everyone. he was just much harder to get through to. for you, at least.

he instantly looks worried, turning to you and shaking his head.

“no, no not at all, it was just, a lot going on in there, too many people and-”

“matt, i was kidding,” you reach over and place your hand on his forearm, in a soothing way, but quickly pull back, realising it stopped his words much faster than you intended.

his face flushes red, and you’re instantly worried you’ve upset him, not knowing how to read him.

“we should go,” he nods and points to the road ahead awkwardly, starting the ignition. you purse your lips together, almost embarrassed, and sit silently as he drives off.

you hated the fact you couldn’t stare at him. the glimpses you did catch, made you squirm in your seat. his hair was a slight mess, covering his eyes partially. his elbow rested on the door panel frame, one hand on the steering wheel, tattoos flashing with every street light you passed, or just barely noticeable under the moonlight.

you’d never realised the extent of your attraction toward matt until now. alone, with him in control. it was a dynamic you’d never thought would happen.

“hey matt,” you ask.

“yeah?” he’s hesitant, your voice cutting through the silence abruptly.

“have i like, done something to offend you? or make you upset?”

he glances at you for a second, still trying to focus on the road ahead.

“what makes you say that?” he asks, and you’re even more confused that he’s confused.

“i don’t know, you’re just really quiet when i’m around. i mean that’s fine, i don’t care, i just wanna make sure we’re cool. you know?” you ramble, not realising you sound the opposite of carefree.

you do care, you want him to like you. or at the very least speak to you. you needed to know, and the perfect time to find out was alone with him.

he’s quiet for a moment, the car slowing down at a red light. he’s gathering his thoughts.

“you make me nervous to speak, y/n” he finally spits out, softly, eyes looking ahead.

you try to hide the smile creeping on your face.

“nervous? how do i make you nervous?” you ask, your head resting back on the car seat, looking at him.

he turns his head, and does the same resting back. he gives a look that says ‘don’t make me say it out loud’

“i didn’t know i had that affect on you,”

“yeah well i preferred it when you didn’t know, i feel stupid now. i’m gonna go back to not saying anything at all,” moving the car forward again, he confesses.

“you’re not stupid, and i much prefer talking to you than being around you in silence.” you’re hoping you don’t come across as too much, too soon.

“and i much prefer hearing you speak. i like the sound of your voice,” he replies, his tone lower, still refusing to look at you. you smile at him, even if he can’t see your reaction.

“just so we’re clear, you don’t hate me?” you sit up, and he laughs, a genuine, from the chest laugh.

“no y/n, i don’t hate you.” he reassures. you’ve spent so much time looking at him that you haven’t observed your surroundings. you recognise a sign, a street sign that usually indicates you’re close to home.

“i like you,” matt speaks again.

“everyone likes you. i think you’re cool. and funny, and really sweet, and kind” he keeps going, two hands on the wheel now, to be extra attentive while still speaking.

“go on,” you tease. he chuckles.

“ahh, okay, you speak to everyone so easily. and always with a smile, i don’t know how you do it,” he shrugs, and you’re taken aback by his comment slightly.

“you do realise whenever we’re in public you quite literally speak to everyone else, except me,” you’re messing with him abit at this point, deciding it’s not going to be something you let of so easily.

“i also don’t care what those people think of me. i think you’re pretty, so the longer i keep my mouth shut the better chance i have of not embarrassing myself around you,” he rambled, almost talking himself out of breath.

you feel your face flush red, and you know the only reaction to have is gonna be one he won’t like.

“you think i’m pretty?” you respond in a slight sing song tone, and he rubs his hand down his cheek.

“i’ll go back to being silent,” he warns, a gravel, husk in his tone.

“sorry, sorry. please don’t. i like this matt,” you respond, and he glances over at you again, the corner of his mouth turning up.

you’re in comfortable silence for a few seconds, before the car slows down again, and the clicking sound of his indicator echos.

“this your street?” he asks, nodding at a street sign ahead of him. the drive felt too short. sickeningly short. you wanted more, more time to talk.

“ah, yeah. that’s it,” you try to not sound disappointed, but you might have accidentally. he knows your house, he’s dropped you off before. your car sat in the driveway further up, so he pulled in just behind.

putting the car in park, he shifts his body to face you in the seat.

“thank you for driving me home,” you have your hand on the door handle, and matt’s eyes are fixated on your moves.

“hey, ah-” he starts, blue eyes finally locking with yours now that you’re still. the moonlight creates a white hue through the windshield glass, reflecting his eyes.

“i’m sorry if i came across cold. it really is nerves. i just can’t find my words sometimes. especially around you.” he leans his elbows on the armrest, and you let go of the door handle to lean further into him, facing each other.

“i wish you told me sooner,” you give him a gentle smile. he runs his hand through his hair.

“me too.” he agrees.

“we don’t have to talk, you know.” your voice is soft.

his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips, you’re hyper aware of his gaze. you feel goosebumps rise on your skin, and you can almost hear yourself swallow the lump in your throat.

“i know,” he agrees again.

“goodnight, matt,” you lean in, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. you can smell his cologne, and the fruit smell of his shampoo. your chests brush as you lean over the centre console, and for a moment, you stop just past his lips, your eyes glancing toward them as your warm bodies are so close. but you pull away, and he does too.

you wanted to kiss him, you could have, but you only just got him to talk to you. let alone use his mouth for anything else.

“goodnight,” he responds, making sure you’re safe leaving his car. he waits for you as you walk up to the front door, and you look back to see him give you a small wave. it was so wholesome, as sweet as he was.

you quickly walked into the house, replaying everything that had just happened.

you felt butterflies in your stomach and nerves, pure nerves, at the sheer thought of seeing him again.

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Imagine Spencer looking after you when you get hurt on a stakeout

You'd been paired with a local officer, tasked with a night stakeout at a farm. The pair of you were supposed to watch for any activity, and report back any movement.

Which of course went pear shaped when the young, ambitious man you'd been placed with identified a missing person being led out of the main building. Faster than you could react to stop him, he'd thrown himself out the door, gun raised and ready and attempted to subdue the men.

Instead of impulsively running after him, you chose to stay back and call for help. Simultaneously pressing the distress button on the device Garcia had rather ingeniously insisted you all carry.

It pinged your location to all members of the team, and alerted them that whoever pressed it was in trouble.

Reaching the sheriff's department, you reported the activity and the officers mistake. Watching as they turned on him, you let out a gasp when one of the suspects didn't wait for him to finish the rest of his demands. Instead in the blink of an eye shot him, three times.

"Agent? Agent? Can you hear me, what's going on there?" The Detective who'd answered the phone asked you.

"They just killed him." You breathed, watching as they dragged his body away, the missing boy cowering against the side of the house. Before another one of the suspects grabbed onto him and dragged him away.

"Have they seen you? Are you compromised?"

"Maybe... I don't know. They-" you were cut off by the passenger door opening, revealing one of the men you'd been watching earlier that night.

Before you could reach for your gun, which was stupidly placed on the dashboard, he grabbed you by your hair and dragged you out of the car. Slamming you down onto the ground roughly, even your kevlar vest couldn't stop the air being knocked out of you.

Promptly followed by a hard kick to your stomach, making your chest go into spasm. Gasping in air, you could barely focus on where the next hit was coming from.

***

After what seemed like an eternity he finally let up, shoving you back into the gravel of the driveway and stalking off. Barking orders at the other men who had appeared from the shadows.

"Let's go boys, we need to ship out to location Tango. Got it?.. Let's go then. Her buddies will be here any moment." He called out, sparing a glance back to you.

Feeling entirely too conscious, you dared not move, not fancying another punch to the face.

Multiple cars started up and disappeared over the hills to the back of the property.

You curled onto your side, and tried to breathe in some even breaths. Trying to not focus on the pain all over, you managed to get yourself on all fours. Realising at some point he pulled your bulletproof vest off.

Maneuvering yourself so you were slowly leaning back against the tyre of the truck you were doing the stakeout in. The light from the houses and extra that had been switched on gave you a good look around. And also at yourself. Seeing there were blood splatters on your shirt. You tried not to imagine what you looked like.

Closing your eyes for a moment, taking slow deep breaths in to try and calm your racing heart.

Hearing the sound of gravel under tyres, you instantly panicked. A unexpected wave of adrenaline coarsed through you, giving you the energy needed to get yourself off the floor and in a better position to defend yourself in.

"Y/n?" Hotch's concerned shout fell of deaf ears as you scrambled to get into the car and grab your gun.

"Hey, no, no, no. It's us, calm down." A familiar voice soothed. Intercepting you and stopping your hand before it could pick up your weapon, that you hadn't had the chance to grab.

You hissed and winced as he touched you left wrist, a sickeningly sharp pain shooting up your arm.

"I'm sorry. What hurts?"

"Spence?" Seeing his face relaxed you instantly, "we need to be quick, they literally just left. Over that ridge up there. If we go now we could catch up with them."

Leaning down to get a look at you, some of his wild hair falling out of place as he fussed over you.

"You're not going anywhere, okay? You need to be seen to, what the hell happened? We got the distress ping and ran out the door."

He intercepted your attempt to grab the keys in the ignition. Taking them from you and putting them in his coat pocket.

"That stupid boy got himself killed. He ran over there, gun out, demanding they gave up the boy and that they were under arrest... There were three of them! To one of him, he was never going to subdue all of them."

"You did everything right, okay? He should never have tried to go after them. This group is far too organised for that."

"But I just sat here. I watched it happen, I-"

"Stop. I won't let you do this to yourself. Did you see the person who attacked you?"

"Yeah, he was young. Green eyes, bit of a beard. Around six-five. Probably mid thirties. Um- he was wearing a yellow plaid shirt with a puffer vest jacket. He had.." You trailed off, a piercing headache making you double over.

"That's amazing, y/n. Come on, the ambulance is over here." He said, curling his arm around your waist and helped you out of the car.

Spying Hotch looking over a map, you pulled away from Spencer and limped over to him. Spencer following close behind holding onto your wrist.

You looked at the map to get your bearings, finding the circled area you were in. You pointed at the hills behind the house.

"Y/n, have you seen a medic?" Aaron asked, frowning at you, one of the few facial expressions he had.

"No she hasn-" Spencer started, but you cut him off.

"They went over this ridge," you paused, steadying yourself on the bonnet of the truck, "if we leave now we could catch them."

"Okay, but you aren't going anywhere until you've been checked out. Reid. Make sure she gets medical attention." Hotch spoke to you and then to Spencer who was hovering worriedly.

"Hotch, please. We might not get another chance like this again." You tried, refusing to move from the car.

"Y/n that's not a suggestion. It's an order. Go." Hotch finalised, nodding to Spencer who supported you as he lightly pulled you back.

The medics met you halfway and started asking you an endless list of questions.

A suspected cracked rib and multiple bones in your wrist, concussion, and bruising all over. You were told to visit the hospital once you were back in the city. They strapped you up and gave you some painkillers.

"Where's Hotch?" You asked as Spencer helped you get down from the ambulance, "I've been checked out, I want to help."

"They've headed back to the station. We can't just go roaming across the hills looking for people in the dark. Y/n, it's too dangerous."

"Spencer, come on. We won't get another chance like this."

"We will, okay? I promise you they won't get away. You think any of us will let you go out like this? You need x-rays, anti-inflammatory medication, potentially a CT scan, and most of all rest. Hotch wants you on two weeks leave, after you leave the hospital."

"No," you exclaimed exasperated, "I need you to do a cognitive interview on me."

"Okay. But not now." He spoke softly, brows furrowed as he looked down at you.

"Why not now?"

"Because you've spent the last ten minutes digging your nails into your palm. And you only do that when you're in pain."

You instantly released your clenched fist. Not realising you'd even being doing it.

Releasing a deep breath, you were finally ready to admit defeat. Nodding, you let him lead you back to the car you'd come in.

The drive back was comfortably silent, Spencer looking over to check on you occasionally. You sighed on arriving at the closest hospital.

"I know okay. But do you really want me lecturing you about all the reasons you should follow the medics advice and get to the hospital immediately?"

Shaking your head, you sent a small smile his way.

[fuyine]

Prompt: When you try to open the door on your own.

warnings!!! excessive fluff, all characters are aged 18+, timeskips! preferably, please read with a grain of salt.

Pairings: kuroo tetsurou, bokuto kotarou, akaashi keiji, kageyama tobio, tsukishima kei x fem!reader (separately)

You dare to put your tiny hands on the car handle around this guy? Oh no, no, no. That was a big mistake.

Before you could fully swing the passenger door open, Tetsu's hand immediately halted you by gripping the door frame behind you with a 'HUH' face.

"What do you think you're doing, princess?" he asked, his brows wrinkling in annoyance at your attempt to open the door yourself—a task you were perfectly capable of.

With minimal effort, he shut the door when you let go of the handle and then swung it back open, adding an open palm gesture with his free hand as if showing you the way inside.

"I'm here for a reason, princess," he said, shutting the door once you got in and immediately walking around the car to the driver's side.

Meanwhile, you sat there in the passenger seat, sweating slightly, fighting the urge to tell him that you were capable of doing it yourself, only to feel a hand on your thigh, squeezing it softly as if to stop you from protesting.

"Not a word from you," he started, giving you another squeeze as he buckled his seatbelt before removing his hand to plug in the car key and start the engine. "And don't even think about stepping out of the car if I'm not the one who opened it for you."

I swear, when this man is around, he won't even let you open something if he knows he can do it for you.

When you try to be independent around this guy, things get turned upside down, and his teammates wonder what happened—why his shoulders are slumped, why he's flaking out so much during practice.

Safe to say, you unleashed the emo Bokuto. Acts of service are second to his love language—he's a sucker for physical touch. He would do almost anything for you, even if you didn't ask.

Opening doors has been a habit of his since you two started dating. Even on your dates, he insists on being the one to open the doors and waits for you to head inside first.

Talk about chivalrous, but he's just a pure guy who's been showered with his older sister's affection and knows how to treat women well.

But the time you left for work in a hurry, kissing his cheek goodbye and making your way out the front door, he ran after you to open it, only to have the door slam shut in his face.

Poor Kou. Surely, you didn't mean any harm and were just in a rush. However, make sure to talk with this guy once you get home.

In contrast to Bokuto, being independent around this guy is no problem. He knows you can handle things on your own.

However, there are instances when his hand lands first on the handle, and he says things like,

"I'll do it, love."

"Your hands are full, let me."

"I know your pinky finger was open, but I doubt it can compare to the weight of this door, sweetheart."

It's a healthy relationship all the way, but deep down he secretly wants you to depend on him once in a while whenever he's around.

Give this guy a medal.

"Dumbass. Idiot. Boke." I can imagine him chanting these words as he followed you down the hall from behind while you carried two large boxes—probably heading to the student council.

He knows you can handle it, but the moment he saw you walking straight towards the closed door of the council room and struggling to open it with one hand, he darted out of his hiding spot and slammed the door open for you.

Blinking at the sudden noise, you tilted to the side of the boxes that were obscuring your view, only to see him standing beside you and the open door.

He merely looked down at you, wanting to smile, but not wanting to scare you off, he decided to walk away as if nothing had happened, grumbling.

Unable to process his words, you stood there with the heavy boxes in front of the now-open council room and watched his figure descend down the staircase.

What made you think he'd open the door for you?

He enjoyed seeing you struggle to open the door with your hands full of items he'd told you to drop off, suggesting you take turns coming back to get them.

But you were too stubborn and hard-headed to act dependent and admit he was right. You scooped up all your stuff with both hands before heading to your destination, only to be blocked by a door.

Struggling not to drop anything, you grumbled in annoyance while a snicker from behind approached you.

"What, can't your short hands reach the handle?" he remarked, brows quirked as he reached for the handle from behind you, towering over your midget size and clearly noticing the height difference as he twisted the doorknob open.

"There you go, Thumbelina," he smirked, swinging the door open and placing a hand on his hip. Seeing your furrowed brows and noticing how you were biting your tongue to keep from giving a snarky remark only heightened his amusement.

"Not being appreciative, are we?" his smirk grew wider.

I swear, he finds enjoyment in your predicaments of being independent.

requests are open!

[formydiscordbesties]

Max.V Drunk and high

"Darling!" echoed through the speaker as you answered the call from Alex.

"Hey, sweetheart," you greeted, noting the slight slur in your partner's voice.

"I need your help. Max keeps asking for you and complaining he's been without your kisses for too long," Alex sighed, likely fending off Max's advances.

"Tell him I'm on my way," you chuckled, hearing Max's whining in the background.

Arriving at the bustling club entrance, you spotted Alex supporting a clearly tipsy Max, who was chatting animatedly with a friend.

Max perked up at the sight of your car, eagerly pointing it out as Alex guided him to the passenger side.

"Hello, darling," Max blushed as he settled into the seat beside you.

"Hi, love," you giggled at his dazed expression, his eyes tired but filled with adoration as they met yours.

"Here are his phone and wallet," Alex said, passing Max's belongings before bidding you both farewell and closing the door.

"Are we heading home?" Max asked after a moment of silence.

"Yes."

You received a contented hum in response before feeling Max's ringed hand land gently on your thigh.

Thinking he had dozed off, you glanced at him at a red light, only to find him already gazing at you.

Before you could speak, his lips met yours, his hand now gripping your jaw as he kissed you passionately.

Tasting the remnants of alcohol, you savored the moment until a honk from behind broke the spell as the light turned green.

"No, don't stop," Max whined as you pulled away.

"The light's green, Max. We'll have plenty of time for kisses at home," you reassured him, smiling softly at his pouting expression.

He behaved for the rest of the journey, but the moment the elevator doors closed, Max pressed you against the wall, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss.

It was messy, with a few missed connections, but you didn't mind.

He protested when you pulled away at the sound of the elevator reaching your floor.

"Come on, let's get you inside," you chuckled, guiding him to the bathroom.

Turning him to face you, you gently held his cheeks, meeting his eyes. "We need to brush your teeth, baby."

"Nooo, can't we do it later? I just want to sleep," he protested.

"We have to do it now," you insisted, coaxing him to open his mouth for the toothbrush.

Afterward, you led him to your bedroom, urging him to undress.

"You seem to enjoy getting me naked," he teased, struggling with his shirt.

"Just get undressed, Max," you laughed, amused by his antics.

As he tripped and fell onto the floor, you stifled a laugh.

"It's not funny," he pouted, finally freeing himself from his pants.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Come on, let's get into bed, and I'll make it up to you with kisses," you promised.

"Okay," he agreed, climbing into bed.

A smile spread across your face as you watched him settle in, but it quickly faded as he pulled you down beside him.

"Max!" you scolded, turning to face him.

"What?" he giggled, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

"What was that about?"

"I wanted you close to me," he shrugged. "Now, where are my kisses?"

>>>>You can request stories if you want to just dm privately in case you want me to do a story about one of your favorite driver ! <<<<<

[doc-who]

When Green Turns Red

Emily Prentiss/Reader

Rating: Mature 18+

Chapter: 6/?

Words: 2121

Categories: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut

After what has felt like a life-time, your discharge papers are signed and you’re given the all clear to go home. Emily insists on driving you and you don’t have the strength to argue. Truth be told, you’re grateful for the company. She helps you into the passenger seat of the car, her touch gentle but insistent. She checks your seatbelt twice which makes you roll your eyes, then takes her place behind the wheel. She doesn’t start the car straight away, checking you over with worried eyes.

“I’m fine, Em,” you huff. 

Emily gives you a sheepish look and you soften. She’s barely left your side since she had finally come to see you, and while you’re immensely grateful, the juxtaposition of her constant hovering yet emotional distance has been sending you for a tailspin. 

As she starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you close your eyes and let your head fall back against the seat, feeling the warmth of the air conditioning and the gentle vibration of the engine. The painkillers are wearing off and you’re bone-tired, but the unspoken tension between you and Emily keeps you awake. 

As much as you have tried to reassure her, you suspect she still feels guilty about what happened to you. It makes you doubt why she’s really here. Is it because she cares about you, or is she just trying to assuage her perceived guilt? The uncertainty has made you scrutinize every moment with her over these past few weeks. As a result, you’ve started to distance yourself from her, bracing yourself for when you inevitably get your feelings hurt again.

Neither of you have mentioned that night at the bar. More importantly, Emily hasn’t said anything to imply that she didn't mean what she said. It reaffirms your suspicion, that her feelings haven’t changed, that she still thinks what you had together was a mistake. 

Emily pulls up to your apartment building and turns off the engine. You both sit in silence for a moment, before you unbuckle your seatbelt. Emily quickly gets out of the car and rushes to the passenger side to open your door for you. You bite back an exasperated groan as she reaches out to help you out of the seat. 

“Seriously, Emily. I can stand by myself,” you say, swatting her hands away. 

“Sorry,” she stammers, stepping away.

You take a deep breath and step out of the car as Emily avoids your eyes, standing there awkwardly as if she doesn’t know what to do if she’s not allowed to help you. 

“No, I’m sorry,” you apologise, “I know you’re just trying to help.”

Emily grimaces, “I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

You shake your head, “You’re not.” 

She frowns, trying to see the truth in your eyes, “Are you sure?” 

“I promise,” you swear. Once Emily visibly relaxes, you give her a smile, “so are you going to carry my bags up, or not?”

Emily laughs, and your heart flutters at the sound.

-

Garcia invites the four of you over for a “girls night” to celebrate your freedom from the sterile walls you had been confined to for the past few weeks. You’re pretty sure it’s just an excuse to drink away the stress the whole ordeal had caused, not that you’re complaining. You’re itching to be back in the real world and have some sense of normalcy again. 

You’re the last to arrive, stepping into the apartment to the sight of your friends. JJ and Garcia are already a bit tipsy, giggling to themselves on the couch. They look up when they hear the door, faces lighting up when they see you.

“You made it!” Garcia squeals, rushing over to greet you.

JJ is right behind her, and they sandwich you in a warm, exuberant hug. You laugh, letting their excitement wash over you. Over their shoulders, you catch a glimpse of Emily who is leaning against the doorway with a soft smile on her face. She lingers back, watching the reunion as if she’s afraid to intrude. Once they release you, you make your way over to her. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, feeling a sudden rush of shyness. It’s only been a week since you last saw her, when she picked you up from the hospital, but it feels like longer. You have been keeping some distance in an attempt to get control of your feelings, but all it takes is one look at her and you know it hasn’t worked.

Emily bites her lip as she steps forward, and your eyes are automatically drawn to the movement. "Hi," she echoes, her voice equally tentative.

You quickly look away from where you had been staring at her lips, heat rising in your cheeks when you meet the knowing look in her eyes. She bites back a smile as she takes in your flustered state, dark eyes glinting with something that makes your pulse race. The ever-present tension that lingers between the two of you, the one you constantly tell yourself that you’re imagining, is especially intense tonight.

Oblivious to the silent exchange, Garcia swoops into the room with a tray of brightly coloured shots and you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

"Let's get this party started!" she declares, corralling the two of you into the living room. 

She shoves a shot glass into your hand and you eye the concoction warily before tipping it back. The tequila burns a path down your throat, and you cough a little, your eyes watering. JJ laughs and pats you on the back, before she gently pushes you down onto the couch next to Emily. Resisting the urge to make the most of the close proximity, you tuck your hands under your thighs in an effort to keep them to yourself. You’re hyper aware of how close she is, the heat radiating from her body, the smell of her painfully familiar perfume in the air. Another drink is suddenly shoved towards you and you gladly accept, grateful for the distraction. 

“Drink up, my lovelies!” Garcia exclaims, and you do as you’re told. 

“We better not get called into work,” JJ says as she contemplates her drink.

Garcia puts her hands over her ears, “No! There will be no mention of that word in my house!” 

You all laugh and JJ shrugs, downing her glass in one go. It doesn’t take long before the four of you are well past tipsy, each shot of tequila or sip of wine gradually breaking down the wall you had carefully crafted around yourself. 

As the night progresses, you forget all the reasons you had for keeping your distance from Emily. With every drink you end up sitting closer and closer, until eventually the warmth of her thigh is pressed against yours and your shoulders brush every time you laugh. The shyness you had started the night with has vanished, and you find yourself welcoming the heavy gaze you find in Emily's eyes when she looks at you.

When Garcia brings out another bottle of wine with a waggle of her eyebrows, JJ groans and you agree with the sentiment. 

Excusing yourself to the kitchen, you fill up a glass of water and lean against the sink as you sip it. You set your glass down and turn around to make your way back to the group, but instead walk straight into Emily. Her sudden appearance makes you jump, and you feel Emily’s warm palms on your arms as she steadies you. 

“You okay?”

You don’t realise how close you are until she speaks and you feel the warm puff of air from her lips. Your eyes lower, seeking out the source of the sensation. Her hands tighten around where they rest on your biceps, and remembering she asked you a question you manage a nod, your eyes drifting back up to hers. Your breath catches in your chest when they make contact with her dilated pupils. You’re transfixed at the sight, at the way she’s looking at you. It makes a familiar feeling coil in your gut. 

Her hands slide from your arm up to your shoulders and you shiver at the sensation. Something in her eyes changes then, and suddenly you’re being pressed back against the counter and kissed desperately. You return it instinctively, your body remembering how right it feels to have her pressed up against you, to have her lips on yours. 

For a moment everything else fades into the background. It’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other they way it used to be. You’re completely lost in her. In the sweet taste of wine on her tongue, the gentle pressure of her fingers as they weave into your hair. Your own hands slide up her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt, and you pull her closer, deepening the kiss. 

Emily pushes her hips into yours and one of your hands falls back onto the counter to brace yourself, inadvertently knocking over the glass you had set there. The sudden clink of the glass against granite startles you, and instantly the spell you’re under is broken.

You pull back from Emily with a gasp, hands clutching the edge of the counter with a white-knuckle grip. Reality crashes down on you and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try to calm your trembling body. For a moment, you’re not sure if you’ve imagined what just happened. But the taste of her lips lingers on your mouth, and the feeling of her hands burns where they touched you. 

You flinch when Emily reaches out again, your eyes flying open to see the conflicted expression on her face. Her hand hovers over yours and you jerk your arm away from her reach.

“Don’t,” you whisper through gritted teeth.

Emily stumbles backwards in shock, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done-“ 

You cut her off, “No, you shouldn’t have,” your voice is firm and unwavering, despite the turmoil that swirls inside, “What the fuck are you doing, Emily?” 

The kitchen island stops her retreat backwards as you step towards her, hands shaking in anger. Tears well in her eyes as she wraps her arms around herself, but you’re too lost in your anger and heartbreak to notice.

“Is this some sort of game to you?” you demand, voice rising with each word, “You tell me everything between us was a mistake, and now you kiss me? What, are you bored? Or is this just your way of making yourself feel better?"

Emily's eyes widen, and she shakes her head vigorously, "No, no, it's not like that, I swear." 

“Then what is it, Emily?” 

You don’t back down, keeping your eyes on her as you wait for an explanation. Instead she looks at you with pleading eyes, begging you to see what she can’t bring herself to say. Lost in your anguish, all you notice is the silence in place of the answer you’re desperate for. 

You feel like an idiot for letting your guard down, for thinking that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way you did. You had been so careful not to get your hopes up, to not read into the care she had shown you over the past few weeks. But in that moment, when she kissed you, all those reservations abandoned you. Now, standing here with the echo of your voice ringing in the air, you see how badly you’ve messed up. The realisation breaks your heart all over again.

You swipe a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face, and notice that your cheeks are wet with tears. You wipe at them angrily, not caring if she sees how much she’s hurt you. 

“You were right,” you say, voice now quiet and defeated, “this was a mistake.” 

You turn and walk away before you see the effect your words have on her.

You're standing at the door when you hear her broken voice utter your name, “Please, don’t leave.”

You freeze with your hand on the handle, holding back the sob that threatens to rip from your throat. You make the mistake of turning around and the pieces of your already broken heart shatter even further. There’s a desperation in her face that’s painfully familiar, but you can’t place from where. It’s all too much to bear, and you force yourself to turn your back on her.

“Goodbye, Emily.” 

As you step out the door, you hear a gut-wrenching sob leave her. It takes everything you have not to fall to your knees and let her break your heart over and over again.

ao3

[goosita]

working as young!politician!coryo’s secretary is usually a fairly calm job, not too stress inducing.

most days, you greet people who come in for meetings with coriolanus, send out emails and faxes, make and take phone calls for his office, and keep a steady flow of fresh coffee at all hours. then, you tidy up your desk when the day is done and you wait for your best friend to come pick you up and drive you home from work.

today was going according to plan, having been an especially easy day. mr. snow had been out for most of the afternoon, only returning about an hour ago. the phones had been quiet as well, giving you time to finish all of your work on the computer you had put off. it was rounding out to be quite the easy day, until your best friend called 5 minutes before you were due to clock out for the evening.

“i’m sorry! the tire just exploded, literally. and now i’m stuck waiting here for god knows how long for a tow truck. i’m so sorry,” they babble, clearly feeling incredibly guilty.

“it’s fine, i promise. i can just call a taxi or something.”

out of the corner of your eye, you see coriolanus leave his office, turning to lock the door behind him. he glances at you curiously.

“are you sure? i don’t know how long it’ll take but—“

“yes, i’m sure,” you cut them off, sighing. “cab fair to my place is only a few dollars, i’ll survive. let me know when you make it home though, alright?”

your friend laments and agrees to send you a message when they’re home, hanging up. you barely hold in a heavy sigh, sliding your phone into your bag.

“need a ride?” coriolanus asks, tilting his head to the side just-so. it startles you for a moment, having forgotten he was standing right there.

“oh, no. thank you, mr. snow, but i’ll be okay. i can call a cab,” you tell him, cheeks warming.

“nonsense, can’t let a lovely young lady like you risk getting into some seedy cab,” he insists. he gives you that charming grin, the one that makes the smile line near his cheek deepen prettily. you hesitate for a moment longer before he steps closer, offering his arm.

you try not to let it show that your fingers tremble just slightly, slipping your arm through his and resting your hand in the cradle of his elbow. coriolanus smiles even wider, leading you outside to the parking garage reserved for the building.

“thank you, mr. snow,” you say quietly as you walk beside him. he shakes his head and chuckles under his breath.

“it’s past business hours. you can call me by my first name, you know.”

you don’t know what exactly to say to that, simply offering a hum in response. coriolanus leads you to a sleek black car where a man in an equally sleek black suit stands at the driver’s side door. coriolanus holds his hand out to the man, who gives a look of surprise but drops the car keys into his palm.

“i’d like to drive myself this evening, gerald. thank you.”

he leaves no room for questioning as he walks you to the passenger side, his driver quickly disappearing. coriolanus opens the door for you and gently holds your hand as you slide in, giving you a soft grin as he closes the door. when he walks around the front to the driver’s side door, you speak up.

“i live on pr—“

“i know,” he cuts you off. you swallow, watching him sit down and start the car. he must sense your confused before he sees it on your face, because he speaks again.

“i have a good memory. i saw it on your application last year and remembered you live on the same street as an old friend,” he explains. you nod, looking down at your hands in your lap.

coriolanus smoothly pulls out of the parking spot, resting his hand on your headrest as he turns to look out of the back window. it’s so hard not to stare, to look at the way his neck is exposed like this. his jaw is so sharp, skin smooth and pale. you can smell his scent lingering in the small space between you; that intoxicating mix of roses and spice and metal.

“it’s not polite to stare,” he teases, turning his body back to the front. his hands settle comfortably on the wheel, his icy stare focused on the road.

“i-i’m sorry, mr. snow. i didn’t mean to.”

“coriolanus,” he purrs. “coryo, if you prefer.”

coryo. not just his first name, but a nickname. your hands feel clammy.

“coryo,” you say softly, almost under your breath. he hums in acknowledgment, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

it goes silent in the car after that, your mind working overtime to try and figure him out. the last few weeks have been nothing short of dizzying, his lingering gazes and teasing quips, just shy of innuendos. you think back to the way he had watched you with the lollipop in his mouth, the way he had dragged his tongue over the red candy and the stain it had left on his plush lips. the way you’d been unable to stop thinking about what those lips would taste like against your own, sticky with cherry and sugar.

a warm hand settled on your thigh, breaking you out of your thoughts as you jump slightly, looking over at him. still, his eyes are glued to the road, as if he wasn’t doing anything at all besides driving.

“coriolanus…?” you murmur, glancing down at his hand. his fingers are long, spanning over your clothed thigh almost completely. his fingertips just barely brush the inseam of your trousers, but he’s still about it. he doesn’t move to stroke or caress, just rests there in your lap.

“yes, darling?” he says evenly. you don’t know why, but the petname makes your breath hitch. “everything alright?”

you breathe out slowly, slightly shakily. “yeah— yes.”

coriolanus smiles, eyes flickering to you just once before returning to the street. after a few more moments, he’s pulling onto your street and parking outside your apartment.

“here we are,” he says unceremoniously. like his palm isn’t burning through your pants on your leg, making you hold in a shudder. “home, safe and sound.”

it takes you a few moments to find your voice again, nodding. “thank you for the ride, mr. sn—….coryo.”

“you’re very welcome, my darling,” he says; and there it is again. that endearment. “i’ll see you in the morning.”

you nod and go to open the car door, letting his hand fall from your thigh. you grab your back and close the door behind you, turning and quickly hurrying up the sidewalk to the front steps of your building before you hear his voice call out again.

“miss y/n?”

you stop and turn, seeing that he rolled the window down.

“sweet dreams.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

rafe with sleepy reader pls 🙏🙏

words: 700

warnings: none! just fluffy

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you let out a yawn, making rafes head snap to look at you. he gets up without saying a word, and the conversation naturally drops off as he crosses the patio to sit down next to you, running his fingers through your hair.

“baby, are you sleepy?” he asks, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“yeah.” you shrug. “but you're having a talk with the boys, ill be okay for a bit longer.” you suppress another yawn, but you know rafe sees it. he probably also recognized your slow blinks and lethargic movements long before you even let out a yawn.

“you're too sweet, princess.” rafe presses his lips to your cheek, and then the other side before capturing your lips in a kiss. “give me five more minutes and then we can leave, okay?”

“can we cuddle and nap when we get home?” you ask, reaching out to touch rafes thigh, swirling your fingertip over his khaki shorts.

“of course, baby.” rafe presses another kiss to your lips before getting up. you miss his touch, but know that you'll get it soon, as soon as he wraps up with the boys.

you let out another yawn as you rest your head against the back of the couch, keeping your eyes on rafe as your blinks slow until your eyes remain closed.

when you reopen them, rafe is picking you up to carry you outside. “i didn't mean to fall asleep.” you whisper, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulders as he heads out to the truck.

“that's okay.” rafe hums, hands cupped under your thighs, easily able to hold you with one hand as he pulls open the car door, setting you down in the passenger seat that rafe insists belongs to you, making topper sit in the back seat, even when you're not there, saying only his girl gets passenger seat privileges. “im not mad, honey.” rafe kisses your forehead before he rounds the truck to climb into the driver's seat.

“oh, it's not even late!” your eyes bulge at the time when rafe turns the truck on. 

“too late for my sleepy girl though.” rafe chuckles, reaching over to place a hand on your thigh. you place your own hand on top of his, curling up into your seat as your eyes close again. rafe makes sure to take all the turns back home slow, and to not speed as to keep you asleep.

when you get home, rafe removing his hand from your thigh almost wakes you, but it's not until he pulls you into his arms to carry you inside that you open your eyes again.

“rafey-” you press your lips against his neck, peppering his skin with kisses. “i love you.” you coo, always feeling extra lovey when you're tired, which is most of the time.

“i love you too baby.” rafe squeezes his hands, keeping you awake as he ascends the stairs. “you gotta change into pajamas before you can sleep again.”

“but im so tired.” you whine, flopping down onto the bed when rafe sets you down. “can you get me changed?”

rafe chuckles, knowing that once you fall asleep you need at least half an hour of being awake to function at all. he grabs a pajama set out of your drawer, reminiscing of the time when you first started dating, and the only thing you kept in his room was a cute pair of pajamas, cute, not sexy, insisting you needed to be comfy to sleep, but rafe quickly learned you could pass out anywhere, any time.

you barely stay awake, head lolling to the side as rafe carefully undresses you, his hands warm against your bare skin before putting your pajamas on. 

rafe, always being a shirtless sleeper, simply strips himself to his underwear before he climbs into bed, helping you reposition your head over the pillows. he pulls the covers over your body, making sure his phone is within reach when you lay down, your head on his chest and arm wrapped around his waist. you are asleep within seconds, and rafe grabs his phone to occupy him until it's later, not being able to fall asleep so early.