CYBRSX (TEASER #1)

—CYBΞRSΞX (TEASER #1)

pairing. jeon jungkook | female reader | [_]

genre & au’s. smut, humor / camgirl!reader, camboy![_], rich boy!jjk, my neighbor is a cam girl au 

words. 710

warnings. (vague) mentions of masturbation & sex, dick & porn talk, not too much action since this is a teaser ;)  [nc-17]

notes. gosh i’m so excited for this fic!! i hope you guys will enjoy reading it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it <33 feedback is much appreciated!!

[teaser #1] ♡ [teaser #2]

teaser synopsis. the first time jungkook finds his neighbor’s cybersex account.

It’s late into the night when Jungkook stumbles across your video.

Keep reading

Masterlist

BTS

Jin (Kim Seokjin)

The Man in the Pink Cape - 01  02  03  04  05  06  07  08  09  10  [Completed]

Ad Infinitum 

Backstage Passes

Base to Base

Bold

Best of Me

Yoongi (Min ‘Suga’ Yoongi)

Aberrations - Playlist || 01  02  03  04  05  06  07  08  09  10 || Drabbles || Read on AO3  [Completed] 

Accounting Afterglow

Amour Propre || Blind Spot

Behind the Stick

Bankshot

JHope (Jung ‘Hobi’ Hoseok)

Absinthe - 01  02  03  04  05  06  07  08  09  Epilogue  [Completed]

Accendo

BADLANDS - 01

Blackout

Bold

Namjoon (Kim ‘RM’ Namjoon)

Asylum - 01  02  03  04  05  06  07  08  09  Epilogue  || Read on AO3  [Completed]

Anarchy

Boketto

By the Book

Jimin (Park Jimin)

Alchimia - Letter || Orientation || Prologue  01  02

Agent Provocateur

Bells and Roses

Blackthorn Creek || Moodboard

Taehyung (Kim ‘V’ Taehyung) 

Ambrosia - 01  02

AGL

Adulation

Achilles Heart (ft. Jungkook) - Prologue  01  02  03

Bach Bencher

Jungkook (Jeon Jungkook)

Azure - 01  02  03

Azaleas

Achilles Heart (ft. Taehyung) - Prologue  01  02  03

Babesitter

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa.

A Ruined Otaku

Warnings: Dom, Degradation (light), Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: i wanna make Levi cry (also just one oro for him!! I forgot to add the second:(()

-

Leviathan is many things. The third born. The Avatar of Envy. An angel turned demon. A Grand Admiral. He can summon an old creature, scales embedded with everything lost to the sea and kill with a simple squeeze of his hand. He’s something old and powerful, a minimalist body to hold the power and horror that resides. Leviathan, is an old demon, scales and teeth, thirsty for blood and poisonous to the mind, and yet, with all the power and title that he carries, he still lays beneath you, legs spread and cock oozing with semen, a gag shoved in his mouth- a simple makeshift of your underwear that was stained with arousal- soaked with his own drool as tears form in his eyes like dew that forms under the bright moon of Devildom. His hands are clawed into the cheap fabric of the small bed- a futon, if he was to be more specific- the fabric ripped and stuffing fluffing out of the sheet. 

Keep reading

imagine being fwbs with gojo n in the middle of folding you like a lawn chair he noses at your cheek n goes “hey do u wanna be my girlfriend?”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BEST OF THE BEST — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fwb! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, non canon compliant (suguru and shoko are ur friend group >:( tyvm), very cheesy ending my b, yes i made a reference to this is where you’re weak, right? sue me, petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, princess, baby)

“bet you were waitin’ for this all day, huh sweetheart?” satoru always has a way with words—a very unique, special, and irritating way with words that routinely manages to get under your skin.

you would scoff—in fact, you would call him quite a colorful variation of words if his thick cock wasn’t pressing comfortably against your sweet spot.

so instead, you gasp a quiet, “f-fuck—right there.”

“yeah, i know,” he chuckles, “this is where you need me, huh? where you’re weak?”

you can’t do anything but whimper at that, hands wrapped tightly around him as they claw into his shoulder. he always wears the marks you leave like a good sport too—shows up to the gym in a tank top that shows them off good and well, right for suguru to see them clear as day. you almost block satoru right on the spot when he sends you a selfie in the mirror, showing off the angry marks with a wink following.

it’s a bit of a predicament, fucking your high school friend and not letting anyone know. the idea of shoko and suguru finding out that every other night, satoru is in your bed as his cum leaks out of your abused cunt is enough to make you nauseous—but never nauseous enough not to open the door for him.

the most unfortunate fact you’ve learned in your life is that satoru knows how to fuck—in fact, he knows how to fuck you well enough that you let him come back. it’s a bit shameful, really, the way you let him knock on your door, the way you open it and let him in, the way you actually fuck him and let him sleep in your bed until the morning.

and then (because he’s an asshole) he wakes up, gives you a sly wink, and murmurs i’ll be back soon, yeah? keep that bed warm for me, sweetheart.

“c-close, toru—‘m gonna….gonna—”

“gonna what? cum? already? barely even fucked you yet,” he hums, hooking your leg over his shoulder before all but pressing you in half. you mewl at the way his tip brushes past your folds and splits you in half—deeper this time with the new position. “look at that,” he coos, staring down at the way his cock slips in and out of you, “takin’ me so well, sweet girl. i think you can go a bit longer, don’t you?”

“m-more, more—need—”

“i know, i know,” he grins, “need me to fuck you dumb, don’t you? don’t worry, princess. i’ll give you more.”

his hips snap into you, pelvis rocking against yours as his pre cum and your slick mix, making a mess between your bodies as it coats your skin. you gasp, pulling satoru closer as his head falls to tuck into your shoulder, his labored breaths fanning against the shell of your ear.

“‘s good,” you whine, “f-feels good, toru.”

“yeah? feel that? squeezin’ me so tight, i can barely move,” he groans, letting out a sweet, low sound into your ear that has your spine shivering—you think you could come undone from that, from the sounds he makes as your walls flutter around him.

you think everything about satoru is enough to send you over the edge, from the sound of his voice to that pretty face of his when he spills into you.

you know he’s close—you can feel the slight twitch of his cock as his pace gets sloppier, as his thumb finds your clit and rubs desperate circles into the sensitive nerves, as he practically presses your knees to your shoulders and bullies his throbbing cock deep into your dripping cunt. and you’re close too, head spinning as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part with a broken wail.

“c-close—‘gonna cum, toru,” you gasp, voice coming in labored pants as his breath hitches.

you look perfect like this—like you’re his, like your body was made for him to touch in sinful ways, like it was his cock that was always supposed to fit into you and make you fall apart. his hand grabs yours, and without thinking, both of your fingers interlace.

“baby,” he hums, his nose pressing into your cheek as he kisses the skin softly, “‘m gonna make you mine, yeah? wanna be my girlfriend? my sweet girl? you want it, right?”

you should be shocked—you should stop and ask him what he means, what he’s playing at, what he thinks he’s doing toying with your mind.

instead, you gasp, pulling him closer as your walls spasm around him, back arching and eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly snaps and you cum. hard. harder than he’s ever made you before. does the idea of being his really do that to you? does the idea of being his sweet, precious girl outside of your bed at night really send you hurdling over the edge like that?

evidently, it does—and your high sends him right into his own. like he needs you to fall apart so he can too, like the way he knows you feel good makes him feel good too. maybe he does want you, maybe it’s not a sick joke. the way his voice cracks with a strained call of your name certainly says as much—the way his hand tightens its grip on yours, the way his hips rut desperately as he presses impossibly closer, the way he presses hot, scattered kisses along your cheek and jaw as he groans through his release.

it’s messy. it’s filthy. it’s downright dirty the way satoru fucks his cum into you, letting it drip down your thighs and mark your skin—but it feels like being his.

you think you might want that.

he’s gentle when he finishes—carefully unhooks your legs from his shoulders before running a hand along your thigh and squeezing as he observes the cum dripping between your legs. you huff when he collapses over you, glaring at him as his weight presses onto your form.

“you’re heavy,” you grunt, smacking at his shoulder.

he hums, nose pressing to your jaw as he kisses it. “not moving till you answer me.”

“satoru, don’t joke about—”

“how rude,” he gasps, “you think i would joke while i’m balls deep in—”

“oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”

he grins, chuckling as he shuffles up to bury his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. “you don’t wanna be my girlfriend? that’s gonna hurt my feelings, y’know.”

satoru has always been like that, wearing an easy grin and plastering that playfulness on like a second skin. you can hear it though—the slight unease in his voice. you can’t fathom letting everyone know that sometimes, you let satoru fuck you…but maybe knowing that sometimes, you hold hands, and maybe kiss, and perhaps snuggle on the couch, and potentially even share a bed to sleep, not just fuck, but sleep—maybe they can know that. 

that doesn’t sound so bad. 

“that depends,” you hum, pretending to think, “how good at being a boyfriend are you?”

“excellent,” he plays along, “best of the best.”

“that’s just big talk. you could be lying for all i know,” you point out—but your fingers slip into his hair, twirling the sweaty strands along your fingers. 

“well, you’ll just have to let me prove i’m a good boyfriend—so that means i have to be your boyfriend. sorry, it’s the only way.”

if satoru hears the giggle you try to hide as you sigh exaggeratedly, he doesn’t mention it, lips pulling into a giddy smile as he pulls his head out of your neck and presses his forehead to yours. your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing gently.

“i guess if this is the only way,” you shake your head theatrically, “you can be my boyfriend. for now.”

“i’m grateful,” he snorts—and then there’s a peck to your lips. one, two, three gentle kisses before he presses a lingering one. it’s sweet, and slow, and just a bit needy as he presses deeper into you. “now i can tell suguru the scratches on my back are yours. he’s been asking a lot.”

leave it to satoru to speak and ruin the moment just by opening his mouth.

“satoru,” you hiss, throwing him a sharp look, “i think you’d be a better boyfriend when your mouth is shut.”

“then i can’t kiss you,” he gasps, “that’s the best part of being my girlfriend.”

and just to prove it, he kisses you again—and maybe, although you hate to admit it, he’s right. it is the best part. 

i wanna be his girlfriend :(

WHAT ARE YOU THE GOD OF, AGAIN?

feat: Lucifer (1182) ∻ Mammon (1748) ∻ Leviathan (1315) synopsis: turns out, fallen angels can have more than one sin. cw: afab!reader | overstimulation (f!receiving), squirting (if you squint); servicedom!Lucifer, oral (f!receiving), some sacrilegious connotations (heavy in Lucifer's, but they're literally a fallen angels though so that should probably go without saying) | implied nsfw; confessions; pretty tame, actually, it’s mostly just heavy-petting and fluff and i swear i tried to make it slutty but we’re in our ~feels~ with Mams today | oral (m!receiving); soft!Levi (but not sub!Levi); kinda bimbo!reader; kinda collaring but ~stylish~ | a/n: check the bottom for links to the other brothers+undateables on this theme, coming soon to a theater near you

∻ Lucifer ↠ p r i d e   ⤲   g r e e d

As the avatar of pride, LUCIFER knows a thing or two about confidence. After all, to be proud is to feel deep pleasure at one’s achievements, and you’d be hard-pressed to name a single thing Lucifer ever wanted that he hasn’t achieved.

But there is nothing–nothing–in heaven or hell or any realm between that gives him more pride than you.

Your sweet laugh, your infectious smile, the way your eyes close when you’re so fucked you nearly forget how to breathe… every piece of you makes him feel alive in ways he never thought possible; a startling truth he’s reminded of every time you say his name. A hard truth he can no longer pretend to loathe when he’s between your legs, coaxing out your third orgasm of the day, your hands knotted in his dark hair and voice weakly repeating his name like a prayer.

Lu-ci-fer.

Each syllable slow and broken, but there–there, for him, because of him. Not Mammon, or Diavolo, or that other wretched human–him.

It’s the only prayer he’d ever grant. God may have made you, but Lucifer has claimed you, and he will spend every day for the rest of eternity proving that. You are his, and not in the way Mammon is his to torture or he is Diavolo’s to command or Satan is the very flesh from his bone; no, you are his because you chose him.

Who wouldn’t be proud of that? Who wouldn’t want to spend their days on their knees, worshiping every crevice of your perfect body, pulling every sinfully hedonistic sound and look and quiver from you–you, the one who changed everything without even trying. Who would ever be so stupid as to think they could have had enough of you?

You could have anyone in the devildom at your altar, but you choose him to be your disciple. And he reminds you why for the third time that night, dragging his gloved fingers slowly in and out of your drenched cunt, his sharp nose rubbing against your clit as your legs shake on either side of his head. “Just like that, my love,” he murmurs into your fluttering core. “Keep saying my name. Be a good girl and give me another, and I’ll let you cum on my cock next.”

You struggle to catch your breath, barely able to keep your chest upright enough to try and lock eyes. Lucifer’s dark gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging on his lips when you start to tremble from a brief puff of hot air against your sensitive clit. You’re not sure if you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away when your fingers dig into his scalp but damn it all, the only thing your body is capable of doing is moaning each syllable of his name like it’ll be the last thing you ever say.

“P–please, Lu–Luci–I just want–you–”

He slaps your clit, but it’s the way he chuckles at how your body spasms that sends shivers down your spine. “Is this not enough?” His face hovers over your folds, thumbs gently spreading you apart. “Aren’t my fingers and tongue good enough for you?”

He asks as if he wouldn’t spend the rest of your life between your legs; as if the mere act of giving you pleasure hasn’t made a mess of his own pants once or twice already; as if he weren’t the one watching you with pleading eyes, a look of barely-veiled desperation begging you to let him keep worshiping you.

Your lower lip trembles, and your initial protest of, “s’not the same–” is drowned out by an obscene moan as Lucifer plunges his tongue inside you completely. A thumb continues to rub at your clit, and faster than you thought possible, your thighs are clenching the demon’s face. If he’d been a normal man, he wouldn’t have had the strength to keep your hips pinned with one hand and a steady pressure on your clit with the other, while simultaneously pulling away enough so your liquids completely cover his lower chin and blissed-out smile–but Lucifer is not a normal man.

He is a demon, and demons take what they want… and he wants you. Now, and tomorrow, and for the rest of his existence. To be on his hands and knees, servicing you, pleasing you– 

Never has he felt like this before. Never has he felt so helpless, so weak, so–human. 

It’d make him furious, if it wasn’t for the fact that you hoarsely whisper his name, kiss-swollen lips sounding holier than any saint. If it wasn’t for the way your hand finds his, fits in his, holds his so gently, as if you’re afraid he might be the one to break, not that he’d broken you.

“Good girl.” Lucifer stands and kisses your sweat-slick forehead. Humans, he thinks in equal parts disgust and reverence. So… fragile.

Your eyes flutter in exhaustion but stubborn refusal at missing a single second with your lover; drenched in sweat, breathing as if you’d just run a marathon. Weak, and fragile, and human, and–he needs you. He needs you, now, and tomorrow, and forever, but if he didn’t get you right this second, there would be hell to pay.

So despite knowing your body can’t handle much more, he unzips his pants, gently stroking your inner thigh to try and relax you for what’s to come. “I knew you could do it, my love. Do you want your reward?”

Eyes still closed, you nod instantly. Hands already lifting from the bed and reaching for him, weakly trying to sit up so you can provide him even just a fraction of the pleasure he’d been providing you. “Ah!” Lucifer slaps your hand away, gently stroking his leaking cock as he settles between your legs once more. “Use your words. Do you want your reward?”

“Yes,” you breathe, settling back on your forearms and forcing your body to awaken as you watch your lover with giddy anticipation. “Lucifer, please, please, I want–I want you inside me–”

With a growl, Lucifer bends over you, catching a leg and hitching it over his hip. The mewl of desperation you let out when he hesitates nearly makes him cum on the spot. 

“You’re a desperate little thing tonight, aren’t you?” he coos mockingly, gently stroking your face before he grips your jaw between his thumb and forefinger. Your hand catches his wrist, increasing pressure to match his, until you’re writhing beneath him–made all the worse by the heat you can feel from his cock, but not him. “That’s alright, my love. I’ll give you what you want. Just one more, alright? I have work to do.”

It won’t be the last. You know it, he knows it, probably even God knows it–but that doesn’t matter. Not when you feel like heaven, not when you pull him close and tell him over and over and over that you need more, you need him, Lucifer please–

Maybe his father was right. Maybe not all humans are bad–maybe some of them are worth serving, after all.

∻ Mammon ↠ g r e e d    ⤲   s l o t h

If anyone were asked who the greediest one in all of the Devildom was, it would unanimously be considered MAMMON. It is his sin, after all; he is the physical embodiment of excessive desire, and just as Beel’s appetite for food knows no bounds, Mammon’s cravings for material things is equally limitless.

So why is it you who can’t get enough?

You’d gone to Mammon’s room earlier with the copy of notes he’d asked for. It started out innocent enough; you knocked, he let you in, then he begged you to stay and help him study. It was like every other day, from the way he sat so close to you on the couch that his thigh was flesh against yours and how he managed to barter correct answers for kisses, and today, like every other day, you found yourself settled comfortably in his lap, arms lopped around his neck as you read off questions from the last multiple choice quiz he’d failed. 

The only difference seemed to be in how Mammon was getting an unusually large number of questions right.

“If I didn’t know better,” you laugh breathlessly as Mammon trails his lips up the hollow of your neck, “I’d say you’ve been studying.”

“‘Course I’ve been studying,” he murmurs, hot air tickling the sensitive skin below your jaw, “whaddya call this?”

“Fun,” you tease, pulling back to cradle the white-haired demon’s face. “And I believe you’re the one who said studying could never be fun–”

“Stand corrected,” Mammon huffs, immediately diving forward to capture your lips once more. His hands roam down to your hips, where he squeezes the flesh gently. Feeling emboldened, you rock your hips, then giggle when Mammon’s forced to pull back from your kiss with a groan so low, it rattles your bones. “Studyin’ is fun. S’long as it’s with you, though.”

You laugh and lightly kiss his lips. “Good answer.”

Once, twice, then on the third, one of Mammon’s hands darts up to your head and holds you in place. His lips, so soft against yours, so sweet on yours, move slowly. Gently, he parts yours with his, and as his fingers start to twine in your hair, he dips his tongue in.

This kiss is like no other the two of you have shared… and you’ve shared a lot. The quick, chaste ones when you first began this arrangement; the teasing, smirking ones he’d steal when he got an answer right you’d expected to be wrong; the open, messy ones that were almost more moan and spit than actual lips and air and inevitably led to someone’s shirt being ripped off; the gentle, caring ones on exposed shoulders or foreheads at the end of your “study” sessions that, somehow, so slowly you didn’t even notice, became more intimate than the way he filled you perfectly.

But this… this kiss was somehow all the old yet something new, all at once. It was deep, and not just in the way he sucks on your tongue but how he pulls you in to him, fingertips pressing into your skin as if he couldn’t get close enough–not that you mind, as you wrap a hand around the back of his head and try to bridge the very atoms of space between you. His lips move slowly, his air warm but fresh as he doesn’t even pull away to breathe; instead letting you be the one to give him life. His palms, large and slender on your frame, slowly travel over your body, from the base of your spine to cradling your cheek, and then he pauses. He pulls back. He rests his forehead against yours, wipes a thumb across your cheek, and breathily laughs. “You’re so–beautiful, ya know that? Prettiest treasure I’ve ever seen.”

And how are you supposed to respond to that? To being flattered by the Avatar of Greed, who’s notorious for never being satisfied; to being kissed like you mean something to him, to your first, to who you hope to be yours forever–to the growing dread in your heart that one day, likely soon, the Avatar of Greed will want more than you can give, and he’ll leave you.

And yet–every time you try to speed things up, try to hastily slacken his tie or unbutton your shirt and try to remind him why he should stay, stay now and stay forever, his hands catch yours. “Not yet,” he whispers, and when you whine in protest, he merely starts to kiss you like that again.

Like you’re what he cherishes most in the world. Not his gold, his clothes, or his car–but you. And you always would be.

“Mammon,” you breathe into his lips, “please.”

“Not… yet,” he answers. His hands trail along your sides, lightly bunching your shirt before letting the material fall as he cradles your face. You catch his wrists and pull back from his kiss with a pout.

“Why not? Don’t you want me?”

Mammon has the audacity to laugh. “Are ya serious? Can’t you tell?” He snaps his hips up, chuckling at the harsh intake of air you suck in when his cock, straining hard against the zipped fabric of his uniform, slides against your clit. “‘Course I want ya, silly girl. I want ya s’bad, makes me stupid.”

You roll your eyes and shove at his chest, only for Mammon to catch your wrists, keeping you pinned against him. “Evidently not, since we’ve spent all this time studying.”

Mammon shakes his head, his smile soft and contagious as he leans towards you. “Ya know what they say, precious… practice makes perfect.” 

His lips silence whatever snappy retort you don’t have time to conjure, and instead, you lose yourself in him. In the way his lips move in tandem with yours; the way his hand presses between your shoulder blades, arching your back into his chest; the way his eyelashes flicker against your cheek every so often; and the low way he whispers your name when you try gyrating your hips against his.

“Ya tryin’ to be the end of me or somethin’?” he drawls in exasperation, resting both palms on your hips to still your movements. He rests his forehead against yours, staunchly avoiding your gaze as he keeps you still.

“I’m tryin’ to get laid,” you drawl back, dragging your fingers down Mammon’s wide shoulders to rest on his abs–just the way you know he likes. “I thought–that’s what you wanted?” Mammon tenses, and you pull away. Your hands come up to grab his chin, forcing him to look at you. His cheeks are flushed, and despite not protesting at the way you move his body, his eyes refuse to meet yours. “Mammon? Isn’t… that why you invited me? To fuck?”

He holds out for precisely 1.4 seconds, before his eyes flick to yours and he loses all composure. “Yeah,” he admits, and he doesn’t know whether to be encouraged or heartbroken at the way you seem to be able to breathe again. “But–”

He pauses. He watches your eyes widen, he feels the air catch in your throat, and then he watches your neck remain still. One heartbeat; two heartbeats; three heartbeats–

“Jus’... wanna take my time with ya today, s’all.”

There’s something more desperate about the way he sucks on your neck now, something that has you squirming and moaning and pulling his head back before just the feeling of his lips on your skin makes you unravel.

“What’s so special about today?”

Mammon shakes his hair free of your grasp and latches onto your neck again. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close. “Nothin’. Somethin’. Dunno, jus’... jus’ realized somethin’. S’nothin’.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing…” you tease, rather enjoying this secretive side of him. “Doesn’t feel like nothing, either.” With a pointed roll of your hips, Mammon lets out a groan, and he bites your neck in retaliation. Just a little nip; not enough to break skin, but enough to bruise. Enough to leave a mark that won’t fade for a few days, at the very least.

The first mark he’s ever left.

“Mammon!” you scold, but it lacks bite; especially when the white-haired demon meets your gaze while licking a soft stripe along the already-bruising skin before pressing a gentle kiss on the most tender spot.

“Like it when ya say my name,” he responds, pressing kisses all the way up to your lips. “Like it better when ya moan it.”

So you do; over and over and over, even though he does nothing besides kiss you. Occasionally, he’ll bounce his leg; and occasionally, he’ll let his hands roam to cover your breasts, teasing your painfully erect nipples briefly before trailing back to your hips; but that’s all.

“I think I like whatever it is you’ve realized,” you say when the two of you finally break apart. Your breath is heavy in the air, chest heaving as fingers trail up and down Mammon’s still-clothed chest. 

Mammon smiles. “You don’t even know what it is.”

You hum in agreement, then laugh. “Don’t have to. Not if it means you’ll keep kissing me like that.”

Meeting Mammon’s gaze makes your heart do funny things. Both rapidly beating and seizing at once, shrinking four sizes but growing so large it might burst; making you feel so full, so complete that it just slips out before you can even think to catch it.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Time freezes. The weight of the world hits like an ice bath, and it’s all you can do to close your eyes. Your fingers knot in Mammon’s shirt, and you try to memorize the way the fabric feels; the softness from his detergent, the heat emanating from his chest beneath, the steady pulsing of his heartbeat, the rough callouses of his fingers as they wrap around your wrists–

“Hate to one-up ya, precious, but I know I’m in love with ya,” he says, and time comes crashing down. “S’what I realized today, and s’why I wanna take my time with ya tonight, and s’why I’m gonna spend every day by yer side, doin’ whatever ya want, s’long as you let me–”

The rest of his confession is cut off by your lips, but for once, Mammon doesn’t mind being interrupted. Not if it means he can take his time with you tonight and prove to you that an eternity of him by your side is something to be certain of.

∻ Leviathan ↠ e n v y ⤲ p r i d e

LEVIATHAN thought he knew what pride was. He thought it was the feeling he gets when he finds a rare Ruri-chan doll that they stopped manufacturing decades ago and he has the highest bid, or maybe when he beats a tournament he spent all weekend holed up in his room competing in, or maybe even accurately translating the hidden chapters of TSL that appeared after seven years of radio silence.

But none of that comes close to the way he feels right now; to the way his heart threatens to burst in his chest as you softly lick the underside of his heavily erect cock, tits threatening to burst over the top of your maid uniform, remnants of his last orgasm still glimmering on your breasts.

“What’s wrong, Leviachan?” you ask, sweetly popping off his cock and lazily flicking your wrist. “You look flustered.”

Levi lets out a pitiful whine and sinks lower in his gaming chair. A hand reaches out to knot in your roots, guiding your mouth back to where he desperately needs you. “D-don’t tease,” he tries commanding, but the way his voice cracks gives him away. “This is–this was your idea, remember?”

And it was; it always is. Because even though it makes Leviathan’s heart so full to see you on your knees for him, it never happened because of him. You decided when the best time to suck him off is; and like your perfect plaything, Leviathan always let you. He could never say no to you, his pride and joy. His favorite collectible; the only one of your kind.

It irritates him, a little. The fact that you hold this much power over him. The fact that you can show up in a trench-coat while he’s in the middle of beating his latest video game (a puzzle game, one that requires complete concentration or you have to restart from scratch), and with a simple unknotting of a belt and ring of a bell, have him wrapped around your finger.

If it wasn’t the maid outfit you wore beneath your coat, it was the fluffy handcuffs you attached to his wrists before sinking to your knees that rendered him speechless; and if it wasn’t the way you sunk to your knees, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh and batted your pretty eyelashes as you begged your Leviachan to help you feel good that broke him, it was seeing the dainty choker spelling out his name in silver letters along your throat.

His release had splattered over your chest before he could even process what he was looking at, and by the time his mind caught up to his body, you were already suckling at his flushed cockhead once more.

Leviathan’s wrists yank weakly against the handcuffs as his hand travels from your scalp to where the lowlight of his gaming console illuminates the silver letters dangling against your throat. His heart stalls as he hooks his index finger around the chain, and a throaty giggle slips out your lips as he yanks you forward with just his finger.

No, he wasn’t imagining it when he came; that really is his name, adorning your body, for all the Devildom to see.

“M-mine?”

With a smile, you nod. A smaller hand wraps around Leviathan’s slender wrist, and your press a kiss to the pulsepoint just within. “M’all yours, Leviathan. Figured the others should know, too.”

The handcuffs were just for show–or if they weren’t, they are now, because Leviathan snaps them with ease. He stands roughly, stumbling slightly as his pants catch around his ankles. His grip on your neck never falters as he raises you with him, then tugs you backwards on top of him as he collapses on the floor.

“Need you,” he mutters through feverish kisses, plastered messily all over your face and neck. His hands fumble with your get-up, and although you laugh when he rips the material clean off your body, your whine of, “Levi, that was expensive–” causes him to nip your ear.

“I’ll buy you another.”

He doesn’t even both removing your skirt–if that’s what that sliver of material could be called, anyway. It barely hides your ass, pooling atop your thighs in the place he wishes his hands to go. With the fluffy handcuffs, now broken, still decorating each write like cotton candy bracelets, Leviathan lifts the pads of his fingers to your mouth. Obediently, your lips part and you lick them slowly, tongue wrapping around each digit like it had just been lapping at his cock.

Leviathan whines. He flips you on your back, hovering over you as your own hands messily unbutton his shirt, lips meeting in a sticky conglomeration of spit and desperate pleas to feel each other. His spit-slicked fingers are gentle compared to the ferocity with which he kisses you, stroking between your folds before dipping in, catching your release and spreading it along your clit.

“All for me… right, baby?” Leviathan pants as he pistons one finger in and out of your gummy walls. “All dressed–dressed up for me, all wet–all wet for me–”

“Yes,” you mewl, “for–for you, Levi–only for you!”

That’s all it takes for Leviathan to lose the last of his composure. He slides into you without warning, filling you to the brim. The breath is knocked loose from your lungs, and the way Leviathan is quick to cover your lips with his, swallowing any further moans or whimpers of his name.

He pulls back when he feels your walls fluttering around him. Your heels dig into the small of his back, pressing his hips even deeper into you–as if that was possible. As if Levi hadn’t taken advantage of every single second to be buried as deep as possible within you. 

Tenderly, Levi brushes some of your sweat-slicked hair out of your face, and even more careful, he presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, right above where his name sits pretty. “You look so pretty… is this because of me, b-babe? You look all pretty b-because I make you f-feel this way?”

You nod desperately, carding your fingers through his silky purple locks. “All–all ‘cause of–of you, Levi–”

That’s all it takes to push him over the edge, and with him–you. You come undone around him, meekly burying your moans into the taut muscle of his bicep as the world briefly fades to white.

Levi is filled with that feeling again; the one that makes his chest seem too small. The one that causes all sounds but your staggered breathing to fall away, and all sights but the one of your flushed cheeks and lovesick smile and fluttering lashes disappear to darkness, and all feeling but the sensation of you snuggling into his chest feel as foreign as the human world. 

He may be a shut-in, he reasons as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck. He may be an otaku, and awkward, and you might be able to do a hell of a lot better than him–but he did this. He makes you do bold things, like wear a maid outfit under your coat all day just to tease him, or bring handcuffs you know can’t hold him just to see if he’ll listen, or make the absolute prettiest sounds he’s ever heard in his life. He makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt, and that makes him feel good.

“Never,” you promise–and just like that, the heart Levi didn’t think could get any fuller grows two sizes.

Really good.

Good enough to start pressing light kisses up your neck, teeth catching on your new silver chain, hand gently trailing along your side. “D-don’t forget that,” he says through grit teeth. You link your fingers with his, slowly parting your legs to reallow him entrance. “I make you feel good, right? M-me. Don’t–don’t ever forget that.”

| Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor | Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon |

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what’s mine is yours

synopsis. suguru is a good best friend—he shares everything. just this once, he shares you too

word count. 2.1k (it's short i promise)

contents. fem! reader, reader is suguru's girlfriend, minors do not interact, virgin satoru <3, cuckolding, fingering, safe sex (who am i ?? jk suguru would not let satoru hit raw lol), petnames (princess, baby, and sweetheart), suguru teaching satoru how to fuck <3

notes. dash pls look away. i am horny at 1 am

satoru, for all his big talk and loud front all these years, is still a virgin. suguru finds it a tad bit funny—but out of the kindness of his heart, he decides to help his best friend change that.

how? you, of course.

“be careful how you handle her,” suguru says with a sly smile, “she’s still my girlfriend—and i have to take care of her. isn’t that right, baby?” his gaze turns to you, finger stroking your cheek gently as you whimper.

“so wet,” satoru mumbles, fingers sinking curiously into your dripping cunt, flexing slowly to pump in and out of you as you whine. his fingers are long, maybe longer than suguru’s—but not nearly as skilled.

“yeah?” suguru chuckles, “bet you like that, huh? careful though, satoru—don’t get used to this. she’s still mine.”

suguru, the ever gracious best friend, has always been one to share. he decides perhaps he can extend the favor to include his girlfriend too—but you’re precious, sweet and kind and oh so doting. he can’t share you permanently. no, it’s a one time thing—after that, satoru will have to find his own perfect little pussy to savor.

“you really get all of this? all to yourself?” satoru marvels, thumbing your clit as you gasp, your hand reaching over to clutch at suguru’s pants. his hand rests over yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he hums soothingly.

“yeah,” your boyfriend grins, “every day. whenever i want. right, baby?”

“uh huh,” you nod—and then you cut yourself off with a squeal when satoru’s fingertips brush against that sweet spot deep within your walls, making you flutter around him with a tight squeeze. he doesn’t find it as easily as suguru, doesn’t know how to angle and curl the tips of his fingers when he sinks into you.

and fuck, satoru thinks, suguru is so damn lucky.

“she’s a vocal one,” he chuckles, “you’ve been living the dream.”

“you should hear her when you use your mouth,” suguru chuckles—how embarrassing. you want to crawl onto his lap and hide away in his neck, hide away from satoru’s eyes that are watching you so carefully. satoru has good eyes—the best, even.

but you also like it. for some reason, when his eyes stare down at you with a darkened shade of blue you’ve never seen before, you feel the slick pooling from your core, smearing down your thighs and glossing over his fingers, wetter than ever.

satoru has that effect on people—even if he is a bit inexperienced.

“do i get to do that too?” he asks, sending your boyfriend a lopsided smirk.

suguru raises a brow, tightening his hand’s grip on yours before grunting a low, “don’t get ahead of yourself, satoru.”

“you said it yourself, suguru,” he chuckles, “what’s mine is yours.”

“not her,” suguru growls. and then, sweetly, he turns to you before pecking your forehead with a gentleness he keeps for only you. “you ready, princess?”

“princess,” satoru repeats thoughtfully, “yeah i guess you’re a bit of a princess, aren’t ya?”

“p-please,” you sniffle, tugging on suguru’s wrist, “need more, sugu.”

“yeah? he’s not doing his job, is he?” suguru pouts in sympathy, but his eyes are laced with amusement—like he’s enjoying the show in front of him. you’re sure he is, if the throbbing erection he sports is of any hint.

“hey,” satoru gasps, wounded, “i’m doing exactly what you told me—”

“here,” suguru throws him a condom, cutting him off, “put that on. you’re out of your mind if you think you’re feeling her. that’s only for me.”

“fine,” satoru huffs. you watch as he rolls the condom over his neglected cock—it’s red, swollen and aching, flushed at the tip and drooling with pre cum as he hisses when his hand wraps around it.

it’s pretty, you’ll give him that. satoru isn’t as thick as suguru, but he makes up for it by being a bit longer. he curves a bit with a thick vein running along the underside of his cock, balls heavy as they hang painfully, achingly full. he’s neatly trimmed—messy white strands of hair unlike suguru’s dark ones. you don’t know which one you prefer, if you could even pick one of you had to.

you watch with wide, fascinated eyes as his mouth parts with a low gasp when he accidentally teases the tip a bit as he clumsily works the rubber over himself. he’s sensitive at the head—just like suguru. gives those sweet little breathy whimpers when his slit is thumbed at. it’s cute, you think, maybe not as cute as suguru—but it’s still pretty adorable.

“go slow when you go in,” suguru warns, “if you hurt her, i’ll kill you.”

“she’s tough, she can take it,” satoru pats your cheek with a sly grin, “aren’t you, princess?”

“watch it, satoru,” you hear suguru growl, “don’t get too comfortable.”

“aw, it’s all in good fun, right? she’s taking it so well.”

you do take it well—you let satoru’s fingers play with your for ages, let him learn where to find that sensitive spot is in the back of your walls, let him rub your clit slowly—even if you ache for those fast circles suguru always gifts you with. and now, you’re even letting him slide into you, slowly but surely, inching his hardened cock into your impatiently wet cunt with agonizing patience.

“that feel good, baby?” suguru asks you once satoru’s buried to the hilt, splitting you almost in two as you breathe unevenly and nod. and satoru? well, he’s not faring any better—grit teeth and clenched jaw, panting harshly as he focuses on not cumming right then and there.

you’re tight—way tighter than his hand, and way warmer too. fuck suguru for making him wear the condom, and fuck suguru for landing such a perfect pussy too. he doesn’t know how he’s meant to go back to using his fist after a taste of this.

“you can move now—go slow at first, and then go faster when she’s close. she likes that. and don’t forget this,” suguru’s hand travels to your clit, giving a soft little pat that makes you whimper before he rubs it with those quick circles you love so much. “she likes when you touch this too. they all do—so when you get yourself your own girl to fuck, make sure you remember that.”

“i know what the clit is,” satoru grumbles, “i’ve watched porn, y’know.”

“i bet,” suguru chuckles, “is this your first time seeing a clit in person? pretty, isn’t it? everything about her is pretty.”

“suguru,” you whine in embarrassment, burying your head back into the pillow as much as you can, “you talk so much.”

“baby,” he insists, “someone has to humble him. he’s all bark and no bite.”

“i can too bite,” satoru grunts—and to prove it, he angles his hips to pull out, almost completely, before thrusting back into you. you cry out—clutching suguru’s hand tightly as your tits bounce. satoru let’s out a choked moan, gasping as you squeeze around his sensitive cock, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure.

it’s so good. suguru has it so good. you’re so good—perfect, even.

“f-fuck, more, need more,” you sob, and because suguru can’t help himself, his hand grabs at your tit, pinching and tugging at your nipple as he lets you squeeze his other hand in yours. “please, please—faster.”

“you heard her,” suguru hums, “she needs it faster.”

satoru’s good at fucking you—for his first time, he’s got your back arching and toes curling rather quickly. the blunt head of his cock brushes against your sweet spot with ease, long and curved enough to nudge against it with every roll of his hips. of course, no one knows how to fuck you until you see stars like suguru—but he comes to a close second.

your gasps have turned into long, wanton moans, and satoru moans in sync, head falling next to yours on the pillow as his breath fans over your shoulder with every harsh pant. his hips are rutting into you, slamming desperately as he feels you squeeze around him with every deep thrust. you can hear the squelching sound of your arousal as he bullies into your dripping cunt, smeared along the insides of your thighs. it’s messy, it’s rushed, it’s desperate and it feels so, so good.

satoru has never felt this good—and you? well….you have to admit you’ve never felt like this before either. it’s new, maybe not better, but certainly not worse.

“oh, fuck,” satoru groans, voice cracking as he whines against your shoulder, “f-fuck your so tight—‘s so good. so, so good….’m not g-gonna last much longer.”

“are you close, baby?” suguru strokes your cheek, watching as your eyes squeeze and your face twists in pleasure, “can’t have him be the only one cumming. that’s no good.”

“close! ‘m…’m so close, sugu. gonna cum,” you gasp as you nod.

if satoru wasn’t so lost on the feeling of your tight walls constricting around him, fluttering so perfectly that he almost feels like he can’t move, he might have protested that you addressed suguru and not him—he’s the one fucking you after all. it should be him you’re telling that you’re close, not your boyfriend. just because suguru is your boyfriend doesn’t mean he’s the one who gets to bear the reward for making you cum.

right now, that’s satoru.

“aw c’mon, sweetheart, you’re gonna—o-oh, shit,” he cuts himself off with a breathy moan, “you’re gonna make me cry. say my name too, yeah?”

“satoru,” suguru warns lowly.

“see? jus’ like that. yeah, pretty? say it just how suguru did,” satoru, murmurs against your ear, biting your earlobe softly.

your hand, much to suguru’s dismay, tugs from his grasp so your arms can wrap around satoru’s neck and cling to his large figure as he towers over you, fucking you mercilessly. his pace is frenzied now—that steady ache building up in his throbbing length is about to burst, and that coil in your belly feels like it’ll snap any second too.

“s-satoru, please—‘m c-close, so close,” you mewl, “wanna cum.”

he grins, blue eyes raking over your body as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harshly over it in that way you’ve been craving.

“yeah? you close, pretty? ‘s good to hear. i am too,” he murmurs lowly, finishing the sentence off with a shaky gasp as you squeeze around him.

and then you fall over the edge—he sends you hurtling into your high before you can ever register it. it’s new, satoru thinks—it makes his hips stutter for a second when he feels you spasm around his cock like that, sucking him in and squeezing around him enough that he chokes on a whimper and cums right then and there too. he thinks it’s a miracle he held out just long enough to cum after you, thanking anyone who’s listened to his prayers of lasting. it’s almost impossible not to finish immediately with how your walls hug around his length.

by now, his hips have lost any rhythm they might’ve had before, sloppily rutting into you as he desperately rides out his orgasm, thick ropes of cum spilling into the condom that separates him from fully feeling your warmth. he’s sensitive—his cock is throbbing even as he lets go of that built up tension in the form of white, hot release. you milk him until he’s almost certain he’s got nothing left to give, dry and worn out from the way you pulse so harshly around him.

“so good—m-make me feel so good,” satoru breathes in wonder as he finishes, thumb slowing itself along your clit before his body slumps over yours.

it’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s a mess of limbs as he rests over you, still quivering over your body from the aftershocks of his orgasm. it’s earth shattering—how you make him feel. has he really been missing out on this all this time?

“you’re heavy,” you grumble, patting at his shoulder. he chuckles into your neck, catching his breath.

“yeah? heavier than suguru?”

“i’m careful enough to collapse next to her,” suguru mutters from the side.

“fuck, that was amazing,” satoru rolls over, sprawling himself on the mattress next to you, chest heaving as he breathes, “i see why suguru spoils you so much. you keep him happy, huh?”

“oh yes,” suguru drawls, eyes narrowing. gently, he grabs your wrist and tugs at you, making you sit up as you eye the bulge in his pants and the large wet spot of pre cum staining the fabric. “you’ll see just how happy she makes me in a second here—she’s good with her mouth too.”

idk what possessed me to write this i rly don't. all i know is i want them both carnally

NO PART TWO — please STOP commenting that