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dynaboomboom · 2 months ago

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🖇️: drunk needy bf! katsuki bakugo begging to make his girlfriend feel good

“y’all we gotta get going. i CANNOT deal with this man’s shit anymore.” mina exclaimed, as she tried to keep poor blacked out denki on his feet. you, katsuki, jiro, and eijiro were seated on the couch you guys had reserved for the night.

“yeah, we should all get going. we’re on the last shot anyw-“ jiro said before getting cut off by mina. she grabbed the whole bottle of tequila you guys were drinking and drank the last few drops of alcohol straight from the bottle.

“remind me to never ever go clubbing with him again.” mina said as she wiped her lips. everyone seated at the table giggled both at fucked out denki and stressed out mina. even katsuki.

“MAAAAANNNN THATS THE FIRST TIME IVE SEEN BAKUGO SMILE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK” eijiro screamed out, feeling a bit tipsy himself. it was true though. katsuki was never really the type to giggle at such silly things, so you were a hundred percent certain that your boyfriend was drunk.

“suki, you alright?” you asked katsuki, facing his red hot face. he gave you a smile and nodded, placing his face on the crook of your neck. you weren’t sure if you were that drunk that you were imagining things or that really just happened.

he looked up at you, your faces mere inches apart. “you’re so pretty.” he said as he looked into your eyes, giving you a warm smile before placing his head back to where it was. you felt your cheeks heat up even more.

the rest of the group booked separate cabs and on the ride back home, katsuki could not keep his hands off of you. his hand was either holding yours or placed on your thigh, all while his head was rested on your shoulder. you closed your eyes to regain some kind of focus but everything was just spinning and all you could feel was how high up katsuki’s hand was placed on your inner thigh.

your eyes burst wide open when you felt katsuki’s lips peppering quick and sloppy kisses on your neck, moving up to your ear.

he gave your earlobe a light bite before whispering “baby, you’re so fucking pretty”. his voice was deep and full of lust, which expectedly turned you on.

“suki, wait til we get home” you said in a shaky voice, barely able to control yourself either. He continues to give you small kisses around your neck and cheeks, giving your thigh light squeezes from time to time. just as his hand was dangerously close to where you wanted him to be, you arrived at your destination.

katsuki quickly paid for the fare and basically dragged you into the house. once the front door was shut, he carried you on his shoulder and headed straight for the bedroom. you squealed and tried to escape but you were no match with your boyfriend’s strength.

he gently placed you on your shared bed and crawled on top of you, face inches apart, staring at you through his half closed eyes. you could smell the tequila coming from his lips. his lips. his soft, wet, juicy lips. he caught you looking at his lips which made him giggle.

“can I kiss you?” he asked. althougg you’ve been dating for a few months now, katsuki always asks for permission. you found it cute how he still asks for permission to kiss you when he was practically almost fingering you in the cab earlier.

you nod, but this wasn’t enough permission for katsuki.

“say it, sweets”

“yes, kiss me. kiss me, kats-” you were cut off by his lips smashing onto yours. yes was all he needed to kiss you like there was no tomorrow. you could taste the liquor as he slid his tongue into your mouth. it was aggressive and needy and it got you both yearning for more.

you slid your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, which earned you a groan. he moved his kisses to your neck, continuing his unfinished work. sucking just below your ear which made your grip on his hair tighten, making him groan again.

“you look so fucking good in that skirt” he said breathily as he continued sucking on your neck.

“fuck, I need you so bad. will you let me, baby?” he asked as he grinded into you. you could feel his growing bulge, which made you feel hot all over.

“baby, you’re drunk. I-i’m not sure we should. you might not like the idea tomorrow when you're sober” you said hesitantly. althougg you’ve done it before, you weren’t sure about doing it drunk. You guys haven’t talked about it before and you were worried for some reason that he would regret it the next day.

“ what the fuck are you even talking about?” he asked as he continued kissing your neck. You placed your hands on his shoulders, slightly pushing him away.

“i want you no matter what state i’m in. i mean, unless you’re not comfortable with it” he said as he looked you in the eyes, meaning every word.

“please let me make you feel good”. he continued kissing you, leaving sloppy wet trails on your neck. his hands slid under your shirt, resting on your waist.

you were still hesitant, worried about what he might think tomorrow. but fuck did his lips feel good on your skin. his lips made its way back to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe.

“baby please, I need you so bad. please please please let me make you feel good” he whispers breathily into your ear. his pants were basically about to pop open due to how hard he was. you bit your lip in contemplation but it was hard to think straight when his lips and hands were all over your body like that.

“i promise i’ll make you feel soooo good.” he said almost whining. he grabbed your hand and slowly placed it on his bulge. you couldn’t say a word, all you could do was look at him needily.

“feel that? that’s all for you, sweets ”

at this point, your mind could not think straight anymore. all you could think about was how good his dick would feel inside you, stretching you out, filling you up, hitting so fucking deep.

“please”. katsuki said, almost feeling defeated. that was all it took to make you break

“how good?” you asked in a taunting way. you were surprised where all this confidence is coming from. katsuki smirked at the sudden answer and took his tank top off, exposing his godly torso.

he tilted his head to the side, amused at your newfound confidence. “is that a yes then?” he asked as he moved a stray strand of hair behind your ear

“fuck me.”

“Yes ma'am” he said with a big smile. that was all he needed to rip open your top, exposing your bare breast. he bit his lips at the site and wasted no time to connect your buds with his lips. as he sucked and licked your right breast, his hand found its way to your other breast fondling with your nipple.

the sudden contact made you arch your back, letting out a small moan. his left hand moved from your breast to your inner thigh, gently moving up to rub his fingers on your clothed cunt.

“so fucking wet” he said before slipping his index and middle finger through your panties and into you. you grabbed his hair and moaned at the sudden stretch

“baby please” you whispered

“look who's begging now” he said, ammused

he then flipped you over so your face was now buried in the pillows. he grabbed your waist and pulled your ass up, your entire ass and pussy on display right in front of him. he gave your clothed cunt a quick kiss before fumbling with his pants, pulling it down together with his boxers. he hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties and pulled them down in one go.

“let’s keep the skirt on, alright sweets?” he leaned near your ear. all you could do was nod, no other thought but his dick inside you. he tucked your hair behind your ear again before positioning himself.

“so fucking pretty for me” that was the last thing you heard before he quickly thrusted into you in one go, going as deep as he could.

“oh fuck suki! you’re so fucking big!” you cried out due to the sudden stretch.

“damn right” he said as he continued to mercilessly thrust into you, not bothering to slow down for you to adjust. he grabbed onto your hips, watching intently how your ass bounced after each thrust.

you grabbed onto the pillows above you for some kind of support, your fists turning white due to how tight you were gripping onto them. you couldn't help but moan loudly with every thrust hitting the deepest parts of your insides. katsuki gave your ass a sharp slap which only made you moan even louder.

you gave him a confused look when you felt him pull out of you completely.

“lay on your back, sweets. need to see that pretty face all fucked out”

he flipped you over once again and placed one of your legs on his shoulder. he positioned himself right at the entrance but not going fully inside.

“baby” you whined

he smirked before thrusting into you sharply, pistolling his hips in and out of your dripping wet cunt. the position only made him hit even deeper, making you grab his shoulder and dig your nails into his skin.

“fuck, youre so tight” he said within grunts.

you felt the knot start to tighten when he started to rub your clit with his thumb

“oh my fuck, suki!” you screamed, nearing your release.

“im close, im close, suki! fuck!” you were spurting out words without thinking. all the remaining thoughts in your brain was how good your boyfriend was fucking you.

katsuki grunts at how fucked out you looked beneath him. His pace was starting to become irregular, meaning he was nearing his release too.

“go on sweets, right behind you” he rubbed your clit faster, feeling you clench around him even tighter.

“fuck! i’m cumming suki, fuuuckk!” you moaned out. katsuki gave a few final hard thrust before pulling out and releasing all over your abdomen.

he plopped down beside you, both of you trying to catch your breath. you were still feeling dizzy both from the alcohol and the amazing sex you just had. katsuki placed a quick kiss on your forehead before standing up from the bef to clean you up.

“you did so good” he said gently as he wiped his release off of your abdomen. you smiled at him, not having the energy to talk or move. after he cleaned you up, he tossed you one of his shirts before leaving the room to get you both some water.

when he entered the room, you were already out like a light. he giggled at the site, placing the glass of water by your night stand before shimmying under the covers. as soon as your bodies touched, he felt himself drift off to dream land as well.

a/n: hi yall this is my first ever fic here on tumblr! 😁 i cant believe my first post is abt me thirsting over bakugo. i swear im capable of soft sweet wholesome thoughts too 😔 anyway, hope u guys like this! 💥

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pitlanepeach · 4 days ago

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Radio Silence | Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, time-skips, the Oscar girlies are gonna looooove this one, also general warning for the shitbox that was the MCL60.

Notes — Amelia Norris, welcome back to McLaren.

*Max Verstappen voice* Mate, my taglist is fucked! — Peach x

Lando’s alarm never went off.

Because Amelia had turned it off at 3am.

She let him sleep. It was his day. She made pancakes in silence—banana and oat, the way he liked them best when he was following his meal plan—topped with a candle she’d found in the back of a drawer and a slightly wonky blueberry smiley face.

“Happy birthday,” she said, soft and fond, when he eventually shuffled into the kitchen, hair everywhere.

He blinked at the plate — the birthday plate. They shared it now. “You made me a goblin pancake.”

“It’s smiling!” She told him.

“It looks terrifying.” He told her.

He ate it anyway, barefoot and shirtless, perched on a stool while she scrolled through her phone and told him that no, he couldn’t open presents before coffee.

Later, he unwrapped things slowly. A framed photo of the two of them from a race weekend in 2019, (“Where did you even find this?”), and a book of Amelia’s annotated sim notes from her time at Red Bull. “You always said you wanted to understand how my brain works.” She shrugged.

“I was mostly joking,” he whispered, thumbing a tabbed page. “But this is…”

She leaned into him. “It’s yours now. Might help. Might not. Still yours.”

That night, after three hours dancing at a Jimmy’z, he fell asleep with his head in her lap and his hand curled around her wrist, and she thought; this was a good birthday.

—

Monaco was glitter and glass and sea spray in December. It didn’t snow, but Amelia didn’t care.

Their flat was warm and low-lit. She’d spent too long arranging ornaments, Lando had simply dropped all his on one side of the tree with chaotic delight. It looked ridiculous. It looked perfect.

They had no real schedule. No one expected them anywhere. They gave each other stockings stuffed with little gifts. Amelia gave Lando a pair of designer sneakers with her initials burned into the soles. Lando gave her a little wooden box he’d built himself (badly), lined with soft felt and filled with folded notes. Things I love about you, written one per page. He told her not to read them all at once.

She thought, after peeking at one, that she might never be able to read anyone—his handwriting was atrocious.

They went on a walk by the water, holding gloved hands. A few fans stopped them, gently, politely. Amelia just smiled at them all and when they were alone again, Lando kissed the top of her head.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I love you.”

They cooked together. Burned the first batch of roasted potatoes. Argued about how long to cook Brussels sprouts (Lando was very, very wrong). They watched a film under a blanket, her feet cold against his legs.

Later, under the twinkling Christmas tree lights, she kissed the side of his neck and whispered, “I know what I want for Christmas next year.”

He kissed her shoulder. “What, baby?”

She whispered the words in his ear.

He sucked in a sharp breath. The apples of his cheeks went pink.

And then… Then he was beaming.

—

She always liked to keep her birthdays quiet.

No parties. No dinners. No events. Just them.

Lando had been preparing for weeks. Quietly. Sweetly. Every part of the day was hers. Coffee in bed with oat milk and a heart-shaped spoon. Her favourite music playing low in the background while he made breakfast. A note on the bathroom mirror; You are the prettiest wife in the world.

They spent the afternoon in pyjamas. She built a LEGO set on the floor while Lando FaceTimed with her mum to confirm the recipe for her birthday cake. He wore an apron. He got flour on his nose. She kissed it off.

That evening, they sat on the floor eating cake straight from the pan, and she cried when he gave her an expensive notebook embossed with her name.

Amelia Norris.

“It’s not flashy,” he said. “But all of your other notebooks still have your old name, so...”

She just stared at him for a long time, her head tilted. “You’re the best. You know that?”

“Yeah,” he said, smug. “I know.”

She laughed, tackled him, kissed him breathless.

They didn’t leave the flat all day.

It was perfect.

—

The McLaren Technology Centre always smelled the same—polished steel, ozone, something faintly botanical from the lobby planters—but everything else felt different this time.

Amelia had a keycard with her name on it now.

Not “Visitor.”

Just: Amelia Norris, in black and papaya.

Her shoes clicked softly on the curved white floors as she walked the familiar path from reception, past the design offices, into the engineering wing. The glass walls gleamed. The lake shimmered outside. It should have been intimidating. Overwhelming. But Amelia had done intimidating. She’d helped engineer two world championships. She’d married the boy everyone had tried to separate her from.

This?

This wasn’t pressure.

This felt like coming home.

She found her new office on the corner, just past the chassis lab, with a good view over the test bays. The door was closed. The old paper sign had been replaced—somewhere between Christmas and now—with a proper etched plaque.

Amelia Norris Race Engineer – #81 Performance & Development Group

Her throat pinched unexpectedly.

She remembered, all at once, being ten years old and walking into the McLaren building behind her dad for the first time. Seeing a plaque with his name on it. She’d stood there, tracing the letters with small fingers, wide-eyed and awed. Now she was here. Different name. Different door. Different role.

But the same lineage.

Belief.

Hard work.

Love.

She opened the door. The air inside smelled faintly like new carpet and fresh whiteboard markers. Her desk was spotless. A neat stack of McLaren-branded post-its waited beside a rendered miniature model of the 2023 car—her nose scrunched unhappily at the sight of it. A framed photo had already been hung on the wall; her and Lando on the wedding day, his arms around her waist, her hand on his chest, both of them caught mid-laugh. It was small. Tasteful. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

A knock at the open door.

It was Oscar, carrying two coffees, looking slightly overwhelmed but trying not to show it. “I got the ones with the oat milk,” he said, holding one out. “Because Lando said you don’t like dairy. Is that okay?”

“You did great,” she said, accepting the mug. “First day. How are you feeling?”

He gave her a tired smile. “Like this is all suddenly very real.”

“It is real,” Amelia said, settling into the chair behind her desk. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time in this office, you and me. Meetings, sim data, post-session debriefs, late-night panic coffee when the floor upgrades come in weird—so don’t knock if I’m already in here. Just walk in.”

Oscar glanced around the space, tentative. “Feels like… your territory.”

She shook her head. “Nope. This is ours now. I’ve just had a head start.”

That got her a small, grateful smile. He stepped further inside, letting his gaze linger on the whiteboards, the framed photo, the car model.

“So,” he said after a beat. “Where do we start?”

Amelia stood. “We start by checking in on the car.”

She led him down the corridor toward the fabrication bay, familiar turns in the MTC’s clean white maze. The sounds of drills and chatter floated up as they descended a level—production technicians deep in the quiet, obsessive rhythm of building something meant to move at 300 kilometres an hour.

The #81 chassis was sitting on its frame stand, half-clad in carbon and glinting under the overheads. Its nose wasn’t mounted yet. Wires trailed from the cockpit. The halo was freshly attached, still matte from the final torque tests. The papaya-orange paint was only partially finished—bare in some places, ghosted in others.

Oscar stepped forward slowly. His expression changed.

“I’ve seen it in renders,” he said. “But not like this.”

Amelia folded her arms and smiled beside him. “This is the part no one really gets to see.”

“You didn’t design it?” He asked.

“No,” she said. “But I’ve been talking with the aero team. There’s a lot I want to change, but it’s unrealistic to expect them to change the entire chassis so close to testing. So… this year, Oscar,” She gave him a look that she hoped conveyed hope. “This year, just grin and bear it, even if it’s awful, okay? I promise you that next year’s car will be better. Built for you, not the other way around.”

Oscar let out a breath. “It’s kind of insane, isn’t it?”

She glanced over at him. “Yeah. You think you’ll be able to trust me with this?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Then me and you, Oscar, will be just fine.” She said.

He didn’t smile—but his shoulders dropped.

And Amelia looked at the half-built car, at the number #81 she’d fought to earn, and felt something slide gently into place.

This was going to be one hell of a year.

—

The lights in the briefing room had dimmed. Most of the engineering team had filtered out hours ago, but Amelia was still there, flipping absently through tyre degradation projections from last season — data that wouldn’t mean much in a few weeks, but still gave her something to think about. Something to do with her hands.

She was about to pack up when the door creaked open again.

Her dad poked his head in. “Got a second?”

Amelia blinked, surprised. “Sure, Dad.”

He stepped in with that familiar slight limp — the one she’d grown up watching as he trailed alongside mechanics at every paddock stop, years of karting crashes softened into a permanent rhythm. Behind him came her mom, cardigan draped over her shoulders, McLaren lanyard around her neck. VIP badge and all. It made Amelia smile. “Hi, mom.”

“Didn’t think we’d find you alone,” Her dad said, settling against the edge of the long table. “You giving Oscar a break already?”

Amelia nodded. “He was starting to get a bit pale, so I sent him home. Told him to sleep, hydrate, and be back tomorrow at seven sharp. Then I got comfy here.”

Her mom set a bottle of water in front of her, like muscle memory. “You used to hide in closets with puzzle books when the house got loud. Same thing, right?”

Amelia chuckled. “Yeah. Some things don’t change.”

Her dad looked between them, something unusually soft in his expression. “I’ve been meaning to say this for a while,” he said, “but now just felt like the right time.”

She turned toward him fully, head tilting.

“I’m proud of you,” Her dad said simply. “And I’m incredibly lucky to have you here. McLaren’s lucky.”

Amelia blinked. Her throat pulled tight. “Dad…”

He raised a hand, gently waving off the emotion. “Should’ve made it happen a lot sooner. That’s on me. But now that you're here, I hope you know how much it means. To me. To the whole team.”

Her mom placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding and warm. “He’s right. You’re doing everything you dreamed about. Everything we dreamed about with you. I’m so proud I could burst.”

Amelia huffed a quiet laugh, but it cracked a little. “You guys can’t say things like this when I’ve only slept for four hours. I’m emotionally unstable.”

Her dad grinned. “That’s why it’s the perfect time.”

Her mom pulled her in gently, and Amelia didn’t resist. She let her eyes flutter shut, breathing in that familiar lavender hand lotion and wool-sweater smell.

“You belong here,” her mom whispered.

“I know,” Amelia said. And this time — for real, for the first time — she did.

Her dad cleared his throat, though his voice was still thick. “Now go home to your husband. Rest. The cars will still be broken tomorrow.”

Amelia rolled her eyes but smiled through it.

“Thanks, boss.”

“Anytime, Norris.”

—

Oscar arrived in Monaco for his pre-season training camp with a backpack, a foam roller, and the most earnest expression Amelia had ever seen on a human being — in fact, the only reason she could even name it was because she’d seen it a hundred times before. On puppies.

“You know,” she said from the kitchen doorway as he stepped in, “you’re not going to inconvenience us by being here. We invited you.”

Oscar set his things down neatly by the shoe rack, eyes flicking around the flat. “Yeah. It’s just—your place is really nice.”

“Thank you,” Amelia was grinning. “It’s still a work in progress, but it’s home.”

Lando padded in barefoot from the balcony, already in training shorts and a tank top. “Mate, if you think this is nice, wait until you see what Zak wants us to rent for the post-season media thing in Abu Dhabi. That place has a literal waterfall in the living room.”

Oscar blinked. “What? Why?”

“Rich people don’t need reasons,” Amelia said, stepping aside so Oscar could follow them further in. “And my dad is a show-off.”

The flat had that relaxed chaos of somewhere well-lived-in—running shoes kicked off near the front door, a stack of magazines on the coffee table, a lingering citrusy scent. It was spacious without being overwhelming, modern without being sterile.

Lando threw a hand over Oscar’s shoulder and guided him toward the guest room which doubled as Lando’s streaming room. “You’re in here. Don’t touch the minibar. It’s all mine.”

Oscar peeked inside. “Is that a fridge full of Capri-Suns?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to,” Lando called, already walking away.

Amelia leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching them. She liked this. Lando at ease. Oscar softening. Her home being something useful, not just pretty.

Later that evening, after a sweaty cardio session and a cool-down stretch on the balcony, the boys collapsed onto the oversized sofa, Amelia wedged between them with a bowl of popcorn in her lap.

Lando passed Oscar the remote. “You get to pick tonight, since you’re the guest. Just know if you choose anything from the Fast & Furious franchise, Amelia will walk out.”

“I will not walk out,” Amelia said, indignant.

Lando arched an eyebrow.

“…I’ll just complain loudly the whole time.”

Oscar snorted, already scrolling. “Right. Noted.”

The movie ended up being some critically acclaimed indie drama that neither of the boys fully understood.. Lando made them all hot chocolate afterwards, and by the time they were all just about ready to turn in for the night, Oscar was laughing at something dumb Lando said and Amelia’s shoulders were loose.

As she brushed her teeth, Lando leaned on the doorframe beside her.

“He’s nervous,” she said quietly.

“Yeah. But he’s got you now,” Lando replied, bumping her shoulder with his.

She turned to look at him in the mirror. “Us.”

He smiled indulgently. “Yeah. Us.”

—

The morning sun spilled golden across the Monaco coastline, already warm against the stone path where Oscar was mid-sprint. His breath came in sharp bursts, chest rising and falling as he rounded the final bend and came to a staggering halt beside Lando, who was doubled over, hands on knees.

“Time?” Oscar huffed.

Amelia looked up from her iPad, where she’d been quietly timing their intervals with clinical precision. She didn’t even blink. “You beat him by two seconds.”

Oscar glanced over at Lando, who let out a dramatic groan and dropped onto the grass.

“I’m filing for divorce,” Lando muttered, voice muffled against the ground.

“You wouldn’t,” Amelia said, calmly tapping in their recovery timer. “The paperwork would confuse you too much.”

“Tell that to my lungs.” He wheezed.

Oscar grinned, sweat dripping from his jaw. “So what’s next? More hill sprints? Or can we just die now?”

“No. Dying is inefficient,” Amelia said. “Hydrate. Then core work.”

They obeyed without argument.

The thing about Amelia, Oscar had quickly learned, was that she didn’t bark orders. She didn’t have to. Her tone was measured, her words precise, and when she glanced up from the iPad and said things like, “Your balance is off on your left side, Oscar,” she was never wrong. She was observant. Quiet power in noise-cancelling headphones.

She didn’t train with them, didn’t have the interest or the inclination, but she was there every morning, hair up, thermos of coffee in hand, tracking performance and recovery stats like it was an active session at the factory.

“You know,” Oscar said between planks, “you could charge for this. Drivers would pay for a week with you.”

“I don’t have the patience for other drivers,” she replied, scribbling a note on a clipboard.

Lando groaned from the mat next to him. “She only yells at me because she loves me.”

Amelia snorted. “If you think this is yelling, you’ve never heard me at a strategy debrief.”

Oscar just grinned.

Later, after stretches and protein shakes and a failed attempt to get Lando into a cold plunge tub, the three of them sat in the shade of the terrace overlooking the bay. Amelia had her feet tucked under her on the lounger, iPad back in her lap, editing performance curves from Oscar’s last sim session at the factory.

Oscar looked at the way she leaned into Lando’s side without thinking, how his hand found her knee instinctively, like their bodies were in permanent sync.

They sat quietly for a minute, the breeze rolling in from the sea. Oscar took a long sip of his smoothie, then glanced over at Amelia. “So,” he said, carefully, “what’s it going to be like like—having you on comms?”

Amelia’s fingers paused mid-scroll.

Lando laughed before she could speak. “You mean what’s it like being managed by someone who knows when you’re about to crash before you do?”

Oscar raised his eyebrows. “That accurate?”

“Yes,” Lando said, grinning as he nudged Amelia’s knee.

She finally looked up, eyes cool and thoughtful. “You’re asking what kind of race engineer I’m going to be.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Firm. Clear. I don’t do sugarcoating unless it’s strategic. You’ll never have to wonder what I mean. I’ll say exactly what I mean — respectfully, but directly. And if I sound like I’m babysitting you, it’s because you’re doing something reckless and I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Oscar blinked. “Okay. That’s... intense.”

Lando sipped his drink. “It’s great. You don’t realise how much mental bandwidth it saves until you have someone like her by your side.”

Oscar looked back at Amelia. “You’re always confident?”

“No,” she said plainly. “I’ll never pretend to know something I don’t. And if I think I’ve made the wrong call, I’ll say so. Accountability matters.”

Oscar nodded slowly, letting that sink in. “And… if I mess up?”

“You will,” she said. “We all do. I’m not here to protect your ego. I’m here to make you better. As long as you meet me halfway, we’ll be fine.”

There was no warmth in her tone, but there was no cruelty, either. It was measured. Practical. Fair.

Oscar smiled. “Honestly? That sounds kind of ideal.”

She tilted her head. “You say that now.”

Lando leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’ll be in the best hands, mate.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I believe you.”

—

Two weeks later, Oscar was slumped in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, while Amelia stood by the screen at the front, laser pointer in hand, calmly dissecting sector times.

“Your turn-in at turn nine still needs work,” she said, tapping the data overlay. “You’re braking a shade too late, trying to save the lap, but you’re compromising the exit.”

Oscar nodded, brow furrowed. “That’s the only part I can’t feel yet. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like—my brain doesn’t register it until I’ve already done it.”

“Give it time,” she said. “Muscle memory is a process.”

Lando appeared in the doorway, holding two takeaway coffees. “One for the newly-minted golden boy,” he said, tossing one toward Oscar, “and one for my beloved engineer wife who abandoned me for another driver.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Amelia said mildly, taking the cup. “You’re just in time.”

“For what?”

Amelia walked over to her desk, opened a tin, and revealed a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. Perfectly golden. Still warm.

Oscar’s eyes widened. “You bake?”

“Only when you do well in a session,” she said, offering him the tin. “Which today you did.”

Oscar blinked down at the cookies. “You’re the best race engineer ever.”

Lando scowled. “Okay, rude. You never make me cookies.”

Amelia raised a brow. “When was the last time you called me the best race engineer ever?”

Oscar, mouth full of cookie, muffled, “She’s terrifying, but I love her.”

Lando leaned against the desk, narrowing his eyes. “I feel like I’m watching my wife emotionally cheat on me with my teammate.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “You knew what this was.”

Oscar glanced between them. “Wait, is this, like… a bit?”

“She calls you ‘ducky,’” Lando said, like it pained him.

Oscar blinked. “Ducky?”

Amelia shoved the tin toward him again, giving Lando a stern glare. “Don’t worry about it, sweet amazing talented driver of mine. Just eat your cookies.”

Oscar did as instructed.

Lando groaned. “I hate it here.”

“You love it here,” Amelia said, slipping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Because you love me, don’t you? You did marry me.”

He narrowed his eyes, but there was no real heat there. “Fine. But I get the last cookie.”

Amelia snorted. “Of course.”

Oscar made a sound of betrayal. “You’re picking favourites.”

“I married him, Oscar.”

“Still feels unfair.”

—

The McLaren garages were alive. Mechanics moved with efficient purpose, telemetry streamed in real time on the screens, and the dry desert air seeped in through the open shutters. The scent of brake dust, sun-warmed concrete, and machine oil hung in the air. Cloying and irritating and perfect.

Amelia stood at the back of Oscar’s garage, headset resting around her neck, iPad in hand. Her new team uniform still felt crisp against her skin—papaya and black, her name stitched cleanly above the heart. It was real now. No more transitioning. No more waiting.

Oscar was getting into the car for his first run of the day, glancing over at her briefly as the mechanics helped him buckle in. She gave him a little nod, her calm face belying the thrum of nerves and excitement in her chest.

“You good?” Lando asked, appearing beside her. He was in his own suit, visor up, half-laughing at her expression. “You look like you’re about to start pacing.”

“I don’t pace,” she said, but her fingers were flexing on the edge of the tablet. “This is just… a big moment.”

Lando smiled, softer now. “Yeah. It is. You’re allowed to feel everything. Just don’t cry; you’ll scare the interns.”

She elbowed him lightly.

Andrea approached from the pit wall side, arms crossed over his chest. “There she is,” he said with a warm smile.

Amelia straightened a little. “Andrea. Hi.”

“I just wanted to say—welcome. I know everyone’s said it already, but truly… I’m very glad you’re here.” He told her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m really glad to be here too.”

“I’ve been following your work for years, Amelia. Red Bull were lucky to have you. And now we are.” His voice was kind, but earnest. “You and Oscar — I think you’re going to be a very strong pair.”

She felt a little warmth creep up her neck. “Yes. We will.”

—

She stepped up onto the pit wall platform, put her headset on, and opened the channel.

“Radio check, Ducky.”

There was a beat of static. Then, “Loud and clear. I’d prefer that nickname didn’t stick.”

“Okay,” she said, amusement in her voice. “Let’s see what this car can do. Prepare to line up in the pit-lane.”

—

Testing was over for the day; cars were tucked back into the garage, data was uploading.

Amelia was crouched by the pit wall, collecting her headset, untangling cords, and making a few tired annotations on her iPad. She didn’t look up when a bottle of water appeared beside her.

“Thanks,” she said, assuming it was Lando.

“It’s the least I could do,” said Will.

She blinked. Looked up.

“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”

Will Joseph, who had been Lando’s engineer longer than Lando had been allowed to rent cars, gave her a crooked smile and sat down next to her on the concrete step. His jacket was unzipped to the waist, arms wrapped around his knees.

“So,” he said casually, “you’re the other half now.”

Amelia stared at him. “Of the married couple?”

“No.” He gestured loosely toward the track. “Of the race engineer pair. Me and you. I figured we should talk before we both start yelling instructions across the garage like divorced parents.”

She laughed. “Good thinking.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“He’s doing well,” Will said eventually, nodding toward Oscar��s car. “Really well. And he listens to you.”

Amelia gave a small smile, then sipped her water. “He’s eager. Smart. Needs a bit of runway, but when he clicks, he clicks. Reminds me of Max, a little bit. All instinct and edge.”

Will nodded. “He trusts you. That’s the important bit. You can’t teach that.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

Will glanced at her, thoughtful. “And you — you’ve slotted in like you’ve always been here. It’s a little annoying, actually.”

“Sorry,” she said, not sorry.

“You should be,” Will deadpanned. “Took me five years to get a decent coffee cup in this place. You walk in and suddenly there’s a new espresso machine and colour-coded run plans.”

She made a face. “I’m a bit much, I know.”

“No,” Will said, serious now. “You’re brilliant. The way you’ve got Oscar dialled in already… it’s impressive.”

Amelia looked down, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Thanks.”

“You’re also married to my driver,” he added. “So I reserve the right to glare at you if he starts acting like a brat.”

“He already does that all the time,” she muttered, then smiled.

Will leaned back on his elbows, looking toward the now-quiet pit lane. “This year’s gonna be something, huh?”

Amelia followed his gaze. “Yeah. I think it is.”

—

The restaurant was one of Lando’s favourites in Bahrain — low lighting, good food, quiet enough that nobody bothered them. Amelia had picked the table. Tucked into a corner, facing a floor-to-ceiling window. Oscar had shown up five minutes early and had to hover awkwardly near the entrance until they turned up.

Now, halfway through their mains, Lando was poking at his pasta with a fork and Amelia was mid-rant about diffuser regulation changes when Oscar leaned back in his chair and went suddenly still.

“What?” Lando asked, around a bite of bread.

Oscar blinked. “I just realised I’m third wheeling right now.”

Amelia stopped mid-sentence. “What?”

Oscar gestured at them. “You two. Married. Clearly telepathic. Lando ordered for you.”

“That doesn’t make you a third wheel,” Amelia frowned.

Lando swallowed his bite. “Mate.”

Oscar looked at him. Warily.

“You’ve been a third wheel in this relationship since you were in F3.” Lando said.

Amelia nearly choked on her water. “Lando!”

“No, no, let’s be honest!” Lando leaned back, grinning. “He was always around. And you were fixated on him, babe.”

“I was literally just doing my job,” Oscar said, flat.

“Yeah, well,” Lando shrugged, “now your job is to let us be disgustingly in love while you sit there and suffer.”

Amelia laughed, eyes soft, and reached out to squeeze Oscar’s arm. “You’re not a third wheel.”

He gave her a look. “You just reached over your husband to comfort me for being your awkward sidekick.”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “But you’re our awkward sidekick.”

Lando raised his glass. “To being contractually stuck with us.”

Oscar sighed. “God help me.”

They clinked glasses anyway.

And when dessert came, Amelia passed her spoon to Oscar without thinking, and Lando threw a napkin at him for stealing a strawberry off her plate, and Oscar just smiled to himself.

Third wheel or not, it was kind of nice to be included.

��

Most of the media groups had cleared out by the time Thursday night fell, the floodlights humming softly above the garages.

Amelia had just finished her final round of pre-race checks with Oscar when she ran into Max. He was leaning against the railing, sipping from a Red Bull can, and raised a teasing eyebrow when he saw her. “Look who it is,” he said.

She smiled, tugging her McLaren jacket tighter around her. “You’re here late.”

Max shrugged. “You’re one to talk, zusje. Shouldn’t you be off managing your husbands nerves or something?”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Lando’s fine.”

Max tilted his head slightly. “Still weird seeing you in papaya.”

“I know,” she said, quiet.

There was a beat of silence. Comfortable, familiar.

“I miss you,” Max said.

Her eyes stung a little. “I miss you too.”

He didn’t move, but his voice softened. “It won’t be the same tomorrow.”

Amelia smiled faintly. “You’ll be fine.”

“I know. But still.”

She reached over, gave his wrist a squeeze. “Good luck tomorrow.”

He smirked. “Try to keep your rookie from crashing into me.”

“No promises,” she said, then stepped forward and let him hug her for a minute before they had to go their separate ways again.

—

When she entered their hotel suite an hour later, she didn’t expect Lando to be… well, naked.

“Hi baby,” he said casually from the bed, lounging. “Welcome back.”

She blinked. “Are you… is this going to become some kind of welcome-home ritual?”

“Could be,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Depends how much you like it.”

She laughed, kicking off her shoes. “You are absolutely ridiculous.”

“And yet, you married me.”

“Unbelievably,” she said, walking over and tugging the covers up over him pointedly, “I did.”

He caught her wrist and pulled her down beside him. “You okay?”

She nodded, nuzzling into his bare shoulder. “Yeah. Ran into Max.”

“Oh?” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Everything good?”

“He misses me,” she murmured. “I miss him too.”

“Of course he does. You were his second brain.”

“I was his friend,” she said, voice muffled by his skin. “Sister. Or something.”

“That too.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“You ready for tomorrow?” She asked, quietly.

Lando tilted his head down to kiss her temple. “I’m ready if you’re there.”

She smiled. “Always.”

He grinned. “Even if I show up to driver briefings naked?”

“I will quit on the spot.”

He laughed, pulling her closer. “Okay. I’ll save that surprise for Suzuka.”

—

The sun was slipping below the horizon, throwing orange light across the desert as the cars rolled out for the formation lap. Amelia sat at the McLaren pit-wall, headset settled snugly over her ears, telemetry lighting up across her screen. Her fingers hovered above the radio trigger.

“Car 81, radio check,” she said, voice steady.

“Loud and clear,” Oscar replied, a hint of tension in his voice, but nothing she hadn’t heard before.

“Copy,” she said, softer now. “You’re all set. Let’s go through it one more time.”

He didn’t ask what she meant. They’d already talked about it in sim, in briefings, walking to the grid, but he let her say it anyway. Maybe he needed to hear it.

“Be clean off the line. You don’t need to win the race in the first hundred metres. Give yourself space, keep your head on a swivel through Turn 1; we’ve seen chaos there before. Stay tight and controlled.”

“Okay.”

“You’ve got good tyre temp. ERS settings look fine. Sensors are happy. You’ve done this a hundred times in the sim.”

“But not in real life,” Oscar said, and she could hear the nerves now.

Amelia smiled a little, despite herself. “Not in real life. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You’ve earned this. All I want you to do is drive the car the way I know you can.”

“Right.” A breath. “Okay. Thanks, Amelia.”

She glanced up at the screen. Cars were lining up now. The tension in the garage thickened. Engineers froze in place. Pit wall comms turned clipped and quiet.

“Hey, Oscar?” she said, just before the lights started to come on.

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you. I’ve got you the whole way. Let’s go racing.”

He didn’t respond in words, but the burst of static and the slight hitch of breath on the other end was enough.

Five lights. Four. Three.

And then they were off.

For maybe four laps, things were steady.

Then Oscar’s name blinked red.

"Car 81. Box box," came the call, clipped through Amelia’s headset. She didn’t flinch. Just hit her button and said calmly, "Copy. Oscar, we’ve got a pneumatic pressure issue. Bring it in nice and easy. No risks."

He confirmed. Voice low. A little shaky.

She switched channels immediately. “Can we get it back out?”

“No,” came the reply from the garage. “It’s terminal.”

Beside her, Will swore under his breath. “One down.”

“Could’ve been worse,” she said, tone even. “Could’ve been two.”

Which, of course, was the cue.

Just as they hit the halfway mark, Lando came over the radio. “Guys… I’m losing power. Something’s wrong.”

Will jumped in, trying to diagnose it live with him. Amelia kept her eyes locked on the data, flicking through cooling systems, oil pressure, everything she could find.

It was no use. It was happening again.

"Box, Lando. We’ll retire the car."

Silence. Then a tight, “Okay.”

Will leaned back from the wall, exhaling slowly. “Two DNFs.”

Amelia didn’t answer. Just stared at the screens in front of her, mouth pressed in a thin line.

Finally, she said, “Well. Shit.”

Will huffed a bitter laugh. “Welcome back.”

“Yeah,” she said dryly. “Such a pleasure.”

They stayed quiet for a moment, just watching the race unravel without them.

Then Will added, “Next week can’t be worse.”

She didn’t look at him. Just sipped from her McLaren bottle and muttered, “Things can always be worse.”

NEXT CHAPTER

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bejeweledinterludes · 22 days ago

Text

who ya gonna call?

OR dean’s a ghost. he’s haunting you (but you are not complaining).

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : ghost ! dean x established fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 1.7 k.

「 content / warnings 」 : smut— again, more to come in the next few weeks too so BUCKLE UP, dean is a ghost, reader is very much aware. can’t tell if i love or hate this one tbh.

you have new messages from the author ! ↓

with the great @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth (aka god)’s permission, i let my freak flag fly here (but when do i not, let’s be real). think spn s2 ep1 ; in my time of dying for this one. and if any of you say “well actually ☝️🤓 this wouldn’t make sense becuase of xyz” just know i am a horny woman and tumblr is my outlet. but inspo is from @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth’s the swayze method of course. thank you very much for letting me run with this!

this is also my gift for 500 (+40 !;$3:!33&?!?!2?2(3&3&) followers, along with all the love on my touch starved ! dean fic thank you all so so so very much! part 2 for that should be out at some point <3

𖤐 ─────────────────────────

even though he hunted them, dean had to admit— being a ghost had its perks.

of course, dean had been one before— multiple times, actually. first when he got in that car crash with sammy and his dad, another when he busted out a bunch of locked up spirits in some old-ass house, and the other being more recently.

as in, now.

dean needed to stop doing stupid shit like this— but honestly? sometimes, being there, yet not being seen was pretty damn awesome.

dean had stalked you and sam all day— not that he thought you knew he was there, but you could almost… sense it. while digging through spellbooks, you’d looked at the spot he was (invisibly) standing in once or twice, furrowing your brows like you actually saw him. but you shrugged it off, thinking it was your mind playing tricks on you when the motel curtains blew a little like there’d been a small gust of wind. nothing was there, right?

no.

dean was there.

he was here now, too.

dean had been here for a while now— as soon as you and sam gave up for the second night in a row of not finding a single thing to help his… not-living dilemma, you’d gone back to what was yours and dean’s shared motel room (sam had gotten his own on the other side of the motel. and any guesses as to why?).

maybe it might’ve been seen as creepy, but dean enjoyed just watching you. didn’t matter what, or when. you’d pretended not to notice more often than not, but now dean could watch without any fear of you realizing.

well.

yet.

dean was now currently following you out of the steam-filled bathroom, your socked feet padding on the motel room’s carpet while in one of his shirts. you wore them frequently, but that didn’t stop the way a little pang of possession shot through his chest every time he saw you.

you slipped under the covers of your own comfortable blanket (because pro hunter tip: bring your own bedding to shitty motels), letting out an exhale you didn’t know you were holding in.

dean just sits and watches you for a little, perching himself on the side of the bed. damn, even with that worried, concerned look on your face, you were still gorgeous.

and you were worried. loving dean winchester had its perks, but fuck if it didn’t hurt every time he ‘died’. this was worse, too, because you knew he was a ghost— and the thought of him out there somewhere alone somewhere made your chest ache.

“wish you were here,” you whisper half into your pillow without even thinking about it, eyes on the window next to the bed.

dean’s heart broke a little at that. because he was here.

so even though he knew you wouldn’t be able to hear him, feel him— he shifts fully on the bed and scoots right up next to you, spooning you like he always did most nights.

suddenly, you were much colder than you’d been before. you squint at the window. it was only cracked a little bit for air. and for a second, you thought you felt something, weight surrounding you as if dean was really, truly actually there—

“‘m right here,” he whispers your name in your ear, his own chest hurting with the longing to just comfort you. “hell, you really think dyin’ would get you ridda me?”

then you gasp, and dean can feel the way your body tenses. but why in chuck’s name did you—

wait.

did you hear that?

you’re both silent for a moment, until you finally find the words to speak— surprisingly, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is:

“dean?”

dean mentally smacks himself upside the head.

ghosts’ emotions made them more powerful— so much so that humans could notice.

turns out, you had that effect on him.

big surprise, right?

“yeah, it’s me,” he whispers again, settling more next to you, afraid that if he spoke any louder, the bridge he’d somehow fostered might dissipate.

“jesus christ,” you breathe out a sigh of relief, still in your position on the bed while you can almost feel his breath on your ear. “have you— you’ve been here the whole time?”

“‘course i have,” dean almost sounds offended when he answers back, voice still low as his arm snakes around your waist. “where else would i be?”

you don’t answer. because now that you though about it, it did make sense. you almost wanted to ask why he didn’t say anything earlier—but instead, you whisper back:

“how are you doing that?”

dean’s brows furrow a little— until it clicks.

you felt his arm around you.

which meant you could feel him.

damn.

like he said.

this ghost thing had its perks.

“dunno,” dean honestly replies before pressing a kiss onto your cheek— and the way your eyes fluttered shut told him you felt that, too. “but i’m damn glad i can.”

“i’m dreaming,” you whisper more to yourself than anything as dean’s other hand trails down the curve of your waist through his shirt— and if you kept your eyes shut, it was like he was actually there.

but hell, he was.

“nuh uh,” you feel the warmth of dean’s breath on your ear again and his hand lingering on your hip when he presses himself completely against your back. you dared not to open your eyes, in fear of seeing nothing but darkness and empty sheets— because with you not looking, it was all the more real. “ya feel that? ‘s all me. ‘cause ‘a you.”

“fuckin’ hell,” you whisper again, pressing yourself right back into him as if—

no.

he was there.

you can feel the familiar roughness of dean’s hand slipping under the band of your underwear like he’s done a million times before— well, actually, this was a little new. because his hands were cold, not hot. but whatever.

“missed ya like crazy,” dean whispers again, fingers gently dragging across your already wet folds— because when were you not wet for dean winchester. “guess you did, too, huh?”

“always miss you,” your voice comes out breathier than you wanted it to, but that’s the effect dean had on you, too. he always made you cum like a horny teenager— too soon and too loud. but then again, you did the same for him. “always need you.”

god, what the hell were you saying? you’re a grown-ass woman—telling a man what, exactly?

well, you don’t know, because your thoughts are interrupted when dean’s skilled— albeit now ghostly fingers start rubbing. you tip your head back involuntarily, letting out a rougher exhale, because if this was a dream, you were gonna enjoy every second of it.

“dean,” his name rolls off your tongue before something between a whimper and moan escapes your throat as his fingers go a little faster. a tiny, annoying voice in your mind tells you that this really isn’t the best idea, but you don’t really care.

because dean kinda made you forget about everything else.

especially when his hands were involved.

“shhh,” dean’s not really shushing you though, because his tone is coaxing. the kind that says “i got you.”

but he still says that out loud, anyway.

so you relax more into dean— or rather, nothing behind you. you don’t think, because dean’s got you. he always does, even in the afterlife. and because if you thought about it too hard, you were afraid the tension building in your tummy would go away. you were afraid the oh-so familiar feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit would cease to exist.

you feel something cold on your neck, too— and it sends a jolt down your spine, adding to the bouts of pleasure only dean could seem to orchestrate for you.

you can’t moan as loud as you want to— because the old lady in the room next door had already given you a look when she saw the six-pack in your hands the other day. but then again, that’s when dean was in his meat suit. still, you didn’t need another look.

“oh, de,” you bury half your face into your pillow again, choking out a breath of dean’s name, eyes still shut and letting out a broken noise as the burning in your lower torso was getting more intense.

dean was enjoying this way too much, he thought. but then again, he always liked seeing you like this— even more so when it was because of him. when he actually died, he’d definitely turn down the sorry-ass reaper or death, or whoever was taking him to wherever he’ll be ending up just to make you cum, over and over.

that seemed like a good way to spend eternity.

and he wished at that moment that he could properly fuck you— but that was for when he was back in his body. so he could feel you, too.

you wished you could touch him— feel him more than what you were now, but your brain was starting to become fuzzy, your legs and what seemed to be every nerve in your body tingling.

dean felt it, too. he didn’t really know how, but it was something he’d learned over time. your pretty face scrunched up even more, and the sounds you let out were sounds you only made when you were close. you tried to talk— but all that came out was his name.

“dean— baby, please—”

he never had to ask you to beg for him. never had to ask to say his name, or for you to tell him that you’re his.

you always just did it.

“‘s okay, ‘s okay,” dean whispers your name in your ear, feeling you shiver against him. because right now? who was he to deny you? the woman who gave him anything and everything he needed— wanted. yeah, no way. “just go ahead.”

with that, he increased the pace of his fingers further while letting your hips continue buck on his hand— and the sounds you let out when you finally let yourself tip over the edge was almost enough to make dean lose it right then and there, too.

maybe there were a couple downsides to this though— because dean couldn’t lick his fingers clean of you right now. and he was hard. was that even a thing?

he could barely focus on his own thoughts right now, though— because your eyes were still shut, mouth parted and legs twitching as he lay pressed up against you.

but the first thing you said?

“just you wait ‘till you get back in your body, cowboy.”

───────────────────────── 𖤐

you have one ( 1 ) new message from the author ! ↓

felt wrong to post this on easter (yesterday) SORRY LMFAO i’m not even christian or anything like that but! faith now beating the monday scaries one smut fic at a time 🙂‍↕️🙏

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @bittersweetfig @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @fuckedupfate @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina @mahi-wayy @viarasvogue @tinas111 @0ccvltism @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @lunaleah @saintfaux + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added / taken off, please let me know! <3

#faith’s works . . . @bejeweledinterludes!#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester smut #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fanfiction

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simplygojo · 2 months ago

Text

Cheater! ⸺ Suguru Geto

author's note ⸺ Wrote a cheating fic!! WHOOPS! lmk your thoughts on this!! I hope you all enjoy cheating on your deadbeat husband with your daughters sexy ass teacher <3 pairing ⸺ teacher!Suguru Geto x parent!reader word count ⸺ 4k content warnings ⸺ 18+ only - mdni!, adultery!, grey morals, reader uses female pronouns, reader has a vagina, fingering, p in v intercourse, nipple play, rough grip?idk, not edited teaser ⸺ "You’re a married woman, after all. You’re loyal, and I respect that. But..." He pauses, his lips curling into a knowing smile, the hint of something far more dangerous in his eyes. "It would be wrong of me to let you leave here tonight without telling you... that you deserve more than this. You deserve to feel wanted, to feel desired." Something inside you snaps.

୨ৎ simplygojo masterlist ୨ৎ request guidelines ୨ৎ

Your husband wasn’t always like this.

Or maybe he was, and you just didn’t notice it at first.

There was a time when you believed in the love you shared—the way he used to pull you close without needing a reason, the way he promised that no matter what, it would always be both of you against the world. And for a while, it felt real. Then life happened. Then the baby came.

And slowly, little by little, you started doing everything alone.

At first, it was small things. He worked late, so you handled bedtime. He forgot to grab the groceries, so you took care of it. He stayed home when your child had a fever, but somehow, you were the one up all night, holding them while they cried.

Then, the little things became everything.

You started managing schedules, meals, school functions, doctor’s appointments, PTA meetings—every single thing that kept your child’s world turning.

And your husband? He was there, technically. He existed in the house, he took up space in the bed, but he was more like an afterthought in your life than a partner.

You’d hear other moms talk about how they split responsibilities with their husbands—how he got up for night feedings, how he packed lunches in the morning, how they took turns being the “fun parent” so the other could have a break.

You stopped talking in those conversations.

Because what would you even say?

That your husband doesn’t even know your child’s teacher’s name? That you’ve gone to every parent-teacher night alone for the past three years? That sometimes, when you wake up next to him, you feel more alone than if the bed was empty?

You tried to fix it. You really did. You asked him to come to school events—he always had an excuse. You asked him to help with homework—he’d forget. You asked him if he was happy—he shrugged.

And eventually, you just stopped asking.

Instead, you did what you always did: you handled it.

You got up every morning and made breakfast. You checked backpacks, signed permission slips, scheduled playdates. You listened when your 6 year old came home talking about her day. You made sure they felt loved, seen, safe. You gave them everything you never had.

And you told yourself, this was enough.

You told yourself you didn’t need to feel wanted.

You told yourself you didn’t need someone to look at you the way that he used to.

You told yourself you didn’t need more than this—but you knew that none of that was true.

The clock ticks past 9 PM. The school halls are eerily quiet now, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights, casting long shadows along the walls. It’s well past the usual time for parent-teacher conferences, and once again, you’re the last parent left.

The usual scenario.

You check your phone for the fifth time—no texts, no calls. Your husband’s absence from this school event doesn’t surprise you anymore, but it still stings in ways you can’t shake. There’s a lingering resentment there, buried beneath the routine, hidden in the cracks of your patience.

You tap your foot against the tiled floor, feeling the exhaustion deep in your bones. It’s been a long day of running from work to school pick-up, to soccer practice, to dinner, to bedtime—only for your husband to still be nowhere to be found.

He’s present physically, but emotionally? Mentally? Nowhere.

You’ve long since stopped asking him to show up at these meetings, to participate in the day-to-day, to even make an effort. You’ve grown used to doing it all, but some nights, like tonight, the weight of it feels like too much.

The door to the classroom finally opens.

And there he is. Suguru Geto.

His eyes soften when he sees you standing alone in the hallway. It’s nearly 9:30 now, and he has that gentle look on his face, the one he always wears when he’s speaking with you. There’s a warmth there, but tonight, you can’t help but feel like he’s been watching you for longer than you realize.

"You’re the last one," Suguru says, his voice smooth and calm, as though he’s already made peace with the late hour. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

You offer a tired smile, trying to mask the fatigue that’s clearly weighing on you. "It’s no problem," you say. "I’m just used to it."

He steps aside to let you into the classroom.

The soft glow of the desk lamps and the smell of chalk and paper fill the air as you sit down, the worn-out chair creaking slightly under your weight. Suguru takes his usual spot at the desk, but instead of diving into the paperwork, he looks at you with a level of attention that makes you feel like the only person in the room.

“Everything going okay?” He asks, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of concern. You think he’s been asking you that for weeks now, and for weeks, you’ve given the same nonchalant answer.

“Yeah, just the usual,” you reply, keeping your gaze steady on the desk in front of you. “Busy. You know how it is.”

Suguru nods, but his eyes don’t leave you. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes you feel exposed, like he sees more than just the tired mom who’s barely holding it together. He watches you as if he’s picking up on the subtle cracks in your composure, the ones you’ve been trying to hide for so long.

“I’ve noticed,” Suguru says, his voice steady, yet his eyes seem to soften with understanding. “You’re here for every parent meeting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your husband at one.”

You stiffen slightly, but not enough to make it obvious. Of course, Suguru would notice. He’s always been observant, always so aware of the details. He’s never commented on it before, but the fact that he does now makes something inside you ache.

Your gaze flickers to the side, focusing on anything but him.

“Well,” you start, your voice quieter than usual, “he’s always… busy with work.”

Suguru’s gaze doesn’t falter. “I get it,” he says, his voice even, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. "Work can be demanding."

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, and you try to laugh it off. “Yeah, it’s just... me, really. I handle everything at home, too.”

There’s a long pause as Suguru silently assesses you. His eyes narrow slightly, not in judgment, but in a way that makes you feel seen. Really seen.

“You’ve been doing it all alone for a while, haven’t you?” He asks it softly, like a statement more than a question.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You swallow, the pressure in your chest growing heavier. It’s not like you haven’t noticed it yourself. You’ve been doing this on your own for a while now—balancing everything, carrying the weight of your family’s responsibilities while your husband remains detached. But hearing Suguru say it, hearing him acknowledge it, makes you feel more vulnerable than you care to admit.

You nod slowly, avoiding his gaze as your throat tightens.

"Doesn’t seem fair, does it?" Suguru continues, his voice still calm, but his eyes darken ever so slightly, an intensity that wasn’t there before.

You don’t know how to respond. All you can do is sit there, feeling the weight of his words hang in the air between you.

“Sometimes, people don’t realize what it means to be present,” Suguru murmurs, his tone laced with something more than just professional concern.

And in that moment, you realize just how much you crave someone to acknowledge the effort you’ve been putting in—to see you as more than just a mother, more than just someone who’s keeping everything together by sheer force of will.

The silence stretches between you two, but Suguru doesn’t look away. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say something.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re on the verge of saying something that you definitely shouldn’t.

The weight of Suguru's gaze is palpable, drawing you in like a magnetic force. For the first time, you're not looking for validation from the outside world, from your husband or anyone else. You’re looking at him, and his presence seems to fill the entire room, suffocating yet somehow liberating.

"Sometimes, I wonder if it’s worth it," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, all of it. The constant doing, the giving... but it’s never enough. It feels like I’m just... waiting. For someone to notice. For someone to... care."

Suguru’s expression shifts, and he leans in just slightly, as though he’s pulled by some invisible thread. There’s something in his eyes that’s far from the calm teacher you’ve known. It’s deeper, darker—filled with a quiet understanding that makes the air between you both thick with unspoken emotions.

"You deserve more than that," he murmurs, his voice low, almost intimate. “You deserve someone who sees you. Not just the mother, not just the wife. But you.”

You take a shallow breath, feeling the rush of emotions swirl inside you.

You’ve heard those words before, but from him, they hit differently. The way he’s looking at you, the way his words seem to reach right inside you, it’s too much to ignore.

Without thinking, your gaze flickers down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. And you see it then—the shift. The barely perceptible tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders tense as if he’s fighting some invisible current pulling him toward you.

You stand abruptly, the sudden movement shaking you from the haze of desire that had slowly clouded your mind. Your pulse races in your ears, and you feel a rush of heat flood your face, the intensity of the moment unsettling you.

You attempt to gather yourself, your mind a chaotic storm of conflicting emotions.

“Is there... anything my daughter needs to work on—uh, outside of school?” You ask, your voice lacking the usual certainty, the question tumbling out awkwardly as if to distract yourself from what’s happening between you.

Suguru stands slowly from his chair, the chair legs scraping against the floor as he glides around the desk with measured steps, his gaze never leaving you. Every movement of his feels deliberate, calculated, and yet somehow fluid, like he’s in complete control of the space around you.

He comes to stand directly in front of you, just close enough that his presence fills the air, thick and charged with an undeniable tension.

You can’t help but notice the way his body moves, the subtle power in the way he stands, shoulders broad, chest rising and falling in time with his deep, steady breaths.

“Your daughter?” Suguru repeats, the corners of his lips curling up slightly as he leans in just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath against your skin. “You’re not really thinking about her right now, are you?”

You want to pull away, to say something, anything that could snap you out of this, but his presence is overwhelming, and your body betrays you with every passing second.

"I..." you try to say something, anything to pull yourself together, but the words falter in your throat. The part of you that knows better, the part of you that remembers you’re married and committed to someone else, is struggling to assert itself.

But the other part of you, the one that’s been ignored for so long, is screaming to be heard, to finally feel seen, to be touched like how he could touch you, to have someone care.

Suguru watches you carefully, sensing the internal conflict as his fingers twitch at his sides. He takes a small step closer, his hand brushing against your arm just lightly enough to send a ripple of heat through your skin.

"I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do," he says softly, his voice almost a caress.

You notice the way his body towers over yours, his broad chest just inches from yours, making you feel small in comparison. The warmth of him radiates against your skin, and it’s hard not to notice how much bigger and stronger he is than you.

The sharp, intoxicating scent of his cologne wraps around you like a blanket, mingling with the faint trace of cigarette smoke that clings to him, adding a dangerous edge to the allure of his presence.

It’s impossible to ignore how every inch of him feels commanding, even in the way he stands so close to you.

"You’re a married woman, after all. You’re loyal, and I respect that. But..."

He pauses, his lips curling into a knowing smile, the hint of something far more dangerous in his eyes. "It would be wrong of me to let you leave here tonight without telling you... that you deserve more than this. You deserve to feel wanted, to feel desired."

Something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, the loneliness, the months—years—of feeling like you married a bum who couldn’t give a damn about you.

Or maybe it’s the way Suguru is looking at you now, those sharp dark eyes, like he already knows how this is going to end, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, you’re in each other’s space, the tension breaking like a dam.

His mouth is on yours, firm and demanding, swallowing the sharp, needy gasp that escapes you as his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Your fingers find the front of his black button-up, fisting the fabric like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. His lips part against yours, a low sound vibrating in his throat when you arch into him.

His hands are everywhere—on your waist, your back, sliding down to your hips, fingers pressing in like he needs to memorize the feel of you beneath them. He walks you backward with slow, deliberate steps, forcing you to move with him, until the edge of his desk digs into the backs of your thighs.

A sharp inhale is all you manage before he lifts you effortlessly, his hands gripping your hips as he hoists you onto the desk.

He steps between your legs, crowding you, his breath hot against your lips. His hands spread over your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he tugs you forward, drawing you closer with a grip that’s firm, possessive.

One hand drifts upward, sliding to the back of your neck, his fingers curling there as he tilts your head back slightly, deepening the kiss with a slow, consuming hunger.

“This is what you need, isn’t it?” Suguru murmurs against your mouth, his voice rough, thick with something dangerous. “Someone to take care of you for once?”

You nodded weakly in response, your breath hitching as you let his mouth roam yours.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, and the low groan he lets out makes heat pool deep in your stomach. He presses himself between your legs, the firm drag of his body against yours making you gasp into his mouth.

Suguru breathes against your lips, his voice a low rasp as he rolls his hips into yours, just enough for you to feel how hard he is through the fabric of his slacks. "Feels good, doesn’t it?"

A soft whimper slips past your lips before you can silence it, your nails grazing his scalp as you clutch him closer.

His response—a low, guttural mix of a groan and a growl—rumbles against you, sending a sharp jolt of heat through your body.

One of his hands slides up your thigh, slow and deliberate, his fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin until he reaches the hem of your skirt. His touch is light, teasing, his fingertips barely skimming beneath the fabric before he grips the material and pushes it up, baring more of you to him.

"You’ve been running yourself ragged, haven’t you?" Suguru murmurs, his lips moving to your jaw, trailing heat along your skin as he speaks. "Taking care of everyone else while no one takes care of you."

His other hand stays firm at the back of your neck, keeping you exactly where he wants you as his lips drag lower, grazing over your pulse point before he nips at the sensitive skin just enough to make you gasp.

His fingers, deft and sure, find the first button of your blouse. He flicks it open with ease, then another, and another—each one undone with deliberate precision, as if savoring the act of peeling away the layers you’ve hidden beneath for so long.

"And all this time," he continues, his voice like silk laced with something darker, "you’ve been aching for someone to touch you like this."

You should push him away, should tell him this is wrong, but when his teeth scrape lightly against your throat and his fingers slide higher, your resolve shatters completely.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, though his grip on you says he already knows you won’t.

Instead, you tilt your head back, baring your throat to him in silent invitation. A satisfied hum rumbles from his chest as his hand finally finds the heat between your legs, fingers pressing against the thin fabric covering you.

As he pops open the final button, the fabric parts, slipping from your shoulders as he slides the blouse down your arms, letting it pool behind you on the desk.

His gaze darkens as he drinks you in, his thumb brushing against the newly exposed skin, tracing slow, lazy circles over your collarbone before dipping lower.

"Fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he feels how soaked you already are. His fingers flex, teasing over the damp fabric, and when you arch into his touch, he exhales a shaky breath. "You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?"

Your hips jerk instinctively, chasing the friction, but he pulls his hand back just enough to keep it out of reach.

"Be patient," Suguru murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he presses down even further on your panties. "I’m going to make this so fucking good for you."

And when his fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding your bare skin, you realize—he’s going to ruin you.

A shaky breath stutters from your lips as he works you open, his fingers sinking deeper, curling just right. The sensation is almost too much, a slow, aching pleasure that makes your stomach tighten, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Does this feel good..?" He breathes against your mouth, his voice laced with something tender, something reverent. "Because you fuckin’ deserve it."

You barely register his other hand moving until you feel the warmth of his palm smoothing up your stomach, then higher, slipping beneath the lace of your bra. His thumb drags over your nipple, a soft, teasing brush that sends a shudder rolling down your spine.

You gasp into his mouth, your body arching into him as his fingers press deeper inside you, a slow, deliberate stroke that has your thighs trembling around his waist.

His fingers curl just right, pressing into that sweet, aching spot inside you, and the cry that leaves you is swallowed by his mouth as he kisses you deeper, his tongue sweeping over yours in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.

The slow, insistent roll of his fingers inside you has you spiraling, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, and when his thumb finds your clit, circling with just enough pressure, your breath stutters, a choked whimper slipping past your lips.

His thumb strokes over your nipple again, this time pinching lightly, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers, and the sensation sparks through you like a live wire. Your hands clutch at his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as a sharp gasp escapes you.

The dual sensation—his fingers working you open with slow, deliberate strokes while his other hand teases your breast—has your body arching into him, desperate for more.

Suguru chuckles, low and pleased, his lips brushing against your jaw. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, giving your nipple another slow roll between his fingers before soothing the sting with a warm, open-mouthed kiss against your throat.

Your head tips back against the desk, thighs trembling around his waist. “Suguru—” you gasp, a desperate plea wrapped in his name.

He groans in response, the sound low and wrecked, vibrating against your skin. His fingers retreat suddenly, leaving you empty, and you whimper at the loss. But before you can protest, he’s shifting, straightening up between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you closer to the edge of the desk.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs caressing the side of your cheek, his voice thick and warm against your kiss-swollen lips. His fingers find the waistband of your underwear, hooking into it as he tugs the fabric down, his knuckles brushing against your thighs as he bares you to him.

His dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, filled with something deep, something hungry—but there’s tenderness there too, something almost reverent as he takes you in.

His hands smooth over your thighs, parting them further as he shifts between them, his own clothes rustling as he undoes his belt, his zipper—getting ready to help you where you need him most.

“‘M gonna take care of you,” he promises, low and fervent, his fingers curling around your thighs, hiking them up just a bit as he lines himself up. "Gonna make you feel so fucking good."

And then—he pushes inside, stretching you, filling you, tearing a gasp from your lips as your fingers claw at his shoulders.

His mouth finds yours again, swallowing your moans, his pace already deep, deliberate—like he’s set on making you feel every inch of him, making sure you know exactly what it means to be wanted.

Suguru’s grip tightens on your thighs as he lifts them higher, angling you just how he wants, and then—he drives into you, deep and unrelenting.

Every roll of his hips knocks the air from your lungs, every deep, deliberate thrust sends another ripple of heat cascading through you.

You can barely think, barely breathe, your mind foggy with the heady mix of desire and disbelief—disbelief that this is happening, that you let it happen, that it feels so impossibly, devastatingly good.

Suguru groans low in his throat, his grip tightening, his fingers pressing bruises into your thighs as he holds you exactly where he wants you, giving you exactly what you needed.

His lips brush against your jaw, his voice dark and hushed when he murmurs, "Not so bad for a parent-teacher meeting, hmm?"

The desk creaks beneath you, the sharp edge digging into your back, but you barely register it over the heat flooding your veins, over the way he stretches you, fills you, drags pleasure from you with every purposeful thrust.

Your fingers claw at his shirt, desperate to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensation. His name spills from your lips in a breathless gasp, your body arching into him, chasing more, more, more—

"That's it," he murmurs, voice rough, almost reverent. "Taking me so well."

His hands pull your legs even further up, deepening his angel, holding you open as he moves harder, faster, his breath hot against your cheek. The sharp, rhythmic press of him inside you has you unraveling, pleasure curling tight in your core, so close you can taste it, so close you can feel yourself slipping—

And then?

Well.

You never complained about going to parent-teacher meetings alone again.

a/n ⸺ I may or may not already have half of a choso version drafted if anyone wants to see that PLS LET ME KNOW

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masochistkatsuki · 5 months ago

Text

Team Player - How to Fuck Mina 101

Pt One ← Pt Two → Masterlist

After taking on Mina's challenge of fucking everyone in your friend group, (and getting caugh up with her) you strategically go for the easiest ones first once finally in the club.

Eijirou Kirishima is flustered easily, especially under the bright bar lights. Too sweet for his own good, in an attempt to find the plot again, you show him how Mina likes it.

Although an hour late, the entire group was together, dressed head to toe in the cutest outfits they'd been waiting to wear. Well, mainly the girls, the guys were just worrying about making sure Katsuki didn't start a fight with anyone.

The moment of truth.. After you gave the group a pep talk, giving them a rundown of all the tips and tricks to lie better. It was kinda scary. You walked up without further hesitation, oddly enough, all the training you'd done was useful for things like sneaking into clubs underage.

Thanks to your confidence, the others' slight uneasiness didn't seem to go noticed. You were in. "Holy shit ! You're scary, (Nickname)”

"Oh shut up" You pushed Kaminaris head out of your space, going right to the bar with Jirou. "I got us in, now enjoy it. Maybe pay me back" You smirked while looking over the strongest and most expensive options containing vodka.

"Well.." Denki looked around, praying the others would end what he started. He was the unemployed friend, surely you guys wouldn't make him pay again..?

"Yeah! Drinks on Denki !" Mina cheered, joining you and Jirou at the barstools. You all held back laughter, the girls turning red. It's been an inside joke to see how long you could make Kaminari pay before totally went broke. Cruel ? Yea. But you still paid your fair share.

Third Year work studies were a different type of exhausting, especially if you qualified to work a job on off days. So it's been a minute since everyone got to catch up, and it was definitely needed.

You listened carefully, cat-like in your analysis. Your plan was to knock Kirishima out of the way, so by the time you were done fucking everyone else, they'd completely ease into their relationship.

You looked back at Mina one last time, asking for permission to actually go at her man. Of course, all you got was a mischievous grin and thumbs up. Fine.

‘This one is for Mina and me in the first year..’

Throughout the night, you got closer and closer to Eijirou. He wasn't drinking tonight. Usually he would, whilst Bakugou drove. But for mysterious reasons, Katsuki decided he was drinking tonight.

It wasn't bad, though. You could make advances on him without any intoxication messing with his head. You drank a bit at first, letting a small buzz take you in. It wasn't nearly where you wanted to be, but now that you knew you could get into places, you just held hope for next time.

You used the impression of you being more intoxicated to test the waters with Eijirou. 'Sorry, Ei! I know this is kinda crazy..’

It was you two alone, against one of the back walls. "Dancing isn't as fun when you're sober" He laughed awkwardly. Usually you'd disagree, finding fun in anything. But even you weren't tipsy enough to look at the wave of sweaty bodies and think joining in was a good idea.

"Yea." You rubbed at your neck. "Well, we don't have to just sit and watch, y'know Kacchan will beat anyone who messes with our girls."

He sighed. "Yea. fuck hope Sero and Kaminari are taking care of him." He leaned more comfortably against the wall.

Here's your chance. "Don't worry, Ei. You know they'll be fine." You linked your arm in his, intertwining your fingers with his. "We don't have to stay here." 'Hes inexperienced, and pent up.’ You were right. He got going real easy.

He seemed shocked, but didnt pull away. Eijirou Kirishima leaned into your touch a bit, his ironically brick colored eyes looking down into yours.. "But Mina."

You sighed, matching his energy tenfold. Your body weight was almost completely against his. To him, it probably felt like fluffy pillow hugging him, but that wasn't the point right now. "Trust me, this is because of, and for, Mina.”

You felt his arm harden slightly, one of the biggest giveaways he was using his quirk to keep it in his pants. You're getting there. He was curious, and clearly not against it. Just in his classic manly way, he wanted to make sure no girls were getting hurt.

But before he could question further-- "Hey guys." Katsuki broke them out of their small personal world sternly. 'Fuck.. He's totally pissed.!" He looked in-between the two, clearly in a mushy position. "Our tables ready."

You probably shouldn't have been surprised. Bakugou never commented or cared for whatever romantic or sexual fling was happening, friend group or not. Still, the fact the pairing didn't surprise him at all was odd.

You thought that, until : While walking to your table, you saw Katsuki give Kirishima a small nod. Oh. This was definitely going to be interrogated out of Kirishima later.

Bright flashing lights, radio station hits with bass that shake the floor, cheap perfume and alcohol mixing together as one smell, the group of seven "22" year olds were appreciating it all.

It should be the best night of their third year! They finally convinced Momo to make them fake IDs, (Thank you Jirou) but even so, there was an unmistakable tension.

Mina and you were always up to something, but this time the vague references and overall suspicious demeanor was setting everyone off more than usual. There was definitely something going on with you two.

This was only solidified when you actually got a booth and sat down. You'd been on about an half hour wait-list, pre gaming at the bar. In that time, you and Mina had already set the tone.

How things usually went when the guys and girls got drunk together, was the go-to pairings :

Kirishima and Mina (Obviously)

Sero and Jirou bullying Kaminari

You and Katsuki

The pairs of two usually had some sort of tension, and it was an obvious sign of intimate stuff. It was an ongoing thing to "cock block" the others who were talking, even if they were talking normally. Its funniest when you tell Katsuki you cockblocked him and lzuku. You just need to run fast enough.

Now at the booth, it was time to finally dial up the heat. You were closest to the wall, Kirishima on your right. Next to him was Jirou. On the other side, you had Mina across from you, and going to your right, was Katsuki, Denki, and Sero.

Jirou was observant, but she wasn't going to freak out over any under the table flirting. She’d definitely just ignore it. The boys who are more.. Never let the group chat forget this happened, thankfully on the other side observing Katsuki and Mina.

A few minutes in, you threw your leg over Eijirous, linking them together. He looked at you, eyes wide. Like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. It was totally wrong, but you thought the dazed look in his eyes was priceless.

He looked away after noticing the look in your eyes, opting to use his larger hand to pull your thigh further up his. Kirishima, despite being awkward and clumsy, was really fucking hot sometimes. Throughout the night, he kept that hand on your thigh.

Even when he drove everyone back to Seros, you calling shotgun next to him. His arm resting on your seat while looking out to back up, his eyes on yours in the mirror, and fuck how he sqoze your thigh harder during turns. You were definitely ready to start.

"Kirishima.." You sighed. You were getting nowhere. The issue was, you totally had a preference, and it was obvious. It was hard for people, especially men who were more sexually weak to break against the dynamic you'd set. "Two bottoms don't make a top, Mina loves herself a bitch boy every now and then but you'll need to take initiative." You huffed. It was almost annoying how perfect he was being.

He whimpered against your lips, his lower body lightly humping against Seros spare mattress. "S.sorry." He apologized, but most importantly, listened. He suddenly slipped two fingers in, and lapped his tongue around your clit.

"Fuck, Eijirou." You gripped his hair, pulling him in closer. "That's good. Mina likes when you start around the clit and focus in as she gets closer.!"

He hummed, seeming genuinely in awe. He was already totally whipped for pussy. "Like this ?" He took a break in, and flicked his tongue in a precise circle. When you gasped, he took the second to lightly pace his fingers in and out.

Your cheeks lifted up in a big grin. "You're doing amazing, Eijirou ! Similar to the clit, Mina enjoys when her g spot is just barely touched until the last moment. Make it a waiting game as long as possible."

Despite keeping your mind focused on the bigger picture, your body was getting heavier and hotter.

Midriff down, it felt as if a hot, damn towel was placed over your body.

Eijirou kept his fingers going, getting faster and faster every time he went in and out. His tongue kept getting closer and closer to where it was going to feel unbearably the best. "I think I understand.. now.. wanna make you come how you like it.." His head lifted up, unintentionally edging you. Oh, sweet Kiri. You definitely understand. You didn't have the heart to tell him, though.

You wondered about not what would only make you feel best, but what would be the hottest for a virgin and surprise for Mina. Though, your best idea did happen to be one of your favorites. "Kirishima, you're strong, right?”

His eyes widened, and a stark innocence shined. "Super strong ! I can do anything !!" You smiled and patted at his hair. He was being so good, how could you not?

"You're perfect, Eijirou." You leaned in, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear. "I think I have everything planned out now, you just need to tell me if it's too much."

So that's how you ended up here. In the process of getting your best friend to fuck your other best friend, you had your legs spread out, hips sat heavy on Eijirou's mouth. You weren't sure if this was too much to start with at first, but it seemed to do the trick.

This definitely got Kirishima to take initiative, with the way his hands gripped at your ass and kept everything spread for him. The way he rocked you against his face, making you ride his tongue. He kept thrusting it in, mimicking the way you told him to tease before directly attacking. Fuck, hes a fast learner.

Your hands were tangled in his hair again, and you felt comfortable moving yourself against his face after some convincing (begging). Heat was surging back through you, and every hump made the weight drop deeper and heavier in your lower abdomen. "Kiri.. fuck.. I think I'm gonna.."

In a move you hadn't expected, Kirishima maneuvered his mouth to suck at your clit suddenly. It wasn't too harsh, but the perfect strength to send you flying over the edge. A hot wave seemed to rush through and out of you, squeezing your body in its path. He definitely passed this lesson..

You lifted yourself from his face, letting yourself take pleasure in watching him pant, breath shaky and higher pitched. His sweaty chest rose and fell, muscles unfairly taking up your entire focus. Freshman year you knew what was up.

"That.. was so good.. you're so good, " You leaned back on his lap, pleased when you felt how hard he was. He was fully there and past, his balls felt like they needed to come yesterday.

You looked up at him again, asking for permission. “Are you ready, Ei ?” In hindsight, it's funny how softly you asked. Because the way he fucked you when he finally got to put it in, was anything but. What can you say, though ? That's how Mina likes it.

Despite how good the stretch felt, and even though Kirishima had defied every idea you had of him, you dreaded how your legs would feel tomorrow. They were once again, spread as far as they could, perched up in the air while Kirishima’s strong form held you up while he bounced you against him.

"'Oh god.. fuck please."' his hips were snapping furiously into your soft spot, his eyes watering while he tightened his hands harder and harder around your smaller hips. Kirishima doesn't think he's ever felt this good.

"Please, my hand doesn't ever feel this good, this doesn't happen when i fuck into my pillow.. fuck please i need this." your thighs were pressed up between your body and his, your ankles and arms wrapped around his neck. he was fucking into you upright, gravity pulling your hips to naturally sit balls deep against his cock.

You smiled softly against his neck. He was so cute like this. He was fucking you like it was the end of the world, like he needed to break you in order to survive. But his eyes were so soft, voice so whimpery. Hands shaking, whining about how good you felt. “Go on, Kirishima. I already taught you how to put the condom on, so it's okay.”

His tip pushed roughly against your cervix, it was starting to feel overwhelming and you doubted you would come again after your last orgasm, but the loom on Kirishima's face when he got to cum after a night of teasing was worth it the sore legs the next week.

“Yes.. fuck.. thank you..” His hips stopped while deep in yours, and you felt the condom get noticeably warmer. His head fell into your chest, drool slightly dripping from his mouth onto your sternum.

“You did good, Kirishima. Now go man up to Mina and show her what you can do !” The previously fucked out and sleepy redhead shot up, his fist pumping through the air.

“Yea !! I'm going to show her how manly I am now !!” He rushed to pull his pants back on, but in the post dick daze you almost forgot something.

Just as he was about to exit, you stopped him. “Wait, by the way !” He looked back, expectantly. You held out a glass of water, with a lemon slice stuck into the rim. “Remember, Mina loves citrus after sex.”

a/n : sorry if this is choppy, i had trouble getting into this one so sections have been written at different times when i got random motivation . i may revamp it at some point, but i didnt want to beat around the bush

tag list : @hyunjinshairband7 @icarusthefoolish @adv3rs1ty @waterfal-ling @hon3y-13mOn05 @sugerglidder @scr4luv @hauntedcomputerobservation-blog @pinkpantheris @yogupink @cupkiki

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #denki smut #denki x reader #mina smut #mina x reader #sero smut #sero x reader #jirou smut #jirou x reader

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arieslost · 1 year ago

Note

getting into a silly argument with lando just for him to pull the “oooh you wanna kiss me so bad right now it’s embarrassing” card and blah blah blah you can go where you want from there 😙

this was so cute, thank you for sending this in! i hope you like it <3

kiss me | ln4

you’re sure you’re seeing things.

you’re used to seeing fancy cars all the time now, what with having lived with your boyfriend in monaco for the better part of a year, but you’ve been able to keep track of said fancy cars. so you know when there’s a new one.

a new one in your parking garage, right next to lando’s 765lt. meaning it’s in your parking spot that had never once harbored a car until this morning. and now there’s another 765lt there. in your favorite color, no less.

“lando norris!” you yell out the moment you’re through the doorway to your shared apartment.

the deer in the headlights look on his face is priceless. you can practically see the cogs turning in his head as he tries to figure out what he could’ve possibly done to upset you.

“hi baby,” he says carefully, starting to step towards you when he’s stopped by you holding a hand up.

“no, you’re not going to sweet talk your way out of this one.”

he blinks at you a few times, watching as you take off your shoes and start pacing back and forth.

“did i forget something?” he chances, taking another step in your direction like he’s approaching a wild animal.

you glare at him. “forget something? like the car in the parking garage?”

“ohhhh,” it clicks then, and you watch, infuriated, as a smirk grows on his face.

“i don’t know why you’re smiling. how dare you?”

“how dare i?” he laughs, clearly entertained. “you’re always complementing my car. i figured you’d like one of your own.”

“so you just buy me a car?!”

he starts to admonish you, to try and sweet talk his way out of this, when he pauses. “you’re happy about this.”

“i most certainly am not,” you disagree instantly, immediately getting flashbacks to when you saw the car and became giddy at the mere possibility of it being yours.

“you most certainly are,” he argues, now approaching you with ease.

“get away from me, norris,” you threaten weakly, stepping back with every step he takes towards you.

“i don’t think i will,” he shrugs, grabbing your wrist gently and tugging you into his body, and you can’t resist his embrace. “i think you’re so overcome with excitement that it’s manifesting as something else entirely.”

“it’s a car, lando. how many times have i told you that i don’t need these kinds of things?” you narrow your eyes at him, resting your chin against his chest.

“i know you don’t need them, pretty,” he sighs, kissing your forehead. “but i really wanted to get it for you. you’ll look so sexy driving it.”

you roll your eyes, pushing away from him. “i hate you so much.”

“you looove me,” he coos, following you as you walk into your bedroom.

“go away. i’m mad at you.”

“are you?” he asks, leaning against the doorway as you pull out loungewear to change into.

you glare at him again, hating how good he looks just standing there looking at you.

“i knew it. you wanna kiss me,” he states, like it’s obvious.

“what? i don’t think so,” you respond, turning your back on him as you change.

“i do. you gave me that look. you know the one.”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.” you pull your shirt over your head and reach for a hair tie on your nightstand, just to give yourself something extra to do so you don’t have to look at him a little longer, otherwise your indignant mindset will crack.

“you wanna kiss me so bad,” he teases.

“no thanks.”

“you wanna kiss me so bad it’s embarrassing. you can’t even look at me.” he points out, and damn him for it.

you look at him. and promptly blush the moment you meet his eyes.

“i knew it,” he sings triumphantly, waltzing over to where you stand fiddling with your hair tie.

“i’m mad at you,” you reiterate.

“fine. you’re mad. i’m sorry, but i can’t return the car. well, i could. but i’m not going to. kiss me.”

“you’re insufferable,” you whine, once again relenting when he gets his arms around your waist.

“and you want to kiss me, so just do it.” he squeezes his eyes shut and puckers his lips cutely, and, well, what else are you supposed to do but kiss him?

he hums happily against your lips, gently stroking your hair even when you part. “can i braid it for you?”

you want to argue with him and tell him to stop being cute, but you’ve never be able to resist him.

“thank you for the car, lan,” you mumble as he sets to his task. “i love it.”

“what do you love more, me or the car?”

“the car, obviously.”

he gives your hair a playful tug, and you giggle, reaching back to pinch his hip.

“i’ll keep this in mind for next time.”

“next time?!” you make eye contact with him in the mirror next to your nightstand, and he just smiles innocently in the way that never fails to make you melt.

damn him.

word count: 860

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: wishing my f1 driver boyfriend buying me a mclaren 765lt was my biggest life problem rn. also i finished writing this like 20 mins before posting so if there’s anything wrong pls tell me

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo

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writersdrug · 2 years ago

Text

Konig x Reader: Fucking You to Sleep

All credit goes to @legitchase for this lovely idea! I had so much fun writing this, please send me requests if yall want to see more!!!

Summary: from @legitchase

"Ok ok hear me out new COD MEN idea

You and your cod man, you two came from a mission he is still sort of energetic while you are really exhausted.

As you two lay in bed he softly grinds against your ass so you gave him permission to fuck into you softly as you went to sleep, making little moans in you sleep as you man makes you feel so great while drifting off to sleep"

Warnings: smut, somewhat somnophilia but consensual, fingering, slight edging, p in v, size kink, stomach bulge, google-translate German, writer never played COD :(

Konig opened the door to your shared room, stretching his limbs and sighing. "Scheiße, it's good to be back." he strode inside, heading straight to the small coffee pot the both of you had stolen from the mess hall. He started making coffee, stretching out his left hip, then his right.

You trudged into the room, bags under your eyes, muscles sore, and shoulders slumped. Your feet dragged underneath you as you closed the door behind you. Tired was an understatement - you were exhausted to the point that you were perfectly content to pass out on the cold ground and call it a night.

The mission had gone smoothly, almost as perfect as one could ask for. Konig had been positioned near the outskirts of the field, obediently waiting for the hostages to be delivered to the pick up point. You, on the other hand, had been involved in clearing the way to the hostages, as well as the path to Konig's group. You had shot, stabbed, kicked, and punched so many enemy soldiers, sometimes fighting two at once. Your mind was overworked as well as your body, and you had a few sore spots from the occasional soldier that had landed a hit on you. You never got the chance to sleep on the way back - and your body was about to make that happen, whether you were in a bed or standing up.

Konig pulled off his sniper hood, watching with a smile as you dragged yourself to the bed and flopped onto it. He chuckled. "Schatz, aren't you ecstatic? You did a great job out there!"

"M-hmph..." you muttered, your face smushed into the pillows. You sank your muscles into the mattress, groaning in both relief and pain. If only KorTac hadn't deemed the massage therapist unnecessary...

You heard the coffee dripping into the pot, followed by Konig's heavy footsteps. He crouched down, gently turning your head so he could look at your face. You kept your eyes closed.

"Engel, are you tired?" he asked sarcastically, caressing the side of your face. His head was slightly tilted to match your eye level.

You huffed sarcastically. "Just a 'lil bit." you mumbled. You opened your eyes, meeting Konig's piercing blue ones. He had a small pout on his lips.

He ran his large hand down your shoulders, squeezing the muscle gently. You whined squeezed your eyes shut at the painful relief, furring your brow as he kneaded away. He moved down to your arm, skillfully massaging it with his calloused hands. He landed on your hand, taking it between both of his and flexing your fingers, rubbing each knuckle tenderly. You hummed in appreciation.

You opened your eyes again, noticing Konig's pupils had widened the slightest bit. Oh no... nope, nope nope. You thought. You were WAY too tired to give him what he needed right now. Not that you were ever unwilling to be his fuck toy when he wanted it - you just didn't know if you could stay awake for it.

"So schön, meine Liebe..." So beautiful, my love... He muttered. You felt his breath on your face as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

"You think this is beautiful?" You asked with a smirk. "You're a simple man, Konig." You smushed your face back into the pillow, ignoring the desperation in his eyes.

"Why don't you go get a shower, hmm?" He said, rubbing the palm of your hand. "I can grab us food from the mess hall - you can stay here and unwind."

You hummed and nodded in response. Konig pulled your hips to sit you upright, kneeling himself between your legs. Your head rolled to the side, unable to even hold it upright for long from the soreness. Konig gazed up at you lustfully. You pretended to ignore it and yawned instead.

He squeezed your hips once before moving away, letting you stand up. "I'll have some coffee first, then I'll go. You wash up."

You slipped off your boots and haphazardly dropped them by the edge of the bed. As you made your way to the bathroom, you heard Konig scoff, as he moved your shoes and placed them next to his, perfectly aligned and neat. You chuckled.

-----

The entire bathroom was filled with steam. You had the water as hot as it could possibly be. It beat fiercely against your muscles - exactly what you needed. Your braced your hands against the wall in front of you, savoring every sting and ache of the hot water against your skin. You didn't even have the energy to actually bathe yourself at the moment. You would attempt that in a little bit. For now, you soaked up the heat from the shower, letting it seep into your bones.

You heard the bathroom door creak open, then it shut. Konig hummed as he moved on the other side of the curtain. You assumed he just needed something and would leave in a moment. He rustled around for a bit, the sound of fabric hitting the ground, followed by his feet quietly slapping against the tile floor.

Moments later, he threw the shower curtain back.

"Holy shit!!" you exclaimed, jumping further into the shower, startled. "The hell - I thought you went to the mess hall?!"

Konig casually stepped into the shower with you, his eyes flickering over your naked body. "I was going to, but I probably need a shower too." He closed the curtain behind him. "Why waste the water, since you're getting one already?" He smirked mischievously.

"Konig, there's hardly any room in here for both of us." You stated. You were crammed against the shower wall, purposefully avoiding looking at his obvious hard-on. It rested against your stomach as he stared down at you, eyes half-lidded in lust. Your hands rested on his chest as you tried to create space between the two of you, although you didn't mind his muscular body being pressed into yours.

He ignored your protest. "Liebling, you haven't even bathed yourself." He said, running his hands down your back. "Let me help you, bitte? You just relax, I'll wash you."

You wanted to say no, since you knew where it would lead, and you were too drained to even think of it. But it was hard to deny Konig, especially as he ran his soap-lathered hands over your arms, delicately massaging the muscles under your skin. You let out a long sigh, leaning into his touch as he masterfully worked the knots out of your shoulders, your flanks, and then your hips, lingering there a while longer. His hands combined with the hot water and the smell of the soap... your mind was practically numb under his touch. You felt yourself relax more and more as he worked the tension from your body.

Konig stared down at you, pupils blown wide. You were the kind of person to get all shy when you were naked, even though the two of you had been together for a while now. But here, in your tired state, you wordlessly submitted to him. You had come back from the mission as a hard, cracked, and dry wad of clay, and Konig was using his large hands and the hot water to mold you into what he wanted. His cock was painfully hard at the thought of you, too tired to fully push him away from you, forced to give in to his advances as he fucked you in the shower wall. You're muscles were too sore for you to fight back - he would slam himself into you until you passed out from exhaustion, your overworked little body trembling and twitching as he held you against the tiles. Your little throat would barely be able to whimper his name out.

Just the thought of him fucking you to sleep was making precum drip from his cock. It rested heavily against your back as he was running his hands down lower, squeezing out the tension from your muscles. You involuntarily let out a soft moan - the feeling of his hands was soothing, comforting... and also getting you aroused. As tired as you were, every grip from his fingers sent pleasure shooting from your core to your chest. You felt his cock twitch at your moan.

You lazily tilted your head back against his chest, looking at him through your lashes with a soft smile. He smiled back, desire settling in his lower abdomen. He leaned down and kissed the crown of your head. Slowly, he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest.

"Mein süßes mädchen..." My sweet girl... whispered, lips pressed to your head. "How about I make you feel good, yes?" His free arm climbed up your abdomen until it reached your breasts, grabbing the left one and massaging it between his fingers. "You did so well earlier - I want to reward you for it." He rolled your nipple between his fingers and tugged at it.

You arched your back against him, mewling and whining. His fingers were massaging the flesh of your stomach and pinching and pulling at your nipple... it felt so good, you would have let him take you then and there. But the more aroused you felt, the more you noticed how tired you were. "Konig, baby, can - can we please do this in the m-morning?" You whimpered out.

Konig groaned, half aroused, half frustrated. "I promise I can be gentle, schatz. I won't make you cum too much." He started grinding his cock along your ass, his arm squeezing tightly around your waist. His dick throbbed, aching to feel your cunt squeezing him tight.

You exhaled a shaky breath, before gathering your resolve and turning to face him. He let out a soft moan as your skin dragged along his cock as you spun. He gripped your shoulders tightly as you looked him in his eyes.

"Tomorrow morning, love." You gently held his face between your hands, smiling. "I promise. I'm just too tired tonight." You pulled his head down to plant a long kiss on his lips. He groaned against your mouth, before a sigh escaped through his nose.

He pulled back, caressing your face with his thumb. "Alright. Tomorrow then. Let's get you cleaned for now, and then some dinner, yes?"

The both of you continued to shower, Konig insisting on washing your hair. You stood with your eyes closed, basking in the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp. You were starting to get frustrated yourself, between feeling both aroused and sleepy. But you focused on the feeling of his hands on your hair and the water hitting your skin (or whatever skin it could reach - Konig took up most of the stream).

Konig did his best to focus on washing your hair and body. His eyes kept wandering over your silhouette from above, cock throbbing as he watched the water running down your breasts, to your pussy, and then trailing off down your thighs. He pushed his desires away, concentrating on taking care of you.

-----

After your shower, Konig had left to grab some food, while you dried your hair and slipped into your night clothes - which consisted of your underwear and one of Konig's army-green t shirts. When he returned with some protein bars and bananas (the mess hall's only options since it was after hours), he faltered as he caught a glimpse of you. You were seated at the edge of the bed, practically swallowed in his shirt, nipples threatening to poke holes in it. You smiled gratefully at him. Despite having his sniper hood back on, you could see the tinge of pink in his face, as he quickly looked away.

The two of you ate your food, Konig splayed out in a chair across the room, sniper hood on the desk next to him, you still sitting on the edge of the bed. You talked about the mission, it's faults and it's victories, Konig saying that he would have preferred that you were the one to stay at the pick up point, and he should have gone to retrieve the hostages.

He always did that - he would complain after the fact that your team's captain would consistently put you in the more dangerous situations, rather than having you on the safer end of things. Konig would have even preferred if he could have been there with you, but that's never how it was. Either you were both in dangerous situations on opposite sides of the field, or it was just you, and he was forced to wait on the sidelines, far away from the danger. He never doubted your skill, and he would never try to hold you back. But he wished that you could be closer to him than the danger. You found it sweet, but preferred it this way. Better you close to the danger than Konig - you would never live if something had happened to him.

And if something happened to you, neither could he.

After dinner, Konig changed into sweatpants, opting to sleep shirtless. ("You're wearing my shirt, after all.") You climbed onto the bed, feeling Konig settle in behind you, wrapping a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You held it tightly and intertwined your legs with his. His warm breath fell against the back of your head as he nuzzled into your hair, which still smelled like your shampoo.

You felt safe. Finally home, finally in your bed, with your Konig. His hold on your body felt protective, something you didn't have the luxury of feeling for the entire mission. You were finally able to relax. You sighed contentedly... the cool sheets, Konig's strong arms, the rise and fall of his chest, the fact that you could sleep in tomorrow morning... It soothed you, and you let the wave of sleep slowly begin to pull you under, bit by bit.

Konig let out the smallest, quietest whine. He knew you were tired. He didn't want to disturb you. But he was still hard from earlier. His cock was so swollen and painful, he was going insane. He couldn't hold himself back any longer, especially not with your pussy just a few pieces of fabric away. He pawed at the flesh of your abdomen, using his other hand to rub down your thigh. Slowly, he began pushing his clothed cock against your ass.

You stirred; you had been on the brink of sleep, when you felt Konig kneading your stomach and grinding against you. You recognized the heat pooling in your pelvis, letting out a small whimper. "Konig, please..." you begged - not entirely sure if it was for him to stop, or to move faster.

"I'm sorry, prinzessin..." he said desperately... "I can't help it, I... mph, I'm going insane... I need to feel you around me, please?" He was now pathetically humping your ass, already pulling down his sweats until he was just in his boxers. You felt his pulsing, warm cock pressed up against you. "Bitte, liebe..." he began kissing your neck, right in your sweet spot.

You moaned lazily. "I'm just too tired, I'm sorry-"

"Schatz, you don't need to do anything." he cut you off with desperation in his voice. "Let me take care of you, bitte... you don't have to lift a finger. I just need to be inside of you right now... please, please..."

His hands groping your waist, his breath on your neck, his lips sucking at your skin... and his pathetic begging, won over your better judgement. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold him off in your current state, and he would end up taking what he wanted anyways. And despite being so tired, you were still aroused... Would you really be able to fall asleep if you deprived yourself? "Alright, love."

"You sure?" he answered immediately, whining needily.

"I'm sure."

And that was all he needed. Placing a kiss to the back of your head, Konig carefully removed your panties, letting them hang off of one of your ankles. With one hand, he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, freeing his cock and letting it slap against your ass. He moved his hand from your stomach down to your pussy, prodding at your clit with two fingers. You rubbed your thighs together, feeling a mix of soreness and wetness, as he rubbed your swollen bundle of nerves between his fingertips.

"So fucking wet for me..." he groaned in your ear, "... even when you're tired, you're so needy." He slipped a finger past your clit, running it along your lips. You didn't have the energy to buck against him - instead, you tilted your hips back, trying to angle yourself to feel as much pleasure as possible. He teased you, prodding the tip of his finger just past your lips, before pulling it back. You whined, your juices spilling over his hand as your arousal grew even more.

"Please, Konig..." you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the desire settling in your stomach, you could feel yourself being pulled back into sleep. Your moans were lazy and low, and your body was limp in his arms.

"I know, love, I know..." he whispered in your ear. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked your wetness that coated his fingers. He groaned, savoring the taste, his erection twitching painfully. "I'm going to fuck you to sleep, liebling. You deserve it, you worked so hard... Just let me take care of you, alright?" He dipped his fingers back down to your pussy, rubbing your clit in slow circles with the pad of this thumb.

You couldn't answer him. Instead, weak, soft whimpers fell from your lips, followed by the quiet clicking sounds of his fingers teasing your cunt, finally dipping inside. A pang of pleasure shot from your core, and your walls instinctively clenched around him, sucking him deeper into you. You pathetically mumbled in pleasure as he slowly dragged his fingers in, and out, and in, and out...

Konig kissed the side of your neck as your moans enticed him, making his length drip with precum as he continued to grind against your ass. He felt your walls tightening around his fingers, greedily sucking on him. He spread his fingers and pushed them against your walls, curving one of them just right to hit your sweet spot. You whimpered and rocked your hips lazily, trying to push him deeper into you.

"Hmm, look at you..." he whispered low in your ear, followed by a soft kiss on your temple. "I thought you were sleepy, mein engel..." he teased. You whined, barely audible, as more and more of your juices dripped onto his palm. "So helpless, so fucking small in my hands..." he pumped his fingers faster, flicking his thumb back and forth over your clit.

You felt the familiar coil tightening in your lower abdomen, and at the same time, you knew you were drifting off to sleep. You moaned as he continued to finger-fuck your cunt, unable to produce more than a high-pitched cry. Your thighs weakly rubbed together as your impending orgasm built in your core.

"Konig, please, bitte, bitte, bitte..." you babbled quietly, your consciousness drifting as your walls began fluttering around his fingers.

Your pleading in German stirred a fire in Konig's abdomen. He growled low, "Gutes verdammtes mädchen, das ist es..." Good fucking girl, that's it... He flicked your clit harder, relishing in the small, high whimpers that sent an electric shock through his core. He snaked his other hand under your side, coming around to gently squeeze at your throat. "Komm für mich, meine müde Prinzessin..." Cum for me, my tired princess... he grunted as he drove his digits into your pussy, curling them to prod against your g-spot. "That's it... yes, yes, yes..."

Your hips instinctively rocked against his fingers, mind going numb as your orgasm ripped through your body. Your one hand grabbed the one of Konig's that was deep in your cunt, pawing helplessly at his forearm. Your legs began to shake as the pleasure overtook you, making you mewl and whine. Your slick flowed freely over his fingers and into his palm, and you heard him growl and felt his cock twitch against your ass. You closed your heavy eyelids, his hand still firm around your throat, feeling yourself drift into the ecstasy...

Konig continued to flick your clit, hoping to overstimulate you for a while longer, until he felt your body go limp in his arms. Your legs were still shaking from your orgasm, but the rest of your muscles were slack against him. He smiled proudly to himself, pulling his fingers out of you slowly. He felt your walls clench one more time around him, as if they didn't want to let him go. He brought his fingers up and once more licked your cum off of his hand, making sure none of it was wasted. He softly moaned at your taste.

"Oh, liebling..." he said lowly, "I'm not finished with you yet." He used his wet hand to pump himself a few times - his cock ached under his touch, red and hot and desperately needing relief. "I said I was going to fuck you, and you're going to take every inch..." he pulled himself down the bed slightly, so that your dripping pussy was positioned right above his swollen member. "... even in your dreams."

With both hands on your hips, he slowly guided himself into your cunt. He stopped halfway, hearing you whimper in your sleep, your brow furrowed in pleasure. Your eyes remained closed, but your mouth parted slightly, sucking in a short breath.

Konig absentmindedly shushed you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. "I know, schatz..." he said shakily, "I know, I know... you can take it, you're such a good girl, I know you can." He groaned lazily, feeling your walls stretch slightly around him, and he pushed the rest of his length into your cunt. His exhale caught in his throat, and his fingers gripped the flesh at your hips, sure to leave marks in the morning.

Your hips bucked slightly as your pussy squelched, trying to make room for all of him as Konig was balls deep inside of you. He panted, sweat covering his entire body. Your wetness felt so good as he twitched inside of you. Slowly, as he was trying to be considerate of your sleeping form, he ground his hips into you. He moved one hand to the front of your abdomen, feeling around until he found the buldge pressing forward in your stomach. He growled when he touched it, imagining his big cock barely fitting into your tight cunt. He pressed his hand down onto the bump, and your body reacted, shivering around him.

He stuttered in pleasure, biting his lip to keep his moans at a low volume. The quiet sounds of his balls slapping against your pussy echoed through the room, accompanied by his rhythmic grunting and your weak whimpers. His cock throbbed inside of you, sending jolts of pleasure through his lower abdomen with each thrust. His face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide as he huffed, burying his face into the crook of your neck, mumbling sweet nothings in German into your ear.

He felt himself teetering closer to his orgasm - the sounds of him fucking you to sleep, the feeling of the mixed juices coating his cock and his thighs, your high whines and mewls, the lingering taste of your cum on his tongue... He was so close to the edge, desperately trying to hold himself back as to not disturb you, and to last a few moments longer...

"I'm gonna fucking breed you, liebe..." he mumbled, whimpering as his orgasm approached quickly. "... gonna fucking fill you up, and there's not a damn thing you can do... Scheiße, so fucking tight... You take my cock so well, meine gute kleine Schlampe..." My good little slut... He felt your walls clenching rhythmically around his member, and your whimpers got higher and higher, your back arching against his as a second orgasm overcame you.

He felt his cock twitching, and a cord in his lower abdomen snapped. "Fuuuck, liebe, take it, take it, fucking take it, Scheiße..."

His thrusts became shallow and sloppy - he sank his teeth into your neck as an attempt to quiet his grunts and whimpers as he pounded into you, his cum spurting through his cock, filling up your cunt. "Mph, scheisse!" he whined into your neck. He rode out his orgasm, the room filling with sloppy squelching as his cum seeped out of you, dripping onto his thighs and the sheets.

He felt your body relax once more, his own muscles going limp around you. He lazily ground his hips into your ass, his cock still embedded in your cunt, now going soft. He gently thumbed his cum back into your pussy, pushing it in between his member and your lips. He sighed contentedly, wrapping both of his arms around your waist and pulling you closer onto him. He nestled his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the layer of sweat that covered you both.

"Du bist mein perfektes Mädchen..." You are my perfect girl... he mumbled into your ear, planting a kiss on the top of it. You stirred gently, your hips briefly moving away from his. He gently held you down on his cock. "No, schatz..." he hummed, eyes closing, "... I want to stay in this warm, sweet pussy of yours... oh, verdammt, I've missed you... I'll never let you go for so long again..."

He placed one last kiss to your neck, before hugging you tighter, his length still buried deep inside you. As he drifted off to sleep, he had one last thought. "Don't think I forgot your promise for tomorrow morning, liebling..."

#konig cod #konig x reader #call of duty #konig smut #cod smut #konig x reader smut #konig

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hivemuthur · 4 months ago

Note

If it’s okay to request, may I request hcs or something with Viktor where he’s dating an autisc reader?

Okay, first of - I have no idea what I have done to be granted such trust, thank you so much Anon! I have been provided amazing advice from @rennethen while writing this and done some research and I hope, I hope, I hope it meets expectations.

ViktorXAutistic!Reader HeadCannons

viktorxgn!reader mature, fluff and again: Viktor setting impossible standards for real-life men

author’s note: I have decided to not include tics, as they come in so many variations and I didn't want to impose anything upon Readers, but I can imagine Viktor being a total sweetheart about them.

word count: 1,4K

—

Since your first meeting, Viktor has been smitten with your bluntness and your ability to take his acrimonious jokes apart without a hint of incredulity in your voice. The way you keep asking subsidiary questions until you dig through the layers of his sass to the actual thing he meant to say leaves his soul naked as day, every single time. Finally, an inquisitive mind, he thinks to himself, as you go for the killing blow:

“So, what you’ve meant to say is that you find me attractive?”

“Eh, I suppose that is what I meant,” he admits dumbly, scratching the back of his neck. “Though usually I tend to be a little bit less straight forward.”

“I prefer straight forward,” you tell him with wide eyes.

“I… I shall remember that.”

Viktor soon realises that being asked a lot of questions makes him blush in a funny way and his chest gets all fuzzy. So, he begins to share every little aspect of his work with you. The more questions you ask, the warmer his heart gets and somehow the way you get excited about his ideas is worth more than any other academical pat on the back he ever received.

Before asking you out for the first time, Viktor conducts a thorough research, not very different to the ones he conducts for the sake of a thesis. He finds out what are your favourite places and favourite spots to sit. He books two reservations, just in case.

He does the same thing when you try out a new place. Just in case. It has proven useful only once.

As a man who values routine, he finds it absolutely endearing that good things remain in your orbit for a long time and discovers that being greeted with his own name by the barista is actually a nice little feeling.

When he asked you if he could kiss you for the first time, he held his breath while you were reconsidering. He found it hard not to laugh stupidly and nod his head a couple times too many when you responded with the same question.

He cupped your face and brushed his thumb on your lip tentatively. At first, he just rubbed his nose against yours. Then, his cheek, as he pulled you closer. You decided his hair smelled nice and that he could proceed. You didn’t know what to do with your hands at first, because he was wearing an incredibly itchy jumper, so you settled on his neck, and he took it as an invitation to kiss you deeper.

When you told him about it he gave the jumper to Caitlyn, and even though the sleeves are not long enough for her, she wears it often. Gradually, Viktor is in the process of exchanging his wardrobe to touch-friendly materials, currently he is half-way through. He wears the offensive clothes to meetings with Jayce, because Jayce will hug even a hedgehog.

You teach Viktor the value of comfort, not just in the clothing department. Suddenly he finds that his blankets are softer and that his flat increased the base number of cushions.

He religiously cuts the tags out of your clothes and his work is so precise it’s as if the tag was never there in the first place.

Viktor will still periodically ask for a permission to touch you, only to hear “Yes, please.” And it still makes him blush.

He keeps two notebooks—one on your current food fixations. He writes down a start date of each and marks every little alteration. He examines the lifecycle of each dish, as you eat it every day for a month and suddenly stop, to move on to the next one. On the back of the notebook he has a list of old reliables.

The second notebook, he treats more seriously—it’s a journal of stimming. He makes a note of each gesture in order to recognize your emotions better. After a while he is able to tell if you are feeling overwhelmed, just excited or trying to concentrate.

He is completely bemused by the fact that you always know what entered the bowl first—the cereal or the milk.

When you unconsciously repeat words back at him in his accent he makes it intentionally heavier, because he finds in unbearably cute.

After some time, he’s learned to recognise when you are masking. When it happened for the first time, he allowed himself a pinch of panic. Only when you unravelled at home, he sighed, partially relieved, and made a note of it in his journal.

Viktor carries a pair of noise cancelling headphones when you go out together. He puts them on you if you get overstimulated and presents you with something else to shift your focus into—a tight hug, a smell or he presses gently on your shoulders to steady you.

If you happen to have a meltdown at either of your homes, he wordlessly prepares you your favourite food and stays close enough for you to reach. Sometimes, he does a full body scan with you, to see which part requires the most attention.

There are certain sounds that Viktor makes which you particularly like—the click of his tongue, the intercepting ‘ehs’ and ‘ahs’—and once he connects the dots between him making those and a smile that always blooms on your face, he produces as many as he can, while still sounding natural.

He enjoys just existing with you. Sitting in the same room, while he works, and you read is his definition of a happy place. Just glancing over to you, your tongue filling your cheek as you read something particularly interesting, the small sounds you make at turning points in the story make his heart flutter.

He finds himself involuntarily memorizing the lyrics of the songs you play on repeat. He has no idea who the artist are, but he knows their songs by heart now. It makes him feel old, in a funny way.

It completely disarms him, when you return his gifts. After three futile attempts to give you something of popular romantic demand, he scolded himself for not changing the method soon enough. Instead of jewellery, he encourages your special interests, through getting you books on the topics or taking you places that embody your passions.

On the other side of the coin, your gifts are deeply appreciated. Every little pebbling trinket has it’s special place in the box on his desk. He takes them out periodically and counts how many times a tiny detail in the chaos of the outside world has made you think of him.

For dates, Viktor chooses times and days in which the world is less crowded. Instead of a busy Saturday night, you go out in the middle of the week. After a particularly failed attempt of gifting you perfume, Viktor takes you to a balm perfume workshop, where you can make scents for each other that are buildable and unoffensive to sensitive skin.

He’s built an intimacy with you that is based on trust and constant checking. He takes care of the mood and gives you enough stops to reconsider on the way.

You both talk a lot during sex. A change of mind is natural and there is enough space made for it. He has learned a lot about himself, and his self-esteem strengthened, when he realised that, ‘I don’t like it,’ doesn’t mean ‘I don’t like you.’

If, for whatever reason, the communication turns nonverbal, you both have come up with a system of pats that signals where each of you should direct your attention.

Your inquisitive mind helped him find three additional positions, in which he feels comfortable and painless, and it eludes him entirely how he could have missed them.

Viktor’s favourite part of aftercare is cuddling you naked. He adores the way your warm body melts into his. If you add head scratches to it, he will fall asleep in your arms. He breaths in the smell of your hair and his heart beat evens out with yours.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x f!reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #viktor x gn!reader #viktor fluff #viktor x reader fluff #viktor headcannons #arcane headcannons #viktor hcs #arcane hcs #requests

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ink-n-shadow · 9 months ago

Note

could I request something with plus size!reader feeling worthless and insecure and daddy dom! Ghost or Price making sure to punish/beat them for ever thinking badly about themselves?

I mean, how could they? It’s not their body, it’s Ghost’s/Price’s. You belong to him, his sweet little doll, and how dare you insult what’s his.

I love your work 🩷🤍🩷🤍🩷🤍

this is such an old request (i am so sorry for just now finishing it </3)

also i made this to coincide with my sugar daddy!price au >:)

DISCIPLINE AND DROOL

𝜗𝜚 pairing: sugar daddy!price x plus size!gn!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), daddy kink, impact play, dollification, insecure!reader, slight dumbification?, forced gagging, oral fixation, john referring to himself as daddy

your hips were hurting from the way you were folded over john's thighs, chest crushed against the duvet of your shared bed and your teary cheeks smeared against the silk sheets. another crack of john's calloused palm rippling against your ass had your mind blanking, lips falling open in a lewd whine as your body lurched forward against the strong muscled legs you were pinned down against.

“i tried to tell you, poppet,” john chuckled softly as his free hand curled around your jaw, tipping your chin up off the bed just enough to stuff his index and middle finger into your mouth. “don’t be mean to my little doll, right? y'remember me tellin' you that?”

john moved your chin up and down in a pathetic nod for you, cooing condescendingly at the drool spilling from the corners of your lips as your tongue lavished against his calloused fingers. his other hand massaged at the welted skin of your ass, admiring the work he’d spent the past ten minutes painting across your skin with the palm of his right hand.

a pathetic and warbled whimper of "j-john" left your lips, which was swiftly silenced by john pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth and forcing a ragged gag to rip through your chest. the intrusion had your body further wriggling against the thick muscle of john's thighs, making a throaty chuckle echo from above you.

"shhh—m'not done. be good, and let daddy finish, yeah?" john cooed in faux comfort and let his now slick fingers retreat from your mouth, smearing drool against your cheek as he gently slapped them against the blushed skin. "no more talkin' down on y'self, understood?"

the nod you gave john didn't cut it, and his hand swooped down once more to deliver one last stinging swat against your welted asscheek. "y-yes sir," you whimpered out softly as john soothed the burn with gentle caresses of your skin, the sticky tears on your face beginning to dry. “i understand…w-won’t do it again. promise!”

john hummed softly in response, taking the still slick fingers he had just stuffed into your mouth and bringing them between your thighs to pet at your empty hole. he used his other hand to spread your welted cheeks, fingers digging into the stinging fat to give him easier access to slowly push two fingers inside of you and forcing a pathetic mewl to fall from your slack lips.

“now—let's see how many times i've gotta make you fall apart 'round my fingers until y'see how pretty you are."

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

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solardrop · 3 months ago

Text

tyrant.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: Hotch lets you take some anger out on him after he disrespects you on a case. tags: smut. 18+ mdni, oral F recieving, face sitting, handcuffs, hate sex?, maybe more so annoyed sex idk bro, not proofread word count: ~0.9k a/n: i have once again tried practicing smut. This is probably gonna happen a lot sorry. I feel like the header makes it seem like this is much more intense than it really is i promise you its not. I hope you like it! you can also read it on ao3!

Aaron lets out a tired sigh as he stretches his arms out across the bed of your shared hotel room. He shakes his hand petulantly, the sliver chain of his handcuffs jingling as he does so.

"Throwing a fit right now doesn't change you breaking the chain of command" he mutters

"I was doing my fucking job" you sneer "And you try to punish me for it?"

You secure his other hand with your own pair of cuffs. He was flat against the sheets now, arms locked to handles of nightstands to either side of the bed. "You embarrassed me Aaron, in front of the whole team—the whole fucking precinct!"

"Your idea was reckless. You were stubbornly determined to give local law enforcement tasks that would end up exploding in your face."

You blink slowly, heat rolling out from your ears at the nonsense you were hearing. Not a single apology.

"You're out of line and subverting authority," you mock," you're not in the position to give demands," Mimicking the earlier bite of the man who loved you oh-so-deeply as you climb up by his shoulders and hover your center above his face. A metallic clank sounds as he reaches to grab your thighs on instinct. A wicked smirk stretches across your lips.

"Careful sweetie," you pout, "wouldn't want you to have to go up the chain of command to report to Strauss the expense you raked up destroying hotel property."

You drag the length of your folds across his face, shivering as your clit nudges against the tip of his nose. Aaron's tongue laves out to taste you. He cranes his neck as much as he can without hurting himself, searching out more of your taste. He groans out in bliss when you finally put your full weight against him, finally able to slide his tongue into the warmth of your cunt.

When Hotch eats you out, you always feel stripped. He holds you open. He sets the pace. He decides exactly how and when you're gonna melt for his tongue. You were docile, malleable.

But like this? Your knees pressed into the mattress beside his head? The yellow hotel lights glinting off the steel wrapped around his wrists? The sight of his dark lashes fluttering below the curve of your stomach?

You brace a hand on the wall as you raise yourself up for a moment. Willing the dark vignette of your impending orgasm from the corners of your vision. If you cum now you'll fold. He'll tell you to let him go and your fuzzy brain will comply. You'd be under him in milliseconds. Right now you are in control, you wanna keep it that way. You close your eyes, One….Two….

"Fuck… Honey come on"

Your eyes flash open to glare at the man below you. "I'm sorry I didn't think I gave you permission to make any demands right now?"

He winces and licks his lips. The muscle in his bicep contracts as he pushes against his restraints. The corner of his cheeks shine with your wetness, the defiant look in his eyes making your pussy clench through your frustration.

"I'm sorry. But you can't undermine—"

You slam a hand down onto his forehead, lacing your fingers through his inky strands as you press his head back into the soft sheets. "God, shut up," you grit.

You grind your wetness along his face. You fight against his attempts to open his mouth, rutting your clit against his closed lips. You get a firmer grip of his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to your center. Goosebumps prickle your back as your moan out into the sweet silence.

"You're such a —fuck— fucking bully," you wheeze, "I've trained. I'm— I'm capable and you know that." He hums, the vibrations tickling you all over.

"But you always steamroll every. fucking. thing i say."

You raise a leg and plant your foot into the mattress, the new angle giving you leverage to thrust into his mouth with new fervor. Breathless laughs escape your lips at every roll of your hips. The only sound the tyrant between your legs could make were a series of honeyed moans. The clinking sound of the metal around his wrists slows as he relaxes in your hands. Finally submitting to your power. His lips kiss and suck at wherever he can contact —your puffy lips, your hardened bud. Hotch was finally silent, finally pliant. Letting you—No fuck that, succumbing to you fucking his face. You bite out a remark with every buck of your hips.

"I don't have to respect shit"

"Who the f-fuck do you think you are?"

"if this is all it takes to get you quiet I would've done it — ages ago"

A powerful suck on your clit causes your voice to break. Your leg slams back down to the mattress as your thighs clamp around his head. The heat in your stomach builds as you hump against him frantically. Snarky comments and sharp curses replaced with heady pants. The ice cold rush of your orgasm surges through your spine, halting the circular motions of your hips. Your nails press into his scalp as you hold him to you; his tongue lapping at your inner folds while you shake against him. Your body relaxes as you ride out the wave of your orgasm. You use the last of your energy to toss yourself to the side of the mattress, careful not to kick him in the face on the way down.

Your eyes blur against the blinding lights, a pair of heavy breaths filling in the empty space around you. Aaron's still-hard dick strains through his slacks, making you giggle when you twist around to catch a glimpse of it.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, "I'm sorry, get the keys…let me touch you"

You really should follow the chain of command.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch #mine #OH MY GOD ALL SHE POSTS IS SMUT #im sorry #send me fluff requests so i can also be mediocre at that too man idk #i like the last one a lot more than this but hey i spent time to write it so i will post it #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 4 months ago

Text

✨Dress Up, Part 5: The Gift (Come Fly With Me)✨

Boo! Surprise chapter! This idea was sparked by some conversations I had with the bestie @citrusbatsandhoneybees along with some great ideas from @rosen-und-mondlicht, I hope you enjoy this one <3

P.S.: There is a little time skip between this chapter and the last!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer wants to give you the best birthday present he could think of, something that you and him can finally share together...

Warnings: 18+, smut, light wing play, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, clone shenanigans, pegging, biting, multiple orgasms, little bit of angst

"Happy Birthday, angel."

Lucifer's soft words caused you to stir awake. You peaked one eye open and saw your darling husband smiling down at you as he hovered above you, twirling your hair with his finger. You moaned and covered your head with the heavy sheets. You kept telling yourself that you would stop falling asleep without any clothes on since you always woke up freezing in the morning. But you and Lucifer went at it for so long the night before that you both ended up passing out almost immediately! But such is the price you pay when you marry the most beautiful creature in existence!

"Noooo," you whined playfully, "too early. Too cold."

Lucifer chuckled while he uncovered your head and gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek. "It's never too early to start celebrating!"

Lucifer was absolutely terrible at keeping secrets, especially when it came to you. You could tell from his chipper tone that he had something extraordinary planned for your special day, even though you told him there's nothing he could give you; you already had him, that was more than enough. Lucifer pressed himself against you, spooning you and draping an arm and a leg over your frigid body. "Plus, I can always warm you up, you know," he teased.

"Oh, what a generous offer," you rolled your eyes at him and laughed. "But maybe you're right, we should probably head to the hotel. I'm sure Charlie spent a lot of time with some sort of surprise party or..."

"Actually, love," Lucifer cut you off, "I was hoping we could have breakfast first."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Well, we can! But I'm not all that hungry right now, I hardly ever eat in the morning."

"Oh, I know," Lucifer's hand traveled down the length of your arm to your elbow, finally letting it fall to your hip. "I, on the other hand, am starving," he whispered sensually into your ear.

Goosebumps littered your skin as you realized what your insatiable lover was insinuating. "Was last night not enough for you, Luci?"

"I promise you that for as long as I exist, I could never have enough of you," he responded softly, his thumb rubbing loose circles on your skin.

Your cheeks were practically burning now. Even after all this time, the incarnation of temptation itself never failed to make you swoon. It felt as though you found yourself crushing on the devil all over again as if you weren't already his beloved wife.

Lucifer's hands remined on the curve of your hips, his golden eyes almost pleading for a response. You knew he would never do anything unless you gave him permission; just one of his amazing qualities. You took a hold of his hand and guided towards your core, leaving no doubt in his mind. You smiled and nodded, watching his face practically light up. His fingers wasted no time finding that sensitive bundle of nerves between your folds, starting with small rhythmic circles. A sharp gasp fell from your lips as your body fell prey to his ministrations once again. He knew your body like it was his own, all that mattered to him was your pleasure. It wasn't long before you felt two of his blackened digits slip slowly inside you. Effortlessly, Lucifer pumped them in and out of you; he couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction to just being fingered. To him, it was the most adorable thing; he wanted nothing more to bring you pleasure. Especially on a day as special as this. After a minute or two, he withdrew his fingers from you and wrapped his forked tongue around them, licking up every drop of your delicious slick. It drove him wild.

"I adore the way you taste, love," he cooed as you mourned the loss of his fingers, a tiny whimper escaping your throat. "Aww hon, don't guilt trip me like that! Come on, why don't you have a seat?"

Before you could respond, Lucifer swiftly moved your body on top of his, your legs now spread around his eager face. He beamed up at you before trailing kisses up the length of your thighs. Your breath hitched as his lips found your needy clit.

"Gaa-aaahh...Luci..." you managed to choke out as the devil began to lose himself in your taste. Words were useless now, there was no stopping him once he started. Not that you ever wanted him to. Your gripped his soft golden hair with one hand as your other reached for the headboard to steady yourself from his relentless motions. Your mind was beginning to fog again, it was difficult to even form any coherent words. Even in your daze, you managed to turn around and noticed Lucifer's lower half still concealed by the comforter. It didn't seem fair to you that you were getting all of the special treatment while your poor husband was left neglected. Without warning, you removed your hand from the headboard and threw off the sheets to reveal Lucifer's very noticeable erection. A small gasp left Lucifer's lips, but that did nothing to deter him from his actions.

"O-On second th-thought..." you mumbled out, "m-maybe I am a little hungry..."

You raised your hips from Lucifer's face to try and turn around, wanting to give him the same feeling he was giving you. But before you could even move and inch, the man beneath you forced you back down onto his desperate mouth. You yelped in protest, trying and failing to break out of the angelic grip he had on your hips.

"Mm-mmm" he mumbled into your skin, shaking his head.

"L-Lucifer!" you chastised him. "What are you doing? Don't you want-"

"No," he answered softly. "I-I mean, yes! But not right now...stay here..."

You raised your eyebrow. Lucifer was never one to turn down the feeling of your lips on his cock. And he knew how much you loved to bring him to the brink with your tongue alone. "I-I thought I was the birthday girl. I don't think y-you can say no to me, legally speaking."

Lucifer chuckled as he peppered small kisses on your slick folds. "I promise I will give you whatever you want today, no questions asked. Just...later. For now, your pleasure is the only thing I care about." You were about to say something back before he peered up at you with pleading eyes. "Please...Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine!" You sighed but conceded. Lucifer was nothing if not selfless; given that it was your birthday, you shouldn't have expected anything less.

"O-Oh alright," you pouted, "but I'm going t-to hold you to that promise!"

"I would expect nothing less from you, my queen," Lucifer grinned. "Now, where was I?"

Lucifer's ravenous nature took over once more, reveling in your taste. You found your hips bucking against him almost involuntarily. Unraveling you was his favorite pastime, one of which he would never tire. His lips worked furiously against your swollen nub; your breathy moans only egged him on. With little warning, you came hard against his eager mouth, gripping his hair as your walls contracted repeatedly. Your husband relished the taste of your orgasm, humming gleefully and licking you clean.

"Good girl," he praised, pressing soft kisses to your thighs as you tried to catch your breath. He gingerly took a hold of your hips and placed you back down onto the mattress, peppering kisses along your cheek and jaw. "Now if you'll excuse me, my queen, I need to take a VERY cold shower." You dared not look at what you could only imagine was a throbbing erection between his legs. You wouldn't be able to resist helping him out otherwise. Lucifer rose from the bed and started to make his way to the bathroom, but not before you caught his wrist.

"Can I at least join you?" you asked, batting your eyes. Lucifer gave you an amused look and raised an eyebrow. "I really don't want to spend my birthday covered in sweat, Luci! I promise I'll behave! You have my word." You signed an X symbol over your heart before raising your hand to signal your honest intentions. Your lover chuckled lightly, giving you a chaste kiss on your lips.

"You're right," he responded, trailing his hand down against your cheek. "I can't say no to you. Just give me a minute or two, alright? I really DO need a cold shower!"

You nodded in agreement and waited patiently as Lucifer fought to get his body under control again. Just as you promised, your shower was uneventful, taking turns washing each other's hair and bodies. Small intimate moments like these were some of your favorites. Being naked together in a non-sexual way proved just how much trust and love the two of you had for one another. And it could only grow stronger. When Lucifer was washing your back, however, you started to hear him humming to himself, tracing the lowest space between your shoulder blades with his free hand.

"That tickles, you know," you chimed in, breaking Lucifer out of his trance.

"O-Oh! Sorry, love, I didn't mean to do that. Got a little distracted." He sighed, not in disappointment, no. More like...he was daydreaming.

"Oh yes, my back is mesmerizing, isn't it?" you teased.

Lucifer laughed with you. "I'm glad you finally admitted it! It's about time someone else appreciated the perfect form of the prettiest woman in the realm!" Your face felt hot once again. You would never understand how Lucifer could manage to fluster you even after being together for a while now. "Actually, I was thinking about your gift this year."

You hummed. Lucifer always managed to outdo himself for every one of your birthdays, even though you always had to remind him not to go overboard. A brand-new wardrobe full of the most expensive clothes, the countless number of shimmering necklaces and earrings, the song he wrote and performed just for you; you couldn't help but think it was way more than you ever deserved.

"You know you never need to get me anything, right?" You turned your head to the side and smiled softly at him. "Not that I don't adore what you give me, but I have everything I could possibly need and more."

"Darling, you deserve more than everything," he responded as he continued to trace shapes along the skin of your back. "but this year, I think it's important that I tell you what I want to give you."

You paused, tilting your head in confusion. This was bizarre. The man was the worst at keeping secrets, but somehow he always managed to surprise you with his extravagant gifts for your birthday; he would never say a peep!

"It's okay Lucifer, you don't have to tell me! I know you like to keep me guessing and I don't mind-"

"No, this is different," he said cutting you off. "B-But it's not bad! Am I making it seem bad? God, this is the worst start to a pitch for birthday gift ever, huh?"

You could only laugh. The poor thing tended to stress himself out over the littlest things. You turned around and embraced him as the hot water from the shower rained down on your bodies.

"You're silly," you chuckled. "Of course, I know it's not going to be bad; it's from you!" You watched as a faint gold color dusted his cheeks. It was the cutest thing; if you could fluster him all the time, you would. "Let's finish up here and you can tell me all about it, okay?"

The angel smiled and nodded, pushing some fallen strands of damp hair behind your ear. You turned off the shower and tried to make your way to your closet before his charcoal hand took a hold of your wrist.

"This is going to sound a just a little suspicious, but don't get dressed just yet." You raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh, don't give me that look! I promise there's a very good reason! Here!" With a quick snap of his fingers, you found your body and hair were now perfectly dry with your favorite robe appearing around your body. "There you go! To prove there are no underlying intentions, I've shielded myself from your temptations!"

You rolled your eyes as he snapped himself a robe. "Do you know how easily I can remove this?" you asked playfully as you teased the tied-up straps of your garment. "And yours?"

"Hooonnnnneeeeyyyy," Lucifer whined. "I literally just got myself to calm down, please don't make me take a cold shower again!"

You giggled, agreeing to let him have his way. For now. The two of you walked back over to the bed and sat down on the edge. "So, tell me, Luci, what's this gift you're so worked up about?"

Lucifer smiled softly and took a hold over your hands, rubbing his thumbs over your supple skin. "Well, it uhh...it involves my magic. Which is why I think it's important that I tell you beforehand. Because what I want to do, what I want to give you, is permanent. It can't be undone. So, if you're not one hundred percent on board with this, then your gift will be whatever else you desire!" He fell silent and held your face in his hand.

You don't know why, but you started to feel your heart beating a little faster, you could almost hear the blood pounding in your ears. You weren't scared, no. Maybe excited? But that didn't seem to be right either. The few seconds of silence was killing you. You had to know what he was planning. "What is it, Lucifer?" you asked, not being able to wait any longer.

He let out a deep breath before answering. "My love, would you like to fly with me?"

You furrowed your brows at his unexpected response. "Well, I mean, sure! We go flying all the time! I like seeing the rings from above, and you holding me so close is always a nice bonus. Is there something special about this trip?"

Lucifer only shook his head. "That's not exactly what I'm asking, sweetie. I mean, would you like to go flying with me? With your own set of wings?"

Oh...

Oh!

"H-How?" you stammered. "I didn't even know that was possible..."

"Well, luckily for you, your husband is a seraphim!" Lucifer announced proudly. "Only the highest-ranking angels can use magic this powerful! That is...if that's what you want. I-I can always come up with something else if you don't want them! I'm just now realizing that I did not plan ahead...if you give me a minute I can-"

"Lucifer, slow down!" you held is hands tight. "You didn't even give me a chance to answer, goofball!"

He smiled sheepishly, taking a few deep breaths. "Right, right, I'm sorry. You know me, chronic overthinker! So...is that a yes, then?"

You nod. "Yes, it is. I would love to have wings, Luci, to be able to fly with you."

Lucifer shot off the bed with excitement, taking you by the wrists and twirling you in a circle, a fit of giggles erupting from the both of you. When you finally stopped, he gazed into your eyes longingly before pressing a single kiss on your cheek. "You're absolutely sure, right? Because after I'm done, they'll be a part of you forever."

You smiled and returned a kiss to his cheek. "I'm sure. They'll be a part of me just like you are. Forever."

You could almost see the tears welling up in Lucifer's eyes as you spoke. He leaned in close to you, his breath hot on your ear. "For all time. Here, come with me." He walked you over to the center of the room, and with a snap of his fingers, created a large wall of mirrors that encircled the two of you. "Just to make this less scary, I want you to be able to see what I'm doing. Think of this as like...getting a tattoo!"

You let out a small shaky breath. "Will it hurt?"

"Somewhat," Lucifer replied, "but not too much. Embedding angelic magic is a bit of a tricky process. I won't be able to stop once I've started, so I want to check with you one last time...do you want this?"

"I do," you answered unwaveringly. "Besides, you know I can handle my fair share of pain," you winked at him.

Lucifer quickly pressed his face into your back while he gripped your shoulders, trying and failing to hide his blushing face. "Why do you have to say things like that?! I will not fall for your devious tricks, temptress! You can't distract me!"

You couldn't contain your laughter as your husband desperately attempted to get control of his thoughts. "The day's still young, hon."

Lucifer rolled his eyes as he lifted your robe off of your shoulders. You helped him by letting the garment fall to the small of your back. You stared at the mirror and watched as the angel began to glow, a faint light encompassing his body. It was a rare sight for you, it felt impossible to look away.

"Deep breaths for me, love," he said. You did as he asked. "Good. Keep as still as you can for me. This will only take a minute."

His darkened finger pressed into your skin and began to move slowly. His touch was hot. Very hot. But not to the point of being unbearable. You winced as you felt your skin being burned by his magic. It was difficult to tell what he was doing in the different reflections around you, so you decided to focus on your breathing, deciding distracting yourself from the pain was the best option.

In and out.

"Your doing so well," Lucifer cooed, "I'm halfway done." His finger shifted over to the other side of your back and began the same process. You smiled weakly even though it felt like you were being branded by a hot iron. Lucifer could tell you were in pain; your silence was his indication. He knew you were focusing all of your power into keeping as motionless as possible and doing your best not to scream.

Without moving your body, your brough your hand up your mouth, biting down on the base of your index finger. He had warned you; he had told you it may hurt, but this was not the level of pain you were expecting. And just before a cry of agony threatened to escape your throat, it stopped. The pain was gone. A single tear rolled down your cheek that was immediately wiped away by Lucifer who had rushed in front of you to embrace you.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he begged, "I know that was a lot. But it's over now!"

You let out a heavy sigh, your body relaxing after being constricted for what felt like hours. You wrapped your arms around Lucifer, stroking his golden hair. "It's okay, Luci. I'm okay," you reassured him. "Just a little more than I was expecting..."

Lucifer began to press small kisses to the top of your exposed breasts. "Sometimes I forget that you're not invincible," he admitted. "Guess I lied to you when I said it wouldn't hurt that much, please forgive me."

You smiled and placed a quick peck to the top of his head. "You have nothing to apologize for, sweetie. I agreed to it. But like you said, it's over now, no need to wallow in the past."

Lucifer smiled in relief before leaning in to kiss your soft lips. You held him there for a bit, placing your hand behind his head as your tongues became entangled. Lucifer pulled away from you, much to your dismay, and chuckled. "So impatient," he breathed against your lips.

"Can't blame a girl for trying," you replied.

Lucifer hummed softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Do you want to see what I've done?" You nodded, finally taking a peak in the mirror, expecting to see that your back had been burnt to a crisp. But it wasn't, it looked perfectly normal. Except, of course, for the two new crimson markings that now adorned your skin. From what you could tell, they looked like two large gashes, as if someone had carved your skin with a knife. A hot, burning knife laced with poison. Thankfully, you no longer felt any of the excruciating pain that you had felt moments before.

"You know," you finally spoke up, "for the amount of pain I was in, you would think they would have been bigger!"

"Hey now!" Lucifer shot back playfully, "I already feel bad enough for having to hurt you like I did!"

"You know I'm teasing, Luci," you cooed. "I do have a question, though. Why don't you have the same markings on your back?"

"Ahh, good question!" the angel exclaimed as he helped readjust your robe. "I was created as an angel; my wings are inherently a part of me. I do have markings, but I can hide them!"

"Oh," you sighed. "Am I allowed to see them?"

Lucifer smirked. "Is this just a ploy of your so you can see me naked? You've been rather ravenous today, you know."

Your hands flew to his waist, bringing him flush against you. "When you have the prettiest angel in existence as your husband, how could I not be?" Once again, his cheeks turned a pale-yellow color at your compliment, burying his face in your chest and letting out a small squeak of embarrassment. You stroked his hair, doing your best to console him. "But no, I am actually curious! I've never gotten to see them. I'll be on my best behavior!"

Lucifer flashed a toothy grin at you before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips once again. "Oh, alright. I believe you. And who am I to say no to my queen?" He stood up straight and turned his back to you, undoing his robe and letting it droop off of his shoulders, letting it fall to his waist. His pale white skin changed before your eyes. While once there was nothing, now displayed identical markings to yours. The only different was that he had six slits, three on each side.

You reached out your hand before pausing. "Are they sensitive?" you asked.

Lucifer cocked his head to the side. "They're...more tender than anything. The wings themselves are sensitive, but you knew that already," he winked. He was right, you were very much aware of how Lucifer reacted when you stroked his wings in the past. You adored the sounds he made when you ran your fingers through his feathers and-NO! You promised to behave. You shook those less than pure thoughts from your head and pressed to fingers into one of Lucifer's markings. Strangely, they felt a bit warmer than the rest of his body, but it was a nice sensation, nonetheless.

"Beautiful..." was the only word you could utter upon seeing these markings on your husband’s body.

Lucifer chucked and fixed his robe. "You flatter me too much, darling." With another snap of his fingers, all of the mirrors surrounding you had vanished. "I could say the same thing about you! And I will! Because you are so so SO beautiful!" Without warning, he scooped you up bridal style and began peppering kisses all over your smiling face. He carried you over to your closet before setting you back down. "So, are you ready for your first flying lesson?"

"Right...f-flying..." It completely escaped you that you would actually be using you wings to fly. It's not like you were afraid of heights; Lucifer and you have flown together countless times. the only difference being that you were always cradled in his arms. What you feared was the falling.

Lucifer sensed the trepidation in your wavering voice and softly squeezed your hand. "I won't let anything happen to you; I promise. I'll be with you every step of the way. Wait, no...flap of the way? You know what I mean!" You smiled and let out a deep breath. He kissed you on the cheek before leaving to let you change. "Don't worry about your outfit too much, love, your wings won't tear anything up! Magic is neat like that, huh? I'll meet you out on the balcony!"

As soon as you were alone, you picked out the most practical outfit in your wardrobe. Dresses and skirts weren't going to cut it this time, you didn't need to give all of the Pride ring a free show. You picked out one of your favorite shirts and a pair jeans before heading out to meet Lucifer. And just as he said, he was standing right over the balcony that was connected to your bedroom, now fully dressed in his signature white and red outfit. You stood beside him and gripped the metal rail; the only thing between you and a nasty fall to the hard ground. The hot wind of Hell blew through your hair, whipping it back and forth, blurring your vision a bit. This was real, this was about to happen. You were about to fly.

Lucifer placed his hand on top of yours and smiled. "I'll go first, okay?" You nodded wordlessly, watching the angel climb the rail, now towering above you. "Watch and learn!" he exclaimed as he leaped down with a load cheer.

Show off, you thought to yourself.

It was only a second before Lucifer appeared in front of you once again, his large red wings spread wide as he hovered in the air. "Okay, you don't have to do exactly that," he joked, "but once you learn, you'll be able to do that and more with ease! Now, let's see those new wings of yours! All you have to do think of them and POOF! There they are!"

"Alright..." you nearly whispered. You closed your eyes, imagining yourself with a set of wings. An image flashed in your mind; you saw their shape, their size, their color...they were beautiful. Your eyes flashed open, as small gasp escaping your throat as your new wings fluttered behind you for the first time. Dazzling golden feathers glistened, your eyes drawn to their sparkle. Your eyes followed the white base of your wings from your shoulder all the way down to where they hung above the floor. You were awestruck. You could have sworn the feathers were made of real gold, but when you touched them, they were as soft as chinchilla fur. Arguably, they were even softer than Lucifer’s, which you didn't think would be possible! It was a weird sensation; the feeling of running your fingers through them. You didn't expect them to feel like they were apart of you, but they were. And you loved them. You couldn't hold back your smile, the utter joy you felt in that moment.

"Oh, golly..." Lucifer said softly, unable to pull his eyes away from the sight of you. "Sweetheart, they're...wow, you look absolutely gorgeous. I didn't think you could be any more beautiful then you already are. I stand corrected! Uhh, no, hold on...float corrected! I really have to think before I speak."

You chuckled as he hoisted you up onto the balcony railing without warning, a squeak escaping your throat in the process. His grip on you never wavered, holding you firm so you couldn't lose your balance. Against your better judgement, you looked down from your high altitude. You regretted it immediately. You shot your head back up, Lucifer looking longingly into your eyes, a soft smile spread across his lips.

"I'll keep you safe, my love," he insisted. "Can you try moving your wings for me. Slowly now..."

You nodded and did as he said, allowing yourself to feel and embrace your new body. Your wings moved back and forth lethargically. For some reason, they felt more powerful than they appeared. Your wings could carry Satan himself if they wanted to! Your worry started to lessen more and more as you grew to understand how much force they could really generate. You began to move them faster, creating stronger gusts of wind with each pass. After another moment you felt your that your feet were no longer touching any surface. Lucifer beamed, his hands loosening as you floated higher and higher. Until at last you were left to your own devices.

You were flying.

"I-I...I did it!" you exclaimed!

Lucifer flew up to you and gripped your hands tightly. "I knew you could!" Lucifer waved his hand over the Pride Ring as if he were presenting it to you. "The sky is yours, my angel, give them a go! I promise I'll stay close by just in case."

Your heart pounded in your ears; fear being replaced with exhilaration. Up here, your felt like you could do anything. With a powerful push from your wings, you were off, speeding past Lucifer and heading straight towards Pentagram City. You knew Lucifer could fly fast, but he was always more careful when he had you in his arms. You reminded yourself to scold him once you got back because this feeling was beyond imagination. You couldn't contain your laughter as your sped through the vermillion red sky. You could see everything from up here! From the Hazbin Hotel on top of the hill to the V Tower in the Entertainment District. It was magical, you would have stayed in the air there forever if you could.

Lucifer snuck up on you, soaring just above you and hanging upside down, his face parallel your yours. "You're a natural, sweetie! You caught on quick!"

You kissed his upside-down lips in response, watching a goofy smile spread across his face. "This is just...this is amazing, Lucifer! I really don't know how to thank you."

"You don't need to," he replied, "your happiness is thanks enough. Now the question is...do you want to do a little sightseeing? Orrrrr...we could have some fun!"

You tilted your head. "Fun?"

"How about a race!," he suggested. "I saw the way you moved; it was hard to keep track of you! Who knows, you may even beat moi!"

You rolled your eyes. "I highly doubt that, hon, but let's give it a shot!"

"Yay! Great! Okay uhhh..." Lucifer scanned the surrounding area. "First one to the Embassy wins!"

"Ok, you're on!" you challenged. You lined up side by side, your eyes locked on your goal. "Ready...set..."

"GO!" Lucifer yelled as he took off towards the building, leaving you floating there.

"Hey, no fair!" You called out, your voice falling on deaf ears. With all your might, you thrusted yourself forward, your wings propelling you forward at a pace you didn't think possible. You smirked as you began to catch up to your cheating husband with little effort. You ducked underneath him, pulling yourself from his line of vision if he were to look back. And wouldn't you know it, he did!"

"Sorry, love, you gotta be...wait, where'd you go?" Lucifer slowed, giving you the opportunity to soar right past him. "Woah!" you heard him shout, laughing as you came closer and closer to winning the rigged race. Within a few seconds, you managed to land successfully on top of the golden building. You turned around ready to taunt him, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Lucifer?" you called.

"There you are! What took you so long?" Lucifer turned the corner hidden by the roof, strolling up to you with a shit eating grin on his face.

Oh, that little...

"You're such a cheater!" you accused playfully. "Since when were portals allowed?"

He gasped and looked offended. "Me? A cheater? You wound me with such accusations, sweetheart! And besides, it's not like we set up any rules beforehand that didn't allow a few detours."

You huffed in annoyance. "Guess I should know you really aren't one for rules."

"Never," he confirmed, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"I want a rematch!" you demanded. You looked up to where the glowing light of Heaven shown in the sky, your lips forming into a grin. "Let's see who can fly the highest!” You spread your wings out as far as they could stretch and gave Lucifer a quick wink. “Go!"

"Wait, honey, don't-" but it was too late. You took to the air in a flash, racing to the top as fast as you could manage, leaving Lucifer in the dust.

"What's the matter, Luci, afraid you'll lose this time?" you shouted down to him. He called back to you, but it became hard to hear him the greater the distance you created. Did he say "slow down?" No. You weren't going to let him trick you again. You were going to win whatever it took! You were going to-

S̸̹̰͙̥̃T̵̨̾͋̈́̀̓̈́̃̑̎̓̕͜Ȯ̴̞̫͉̳̙̝͐̂́͒̀̃͆̽͝P̴̛͚͉̤̳͖̪̝̾̂͘!̷̡͖͎̠̮̥̜̟̦̦̫͛̌̃͌̍̌̋

You froze. And it seemed as though all of Hell below did as well. It go quiet, too quiet for the likes of the Pride Ring.

The King had spoken.

You hovered there in the air, letting Lucifer catch up to you. His demonic features were out on full display, his eyes a deep crimson red. It took you a moment to realize that you were trembling. Lucifer had never lashed out in anger for anything, not once. Hell, he never even raised his voice at you.

What had you done?

Tears started to form in your eyes, threatening to roll down your cheek. That was until Lucifer embraced you as he had finally caught up to you. You flinched when you felt his arms around you; something you had never done before. Were you...afraid of him. All of these thoughts became quiet when you heard him quietly sob into your shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he bawled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I-I didn't...I mean, I'd never...God, I'm so sorry." You felt his tail wrap tightly around your leg while his claws were threatening to pierce your skin with how tightly he held onto you. "Please tell me you're alright..."

"It...It's alright, Lucifer." you voice was barely above a whisper. "And so am I." You pulled away from his embrace, watching as large tears fell down his distressed face. You've never seen him like this before, even during his darkest days when he would refuse to get out of bed. You freed one of your arms trying to wipe the tears away. "Lucifer, what's wrong? I didn't mean to upset you like this, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Love, you did nothing wrong," he answered, finally letting you go and reverting back to his normal form. "This was all my fault. My mistake. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I don't understand."

Lucifer sighed, doing his best to regain his composure. "There's something I didn't tell you. I was so blinded by joy that I'd forgotten to warn you. And it almost cost me everything." He grabbed your hands, running his thumbs over your delicate skin. You looked at him puzzled, not truly understanding what he was implying. "After what happened in Eden, Heaven wanted to be certain that I could never return. I did everything I could, I pleaded with them. But they didn't listen to me. When they cast me out...when I fell, I tried to fly back. I was desperate, and I wasn't thinking clearly. I thought I could somehow reason with them. But..." Lucifer fell silent, his expression falling with every passing second.

Your heart hurt. Lucifer hardly ever brought up his fall, or Heaven for that matter. You knew it was painful for him to talk about. What almost happened that had caused this sudden change? "What did they do to you?" you asked quietly.

Lucifer flew back from you a few feet, looking up towards the realm he once called home. "Stay right there," he said to you before flying up higher. Something happened after only a moment. A long and glowing golden chain caught Lucifer around his ankle, tethering him to Hells surface far below. He couldn't move anymore; he was made completely immobile. That was until he floated down back towards you. The chain had completely vanished. And it became clear to you. Why he had screamed, why he held you the way he did, the deep regret and remorse he was feeling...was for your protection.

"They chained you here?" you asked, your voice laced with rage and disgust.

"Yes," he spoke dejectedly. "They made sure my magic could never breach beyond this realm. My realm...And you...you're body flows with my magic now. I-If you would have gone even a little bit higher, with t-the speed you were flying...I-I..." he trailed off. He didn't have to finish his sentence to understand what he wanted to say.

You hesitated wanting to push the subject further, but you couldn't hold back the fury you felt in your soul. "What happened when you tried to go back?"

Lucifer took a deep breath before continuing. "I didn't know that chain would appear. So, when I flew up, it caught me after a certain threshold...I became damaged. “My leg was..." he paused, not wanting to continue his thought. You were glad that he didn't. "And my healing abilities could only do so much to fix it. Angels can only be damaged by other angels or their magic. Have you ever wondered why I carry around a cane with me?"

If you were honest, you never did. All you thought was that it was just an accessory of his, something that made him stand out. Never once did you think it was an aid for him. For as long as you were with him, he never indicated that he was ever in any sort of physical pain.

"I haven't had to properly use it for a long time now," he explained. "I'm practically back to the way I was before that all happened. But I keep it with me as a reminder..."

"Lucifer..." You didn't know what to say. What could you say? You were sad for him, angry for him. What Heaven had done to him was beyond forgiveness.

"But you...you weren't created as an angel," he continued. "If the same thing that happened to me were to happen to you, I'd never be able to forgive myself. And now...now your truly trapped hear because of me."

You couldn't help but squeeze his hands in defiance. "No," you said firmly. "Lucifer, please don't say that! You are the best thing that could have ever happened to me." With newfound determination, your wings carried the two of you higher until those golden chains stopped you from moving any farther. "I've never felt more free than I do right now. You may think I'm trapped here now, and even if that may be the case, I'm trapped here with you, not because of you. You are my freedom." You held his face in your hands and kissed him tenderly. "And you are my Heaven. Now tell me...what's better than being stuck with the person you love and adore the most for the rest of time?"

Lucifer laughed lightly, bringing the two of you farther and farther down. "I don't know how you manage to always make the worst situations more beautiful, but you do. But I love that about you, always able to see things on the bright side..." He returned your kiss from earlier with his own, this one more passionate and desperate, feeling as though he could have lost you. You smiled into his kiss, loving the familiar ways that he showed affection. He was hungry as if he was trying to devour you. The adrenaline was kicked into high gear and you wanted nothing more than to match it. Your hands and well as his began to roam over each other’s bodies as you still hung in the air, completely filtering out the blood curdling screams and fiery explosions below.

"Do you want to take this somewhere else, hon?" you teased breathlessly.

"I most definitely do," Lucifer smirked, "flying lessons are over for today." Your husband snapped a portal open and dragged you inside it with a laugh. The two of you landed on your king-sized mattress as your tongues continued to fight for dominance over the other. "No one out there should get to see you like this. For my eyes only..."

You positioned yourself on his lap, grinding softly on his bulge that began to grow more and more with each passing second until he was moaning in your mouth. "Luci, remember that promise you made earlier? The one where you said I could have anything I want?" Lucifer gulped and smiled sheepishly. "I think that time has come."

“I always keep my promises,” he whispered against your lips before diving back into again, his hands making their way under your shirt and up your body. “But I only ask one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“Keep your wings out for me,” the man asked sweetly.

You nodded in agreement, running your fingers through his hair. “I never had breakfast you know. Think I should have something to eat, Luci?”

With a knowing smile, Lucifer snapped your clothes away as well as his own, too impatient for his own good. You crawled out of his lap, eyeing up his now very erect member. Licking your lips, you shifted onto your hands and knees and crawled in between his legs. You began to press small pecks to his leaking tip; his breath hitched and he became putty in your hands. With a small giggle, you fully wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, savoring the delicious musky flavor. His soft moans off the walls in your room as he gently gripped your hair. You loved the way his body trembled when you had him like this; legs spread, his cock invading your mouth, unable to speak coherently. Pure bliss.

“Aaa-aahhh, baby, f-fuck…” Lucifer stammered. “Y-You always make me feel s-so good. B-But I shouldn’t be the only one feeling l-like this.”

You felt his hand graze the base of your wings. You moaned around his cock at the sudden jolt of pleasure. No wonder he asked you to keep your wings out…he wanted to make you feel what he’s felt every time you do it to him.

And fuck, did it feel amazing.

But you didn’t want to be distracted, so you decided to pick up the pace. Your tongue began swirling around his tip at a rapid pace, forcing yourself to take him deeper and deeper until he was nearly hitting the back of your throat. Lucifer cried out as you mercilessly worked on his length.

Just then you heard the snap of his figures again, followed by a lustful sigh.

“You’re leaking s-so much hon,” he murmured. He was right, of course. But how could he know? He couldn’t see…wait.

You lifted your head up, causing Lucifer to whine at the loss of your mouth. Turning around, you could see a mirror had been placed behind you on the bed, giving your lover a perfect view of your aching pussy.

“Enjoying the show?” you mocked, stroking his cock languidly in the process.

“Very m-much…” he teased weakly. “And I could definitely go for another bite. So, if you want to…”

“No way,” you cut him off, “I’m not moving until I have my fill.” You leaned in and pressed your lips to his ear. “Unless, of course, you just can’t help yourself.” It was an open invitation, a challenge. And he knew that all too well. Being the king of Pride, he never turned down one of those.

You went back to work, deep throating his cock just like before. But you only got to bob your head a few more times before you felt a separate pair of hands grip your waist. You smiled, realizing you got exactly what you were hoping for.

Your lover had duplicated himself.

Wordlessly, Lucifer’s doppelgänger pressed his mouth into your cunt without warning, causing you to nearly scream. The clone’s tongue dug deeper and deeper inside you with every pass, while your Lucifer refused to let up on your wings. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You knew you weren't going to last much longer at this rate with both of them making it their mission to push you over the edge. Luckily, as soon as you felt Lucifer begin to twitch in your mouth, you knew he was a goner. But once the clone behind you began to use his figures to circle the sensitive bud between your legs, it was over for you.

You choked out a scream as you came hard on the other Lucifer's tongue who happily lapped up your juices. And as if on cue, Lucifer bucked into your mouth with a broken cry, gripping your wings as his hot seed slipping down your eager throat. Maybe the taste of you was enough to drive him to the brink. You swallowed all of him happily, making sure to get every last drop before releasing his still erect cock.

"Was that good, Luci?"

"Y-Yes," he whimpered, leaning in and closing the gap between the two of you. "It's always more than good with you. darling. I think the other me made a mess, though." True to form, you noticed a puddle of cum on the bedsheets behind you from the clone who had vanished. Smiling, you used a figure to scoop up some of the sticky substance only to lick it clean. Lucifer's hands flew to his face in embarrassment. "How many times are you gonna fluster me like this today?!"

"Well, at least once more," you replied seductively. "I do have one more request." You slipped off the bed and made your way over to one of the drawers in your nightstand. You pulled out your favorite strap and a small bottle of lube and presented them to Lucifer. "Let's take a ride, shall we?"

"Y-Yes! Oh, fuck yes, please!" Lucifer's excitement was adorable, especially when you watched him take his position on all fours, bearing his supple ass to you.

"Good boy," you praised as you smeared some lube onto your fingers. You prodded at his tight entrance before pushing in your slick fingers little by little until you were as far inside of him as you could reach. The angel whined into the bed sheets as you spread your fingers inside of him, opening him up and preparing him for what came next. Once you felt he was fully prepared, you slipped on the strap and sat back down at the head of the bed. You squeezed some more lube onto your hand and ran in up and down the plastic shaft with Lucifer practically drooling at the site. With a curled finger, you summoned him over. But before he could line himself up, you stopped him.

"Nuh uh, wrong way, Luci," you corrected him. "You had your fun with the mirror; I'd like to have a turn now." Lucifer whimpered a bit but complied, shifting his body so that he was now faced away from you. You then took a hold of his hips and guided him down ever so slowly onto the strap. Pleasured whines from Lucifer continued until he bottomed out on you. You stared into the mirror, leaving small kisses on Lucifer's back. "Aww, look at you, baby! You look so cute sitting on my cock like that. Are you ready to move?"

"P-Please..." he begged.

"Go ahead, Luci, I'll help you." With that, Lucifer began to shift himself on your strap, sliding up and down slowly at first but picking up speed not long after. Your hands remained on his hips as you helped him stay fully sheathed as he rocked his hips. Lucifer moaned with every movement, his cock slapping against his stomach with every thrust. Lucifer shut his eyes as he lost himself. But that wasn't going to fly for you. "No, no, honey, open your eyes. I want you to look in the mirror. Watch yourself ride my cock." He did as you asked, looking directly at his reflection with the most fucked out face you've ever seen on this man.

"I-I...oh ffffuck...too much. S-sweetie, please...please, I-I'm gonna cum...please, s-so close...please say I c-can cum." His pleading was music to your ears, you've never heard a sweeter sound. Your lips continued to mark his back, his shoulders, and his neck, nipping softly at his arctic white skin. One of your hands flew from his hip to his pulsing cock, stroking him in tandem with his thrusts.

"Go ahead, Luci, cum for me. I want to watch you cum for me."

Not even a moment later, Lucifer let himself release more of his hot cum into your hand with a broken scream, his hands digging into your thighs for support. You pumped him lazily, letting him ride out his orgasm as his movement on your strap slowed and eventually stopped. His body fell back against your own, his breathing heavy and labored. He turned his just enough to be able to kiss you softly, soft "thank you's" falling from his lips.

"You did so well," you cooed. "You make the most adorable faces when you cum, you know that? Are you ready to clean up now?" You helped him of your strap, laying him down gently on top of you as you laid down flat on the bed.

"N-No," you mumbled. "Not yet. Not done." You were shocked at first, but surprisingly, you could still feel how hard Lucifer's cock still was pressed against your stomach. Before you could respond, Lucifer clawed the strap off of you and tossed it to the side. He slipped between your legs, lining himself up with your soaking entrance. "May I?"

You nodded. "Yes, please." Lucifer smiled and pushed the head of his cock into you. A sling of curses left your mouth as your husband sank into you inch by inch until he was enveloped fully by you. He wrapped his arms under you, bringing you as close to him as possible as he kissed you in a fit of passion.

"Allow me to make love to you properly, like you deserve," he breathed against your skin. "Allow me to apologize again." His hips began to grind against you, his impressive length hitting every single sensitive spot you had.

"A-Apologize?" you questioned hazily. "For what?"

"For earlier," his voiced was barely a whisper. "That v-voice I used. I-I could tell it frightened you. It broke my h-heart when I saw your face." His thrusts were more erratic now, his concentration wavering. "The last thing I want i-is for you to be afraid of me. And I'm s-so sorry I that used that on you."

Your hands found his face and held it gently. "L-Lucifer, it's okay, r-really! I-I...oh fuck...don't stop...oh...my...God..."

"A-Are you sure?" he asked pleadingly.

"Y-Yes, of course I am! I understand why y-you had to. You were protecting m-me, just like you said you would. W-Why would I be mad at you for keeping your promise?"

Lucifer smiled wide, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts became unrelenting, your cunt contracting around his cock. "I-I don't deserve you. H-How did I end up so l-lucky...ssshhhhiiiittt..." You felt his tail coil around your thigh, constricting it in a way that let you know he was on the verge of losing himself in the feeling of you.

"I love you, Lucifer," you said emphatically. You were close, so close. The coil in your abdomen was on the verge of snapping once again as Lucifer refused to slow his rut into you, burying himself deep within you with every thrust of his hips.

"I love you too, darling. F-Forever. Mine forever."

With your declarations of love, you came together with loud and unapologetic moans. Your walls fluttering around him as he painted your gummy walls white with his cum. As the last of his seed spilled into you, Lucifer collapsed on top of you. You remained sweaty and breathless messes for a few minutes, enjoying the closeness you shared in that moment.

Your fingers ran through Lucifer's hair as he hummed in approval. "Thank you again for the wings, Lucifer. I really do love them. I can't wait to go flying with you again."

Lucifer stared at you and stuck out his tongue out playfully. "Well, why don't we take another shower and fly over to the Hotel? Charlie may or may not have planned a surprise party for you. But I am sworn to secrecy!"

You giggled and kissed the angel's forehead. "Come on, then. Let's not keep her waiting!"

****

Happy one year anniversary of Lucifer's first official appearance on Hazbin! <3<3<3

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