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prael · 7 months ago

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Cleaning Service

Kinktember Day 2: Maid Play

Aespa Karina x male reader smut

words: 4,000 Kinktember Masterlist

"Hey, babe?" You poke your head from the door of your home office. "What's with all the noise?"

Karina is hooking her head around the corner at the end of the hallway and calls back to you, "Noise? Oh, whoops! I was just sweeping the floor and dropped the brush. Sorry, sir."

"Sir?" you question under your breath as she disappears around the corner. "Whatever..." You retreat into the office once again, plopping down onto the comfy computer chair. You turn your focus back to the work documents in front of you. This lasts for all of two minutes before you hear a loud thumping noise once again from somewhere in the apartment.

You leave your chair, cross the room, and open the door, poking your head out in confusion once more. "Karina?" There is no reply. The hallway is quiet. The doors to the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are all closed. You take a step into the hall and you're greeted by the loud scraping of furniture on the floor from the living and dining room at the far end.

You advance towards the corner in apprehension, calling out again, "Karina? What's going on?"

She is half over the dining table and looking over her shoulder. "I'm still cleaning, sir. Sorry if I'm loud. I have been told that I'm too loud with everything I do." There's a lilt in her voice on those last words. Between that and her choice of dress, it is hard not to have your mind in the gutter.

"What the hell are you wearing?" You probably intended to ask that in your own head but you couldn't help but blurt it out. In reality, it's very clear what she is wearing, the better question would have been why is she wearing it, but it's too late for that.

"Sir, this is standard dress for a maid. I am the maid you hired after all. I'm here to give your big, long... hallway a long, hard, deep clean, right after I finish here in the dining room."

At this point, you haven't made eye contact for a single second of the conversation, too drawn to how her skirt is so short that not only can you see her panties, but you can see the bare skin of her lower back above them as she bends. Your gaze wanders down the backs of her tasty thighs and the gap between them.

Karina speaks again after a soft laugh at how you seem to be stunned, "Perhaps you would like to watch me work? Make sure that I don't miss a spot and get into all these... tight spaces?"

"Karina... I have work. I have to finish this paperwork..." you respond half-heartedly.

"Okay sir, if you don't want to watch, I can just keep working on my own." As you lean back on the wall by the corner, thinking, she bends forward, so that her ass rises into the air. "I promise not to make too much noise."

Working is a fool's errand, every time you hear something outside your office, you're reminded of what Karina is up to—of her ridiculous outfit. You want to watch her. There isn't enough blood in your brain for you to think clearly. And then the door opens. Brush in hand, Karina steps into the office and bends over to run the bristles across the floor in long sweeping strokes. It is impossible not to notice the slight sway in her hips.

You look away, turn, and focus back on your work. For a brief second, anyway. Her long and slightly wavy black hair hangs in front of her shoulder as she bends over to sweep, between the locks, the white low-cut lace frills of her outfit struggle to contain her chest. It's fitted so tight that they spill over, each sweep of her arms threatening to push them free.

You can't help it anymore. You steer into the skid and fuel the roleplay. "I expect every inch of this place swept, cleaned, and shined. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir, the place has to be clean, really clean. I am here to serve you to the best of my abilities."

"Clean this desk," you instruct simply, returning to your computer screen with a smug smirk, as though you are oblivious to the real intent of your words. You aren't really oblivious to it—you're relishing it. She is likely doing the same thing, of course. This is her plan. Her choice of outfit—from the black and white dress down to the choker on her neck has an intention behind it, and there's no point pretending that she isn't trying to seduce you.

She steps over next to you, duster in hand, and with exaggeratedly graceful gestures she dusts down the desk you work at. She reaches over you, to the far side, instead of walking around, this way she can push her chest right into your face. In between writing lines in an email, you check out the cleavage just inches from you. You breathe a gentle warm sigh right onto her.

Karina whines, softly, in your ear, and then speaks, "Oh master... It looks like there's some dirt I have to clean right"—Karina reaches down below the desk to grasp your trousers, over your bulge—"here. I know just what it needs. A nice spit-shine."

"I did hire you to clean everything," you smile. Karina settles down to her knees on the floor and then crawls under your desk. You spread your legs a little more to let her inside and roll your chair forward ever so slightly. You type your email; there are so many to work through, after all.

Her hands explore over your trousers until she is firmly clasping at you, massaging through your pants. "It's so dirty down here," Karina puts a feigned whine into her voice. "I'm going to have to get in there and really make it nice and clean, master."

Karina tugs at the zipper of your trousers and pulls it down, next she has your boxer shorts tugged down as well. She cradles you in her right hand, toying, feeling it grow harder in the palm of her hand. For some time, she playfully toys and strokes, squeezing and palming and groping all over. This is heaven.

"This is a really big job, sir, I do hope it's worth a nice, big tip. The maid likes to be rewarded well." You hear and feel the giggle against your inner thigh before she runs her wet, slick tongue all the way from the base of your length right up to the head. She spits onto it and collects it with her stroking hand, creating a smooth and slippery glide.

She uses her other hand to massage your balls, cupping and stroking them. She seems to work you over for so long without making a change and it has you wondering if she intends to use just her hand all the way. Her fingertips play over your sensitive cock, teasing, working you into a fever. Your fingertips brush the keyboard, working away while your cock is worked over, a display of inhuman self-control.

"Are you going to be a good maid and clean it for me, or just play with it all day?" Your hand wanders to the top of her head to rub her.

"Sorry master, I have been known to enjoy my job a little too much at times. Don't worry, I will have your dick all cleaned and polished right away." Karina doesn't waste another second, before her mouth engulfs you, sinking down onto you, wet and soft and slippery, hotter than even the warmth of her hands had been, her lips gliding down on you and wrapping snugly.

Your fingers tap wildly over the keyboard. She runs her lips and tongue all along your shaft as she moves down and then up. Every movement causes your toes to curl, and your body to arch forward in your seat. The movements cause your hands to slow over the keyboard. "Good girl."

Karina grabs and caresses your thigh in silent appreciation. It tickles more than anything, making you writhe ever so slightly, but that just sends you deeper into the warmth and wetness. It is absolute bliss, the smooth, warm feeling enveloping your entire shaft.

Her hands kneed your upper thighs as she pushes her head down all the way, before coming up to gasp for air, catching her breath, and then descending back onto you with eagerness. In a moment like this, you can feel every little thing she shoes with her mouth. She plays her tongue over your tip and you grip the keyboard as if you plan to twist it in half. You stare straight ahead blankly, knowing that if you were to look down, you would be a lost cause.

That tongue swirls and twists around the head, a feat that cannot go unacknowledged. You reach down with one hand and tangle up in her soft, silken black hair and push her harder. It's all the direction she needs as she brings the full heat and pressure of her mouth down into your lap, bobbing up and down rapidly. She is drooling all over you. Your fingers are gently caressing her as her tongue draws all sorts of sensations over your flesh.

At last, the task is done and you hit enter and fire off your email. Just in time to grip the arm of your chair. " Fuck..." you exhale under your breath. Karina hums happily as your cock hits the back of her throat, sending ripples through you, driving you ever closer. Harder she sucks, desperate to suck you clean. Your mouth goes dry, and a violent shiver courses through your body, toes and fingers tingling. "I'm going to..." you exhale as a shiver rushes over you, eyes widening, pleasure mounting, peaking.

You tremble. Then, your eyes shut and you squeeze into a fistful of hair. You let out a low, long growl and thrust your hips forward, grunting. You cum, right down the back of Karina's throat, and she works you the entire time, sucking down every drop of you into herself. This is ecstasy. You could float right up away through the roof and into the sky at any minute.

Karina bobs her head for a short time, the intense sensitivity is almost unbearable, every second, every stroke is an overload to your system, but she won't give in into you have released every drop. Finally, she pulls her mouth away. Your whole body sags in relief as Karina leans her face against your thigh. "I trust my work has satisfied?" she whispers, and all you can do is nod. "Then I should continue my other tasks."

Karina crawls out from under your desk, and as she stands, she wipes around her mouth with her fingers. Her lip gloss is smeared at the sides of her lips, her cheeks reddened and her hair messy, but she still gives you the most beautiful smile. She stands straight and neatens her dress.

"Where was I... Ah, yes, I should dust the shelves. Sir." You roughly pull up your trousers and underwear and watch as Karina retrieves her duster and sets about her work. You look back at your screen but she's still there in the periphery, standing on her tiptoes as she dusts, the hem of her little dress not even half-covering her perky ass. "Don't let me distract you, sir, work hard. Really, really hard."

What else were you meant to do? You watch Karina as she dances around, dusting in a way that doesn't even clean anything. Everything else has become unimportant, apart from the curves of her body moving in front of you. You could sit there all day, watching her, and, well, that's probably just what Karina wants. She has effectively just said don't try to do any work, sit there and think about fucking me instead.

A few emails later she's still there, leaning to reach the lower shelves, arching her back and showing you everything. Your commitment wanes by the second, just staring, thinking and wanting, it's like torture. "How can I focus while you're just there? In front of me?" You ask her directly at last, leaving your chair, walking past and watching her over her shoulder, pressing a kiss onto the side of her neck.

"What's wrong, sir? Have I done something wrong? Please don't fire me, I'll do anything." You stand directly behind her, nose in her neck, your hands resting on her hips, before sliding down and cupping her round ass. Karina fakes a stammer in her voice, "Sir, that's... that's..."

She doesn't resist. Your hands slip between her legs and stroke her underwear. You can feel how wet she is by just grazing over her. "I didn't hire you to be pretty, slutty and wet, you know? I hired you to work."

Karina pushes back into you, grinding against your fingers, wanting more than a tease. "Sir, I thought those were the only reasons you hired me."

You grip the band of her panties, before tugging them down her thighs. Karina grips the bookshelf, pushing her ass out towards you. "You really want to earn a tip?"

"Yes sir, a big, hard, throbbing, long tip..." Karina purrs, squirming against you, trying to get some stimulation where she needs it most, pushing her wet slit back towards you.

You plant one firm palm between her shoulder blades, using a hard force to pin her against the bookcase. Your fingertips travel down between her legs and you slip one inside her, causing her to inhale sharply through clenched teeth.

You follow this with another. They slide right in with a groan. You whisper in her ear, "How can a maid clean when she is so dirty? Look at the mess you are dripping down your leg." You say that with a tinge of aggression even if you're really happy about it. "It's going to get on my floor. The very floor you should be keeping clean."

"I can mop it all up. I'm so sorry." Her voice is an irresistible plea as you massage her soaked insides. "You can even make a mess of me if you want, then I will clean it all up. You will think I'm the very best maid."

"Want to be a good maid?" You spit onto the floor by her foot. "Get down there and clean that up. Quick." Karina immediately descends and begins licking your saliva off the floor.

You lower to your own knees, right behind her, and push your trousers down again, pulling your hardened, still-wet, cock free once more. Karina's licks are frantic—even if there's nothing left on the floor, you order her to continue until it's spotless while you take hold of her hips in a firm, dominant grasp.

You guide her body as needed as you press yourself against her pussy, running your stiffened cock over her flesh. "You clean that floor well and I'll give you a very... very big tip."

"Yes sir," is a repeated series of eager replies punctuated by soft groans, as you grind your shaft against her, lubing yourself up with her sticky juices. She shudders in your grasp and quivers every time the tip of your cock brushes across her clit.

Her attention falters with each one, causing her tongue to get slower. "Keep... Cleaning. You're not done yet." You hold your cock right at her entrance, and she pushes back, a subtle attempt to get you in her, she gets as much as the first inch before you pull back out.

Karina cries out at the teasing, "Nooo, please, put it inside me, sir." She glances back at you, and there's a glaze over those hazel eyes. Desperation.

"Keep licking," you tease Karina, pushing the head of your cock into her and out, never quite fucking her but driving her crazy. "Show me how clean you can get my floor. Then I'll fuck you... Hard... You want that, don't you?"

"Yes," she pants and shivers, unable to even formulate more of a sentence.

You reach up for the back of her dress, the black fabric held together by a white string, which you easily pull free. You keep pulling and it all unwinds from her, exposing her beautiful pale skin down to her lower back. Her breathing speeds as the reality sets in, you're taking control, pulling off her clothing, baring her. You grab the dress, yanking it down her body, and she doesn't even wear a bra so those heavy tits hang freely.

You return a palm to her upper back, pinning her to the floor. You readjust your position behind her.

Now she is near-nude, pressed flush against the cold and wet floor, and you're leaning over her. You steady your grasp back on her waist, taking her firmly. "What do you want?"

"I want payment for my services, sir, in the form of a big, hot load in my slutty, little pussy," Karina moans. She feels vulnerable now, underneath you as you lean over her back.

You begin to press inside her, feeling all of that clinging wetness, hearing her little noises. Slowly at first, before increasing your intensity, driving inside of her all the way. As you do, you speak over her, "Paid in sex? Paid in cum? And where will it go after we're done?"

"I'll keep it inside me, sir, so there's no mess. You can even dump it all inside my ass, and then I will make sure it all stays there." Karina quivers under you, her back is so slender and delicate, smooth as silk. You run your fingers across her spine and see her skin ripple and her butt rise slightly upwards in response.

"Think I might just do that then..." You begin to build up a rhythm inside her, picking up momentum. She seems so delicate and weak under you, everything Karina usually is not. She's whimpering already, a sign of how desperately horny she is, how she wants to be yours. You grip the soft flesh of her ass and then give a slap with your palm, leaving a red mark.

"Thank you, sir." There's a sincere sense of submission in Karina, which you drink up. She enjoys this change of pace just as much as you do.

You slip a thumb between her cheeks and run it up and down her crack. You prod her hole, eliciting another high-pitched whine from her lips and her insides tighten around you which feels fucking amazing. You gather more of the sticky juices leaking down from her pussy, moistening your thumb further and begin pressing your finger more firmly into her, inching the first knuckle up inside her ass.

With each press inside, a squeal leaves her lips, though her words beg for more, "Give me more, sir, don't stop, it's so good... Thank you!"

Karina is reacting like crazy, it is unlike her to be this sensitive, in the moment, she doesn't allow anyone to control her, but this is everything to her now. You push deeper into her, and deeper, and with a little more resistance, all the way inside. Now you're pressed to the hilt, all the way inside Karina's pussy, and thumb-deep inside her ass at the same moment, drawing more delicious, delicate noises from her, turning your beautiful domineering woman into a helpless mess of blissful whimpers.

Keeping your length inside her, you work your thumb with a twist and a push and you let your spit spill onto her hole, slicking it and making the movement smoother. You use your spare hand to brush over the cheeks and grope. Karina trembles violently, moaning, pushing herself backwards on your digit. She loves having you deep inside her like this, both holes stuffed.

There are so many things that you could say, so many taunts, so many vulgar things, but to bask in the revelry of Karina being a messy submissive girl is to not even need to say them, her expressions, noises, reactions and the pure depravity of it are more than enough for you. This is it.

This is it.

You pull from her cunt and cock back your thumb, ready to replace it with all the pumped-up eagerness of a man possessed, and then you spread her wide. Little to stop you as you slide forward, plunging into the warm and snug grip of her ass. She cries out in response to your breach, making those cute, sexy noises all over again, as you slowly slide into her, gritting your own teeth and groaning as you bury yourself completely within the grip of Karina's asshole, every bit as intense and delightful as you knew it would be.

"God you've got the best ass," you say with a growl. "Fit to take everything I have."

Karina could say anything, sarcastic or clever, or maybe something born out of depravity, but she can barely summon up anything more than an approving murmur. The kind of sound a girl makes when her mind isn't here anymore, focused on a single, wonderful feeling—being stuffed and stretched out.

Your hands caress the supple skin of Karina's ass as you begin to withdraw, holding the soft flesh between your fingers and taking handfuls of her.

Karina clutches, clawing at the floor, but says nothing, letting the sensations take her away, overwhelmed. Just her moans and the deep gasping breath through her nose as you roll your hips into her, grinding and stroking over her and causing her to go so rigid and tense. Her eyes roll back as you lose yourself within her.

A rhythm forms and you're barrelling towards giving her the mess she wants inside her ass. She strains to say, "Fuck my ass. Fuck it. Fuck it and then fill it. Want you so deep. Want all that cum."

Your fingernails dig in, gouging red scratches on her pale ass cheeks as you squeeze her tighter. Karina's hole grows snugger and hotter by the second as if the warmth and depth were begging for what Karina had voiced—an ass full of cum. You certainly want that, and the faster and rougher your hips work the closer it is. "Love filling all your tight holes."

"Do it, cum," Karina moans.

Hard and fast it arrives, the need that you can't prevent. You erupt within her. Violent spasms accompany your filling of her ass, of what must be the most satisfying, taboo orgasm of your life (so far). She takes it all so beautifully, moaning and squealing as she fills up.

No mess. None at all. "So full," she whines. No mess but the one in her.

You lean down, head at her shoulder as you catch your breath, and she cranes her head to nuzzle against you, reaching up to touch your cheek and make eye contact with you through heavy-lidded, satisfied eyes. In that gaze, she doesn't have a smirk or any sort of mischief, just a pleased look of joy, appreciation, and perhaps even a desire for more. You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't say you shared the feeling.

You leave her there, slumped onto the floor, ass in the air. Her little maid outfit is barely even affixed to her body anymore, crumpled and hanging around her midsection. The skin of her ass still bears the marks of your nails. She remains where you have left her. Karina's face and breasts smudge and push against the floor with each breath she takes. The room smells of sex, her, the two of you.

"Clean yourself up. Clean my office up," you instruct her while buckling yourself back up before heading for the door.

Karina coughs once, then admits, "I don't know if I can manage that. Maybe we need a real maid."

#kinktember #kpop smut #Karina smut #Aespa smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #Karina x reader #maid play

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ceilidho · 2 years ago

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prompt: reader is hired as a live in house cleaner because ghost is always away and he only comes back on leave and he insists she stay in the guest room. Over time he increasingly acts like she’s his live in girlfriend or something. Very confusing for reader lmao.

The job comes at the exact right time.

The way you stumble onto your new job is a bit dicey, if you’re being honest. You’ve been meaning to get out of the waitressing life for a while—the tips are shit and the number of times that you’ve had your backside pinched has slowly but steadily climbed into the double digits. You just haven’t had direction; somewhere to go.

Your savior comes in the form of a six foot plus soldier. Oh, he doesn’t tell you that, but his body language speaks for itself.

At first, even the sight of him makes your belly clench and palms sweat like when you watch rock climbing documentaries or parkour videos online (all moist and clammy and you have to wipe them on your jeans before shaking his hand). He’s a one-time customer at your little roadside diner that gradually becomes a repeat offender.

He comes at odd times, sometimes disappearing for a month or two before he’s back to sitting in the booth at the back of the diner with his back against the wall. You smile shakily when you pour him coffee after coffee. He never eats. Always sits in the same booth, dressed in the same black hoodie that does nothing to hide the sheer size of him and a black surgical mask that he never removes. He has a sixth sense for when you’re watching him from behind the counter, waiting for him to take a sip.

You never do catch a glimpse of his face. Not completely anyway. You know him only by the faint smell of gunpowder and metal that clings to him like a second skin, and the feeling of his calloused hand against yours.

Like ice slowly chipping off a glacier that one day cracks, a huge chunk splintering off and crashing into the sea, you know nothing about him until you’re suddenly in his house. Simon, he tells you, and the sound of his name awakens something in you. He needs a housekeeper and you need a reason to leave.

You quit the diner; barely even put in a week’s notice.

The day you drive up the long beaten road up to his property, a cabin deep in the English countryside, clear blue skies follow you. Clouds crisp, delicate even. Simon takes you through the house, showing you to the guest room where you’ll be staying while he’s away. He never directly confirms your suspicions, but the faint tightness around his eyes when he mentions his job tells you all you need to know. No wonder he needs someone to keep the house in order. Never around to do it himself.

Then he’s gone, swift as a ghost. You wake up in the guest room to a hastily scrawled note on your bedside table and a faint feeling of loss.

You scrub tiles and dust the top bit of the fan that everyone always misses; you mow the lawn, clean the gutters, and sit under the shade of a poplar tree with a glass of lemonade in the early evenings. If you look up into the tree, you’ll see spiders and squirrel nests. It’s almost therapeutic.

Weeks pass at a time. Simon reemerges like clear skies between periods of rain. Sometimes even before you wake up, you can feel the change like lighting sizzling in the air, crackling hot under your fingertips and then stumbling into the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter, coffee already brewing. You blush into an apology that he waves off.

Good soldier. Better boss.

You fall into a routine, something of a cadence that is only interrupted by Simon’s hands on your hips when he moves you out of the way to grab a mug from the top shelf. His finger brushing over the curve of your cheekbone to wipe away flour smudged on your cheek. Then he’s gone again, passing through like a ghost.

Perhaps he’s a more tactile man than you originally assumed. Something about the way he held himself in those first few weeks in the diner suggested otherwise, the way he seemed to radiate a latent hostility. Do not get close. You read this in the general slope of his eyebrows and the scars across his muscled forearms up until he reaches out to touch you, growing more and more comfortable with you around.

“You alright, love?” said into your ear on a warm night when Simon materializes onto the couch beside you, practically out of thin air. Your heart almost bursts in your chest.

When you turn, he’s as beautiful as ever, honey burnt eyes staring out from behind a balaclava this time. Still dresses in his standard issue tactical pants, the faint smear of grime and gore around the ankles. There’s a lump in your throat when you smile.

He smells richer now. Deeper, like the forest floor. Like crawling through mud and spider webs and a thick, cloying miasma of desperation.

“Sorry—I didn’t know you’d be back,” you apologize, going to rise up to your feet. It feels wrong to commandeer his house when he’s on leave, even though you live here too.

A heavy hand on your shoulder pulls you down, settling you to his side. “Off your feet now—there you go, atta girl. No sense getting up; show’s not even done.”

He angles you back to face the TV and tugs you into his lap almost effortlessly. You do not look back, even when you feel him slip the balaclava off, hot breath fanning over your neck. Not even when fingers play over the thin line of skin where your shirt rides up. You blink like your eyes are gummy and try not to shudder when his thumb dips underneath your shirt.

#cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ceil writing #house cleaner au

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heartsforvin · 9 months ago

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BIRTHDAY BOY

can’t believe my baby boy is 22 🥹 enjoy this smut in honor of da bday boy himself !!!! hope you all like it <3

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, use of pet names, praise kink, bit of degradation, spit play (is that a thing ??), slapping, overstimulation, use of vibrator, bit of cum play, lmk if i missed anything !!

summary: it’s his day so why not let him take control, right?

you woke up extra early to surprise your boyfriend with a special birthday breakfast. you went into the kitchen and made his favorite breakfast meal.

hera came up behind you, brushing against your leg with a small meow.

you look down and give her a smile before continuing to make vinnie’s food.

once it’s finished, you add finishing touches and a glass of orange juice before setting everything on a tray and bringing it back into your shared bedroom.

pushing the door open with your foot, you quietly make your way into the room, noticing vinnie is still asleep.

you almost don’t want to wake him. the way he’s sleeping so peacefully, curls messily in his face as soft snores erupt from his mouth.

you also didn’t want the freshly made food go to waste. so, you placed the tray on the dresser before walking over to your boyfriends side of the bed.

sitting down next to him, you slowly push the sheets away, the tattoo on his upper back coming into your view.

smiling softly, you drag your nails gently along his skin, whispering for him to wake up.

vinnie moans softly before mumbling something you can’t quite hear before shifting in his sleep.

“come on vinnie, get up,” you run your fingers through his hair. “made you a special breakfast.”

vinnie smiles at your words, he lifts his head up and looks at you. “goodmorning sleepyhead.” you say kissing his cheek.

his smile doesn’t falter as you kiss his cheeks. a subtle whine leaves his lips when you stand up, but his expression changes once he sees the tray of food.

“your favorite just for you, my love.” you say, waiting for him to sit up against the headboard before placing the tray on the bed in front of him.

sitting next to him, vinnie smiles and thanks you before digging into his meal. you smile at him, threading your fingers through his messy curls as he eats.

“whatcha’ wanna do today, birthday boy?” you ask with a smirk, making vinnie laugh.

he finishes up his breakfast before answering you. “wanna know what i really want?”

you laugh and push his chest, already knowing where this is going. it was no surprise that’s what he wanted, birthday or not.

“get your mind outta’ the gutter for five minutes, hacker,” you chuckle. “before we get to that, what would you like?”

he smirks at you. “oh so i am gettin’ it tonight?” he teases.

grabbing the tray, you stand up and walk to the door before turning your head to look at him. “keep talking like that and you won’t.” you wink.

vinnie waves you off and you laugh as you exit the room to clean up the dishes from the breakfast you had made.

as you do, vinnie decides to get up and get ready for the day. after his shower and after shower routine, vinnie meets you in the kitchen.

he sees hera laying on her cat tree and goes up to her, scratching under her ear before kissing her head.

“go put a shirt on, i’m taking you out for the day.” you tell your boyfriend as you dry your hands.

vinnie walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist, yours going to rest behind his neck.

“or,” he starts before kissing you softly, his bare chest pressed against you. “we can stay in and just chill ‘til later.”

you smile and push him away before pushing him to the bedroom door. “shirt, now. i wanna treat you, it’s your day.”

he puts his hands up in defense as he backs up into the bedroom. “okay miss bossy, i’ll go put a shirt on.”

you chuckle at his antics as you walk over to hera, who was still on her cat tree. you kiss her head and tell her the two of you will be back before going to grab your purse.

calling out for your boyfriend, he’s quick to respond with a playful remark before swinging his arm around you and heading out the door.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

after hours of shopping and treating vinnie to lunch, the two of you made it home just in time for vinnie to go out with his friends.

you remembered him telling you him and his friends were hanging out tonight.

he had offered you to go with, but you told him to go alone, that it was his night so he can spend time with his friends.

kissing your cheek, he said he’d be back later and that he loved you.

you did your own thing until vinnie got back. about an hour or so later he had texted you that he was five minutes away from the house.

perfect. you thought to yourself. you had this whole idea planned out.

you remembered the conversation from this morning, how vinnie asked if he was ‘gettin’ it’ tonight. as soon as he said that an idea popped into your head.

heading into the closet of your shared bedroom, you go through all your lingerie sets before being met with the perfect one.

a black lace set vinnie had specifically picked out. it was his absolute favorite on you too, not to mention.

finishing up dressing yourself, you jump slightly when you hear the front door shut and vinnie shouting across the house for you.

making sure your set is covered for now, you quickly walk out of the closet and into the kitchen.

“hey baby,” you greet the blonde with a smile. “how was the party?”

the smile on his face tells you he’s definitely a bit tipsy. vinnie grabs you by the waist and pulls you into him, kissing you passionately.

“have you always looked this fuckin’ sexy?” his eyes look over your body hungrily, voice deep as he asks the question.

it doesn’t even register to you that he didn’t answer your question. you’re a blushing mess already at just one compliment.

his head dips from your lips to your neck, his grip on your hips tight. he leaves bruises on your neck, making you moan softly as he does.

you move your hips so you’re pressing against him, vinnie groans as he feels you pressing against his cock.

“feel that?” he asks against the skin of your neck. he moves his hand to grab yours, moving it down his pants so you can feel his hard on through his jeans. “get me so worked up, baby.”

the sound of your sweet giggles fills his ears and he can’t help but smile against the purple bruise that he’s created on your skin.

tapping your thigh, he signals you to jump into his arms. you do and he holds you by your ass as he walks the two of you to your bedroom.

once in the bedroom, he kicks the door shut and pushes you against it, kissing you roughly.

“mmh, vinnie.” you moan against his lips, trying to gain his attention.

he pulls away and looks at you, that same desire still in his eyes. “bed, please.” you mumble.

a drunken smile appears on his beautiful face as he takes you to the bed and gently places you on it.

you look up at him with a smile, and he can’t help but return it. his hands rest on the bed as he leans down to kiss you. moaning into his mouth, he can’t help but groan.

he pulls away and you watch as he starts to unbutton his shirt. you decide to help him, so you sit up and unbutton the last few buttons.

pushing the shirt off him, your hands find his stomach as you move them up his body, smiling as you do so.

vinnie lightly pushes you against the bed, he asks if he can remove your clothes before you tell him yes and he does so.

his mouth goes dry once he sees the lingerie set underneath your everyday clothes.

“sneaky, sneaky girl,” he rasps, and all you do is smile when you realize he knew you planned this whole thing. “wearin’ my favorite lingerie of yours, you knew you were gonna get this, huh?”

biting your lip, you just look up at him as you bat your lashes. he chuckles before leaving down to kiss you.

his hands reach your tits, massaging both of them in his hands as the kiss becomes more intense.

after a few seconds he groans into your mouth before standing up again. you watch as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants along with his boxers.

a whine slips past your lips as you watch his cock spring free of its confinements. vinnie looks up at you and smiles.

you scoot against the bed until your back hits the headboard, spreading your legs for your boyfriend as you wait for what he’ll do next.

he kneels on the bed, inching towards you before stopping and grabbing his cock in his hands and rubbing it along your clothed pussy.

you wince at the feeling of him against you. he chuckles as he watches a wet patch form at the panty part of the lingerie.

“strip.” his all he says and you waste no time doing as told.

once completely naked and sprawled out for him, vinnie smiles before he rubs his cock along your now bare cunt.

you moan at the feeling of actually feeling him against you now. he just smiles as he continues to do it.

“gonna have my fun with you, yeah?” he asks, and you just nod, completely submitting yourself to him.

vinnie kisses you before he stands up and goes over to the dresser. you look up and wonder what he’s grabbing before you hear the buzzing noise.

clenching around nothing, you hold back your noises as vinnie climbs back on the bed.

he lays down on the bed so his face is mere inches from your already dripping pussy. he looks up at you and gives you a sweet smile before bringing the vibrator up to you.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath when you feel the vibrator against you.

he pushes the toy inside of you before holding it there for a second then dragging it to your clit.

you immediately grip the sheets and push your head into the pillow with a loud moan of vinnie’s name.

“feel good sweetheart?” he asks, already knowing the answer as he watches your pussy clench.

you nod, seeing as that’s all you can do. he keeps the toy on your clit for awhile before moving it up and down against you.

“fuck, vin ‘m gonna cum.” you moan, gripping the bedsheets as vinnie turns up the toy to the next highest setting.

he gives you a mischievous grin before pushing it against you more. “give it to me, baby. be a good girl, c’mon.” he encourages.

before you can get another word out you’re cumming around the toy with a whine added to it as you try to come down from your orgasm.

vinnie has other ideas though, seeing as he hasn’t pulled the toy away from your sensitive cunt.

“baby, please.” you whine, the feeling of sensitivity rushing through you.

he tsks and pushes it into you more. “know you got another one in you, pretty girl.” he tells you.

with a shake to your head, you grip the sheets again as the intensity of the toy hits you and you’re cumming again.

“there it is,” his voice deep as he turns the toy off and places it on the bed. “such a good girl for me.”

you give him a weak smile as he comes up to kiss you softly. “need that pretty pussy wrapped around me.” he says against your lips.

that does nothing to help the sensitivity you feel at all. you clench around nothing once more before you feel vinnie’s cock against you.

“you gonna let me use you, baby? let me fuck you ‘til you’re nothing but a shaking mess for me?” his words go right through you and you smash your lips onto his.

you push your hips up to meet his and he gets the message. he grabs his cock in his hand again and lines himself up with your entrance.

pushing himself into you, both of you let out moans as he waits for you to adjust. once you give him the go-ahead, he starts moving.

his gains a good rhythm before reaching up and grabbing your right breast in his hand.

“fuckin’ love your tits, y’know that, sweetheart?” he tells you, you just nod your head, unable to form words.

he chuckles and grasps your nipple with his forefinger before punching it, making you moan.

“such a fuckin’ slut f’me, yeah? do whatever i say when i got you like this.”

vinnie gets an idea and grabs the vibrator again. you hear the buzzing and start to pry yourself away.

with his hand roughly grasping your hip and his thrusts picking up speed, there’s no use.

you feel the toy on your clit again and moan loudly at the feeling. the pressure of the toy on your bundle of nerves and vinnie’s cock hitting that perfect spot repeatedly is too much.

“g-gonna cum again!” you announce, pushing your head into the pillow.

vinnie grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. you have tears welling in your eyes, orgasm so close you can feel it building up.

“open.” he tells you, and you comply, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue.

vinnie spits into your mouth and closes your mouth for you. he taps your jaw before saying, “swallow.”

you do as told and he smiles before kissing you. he turns up the vibration on the toy again, which only spurs you on more.

you can’t even warn him before you cum around the toy and his cock, making the man above you smile.

vinnie removes the toy but doesn’t pull out of you. he gives you a sweet smile before he thrusts his hips and smacks your tits, making you moan.

“gonna give me as many orgasms as i want you too, got it?” you’re so fucked out of it at this point, all you can do is give him a small nod.

he smirks and you try so hard not to let another one slip yet. the pace and way his hands do roam over your body feel too good, you don’t want it to end.

vinnie can tell you’re close again though. by the way his tip hits that perfect spot inside you, the way you grip the sheets, chest heaving, he knows.

“come on princess, let go for me. doin’ so good, don’t wanna stop now, right?”

his tone is almost condescending, which only turns you on more and gets you to release all over his cock.

he watches the cum spill out of you onto him and he chuckles. “look at that,” he says, voice strained. “so pretty.”

he pulls out of you a bit but pushes back in, watching the cum seep out of you and go back in as he does.

“p-please,” you try to say. you’re so out of it, barely able to get a breath in. “no more, vin. please.”

you know he’s not going to listen. it’s his day, he can do whatever he wants, and he wants to use you as many times as he can.

“just one more for me baby, promise it’ll just be one more. doin’ so good f’me, love.” he assures you, rubbing your stomach.

you nod, secretly loving the way he has you right now. you push yourself up on your elbows to see what you’re boyfriend is doing.

he slips out of you and nudges his tip against your clit, making you moan at the feeling of him against you.

sliding his cock along your folds, he grabs the plush of your thighs before leaning down and kissing both of them.

“one more, okay baby?” he says as he carefully pushing himself into you again.

you open your mouth but no sound comes out, vinnie looks up at you with a smile, leaning up to kiss you.

“feel so good around me, sweet girl. pretty girl likes takin’ my cock, yeah? take me so fuckin’ good.” his rambling doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you smile lazily at his words.

he thrusts deeper into you, big tattooed hands laying on your thighs and squeezing at each thrust.

he hits a good spot again and you’re pushing your head into the pillow and rolling your eyes back into your head.

vinnie smacks your thigh to get your attention and you look up at him. “eyes on me, pretty,” he breathes out. “wanna see your pretty face when you cum.”

you nod and keep your eyes on the man above you. he looks so fucking hot in this moment, you almost can’t take it.

deep thrusts, heavy breathing, curls sticking to his forehead, hot open mouthed kisses all over your body, you can’t get enough of him.

“good girl.” he praises, making you whimper and give him yet another lazy smile.

his big hands move over your body. one to wrap around your neck and the other to push on your lower stomach.

he’s got you right where he’s wanted you this whole night. you look so fucking pretty to him right now, he can’t help but give you a sweet, genuine, smile.

his hand on your stomach pushes deeper onto you, making you moan.

“feel that?” he asks, adding slight pressure around your neck. “fuckin’ you so good i can feel myself inside you.” he says.

he removes his hand and his thrusts continue, you move up on your elbows and look where he’s looking.

“fuck, vinnie.” you whine, looking at the prominent bulge in your stomach.

he smiles and fucks you deeper into the mattress. you’re so close the two of you can feel it. vinnie reaches his hand down and presses his thumb to your clit.

“let it out, baby. cum around my cock f’me, show me how much you love me.” he rambles, pressure on your clit intensifying.

you try to close your legs a bit around him but vinnie pushes them open. with one final moan to his name, your cumming around his cock again for what felt like the millionth time.

you’re a shaking mess, just how he wanted, when you finally get it all out.

vinnie helps you ride out your high and is soon cums after you, painting your chest.

“so pretty, baby.” he whispers as he slowly pulls out of you.

whining at the loss of contact, you watch as vinnie stands up and just looks at you with so much love in his eyes.

“fucked you too good, huh?” he asks, referring to the way you can’t even move from your spot.

you laugh, taking the pillow from under your head and throw it at him. “come here, birthday boy.”

vinnie jumps on top of you, but not hard enough to hurt you. his head rests in your chest as you run your fingers through his hair.

“how does twenty-two feel?” you ask, kissing his temple.

vinnie smiles and looks up at you. “feels fuckin’ amazing after all that.” he says, referring to what had just happened.

you smack his back and he laughs, hands wrapping around you so he’s hugging you. you wrap yours around his back and kiss his head.

“happy birthday, sweet boy,” you whisper, running your fingers through his messy curls. “i love you forever.”

vinnie’s breathing softens and that’s when you realized he fell asleep. you try your best to do so as well, running your fingers through his hair as you do.

GUYSSSS OUR BOYS 22 🙁 how’s that possible, i feel like he was just 20 (when i found out ab him) i hope you all loved this cus i loved writing it !!

and happy birthday to our handsome boy again <33 i love him so much i don’t know what id do without him

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @native2princess , @sturnioloshacker , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @visualbutterflysworld , @kriissy4gov , @leqonsluv3r , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @laylasbunbunny , @louloulemons-blog , @lovingsturniolo , @defnotayonna , @supabhad , @kayleighh , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @jpg3 , @khxna , @hallecarey1 , @violet0182 , @eddieslut69

slim thick queen <3 (has more ass than me 🙄)

#vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinniehacker #vvhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinniehackerfanfic #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker #vinnie x reader #vinnie x y/n #vinnie hacker headcanon

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ma1dita · 11 months ago

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love me dry

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> forever falling | next -> when the curtains close words: 4.5k summary: (post-TLT) The one where he meets you at his mother’s house, though both of you didn’t expect the other to be there. A glimpse into May Castellan’s perfect day (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: macbeth references (comment if you catch them/or ask and i’ll yap) and slight suggestive stuff under the cut—but anyways let’s just say the prophecy by taylor swift came out at the right time. (posted 4/19/24, semi-edited)

—

The drive to Westport has become almost an afterthought in these past few years— in the way you unconsciously reach for your favorite hoodie on the way out the door or tuck in your chair before you leave a table, almost automatic but ingrained with a touch of care.

With letters to May Castellan occupying your passenger seat instead of the boy who wrote them, you’d make the drive multiple times but stop short just before the property line. It took months of parking at the bottom of the hill and just watching the sun set on the little house, so clearly being able to imagine a smaller version of him running around and wreaking havoc.

Little Luke, with bandaged knees and feet that move as fast as his motor mouth, amber eyes glinting like windchimes in the summer breeze. His mom must’ve watched him play by himself through the bay window before calling him home when the clouds covered the horizon, wispy tendrils stretching over the rain gutter like how lovers hold hands. It must’ve reminded her a lot of his father, leaving nothing but the open air in his wake. Still, all of this was familiar to you too—despite having never stepped foot in the white house.

But knowing Luke meant knowing his home like it was a part of you.

The old hatchback’s engine gently rumbled against the quiet of the property each time you visited, and May would wait for you to come near— waiting for you to be ready to walk into a mausoleum of the boy you both once knew. You were familiar to her too, even as a blurry figure hunched over the steering wheel. She’s seen your face in the small glimpses between the shattering earth of her reality and the hazy foresight she lets herself succumb to remember what her son looks like. In every vision of him since he’s left, you’ve been there; and something about that quells the pain and anguish that it brings to her body when she sees it. But May Castellan is ever an observant woman, gift of prophecy aside. A mother always knows.

It also turns out that she makes excellent conversation over a plate of slightly singed chocolate chip cookies.

—

Luke Castellan is years older than the version of him that last sat at this kitchen table. He doesn’t know if he’s any wiser for it—wondering if he’s made a mistake in coming back here after all this time as he watches his mom hustle around the kitchen that’s suspiciously sparkling clean. A silver spoon clinks against the glass pitcher that May stirs mixed berry Kool-Aid in, his favorite, he remembers, and it makes him squint against the light that filters through the gauzy curtains of the windowpane above the sink. Luke could’ve sworn that there used to be badly patched rips in the fabric, but he attributes it to the dark corner of his memory he still hides away like a secret. Sitting there and taking it all in, he wonders what it would’ve been like to actually grow up here—to stay, for once.

But that’s something he doesn’t have the privilege of knowing. When his mom turns to hand him a glass with her shaking hands, wrinkles and laugh lines are mapped across the expanse of her face. He’ll never know how they got there. The wooden chair creaks under him, groaning under the weight that he carries and Luke once again feels uncomfortable in a place he once called home.

“Knew you’d come back. A mother always knows,” May mutters, voice disembodied like she’s floating just out of reach. Her hands clasped over his, rubbing her thumbs over the veins as if she’s checking his pulse (or the possibility of him being an apparition) and the crack in her smile mirrors his. But this isn’t the home he remembers—his frontal lobe was underdeveloped back then and the only plan it could form was the one to get him the hell out of Westport, there’s something different in the details. Tiny things, like the patio swing chain reattached to its post, a mended table leg, and ceramic tiles on the countertop unbroken and smooth. This is a home and a mother he once longed for as a kid, along with the feeling of comfort and safety you can only attribute to a place like this.

Calculating eyes scan the perimeter of the kitchen, but no one knows he’s made the trip to Westport, not even his own crew. Surely nothing could mess this up for him, not here. This was his last step before his quest for redemption eats away at his physical body, and then it will all be out of his hands.

There’s not much left for me here, he thinks— there’s not much of me left here, either.

Then Luke hears you before he sees you—the sound of you humming under your breath mixed with the jingle of keys turning in the front door. With bags of groceries leaving marks on your arms and a soft smile he hasn’t seen you wear in ages, for once you look lighter again. For a moment, the thought crosses his mind that this must be what you look like when he’s not around. Nonetheless, he breathes easier when you’re near. Of course, you’re here, and the irony grips him by the neck almost as if to make it known why his home feels like home again.

“Yeah hon, I’ll have to call you back,” you laugh into your headphones before tapping them with one free finger to end the call. In a split second, your eyes meet. Staggering back at the sight of him sitting at the table and the absolute grin on May’s face, you decide to continue into the space ahead and start putting the groceries away like nothing is out of sorts.

“I see you have a visitor, Miss May. Is he staying long?”

Luke sips at his glass, juice extra tart just how he likes it. His lips pucker at the taste it leaves in his mouth and when he opens his mouth there’s a hint of blue. You try not to look too long.

“For the night,” he answers, even if you weren’t talking to him, but it makes May so vibrant with the notion of him not running again that she instantly hops to her feet and rushes to make the bed in his old room. “I won’t be in your way,” he swallows. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, but move around his chair without touching him—further proving that Luke is, in fact, an obstacle you must overcome. He’s a stranger in his own home and you’ve found yourself at ease in it. You wonder if any of that will make a difference in the long run.

“She’s…”

“More peaceful. I’ve been practicing with my dad, so I do what I can to ease her fits but I’m not exactly equipped to lift a curse from Hades,” you mutter through a bitten lip. Luke stares at you but it feels nostalgic, like someone on the outside looking in. Well, shit. He’s been leading demigods to their deaths every summer and you’ve been trying to cure his mentally ill mother in the time you don’t spend trying to stop him.

“I don’t think I even remember the last time she made sense while talking to me,” he laughs hollowly. You purse your lips and shrug, “I visit her every two weeks. She still has her triggers, and she gets confused but she’s not in pain. Your letters helped.”

“Is that why you came here then?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” you joke feebly. It falls flat and yet he still smiles, even when you say, “They weren’t for me.”

“They were about you. All of them were.”

You know that too. May makes you read them to her before bedtime as you stroke her hair and send her off to Hypnos. You’ve relived your relationship with Luke a million little times, and he’s written about you and all of your yesterdays like it was the only glimpse of Elysium he’d ever reach. In those letters, you get to remember the good parts of being in love—laughing in the empty amphitheater, holding hands under the dining table, sneaking kisses in the strawberry fields.

You used to understand each other so well: every dream, every feeling. But there is nothing you understand about the man sitting across from you now. The both of you sit at the kitchen table and there is nothing more to say.

Luke doesn’t have to stay. While you were at the supermarket, he spent an hour trying to explain to his mother that he needed her blessing to swim in the River Styx. Through nuances and veiled simplicity in the words he weaved to convince her, there wasn’t much opposition in her half-empty, half-prophetic mind. May always knew that Luke loved to swim when she took him to the beach, and that was that.

There was nothing more to say.

—

He knows it’s too good to be true when moments later May’s screams carry through the halls of the little house, down the stairway you’re currently clambering up to reach her. By the time his boots reach the second landing, he finds the two women he loves most in a huddle against the linen closet, his mother’s glowing green eyes and empty groans rattling him to the bone. If he were any smaller, he’d be shaking. Even now he doesn’t know what to do— feet frozen as he watches you brush her curls away from her face and lull her to solace.

“Can’t find Luke’s sheets—he needs the Toy Story ones…” May mutters as she rocks on her heels, “My boy needs to be home… He’s meant to be home!” Her fingernails are cutting into your wrists and then she silences with a wave of your hand.

“He’s home, Miss May. He’s right there,” you whisper. When your eyes look at Luke, you watch him crumble—the cracks in his fortitude tumbling like fallen rocks at the sight of the two of you and then you see him. The boy you met at 14 who was angry at the world for making him run away from his mother and the hands of fate until it crept up to snuff him out for the sake of a prophecy foretold by deities who will never understand what it’s like to be human. But there are no second chances, and there is nowhere left to run. “He’s here for you. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

“I see it, the two of you together. The worst will be over soon, and then it’ll all make sense,” she says breathily, licking her lips and straightening herself like nothing happened. Even after you send her off to prepare a basket for the beach, Luke doesn’t move when his mother pats his arm and walks around his body and towards the stairs. Neither of you speak until your fingers touch his jaw lightly, and Luke doesn’t know if you’re trying to help him or inspect him. He tilts down to look at you anyway.

“She thinks we’re still together.”

He blinks. Somehow that’s the most shocking thing he’s heard today. Fate is most definitely cruel and fucked up because he never expected it to be like this—once upon a time he hoped he could take you home to meet his mother when everything was said and done; no shackles from Titans or pressure from the gods.

It was supposed to be different.

“The letters probably didn’t help as much as you thought they would then,” he mumbles, calloused hands guiding your hands over to his swiftly beating heart. You scoff, “Neither does bringing up my boyfriend. She thinks it’s you.” He’d believe anyone who’d say they watched you yank his heart out of his chest with that statement, everything bloody in your hands. It’s still yours, even if you don’t want it.

“Kit?”

You shake your head and shrug, “That was forever ago. But he treats me well.”

Luke wants to ask more but by the tension in your shoulders, he knows not to push. He’s not entitled to know anything more than what you give him. It’s not his place anymore. So his brow furrows at your next suggestion.

“Just pretend, Luke. For the day, so your mom doesn’t get agitated. I’m not asking for much here.”

It’s a terrible, terrible idea—even you know that. But you both have always been good pretenders. Liars, a voice corrects in the back of your mind. You reason that it’s for May and insist upon that fact, even if the heartbroken girl you left at Camp Half-Blood is raging at you from deep inside the recesses of your mind that you hide her in. What’s one day with him compared to the many you’ve gone without? You don’t need to know the rest of why he’s here, or what more he’s going to do— and you don’t ask.

Not knowing has always hurt less.

—

You’ve forgotten how good Luke is at playing the part of a good boyfriend. He offers to drive to the beach, carries the picnic basket and blanket for you all to sit on, and listens intently when May asks about your college classes. There’s no discomfort in the way he holds your hand as you walk in the sand or dusts your feet off before laying them across his lap. It’s easy to laugh at his bad jokes, it’s easy to act like the boyfriend you describe is anything like him (even if he’s the complete opposite), and it’s too damn easy to fall into the familiar rhythm that is you and Luke. The three of you lay down as the spring breeze covers you from the rest of reality, hiding away from the truth of a broken woman and two ex-lovers. By late afternoon, you find yourself enjoying it, and it’s cruel how the guilt isn’t rolling off you in waves, instead longing for him to follow you anywhere.

He meets you by the shoreline with both of you waist-deep in the water. May’s collecting seashells but she turns to look at you two every so often like she’s framing this memory in her fragile mind. Without saying it out loud, the both of you hope it will hold.

“She always talks about you, you know? Even without trying,” you mutter as saltwater pours from your fingers to the valleys made by the veins in his forearms. It’s like initiating touch without the consequences of actually doing it, and he immerses himself in the feeling as it spills over him, feet rocking against the tide.

“I do too. Can’t help it.”

When the sea ripples once more pushing you against the wall of his body, you end up holding on, and he doesn’t let go. You both smell like salt and sunshine, pressed together and nothing has made more sense. The silence goes on for a beat too long—he whispers, “You still talk about me? Your boyfriend must hate that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk about you? For anyone to get to know me, they have to know you.”

Your shirt is stuck to your skin in the surf and Luke’s hands brush over the waistline of your underwear, daring to reacquaint himself with your touch and spur a reaction from you. You may be the best actress he’s ever known but anything is better than watching you be complacent with the false niceties of the day.

“There isn’t much worth knowing.”

“I’d never say that, Luke,” jaw tensing, you let out a breath when his hands encircle your hips, hidden in plain sight in the deep of the ocean. He chuckles and the sound tickles your brain to remind you it's the type of laugh he spits out when he’s hiding his anger, “There’s a lot we’re both not saying.” Your name slips past his lips, sneaking past your defenses and hitting you head-on like a bullet.

“Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why are you helping his mother, why aren’t you actively fighting and turning him in, why are you letting him hold you if he’s only going to leave again—there are too many questions and only one clear answer.

“Because it’s out of our hands, isn’t it, Luke? You love your mother but you wouldn’t have come here unless it’s too late. Annie told me you went to see her in San Francisco.”

He was never here to make amends or save face. There was no version of him that was going to ask you to run away with him because he knows you deserve more than always running from fate. He’d do it all over again as long as you got this— the life you’re living with your college degree, your boyfriend, and your happy family— and Luke has no place in that.

A dry laugh bubbles from his throat, sticking like seafoam when he says, “You hate San Francisco.”

You wouldn’t have come, anyway.

—

By the time you get home for dinner, your skin is sensitive and tingly from the heat of the sun. May’s tracing circles into the back of your hand as she leads you up the patio steps. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that makes you sway against the doorway.

“Too much time having fun,” she mumbles, patting your cheek, “Take a cold shower dear. Join us when you’re ready?” Luke’s eyes follow you all the way up the stairs and then again, he’s left to his own devices.

Most of the said shower was spent thinking about what your friends would say about you for playing house with the enemy. The guilt felt like ice along your spine, paralyzing you for wanting to be selfish, to choose what makes you happy even if it fucks the rest of the world. But looking in the mirror afterward was scarier—you recognized the girl that stared back at you as someone you thought you’d never see again. A version you left behind years ago, with her head held high and so sure of herself with your Luke by your side.

Surely, there’s no harm in indulging in this vice for the rest of the night. Not when you haven’t felt this relaxed in years.

Dinner is being served by the time you make your way back downstairs. It’s a simple dish you taught Luke how to make back at camp when you raided the kitchens at midnight. Nothing special, reminding you of your own home—but the fact that he remembered makes your smile widen as you take a seat and promise to wash the dishes. Luke chuckles the type that makes his eyes crinkle in mirth once he watches you dig into your meal, knees brushing under the table like old times.

Everything feels easier after that.

“Today was the best day,” his mother mutters as you tuck the covers under her chin. May kisses both of your cheeks before she shuts her eyes and you gently fold the letter she chose tonight back into her nightstand for safekeeping. This time, you read her the story of your first kiss with Luke sitting at the foot of her bed in the dim light of her room. It’s less scary here than he remembers, but maybe it’s because this time there’s no screaming and him running to hide in the closet. Your voice is much more pleasant than those suppressed memories, immersing you all in a more pleasant one— the both of you in the amphitheater kissing on the stage with his hands in your belt loops. Luke could recite every word on that page if it meant he could go back in time, not with Backbiter but with you, just to live through that moment again. I think I’m falling in love with her, is how the letter ended but by then he already knew. Writing it down to tell his mother always made it real.

This, you, right here—everything is real.

He’s silent even as he watches you smoke through the cracked window of his childhood bedroom, and you’re surprised when he steals a puff. His hands are shaking under the moonlight and suddenly it’s clear that he’s scared. Everyone feels fear, but in all the years that you’ve known him, Luke Castellan has never let you see it.

“Those things will kill you one day,” you mumble, watching him lean against the windowpane. It’s what he used to always tell you so that you’d quit, but old habits die screaming. It’s another vice you refuse to let go of.

“Wanted to try something new before I…” his voice drops off.

Lose myself.

Lose you.

Luke coughs as the smoke enters his lungs, a momentary rush hitting him brought by the nicotine. Your hands go to cup his jaw as you set your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to just be honest if there’s truly nothing left to lose.

“I’m out of time, Trouble. It’s out of my hands.”

Shuddering at the feeling of him tracing every ridge of your spine, you think the way he says your nickname sounds like the way he used to say I love you. It’s raining outside now, the harsh pitter-patter of wet drops drowning out the sound of your voice, “What can I do? Is there anything left for me to do?” When his head shakes, your noses brush, and your breaths intermingle, almost magnetic. Perhaps the rain is getting in from the open window and you feel it hitting your cheek until you see the shine of his eyes.

“You think I did this because of you. I know you do, but you need to know I did all of this for you, trouble. I choose you and me. Every time,” Luke gasps, intertwining his fingers with yours, the both of you pushing and pulling in this embrace like the moon with the tide.

“Luke…”

You’re pressing yourself against him, face hidden in his shirt as your brain catches up to your heart, hasty breaths and every atom of your being screaming to be held together by him and then you’re on him, through tears and clenched fists tumbling towards the tiny twin bed. The only way he likens himself to his father is his yearning to be a true traveler, but what he knows best out of anything in this entire world is you. He knew this body once too— every birthmark, scar, and dimple. Who else has had the privilege to navigate the ridges of your spine, to know the pressure of your kiss? A tattoo peeks out to say hello at your hip bone. There are new stories and new marks, there are parts of you unknown to him now. Luke thinks that must be what hurts most about each time he leaves you.

But then gods, why does this feel so good?

Warm palms caress your waist, nudging your shirt up in the hopes that this will be enough compensation for all his misdoings—the tears you’ve cried, the anger you’ve felt, the things you had to do and will have to do because of him. Luke is someone who’s gotten comfortable with manipulating time, but time has manipulated him and all of his plans for the both of you. Sleepy setback bedroom eyes meet his own that glow in the gentle light of the lamp on the nightstand. Maybe if you pretend again his childhood bedroom can turn into the star-speckled darkness of cabin 12. You can just lay down and tuck underneath his arms waiting for him to fall asleep. But he stays up this time, making you hiss at the feeling of his lips against your neck.

“We can’t… Angelface,” you say breathily, still leaning into the trail he marks across the valley of your collarbone, “We’re not together anymore.”

A kiss is placed on your pulsepoint, knocking against the cord of your necklace.

“We shouldn’t… I have a boyfriend.”

Another kiss rests against the warmth of your forehead.

“We’re on opposite sides of a war… You’re my enemy.”

Finally, his lips meet yours, for a moment as if to test the waters.

“Not tonight,” he says, and there is no other option but to agree. There is a lifetime to make up for in a night, and fuck it—they’ll crucify you anyway. You were never meant to be a hero, that’s what he always wanted. You just wanted him. Your head hits the pillow and he looms over you until you’re pulling him in for more than what’s necessary to accept an apology.

There’s nothing left to lose.

—

Before your mind can wake up dreading the consequences of last night, your socked feet take you to the kitchen to clean up the mess you’ve both left behind. The old floorboards creak underfoot and there’s a method in the way you’re washing the dishes, hot water and soap starting to seep through your shirt sleeve but you choose not to notice. Scrubbing at the dirt and grime left behind on the porcelain until your fingers start to prune, a lump forms in your throat before you can stop it. Maybe if you scrub hard enough at the glass that Luke drank out of last night it can eventually be clean. But it’s taking you longer than you thought, jaw tensing and fingers turning white at how hard you’re holding on. May appears behind you, guiding your hands away from the scalding water, and though you resist— the glass drops into the sink and shatters with a loud crack.

“Damn spot wouldn’t get out,” you sniff, turning away to look out the window and think of anything but him, but he’s everywhere even when he’s not here, so much so that it suffocates you. Guilt lines every shaking breath you take until lavender eyes meet amber at the sensation of her clasping your red and raw palms with a dishtowel.

You see him in her too.

“His fate is greater than the cards he’s been dealt with. You know that.”

It’s the clearest and most sensible May’s spoken in days. Perhaps when it comes to Luke, she’ll always know better. Eyes darting elsewhere to fight the tears that brim at your lash line, you look down at your swollen hands, palm up towards the heavens almost imploring, “Why couldn’t it be me?”

The question’s direction is unclear and you don’t expect to get an answer, turning away to grab some ice from the freezer and she remains standing there—staring at the windowsill at a compass that’s now found its home next to the faded picture of a man who’s left more times than there are reasons to stay. Just like his father, she thinks, a small smile quirking at the side of her lip where a scar would meet her son’s. Clicking it open delicately like how she used to hold his hand, there’s a photo of you and Luke resting against the cover ripped away from a memory frozen in time.

“It is you,” May says quietly, though you’ve already left the room.

A mother always knows, after all.

—

“Aphrodite,” I pleaded to the moon-drenched night sky. “Tell me; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?” From somewhere beyond the clouds, I heard the Goddess laugh. And I knew. -Nikita Gill

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan fanfic #trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians

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flowerfreya · 8 months ago

Text

Are you hungry ?

Part 10 of The Office AU

Masterlist

Pairing: poly!141 x Reader

Content: Reader makes dinner for men but no one wants to eat it ( I really am talking about food lol , get your head out of the gutter )

I think I am going to have reader interact with Soap next chapter and maybe a fight with wacky girlfriend

You’re being dumb , but your lonely , sad and he’s there. Your ex boyfriend saw you at the grocery store after the whole shit show of a day with the wacky ex girlfriend now current girlfriend.

He sees you before you see him and he comes up behind you and scares the living shit out of you. Turning around quickly , you get ready to give whoever it is hell when you see who it is.

He lifts his hands in a mock surrender, “Chill”, he laughs.

You're not really in the mode for his shit but it’s nice to be in someone's energy that you know.

He looks at you up and down, “You look good”, he says.

You fold immediately. He asks you to come back to his place for dinner. You have to finish shopping because he mentions that he hasn't had any food since you left. You pay for the groceries because he isn’t able to because he lost his job and hasn’t been able to find a new one. You meet him at his place , which used to be your place.

When you finish bringing in the groceries and putting them up in the kitchen, “Hey do you want to help me cook”, you turn your body away from the stove and look at him on the barstool on his phone.

“No, you're better at that stuff than me”, he doesn’t even look up to answer the question.

“Oh, okay”, you are ignoring the red flags, you just need something. You're not sure but being alone after always being in a relationship is…just not working for you. You like to be needed and wanted and after a long day you want someone to talk too.

“So how was your day”, you're trying to make small talk , maybe to lead into something more. You and the boys have great banter. You could be talking about nothing and still feel like you are having meaningful conversation.

“Good”.

“What did you do today?”

“Nothing”.

“Crazy weather we had”

“Maybe we don’t have to talk”, you look over at him as he says that and decide right then and there that this was a bad idea.

You remember this is why you broke up with him. He seems like he hates you. Only tolerating you because you make his home life easy and has a good lay.

You don’t even want to finish dinner but you brought all these groceries and you’ll be damned if you waste it.

“Dinner is done”, you sit down with your food in front of you and start eating. You look at your ex and see that he is staring at you, almost in a confused manner.

“Are you not going to make me a plate”, you hate that you used to do that. You would have never done that with anyone else but he made it like the food was better when you put it on the plate for him. Like his mother.

“I’m not your servant”, you reply. Going back to finishing your food. You start to think about how you're going to take all this home without causing a fuss.

You hear the chair scrape across the floor as he stands up and gets his dinner for the first time in god knows how long.

You finish your dinner in record time. You clean up the kitchen and pack the food up and let him know that you’ll be right back.

Once you get back to your car, you leave. It makes you giggle because you know he’s waiting for you to come back up and you won’t.

When you get home, you call Simon, “Alright”, he answers after three rings.

“Yeah all good, just wondering if you're hungry”, you ask. You’re a little giddy because of what you just did.

But then you hear her in the background, she asks who is calling him this late.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company”, you hang up before he gets a chance to respond. You know you shouldn’t be jealous of the wacky girlfriend, you just got out of a relationship but she doesn’t deserve them but you are jealous of the wacky girlfriend.

You blop down on the couch with a twisted tea and some melatonin and hope to pass out and forget all about tonight and hope that maybe tomorrow Simon will want to eat with you.

#task force 141 #poly!141 #simon riley x you #john x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #poly relationships are normal in this universe

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hotchshands · 5 months ago

Note

for kinktober/cocktober hotch using his handcuffs on you? 😩😩😩 (i feel like her be so hesitant but the reader would be SUCH a whiny little bitch about it 🤭)

tyty <33 MWAH

How did you know I’m a slut for handcuffs🤭

Okay, so imagine it’s Halloween night, and Hotch dresses up as himself, basically because you and Jack begged him to join you all in some trick-or-treating. At the end of the night, Hotch has a surprise for you…

"Come on, it's Halloween. You have to dress up!" you shout from the kitchen at Hotch, who is putting together his last-minute Halloween costume in the bedroom. The two of you have just started living together in Hotch's tiny apartment, so it was your first Halloween as a couple.

You and Jack were patiently waiting for Aaron to finish up. You were dressed up as a witch, and Jack was dressed up as Spider-Man. Things at the BAU have been crazy busy, so you and Aaron forgot to plan for Halloween. Jack, on the other hand, has had his costume for weeks now. Your costume was a backup for years like this when you forgot to plan a more elaborate costume.

Jack and you were nibbling on the Halloween cookies you all made when Aaron walked out of the bedroom and inside the kitchen. "Well, it's not much of a costume, but it's all I got," Hotch says, looking down at his costume. He was wearing his FBI vest, and a pair of handcuffs were attached to this belt.

"Cool! Let's go, Dad!" Jack said, putting down a cookie and pulling on Aaron's leg, eager to go trick-or-treating. You laughed at his response and accepted Aaron's lame attempt at Halloween, following the two out. On your way, you caught a glance at Aaron's butt in his tight pants. You've seen him dressed on the job, but it takes your breath away every time.

After hours of trick-or-treating, you all decided to call it a night. Jack had gotten a bunch of candy but grew tired after a few hours, plus Hotch, and you were exhausted. By the time you stepped into the apartment, Jack was ready for bed.

While Hotch put Jack to bed, you cleaned up the house, ensuring all the candy was put away. After putting the boy to sleep, Hotch joined you in the kitchen. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. I think I'm gonna turn in," Hotch said.

You sighed, "Me too. Mind helping me get out of this costume?"

Hotch's brows raised at that. He knew you didn't mean it in a dirty way, but his mind went gutter diving. He approached you and leaned toward your ear, "I'm glad you asked. I've been thinking of getting you naked all night."

"Aaron!" you yelped in surprise.

He couldn't help but laugh, walking away down the hall and toward the bedroom. You smirked, turning off the lights before following him. When you reach your bedroom, you can see Aaron standing in front of the bed, still in costume. Seeing him in the vest gave you a boost of much-needed energy.

"So, officer, are you gonna help me?" you asked, walking toward Hotch slowly.

Hotch looked you over before placing his hands on your shoulders, "That depends. Have you been a bad girl?"

"Me?" you point to yourself, knowing you were the only two in the room. "Well, everyone knows that I'm a good girl, officer."

You could tell your words affected Aaron even though you've never called him "officer" before. He traced the fabric of your costume before ribbing the black dress. You were shocked, stunned, really. He never acted that eager ever. He was a very patient man, but tonight was different. He didn't wait for permission.

"Is that so?" he said, tilting your chin up. He removed the remains of the dress from your body, leaving you in your lingerie. He then moved a hand toward your center and felt a hint of wetness there. "Good girls aren't such filthy whores. Now turn around," he commanded.

You slowly turned around, unsure of his next move.

"You're under arrest for trying to seduce a federal officer," he says, handcuffing you.

The cuffs were tight against your wrists, making it impossible to use them in any capacity. "But, officer, please let me explain," you pleaded, playing in the fantasy.

"No need. I'm gonna teach you a lesson, sweetheart."

He tosses you toward the bed. Your chest falls on the mattress while your hands remain tied behind your back. You couldn't see him, but you could hear the sound of a zipper coming undone. The sound made you whine. Your fingers reach out to touch him but to no use. He slaps your ass, telling you to stop whining.

"Bad girls don't get to touch. Got it?"

He grabbed your throat and lifted it up as he pressed against you, his other hand holding onto the cuffs that tied your hands together. You hated that you couldn't see or touch him, but you ended up having the best Halloween [sex] ever.

#gabriella's mail #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch #cocktober #kinktober #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotch imagine

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adventuringblind · 2 years ago

Note

charles having a baby fever

Father Material

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: fluff but also kinda smutty

Request: I saw this and my brain immediately went down the gutter. I appreciate you for this request 🙏 also my requests are open so send me things

Summary: Charles gets a case of baby fever and you're willing to indulge him ;)

Warnings: sexual themes ahead, not the whole thing but it's definitely in there. Talks of pregnancy.

Notes: I would be lying if I said I'm not a hoe for this man. Written in third person.

Masterlist

The following media is not intended for anyone below the age of 18. If your are under that, please do not interact with this post.

Charles had managed to take notice of every child in the paddock that day.

He'd recently been noticing small things. Things like baby clothes, small children, family interactions.

He'd watched Sergio and Kevin with their kids. Seb had brought his family around. It was starting to get to him.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't want kids. Starting a family was always a dream of his. Something him and his wife talked about often. They just hadn't really tried for a baby.

He knew she was at their house. Waiting for him to come home with groceries. It felt peaceful compared to the life they lived during race season.

As he walked, he could pick out every family. Kids bundled up in their winter clothes. Adults holding them upright so they don't slip and fall.

He could hardly take it. He's never walked home so fast in his life.

She was in the kitchen when he appeared behind her in the doorway. She was prepping to make dinner.

Charles looked disheveled, out of breath. She was concerned and yet simultaneously turned on by his appearance.

"Are you alright?" She asked. Charles quickly came back to his senses. Dropped the bass on the floor and wrapped her in a hug.

"We should have a baby." He was looking directly into her eyes. His face completely straight.

She was taken off guard for a moment. Then, realizing the proposal, she started excitedly shaking her head.

Charles was waiting no time. Vigorously kissing her lips. Heavy but passionate.

She was giggling at him. "What are you laughing at?" He asked as he swiftly picked her up and set her on the counter.

"Nothing, I just find you adorable."

He was mumbling French into her collarbone and Italian into her chest. Letting his hands roam her body freely.

"You are so beautiful. Soon, you will become a goddess. Pregnant with our child." He cradled her face in his hands.

"Charles I swear if you don't stop teasing-" She couldn't get any farther as Charles practically ripped her clothes off. Now left in only her underwear.

He ran his fingers lightly across her now bare skin. Memorizing the feeling. Paying attention to the way she reacted to his touch.

His shirt and jeans were next. His lips only breaking away from her for a second. Her fingers begin tracing every line on his body. The way his chest was rising and falling in rapid succession.

“Mon Amour, shall we start here, then maybe move to the couch, then into the bedroom.” He’s voice is dripping with need. He is going to take her on every piece of furniture even if it takes all night.

Her brain was already turned off. The act of thinking to much with the feeling of his fingers worshiping her. She practically fell into him, humming her approval.

Charles lifted her for a second, her only remaining garment now tossed aside.

Then he took her on the counter, then again on the chair, the dining room table and the couch. Finally they made it to the bed where Charles made love to her softly. Her body trembling with every ministration.

Charles is the ‘king of aftercare’ as she likes to call him. Something he occasionally gloated about. Much to Pierre's dismay.

He grabbed a wet rag and a cup of water. Using the rag to clean off the bodily fluids that covered both of them.

She curled her body into Charles. Her head rested on his chest.

"I think you'll make a great dad." She mumbles. Charles laughs at the notion.

"Why do you think that Mon chère?"

"You just seem like father material, ya know."

"Guess I should learn some dad joke then." The two were both laughing now.

Basking in eachothers presence. Fantasizing about what life will be like with a growing family.

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maid4youcalifornia · 1 year ago

Text

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#TidyTuesday #KitchenOrganization #CleaningServices #CleaningMaid4You #Maid4YouCalifornia #California #CleaningTips #Cleaninghacks

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so-much-for-the-seashells · 9 months ago

Text

Being Sick but Dean Winchester’s your BF Headcanons ✨

✨ Dean Winchester x Reader ✨

Minors! Go away! Don’t interact! I don’t have a witty joke but I still don’t want you here! ¡Adios!

A/N: okay now that they’re gone… I’m sick! Some sort of nasty cold shit. Also I have the fucking la la land piano riff stuck in my head. So, more headcanons!!! (As opposed to a “proper” fic. For Dean ofc. It’s okay, it’ll come eventually)

Icons by me, all notes-especially commentary- are extremely appreciated!!

Content Warnings: if you’ve read the others it’s along the same vein, cute but still spicy enough to warrant that 18+ rating. Reader’s GN but AFAB.

Enjoy!

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

-okay so first of all, being sick sucks. Whether it’s a runny nose, a headache, throat pain (get your mind out of the gutter), stomach aches, whatever- it fucking sucks.

-but it sucks a little less when you have Dean Winchester taking care of you

-this man knows how to take care of any common virus or cold. Years of taking care of his little brother meant that he could never be sick and that if he was it had to go fast, because he believed he always needed to be able to take care of Sammy first and foremost.

-once he sees you sniffling he’ll bench you from whatever job you guys are working. Immediately. No ifs, ors, ands, buts or coconuts about it.

-once the job is over he’ll come home. If you’re up and moving he’ll sling you over his shoulder or pick you up bridal style, and throw you (in a loving way) down on the couch or bed, depending on where you want to lay.

-he’ll snuggle you a little, and then take a quick shower so as not to get whatever it is you have. He’ll give you whatever blankets and drinks you want, and then head off to the kitchen

-his go-to is to make a vat of chicken noodle soup, extra lemony for vitamin c. He’ll usually either add some chilis to the soup or put some in a salad for you to help clean your system out. And it will always be better than fine dining.

-of course he cooks shirtless, and he’ll come back into the room with a big bowl of soup and your salad ready, cookies still in the oven. He’ll be wearing sweatpants and a ‘kiss the cook’ apron with nothing under it. And if you weren’t sick, you’d definitely do what the apron asked.

-he’ll help you sit up so you can eat it, putting a pillow on your lap so that the bowl doesn’t burn you and wiping your hair out of your face. If your hot he brings a bandana that he dunked in ice water and ties it around your head, if your cold he brings more blankets

-he hates that he can’t touch you or hug you when your miserable like this, but he does his best.

-while you’re eating he’ll talk about the hunt, keeping it as light and funny as possible- probably whatever he and Sam bickered about, the sights he saw, the food, etc

-and he’ll put on whatever you’d like him to. Preferably Gilmore Girls, but he ain’t gonna influence you

-when you’re done he’ll take the empty bowls to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink for Sammy to do them when he gets back to the bunker.

-he’ll grab the cookies, and bring a little plate of them over, and then sit on the sofa in the Dean cave so that your calves are draped over his thighs. If you’re in bed he’ll just lay on the opposite side, occasionally stroking your back comfortingly

-he checks your temperature from time to time, and always adapts according to your sickness. If it’s stomach bug he’s got a trash can beside the bed/couch and is ready to hold your hair. If it’s strep throat he’s gone honey. If it’s literally anything he’s probably got some kind of temporary remedy

-now (you know what time it is 🌶️)

-if you get a little hot n bothered while your sick

-and no I don’t mean hot from the fever

-but like the other kind

-and he can tell

-well, there’s a home remedy for that too 😏

-and you’ll warn him against it, not wanting to get him sick, but he’ll shush you, kissing your belly and pulling your sleep shorts and underwear down in one go

-he’ll kiss all up your legs, making you wish so, so much that you could make out with him

-but he won’t tease. Not when his sweetheart isn’t feeling well.

-so he’ll get as close to your dripping heat as he can, not making you move at all, because he knows you’re comfy on your little bed of pillows and his blankets

-and then he’ll nudge his nose against your clit, the only teasing he’ll do before diving in

-he’s gentle though. Not dissimilar to how he is in the mornings (Shameless plug, sorry not sorry haha)

-he’ll go nice and slow, adding his fingers as he goes, one at a time

-he uses one to gather your wetness and spread it over your poor bud

-and then adds another to scissor into your heat, massaging your spongey walls

-and by the third finger slowly yet deliberately filling you up, along with his mouth on your clit, he’ll have you coming, feeling so much better in one regard

-he’ll lap it all up, careful not to overstimulate you before pressing a sweet kiss to your belly, just as he did before he went down

-he’ll then get up and draw you a bath, helping you pee and then get into the tub

-he’ll dry your hair and then help you into a fresher set of pjs, and lay with you until you fall asleep, then turn off the tv and any lights before getting back in bed.

-and even though he has to sleep a little away from you he can’t help but hold you hand while you sleep, even if it means risking getting sick too

-and if you wake up in the middle of the night, he will too, ready to do whatever you need him to

-he loves you, and it’s he loves knowing that you love him too and would also take care of him if he were in your shoes

-so yeah

-sweet cutie pie caretaker ass with the greener-than-pines eyes gah

-I rest my case

If you have any ideas for headcanons and/or fics my ask box is always open!!

Xx!

#dean winchester loves gilmore girls #dean winchester is a queen in the kitchen #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester is a munch

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