My Overindulgent Take On The 2nd Anniversary Ssr (playlist)also On Ao3

my overindulgent take on the 2nd anniversary ssr (playlist) also on ao3

rating: explicit word count: 4488 content: afab reader (gender neutral), first time, very attentive artem wing, oral (both receiving), lots of tension, unprotected "activities"

mdni.

his lips are on yours before you even fully pass the threshold into his apartment, hands fumbling to drop his keys and flip the light on without separating from your skin. you scramble to grab hold of something, settling for his fingers as you ground yourself and press yourself against him, relishing in the sensation of his tongue on your own. your mind is blank, unable to think, unable to do much of anything but respond to the man above you as he steals the breath from your lungs.

“can i... can i push my greed a bit further?” artem’s lips are at your ear, and his voice, a low and husky whisper you’ve never heard from him before, has heat racing down to your core. from all the time you’d spent with him, you’d believed that you’d seen all sides to artem wing. throughout your investigations in the NXX, as well as from being his partner both in work and in romance, you prided yourself on being able to see right through him. but now, with his voice hoarse with lust and his bright blue eyes holding your gaze as though he wants to eat you alive, you realize that you’ve made a grave error in your assumptions.

no, you don’t know all there is to discover about artem. but you’re desperate to become more acquainted.

“you haven’t answered me.”

artem’s voice comes out in a whisper as he takes in your disheveled form, the heave of your chest and the swollen state of your reddened lips, the fact that he is the reason behind your downright sinful appearance. his breathing is heavy and his fingers tremble with exertion as he holds himself back from moving a muscle until he has your permission to do so. but then you’re nodding wordlessly at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder, and suddenly all else is lost on him.

a shaky moan falls from your lips unbidden as he lowers his head to your neck, his teeth worrying your skin and leaving lovebites in their wake. his fingers tighten their grip on your waist and hold you even closer, his rapid heartbeat seeming to meld with your own. then, abruptly, he’s pulling away with an airy laugh, pressing his forehead to yours.

“what is it?” your voice sounds pathetic even to your own ears.

artem chuckles again. “i.. i’d originally wanted to take this slow with you. to build up to it, i guess. but now..” he lifts his head slightly, gently brushes his thumb over your cheek. “now, i’m not sure if i can.”

his admission nearly knocks the air from your lungs. 

“then.… then don’t.” 

your response is immediate and barely audible, but of course artem hears it. his eyes widen slightly and he silently searches your face for any sign of hesitation, but when he finds none, the corners of his lips turn up into a smile before he presses them almost frantically against yours once more.

you feel yourself being gently guided backwards until there’s the press of a wall against your back, dampened by one of artem’s hands. the other slides down your side to land on your thigh, hiking it upwards until your ankle rested on his hip to provide him the space to slot his leg between yours.

your gasp at the contact quickly morphs into a wanton moan as you process his clothed thigh pressed against your core. he’s resumed his assault along your neck, this time placing sloppy kisses over your sensitive skin, the feeling of his tongue making you shiver as his hand travels towards your chest. he squeezes gently, only enough to get your attention, and only adding more pressure when you tug him closer. he shifts to acquiesce, his leg inadvertently sliding higher underneath you; a foggy and distant part of your brain begins to realize how wet you’re getting and you scramble to warn him: “a-artem mmmh! your.… y-your pants are gonna-“

“leave them.” his tone leaves no room for debate and he clutches you tighter. your mind is reeling, his every move throwing you for a loop with the only thing keeping you afloat being the fingers you have anchored in his hair. your hips begin to buck forward of their own accord, and though you’re embarrassed you can’t seem to stop yourself. artem doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, your reactions almost spur him on, his ministrations becoming more insistent as your movements grow more urgent.

artem’s every touch feels like fire that causes the pressure in your core to build embarrassingly quickly. your voice has devolved into tiny, pitiful whimpers, pitch and volume rising the closer you get to your peak, and when you feel artem’s tongue on the shell of your ear you think you might shatter. but then you notice a dull-but-noticeable strain in your thigh that breaks straight through the haze in your mind. you try to ignore it, to subtly shift into a more comfortable position to not lose grip of the orgasm that was just on the precipice, but your squirming does little to impede the discomfort—

“here, hold on.” artem places a gentle kiss to your temple before pulling away, smiling fondly with a small laugh as you whine in protest of the loss. “your legs are getting tired in this position, right?”

before you have a chance to ponder how the hell he’s always so perceptive, your center of gravity shifts unexpectedly as you’re lifted into the air by artem, his strong arms holding you tightly against his body. you squeal loudly, your arms flying to wrap around his neck.

“i can walk, artem.” you mumble the words into the crook of his neck. “you don’t have to carry me.”

“i know. i want to.”

and so you fall silent as artem quietly carries you bridal style to the bedroom. he places you gently on your feet in front of the bed before turning you around to have view of your back as you feel a gentle touch at the zipper of your dress. the powder blue fabric is gingerly peeled from your frame, followed tentatively by your underwear, until you stand bare before him. you want this, you’re certain of it, but something you can’t explain aloud makes you curl into yourself a bit, makes your arms fly up to cover your chest. his heated gaze runs over your bare shoulders over your back, then gently rests a hand on your shoulder to coax you into facing him once more. when you meet his eyes, he’s smiling softly down at you, a gentle flush of red painted across his cheeks.

“don’t be nervous,” he says gently. “we don’t have to do anything if you’re uncomfortable.”

your heart swells so much you feel it may burst.

“no, i want this,” you say; the words come out steadier than any others you’ve spoken all night. “i want you .” you emphasize the declaration by placing your hands at his waist, yanking the fabric of his shirt from being tucked into his slacks.

he doesn’t need to be told twice.

its unclear when artem shed his jacket, but at least that’s one layer down, leaving him to make quick work of his tie instead. at your insistence, he leaves the task of undressing the rest of his garments to you; such was his honor with you, after all. as you slowly work through the buttons of his dress shirt, you feel a shift in the air that urges you to look up at artem’s face. his blue eyes are hooded as he gazes down at your exposed form, his breathing slightly more labored. you feel your throat go dry from the intensity of his stare and suddenly you’re in a trance, not breaking eye contact with him as your fingers tug at the remaining buttons of his shirt. his fingers twitch beside him as he steels himself once more against the urge to take you into his arms; lacking the same self-restraint, you rush through the final two buttons, hurriedly tugging the garment from his shoulders to allow him to do exactly as he craves.

you reach to free him of his slacks but he instead clutches your face in his hands, crashing his lips to yours with fervor— there will be time for that later, it seems. you’re nearly breathless as he’s pulling away with peppered kisses to your jaw and neck, tongue trailing across your neck as he slides further down your body, committing the taste of your skin to memory. his mouth falls over your breast and you cry out, cradling his face in your hands as you feel your knees buckle a bit, sending you falling backward onto the bed. hands at your back and cradling your head cushion your fall, and after a brief kiss to your lips, artem continues his journey down the path of your body, stopping only once he reaches the apex of your thighs.

you have approximately three seconds to process what’s about to happen, during which you rapidly cycle through the full spectrum of human emotion, and then you feel his tongue timidly slide over your clit, then again with more confidence. your form goes rigid as you keen high in your throat, legs subconsciously inching closed until met with artem’s strong hands. he holds you open as he eats you like a man starved, tongue exploring every inch of you to discover what makes you fall apart the most. your back starts to arch away from the mattress and you reach out with a desperate hand, aiming to take hold in artem’s hair until you pull away almost immediately, scared that you would hurt him. before you manage to pull away completely his hand grabs your wrist, gently returning your fingers to rest at the crown of his head.

the ever-attentive attorney.

you push the guilt back into the recesses of your brain as you clutch artem’s hair like a lifeline, hips rocking against his mouth chasing down the high you’d lost prior. you’re coiled up like a spring, every muscle tensed as you approach your peak, your moans echoing loudly through the room. there’s a gentle prod at your entrance before he coaxes a finger inside you, and a second, somehow knowing exactly how to curl them within you to have you shaking with need.

“a-artem, i-“ you’re so close it hurts, and below you, artem hums his assent, the vibrations against your core drawing a whine from your lips. your eyes fly open and you take in artem’s appearance— the small wisps of hair that cling to a slight sheen of sweat forming on his brow, the alluring shade of crimson dusting his face, and his eyes, staring up at you with an emotion you can’t quite place but feels a lot like wonder. it’s enough to send you hurling over the edge at breakneck speed, curses falling from your lips unrestrained as you jolt sharply in his arms, unable to go far due to his grip on your leg. artem works you through your high, lips and tongue and fingers acting in tandem to milk your pleasure down to the very last drop.

you’re panting by the time he rises from you, for more reasons than one. his hair, assaulted by your grasp, frames his face in disarray, and you can just barely see hints of wetness around his mouth that’s curled into a tender smile as he leans forward to kiss you. marveling in the taste of your arousal on his tongue, you feel an almost carnal desire to please him, to see him as unwound as you felt. so, when he pulls away for air, you mirror what he did to you, trailing your mouth down his torso while occasionally sucking bruises into the delicate skin. you can hear his breath hitch as he puts a hand on your hip, and you use the moment to flip the two of you so that you’re seated atop him. you move your assault lower, and lower, until your gaze level with the gold buckle of his belt. finally you’re able to finish your task and remove the offending garments, very pointedly ignoring the sizable wet spot on the fabric.

and then you pause.

your eyes are locked on the length of him— and length is quite the descriptor. rock hard, almost painfully so, reddened at the tip with a drop of clear liquid threatening to spill over.

right. so that’s what they look like up close.

of course artem once again senses your unease, and tries to cover his embarrassment at being so exposed with an awkward cough. “i- you.. you really don’t have to-“

“i know. i want to.” you flash him a mocking grin, which immediately dissipates when you catch sight of how his chest is heaving already, of the marks on his skin that are starting to bloom from your handiwork.

still, you’re not exactly sure how to go about this. you’ve seen it in porn of course, but doesn’t everyone say that it’s all fake anyway.…? you decide that, like with most things, following artem’s lead is probably the best course of action. you take him into your hands gently before shyly licking a strip from the base to the tip of his length. need begins to pool low in your belly when you hear him inhale sharply, a breath shakily released as he shifts to get more comfortable underneath you. his reaction blesses you with self-assurance and you lean in again, this time wrapping your lips over the tip of him as your tongue glides in gentle circles around him. your reward this time is a soft but very much audible moan alongside a loving hand in your hair. that’s all the encouragement you need.

as you gradually press your way further down artem’s length, you come to learn a number of things. his displays of pleasure aren’t through his voice, though there are moments in which your ears are graced with a soft gasp or broken whimper. instead, artem uses his body. you feel his enjoyment in the twitch of his legs as you manage to slide your warm mouth an inch lower, the jerk of his hips when you learn to hollow your cheeks around him. the fingers at your scalp tighten just once before releasing when you’re finally able to almost take him to the base, as though he desperately wants to hold you still and buck into your mouth with abandon. he’s far too much of a gentleman for that, though, and you’re not quite brave enough to initiate yet, so you settle into a rhythm at your own pace, using his responses as a guide. eventually, you make the fascinating discovery that, even if they’re hard already, some people will stiffen even more right when they’re about to cu-

“w-wait! wait!” a hand is at your jaw before you can move again, gingerly but insistently pulling you up and away from artem’s length. he sounds frantic, eyes wide and skin slick with perspiration. “i didn’t want to.… i was about to.… i-i want..” you hardly hear him over the blood rushing in your ears; you want him so badly the desire threatens to devour you alive.

you lean toward him at the same time he sits up and reaches for you, your lips meeting once again as you place your hands on his shoulders. you’re seated directly on top of him, and artem’s hands fall to your waist, rocking you forward and drawing moans from both of you. rosy crescent moons blossom on his skin as your nails curl into the flesh of his shoulders, the wetness between your legs building with each slide of your hips. he pulls back when your body begins to tremble, gaze desperately searching yours with a silent question, one you can answer with certainty. you nod slowly and artem presses an almost amusingly chaste kiss to your temple before reaching an arm backwards towards the nightstand.

“let me grab a condom,” he says simply; his words are like a record scratch in your brain, filling your stomach with butterflies and your brain with white noise. your hand reaches out to clasp his wrist before you can stop yourself, and you’re unable to meet his eyes when he turns back to look at you.

“i-i mean, we’re already getting married.” you speak so quietly it’s a marvel you can even be heard. “so.. you don’t have to.”

artem says nothing for a while, blinking rather adorably in confusion and shock as he processes your words. he takes a deep breath through his nose, asks you in a quiet voice if you’re sure, to which you assure him that you are. another brief moment of silence, and then he cradles your cheek affectionately.

“alright, if you.… if you’re sure. but there’s something else we need.”

he fumbles around in the bedside drawer before fishing out a small bottle of lubricant. you rise to rest on your knees as he covers himself with it, the quiet hiss he lets out at the contact sending heat straight to your loins, before he places a bit more onto his fingers and reaches for you. not that you feel you need it (you’re already obscenely embarrassed by how drenched you’ve become) but still he makes sure to prepare you, and you certainly aren’t going to refuse letting him touch you again. his hand leaves you far too quickly, but it’s replaced with something different, something stiff and warm and pressing right against your entrance-

it takes all of your willpower and more than a little encouragement from artem to be able to relax when he finally enters you, your whole body going rigid at the foreign intrusion. it’s a tight fit, and there’s no way you can take it all in one go, the stretch already enough to make you wince slightly under your breath. warm hands caress your back as he tries to distract you from the pain, his lips falling gently over your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. 

slowly, you manage to take the majority of him. at first it’s hard to keep air in your lungs and your eyes are tightly scrunched shut, but after a few seconds you’re able to take a deep breath to steady yourself, and the discomfort becomes pretty minimal. to take its place is a pleasure you’ve never known before that licks its way from where your bodies are joined to the top of your head as well as your toes. the flames are fanned even more by artem’s expression, mouth agape as his forehead falls against yours, breathing ragged and heavy.

“you’re okay?” he asks carefully, and you nod almost desperately.

at your approval, he shifts, taking careful hold of your hips as he slides out of you. the drag of him through your walls alone is enough to have your toes curling as you inhale sharply at the unfamiliar feeling. he pulls out until only the tip remains before easing back in inch by inch, the groan you both release in tandem enough to thoroughly embarrass you if you were still lucid enough to care. you’re able to take him to the hilt this time and even though artem wants to give you a moment to adjust you’re immediately asking, begging him to move. you don’t give him time to protest and rock your hips forward, your head flying back as you arch closer into artem’s touch. he takes full advantage and wraps his arms around your waist, mouth finding your collarbone as he begins to thrust upwards into you, holding your legs apart as he becomes mesmerized gazing at the area where your bodies meet.

you realize that you were wrong before— artem may not have been vocal initially, but he sings for you now. he flips you to your back once he notices your legs getting tired, and the salacious groan he gifts you when he enters you again after the readjustment is so sweet you nearly melt into the mattress. a distant part of you feels guilty over the scratches you’re sure will be littered across his back tomorrow, but you can’t help it as he presses into you again and again, stretching you open. you swear you can feel each fervent thrust all the way in your throat as your back bends up towards him; he makes use of the position by running his tongue over your nipple, nibbling at the perky bud and sending a shiver down your spine. 

you feel yourself being repositioned, your pelvis being tilted the slightest bit higher, before he’s pounding into you again. he’s so much deeper at this angle, hitting a spot within you that makes you will yourself not to scream, a plan that’s shattered the moment artem presses his thumb to your clit. you feel delirious as your cries join his in rapturous chorus.

“artem, i-i’m gonna-” your voice shakes when you try your best to warn him.

he can’t even respond, collapsing over your form as he chases his high along with yours, his fingers finding yours and lacing them together. his mouth falls to your ear and he speaks like he’s reciting a mantra, sounding utterly wrecked with his soft whispers about how perfect you are, how lucky he is, how grateful he is…

it’s all more than you can take.

your brain is blind to all but artem’s name as you come a second time, even more like a freight train than the first, electric shocks traveling through your body. your hips buck wildly out of your control, chest heaving as your lungs struggle to maintain any oxygen you take in. artem chokes out a gasp when you tighten around him, his hips stuttering and his fingers pressing almost painfully into your skin. his head settles into the crook of your neck as he finally peaks himself, any noises being muffled into your shoulder. you whimper as he spills thickly into you, the sensation of him twitching inside you making your toes curl as your body shakes from the aftershocks. once you both come down from the cliff, you each have to take a moment to collect yourselves, and the room, now only filled with the sounds of rapid breathing, suddenly feels entirely too quiet.

artem is the first to speak. “i didn’t hurt you, did i?”

“no, i’m fine.” you comb your fingers through his hair comfortingly and grin at your fiancé. fiancé . “better than fine.”

“good. then hold on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“huh- w-wait, artem! ”

there’s no time for you to relax before artem’s lifting you into his arms again, this time heading in the direction of the bathroom. he places you gently in the shower, the cool tile like heaven for your flushed skin, and steps in behind you before busying himself with turning on and adjust the water.

“are you going to carry me everywhere from now on?” you mumble, pouting slightly with embarrassment.

artem chuckles, pauses in his task as he leans forward and leaves a lingering kiss on your shoulder. “indulge me for tonight?”

there’s a sense of elation in his tone that spreads warmth through your bones, any attempts at being stubborn instantly quelled on your tongue. you don’t even deny him the honor of being able to bathe you, resting your head against his shoulder as he massages body wash into your skin, firm hands working the warmth of the water into your muscles. you hear him grab a washcloth that he uses to scrub your skin clean. it’s incredibly relaxing, and you don’t mean to turn to more indecent thoughts, but it’s hard to hide the sharp gasp as you feel artem’s hands travel over the swell of your ass, nails gently scraping against you as he brushes the cloth across your skin. your inner turmoil only increases when he kneels behind you, washing the backs of your legs with the cloth so tantalizingly close to where you want it most, though it never reaches.

when artem stands again you’re fighting to keep your breathing level, your hands in rigid fists at your sides. he reaches around you to wash your front, pouring more body wash into his hands. he presses the cool gel into your collarbones, fingers dancing over the delicate skin, and you feel a tickle at your ear as he leans over your shoulder to observe his work. you bite your lip as he reaches your chest, the duality in the feeling of his hand and the texture of the washcloth enough to make your brain as foggy as the glass that surrounds you.

“a-artem?”

“hmm?”

“where did you- how did you learn to do all this?”

no response from behind you as the hands on your torso freeze, and when you chance a look in his direction, you can see the hints of pink coloring his ears under his hair.

“i’ve…researched.”

you blink.

“r-researched?”

more silence aside from the water hitting your skin. for a moment you forget what’s happening and giggle in spite of yourself.

“i must say i’m surprised, mr. wing.” you turn your head to face him, curl a strand of his hair around your fingers. “tell me, what did this research of yours entail- ah! ”

your teasing dissolves into a startled moan as artem’s free hand suddenly travels down your body to your core, rubbing soft circles around your clit with two slender fingers. he’s watching you now, heated gaze burning into yours as your words die unceremoniously behind your lips; likely for the best, as you won’t turn down another demonstration instead.

——

artem wakes far earlier than you and he gently pries himself from your dreaming form, smiling fondly at your unconscious protest at the separation. satisfied when your breathing evens out, he leaves the bed and grabs the piles of clothes strewn about the room, padding across the apartment to the bathroom to throw the laundry into the machine.

his face grows uncomfortably warm as he spots the stain on the leg of his pants. a part of him admonishes himself for behaving so impulsively, for forgoing all of the plans he’d carefully laid in a single moment of weakness. but then he remembers what he received as a result: the sound of your cries, the feeling of your body under his hands, the look of bliss on your face when he—

best not to continue down that train of thought.

instead, he smiles as he considers you now, his own tiny fragment of forever nestled in his bed, the ring that now adorns your left hand.

artem wing is not a man to often rely on luck, but now? he’s certain he’s the luckiest man alive.

Jeon Jungkook, Behind Run! BTS Episode 108

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 |

Hello Rosh, I hope you're doing well :) for the kinktober I'll like to go for number 6 with Simeon + fem reader! Thank you so much! Also I just wanna let you know that I've always enjoyed reading your works ♥️

Overstimulation With Simeon + Fem! Reader

Simeon once said he wouldn't mind falling if it were for you.

The angel was willing to fall if it meant he could love freely, and bare himself to you; mind, body and soul. He does the same now, letting himself indulge in the pleasures of the flesh with you, utterly vulnerable and so wholly in love.

And now that he's had a taste, Simeon finds it hard to not give you his everything.

“S-Simeon, it's too m-much!”

You whine, legs trembling under the angel's movements as he thrusts inside you, utterly rough and deep. You've already cum thrice, and even then Simeon's intent on bringing you on the brink of pleasure again and again. He's relentless, snapping his hips to meet your's, the sound lewd, and not something you'd associate with an angel like him.

But he's always been full of surprises, and that undying devotion for you.

The angel halts his movements, until what's left is both your sighs and huffs, and Simeon inspects your form, eyes trailing in the fear that he's hurt you.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, gaze fixated on your face, carefully searching for any signs of discomfort.

“No,” You rasp out, finally having got an opportunity to catch your breath from.tbe overstimulation. “Want to feel you,” You attempt to widen your legs further, your cunt messy with your combined fluids. “Want you to fuck me.”

Simeon chuckles softly, leaning to press his lips onto yours, sliding back inside—picking up the pace from where he left off. When a thumb comes to rub at your clit, you moan at the extra stimulation, and the angel takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss further.

He's certainly grown bolder.

“Mhmmph!” You cry into his mouth, still sensitive from previous orgasms, and the angel grabs your hand when you attempt to reach your nether regions. Intertwining it with his own fingers, he presses into you, a moan escaping when you clench around him.

Simeon leans back, thrusting harder into you. Hair clings to his forehead, and yet, in such a lewd act he still looks as angelic as ever.

His thumb never leans your clit. A spot he's abused many times—the angel knows the ways to bring you to the throes of pleasure. Simeon feels as if he's your devotee, worshipping you like you were always meant to be. Two fingers, slick with your arousal slide into your mouth, muffling the whines and gaps that spill past your lips.

“It's too much! I—I,” The words die in your throat as another sob wrecks your body, now your fourth orgasm for the night. Simeon feels it in the way you clench around him, and he stops, revelling in the moment.

When he looks at your hand for any signal, he finds none.

"Safeword, MC?"

"G-Green," You gasp out, and Simeon is back to his relentless ministrations, snapping his hips into yours with renowned vigour, intent on you making you write under him as long as he pleases.

"S-So sinful," He mutters, the sound nearly drowned out by his movements. “Such a sinful human you are, t-tempting an angel.”

And yet Simeon thrusts harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he abuses your clit further. Slow, tortures circles—driving you wild.

Your love is something his angelic heritage won't allow him, but Simeon has never been a strict follower of rules. They're made to be broken, after all.

And what is one more sin, if only to love?

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。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

18+ MINORS DNI

Some spicy Micah Content because the lack thereof makes me sad so I shall fix it myself! So yeah once again MINORS DNI

2:22 am

Warnings: phone sex (or is it called video call sex?), mutual masturbation, Micah just being needy, x fem reader

It was late. You had work in the morning, he had work in the morning but he couldn’t take it anymore. After finally seeing you face to face, getting to hold you, kiss you, being back home just didn’t feel the same. He wanted you in his arms again. As Micah finally went to bed his mind wandered to his second night there.

To be honest he wasn’t fully sure how it happened. One moment he was giving you soft little kiss the next thing he knew your legs were thrown over his shoulders and he was watching you fall apart on his cock. He feels like it’s completely your fault. You pulled his hair it was only right he pulled your clothes off. But now that he was thinking about it he couldn’t get the image out of his head. How pretty you looked covered in sweat, the way you called his name, the way you came undone in his arms, all of it drove him crazy. He thought he’d lose his mind seeing like that, even thinking about it now made his mind hazy.

And his body was definitely feeling it as well. A tent was already growing in his pants as he turned on his side and groaned in frustration. He was supposed to be going to bed. But now he’s pulling out his phone praying you’re awake.

Micah Yujin: Hey angel, you up?

You responded a lot faster than expected

My Angel <3: I-

My Angel <3: I was just about to text you the same thing why are you up???

Were you up thinking about him too? That was the only thing that made sense in his head. As cute as it was it only riled him up more. He sat up in his bed as he turned his led lights on. Sleep wasn’t gonna happen anytime soon. He now had other plans.

Micah Yujin: I miss you

Micah Yujin: so I can’t sleep

My Angel <3: …

My Angel <3: I miss you too

He knows you have no idea how much of any effect you had on him. He took a deep breath. Video sex was not something he ever did but he needed you, somehow, some way.

Micah Yujin: weeeelllll

Micah Yujin: How about we call then?

Micha Yujin: I have an idea to help us both sleep but only if you’re ok with it

There a pause of no response. Micah was starting to get anxious. Maybe you knew what he wanted and you weren’t comfortable with? Just as he was about to type an apology you replied.

My Angel <3: ok but mind if I don’t have a shirt on? I took it off cause its hot in my room

Fuck. This was torture at this point. He was so tempted to just press the call button and see for himself, but he wanted the upper hand tonight. He wasn’t about to embarrass him self.

Micah Yujin: I mean I’ve already seen everything~

Micah Yujin: Just don’t be upset if I stare a little too hard ;)

After a moment of psyching himself up he finally pressed the call button. He almost hung up immediately when saw you, your face a tinge of red and your chest on full display. You weren’t even looking at the screen, like you were trying to avoid his gaze. Damn you were cute. He’s hoping you didn’t here the whimper that came from him before he composed himself and smirked.

“Whats the matter angel? I’ve seen you with a lot less on than this. Don’t be shy~ we both know how shameless you can be. Do I need to bring up what happened that lovely night in your room? Hm?”

Your eyes snapped up to glare at him as you became even redder.

“Shut up! It’s different like this since I can’t tell where you’re looking exactly! Besides you were the one gawking like an idiot, don’t think I didn’t here that little squeak you made a second ago! Now what did you have planned?”

Now it was his turn to blush. Seeing that you managed to get back at him a little you gave him that smug little grin you did whenever you managed to get the upper hand. He’d be salty if it wasn’t so cute.

“Well if you must know I was looking at my beautiful angel. As far as my plan… well… uuuh… its a little embarrassing.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to explain himself. Micah’s mind was racing. He knows it’s not completely inappropriate to ask, he’s made love to you before. However he didn’t wanna come off as desperate or do something that made you uncomfortable.

“Ok so you are more than free to say no, I understand if this request isn’t something you’re comfortable with but…. I literally can’t stop thinking about you and… that night.”

You started to giggle a little, relaxing a bit.

“And you wanted to get on me for thinking about it? You got some nerve Micah~”

Micah quickly became flustered as you called him on his bs. It was nothing new but the circumstances made it hard for him to keep it together. Before he could retort you spoke again.

“Its fine if you were, I may or may have not been in the same predicament…”

You quickly looked away as Micah starting putting two and two together. His eyes light up before donning the most shit eating grin he could muster.

“SO THATS WHY YOUR FACE WAS RED! My my my angel, exactly naughty things were you doing before I messaged you hmmmm????”

“Wouldn’t you love to know.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him. He suddenly lowered his eyes and deepened his tone of voice.

“You’re right angel, I would love to know what you were doing before I called. Actually… how about you show me? Only if you’re up to it.”

He tone softened again at the end. While he desperately wanted to see you, he also wasn’t going to make you do anything you didn’t wanna do. You looked at him a little shocked. You could never handle his random moments of boldness. You back away from the camera, now showing the bottom half of your body. You weren’t wearing any underwear. Micah gulped at the sight as you shyly opened your legs to him.

“Ya know, it’s unfair if you’re the only one getting a show here…”

After snapping out of his trance Micah quickly sat up and yanked his pants off. You couldn’t help but chuckle and how eager he was. He back up his chair so you could see down to his thighs. His cock was throbbing, twitching every now and then, aching to be touched. Damn you wanted him so bad. And he wanted you. He wanted to be inside of you, to make you scream, to feel your skin against him. This was so unfair. He hand firmly gripped his cock and his sighed in relief as he started stroking himself.

“I wish you were with me angel, I want you to touch me like this, and I wanna touch you… fuck I wanna touch you so bad. But I can’t. So I want you touch yourself for me ok?”

You obeyed him quietly as your fingers reached down to massage your folds. They were already glistening from the work you had put in before Micah had interrupted you. You were mesmerized by the view on your screen. Micah’s eyes were becoming hazy as he watched you please yourself, wanting to catch every detail. His hands were speeding up ever so slightly as he got more into it, low groans passing by his lips. The sight alone made you moan. His groans grew louder in response. Slowly you began to pump your fingers in your leaking hole, signing in relief as your walls finally had something to clench around. It was nothing compared to Micah’s fingers or his cock, just like his hand was nothing compared you. You both knew this but this was the best either of you could do.

“M-micah….hah- I need you so badly~ “ you whined at him causing his hazy eyes that were threatening to close to focus on your movements again. You words only spurred him on more. He loved that you wanted him, no, you needed him.

“Y-yeah? You pretending those fingers are mine angel? I reach much deeper than your fingers can though right? Fuck- you’re do pretty like that angel~ I don’t think I can take it much longer.”

You could barely focus on what he was saying, you desperate attempts to get the tension. In you stomach to snap taking all of your attention. You managed to nod at his words before whining. “Hah~ I’m so close… wanna come so bad Micah!” Micah leaned forward, not far from coming his self.

“Fuck, let me see angel. Let me see you come for me. God your so sexy I- fuck, fuck!”

It didn’t take long for both of you to fall over the edge, your hips twitching as your orgasm finally hit by you. You finally managed to focus to see quite a lovely sight. Micah had his hand tossed back, panting, basking in the after glow of his orgasm. Cum coated his hand as his abdomen flexed randomly. After coming down from his high his face turned bright red and hid his face from you. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh now you get shy? What was all that dirty talk earlier huh?” Micah got even more flustered as he looked back at the screen wanting to retort, but he kept tripping over his words.

“H-hey! J-just like you said it feels different this way! I-i don’t know I’ve never done this before!” Micah was more red than he was before. As much as he teased you he rarely could take a dose of his own medicine.

“Anyways its late and we both have work in the morning. Thanks for…. Helping me out? Ugh I’m sorry I’m being so weird about it I just… can’t wait to see you again.”

You couldn’t help but agree with him. After finally getting to see him face to face. It just wasn’t the same without him. After chatting a little the two of you called it a night.

“Talk to ya tomorrow yeah? Do get too riled up while I’m gone~ I love you~” you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Goodnight loser. I love you too.”