#what are you my dom

[p34ch-t34]

Bad bitch alert ⚠️

[gyroshrike]

I know we all appreciate dominant Mel, but I live for her getting chances to be handled with softness and care

[yuanology]

m!reader fingering afab!geto while being 100% aware gojo's watching through the crack of the door so he decides to show gojo how sensitive his friend is and geto ends up squirting?? (lowkey embarrassed i wrote this, but yknow ignore it if you want😅)

what the Fuck .

gojo satoru was not a virtuous man. far from it, in fact. as a self-made god, satoru existed on a plane far above morality and whatever other human concept was created to define right and wrong. within infinity and the insurmountable power residing in it, there was only the man who wielded it and the humanity confining it.

even so, satoru still knew deep within his heart—the trembling, still beating thing residing underneath the constricts of his ribs—that he should not be doing this; that he should not be staying.

but satoru was not a virtuous man, and so he stayed.

because there, past the thin crack of the door, was his best friend—the same one he had known from childhood, the same one who had walked with him through the ins and outs of darkness—with his clothes stripped clean, thrown messily around the room, both of his feet planted flat on the bed, and his back arching off the mattress in a pleasured arch. between his legs, slick and heavy with evidence of his own debauchery, stood you—fully dressed, only the first two buttons of your collar open.

satoru knew of you. it was impossible not to. you were older than the both of them. when they were freshly entering their first year, you'd already matured where you existed in your third one. satoru himself had barely spared you a glance but in retrospect, he did remember suguru mentioning once or twice that he was training with you on the side.

fuck, satoru thought, dazed. if he had known this was what 'training' involved, he would have listened a bit better on what suguru had to say about you.

because you were holding his thighs apart, well-practiced fingers relentlessly pushing past suguru's slick folds, producing the loudest squelching noises. satoru couldn't see very well from this angle, but he could hear the sounds his best friend was making; fucked up and high-pitched, whiney in a way satoru had never heard him speak before.

suguru cried out your name, breathless and panting. "please," he was begging you, sounding close to tears. "please, no more."

you leaned in, mouth brushing over suguru's chest as you whispered your response. satoru couldn't hear you, even as his ears strained to catch a wisp of your words. but whatever it was, it must not be good because suguru is letting out a loud whine, one the turned into the strangled beginnings of a scream when satoru noticed that you had begun to pick up pace.

oh my god.

just as satoru took the first hesitant half step backwards, swaying in place, he hears your drawled out voice—cutting, brave, unyielding.

"now, where do you think you're going, satoru?"

satoru stiffened, and he realised that he wasn't the only one. suguru did, too—his body locking up as a new flush crawled across his skin. satoru had half the mind to apologise to his best friend in his head, a chant of i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msuchashittyfriend looping in his head as if it could forgive him for not only being a pervert, but also for intruding on his best friend's secret.

satoru cleared his throat. he wanted to make an excuse, to apologise, but all that could tumble out of his throat was a hoarse, "um."

suguru let out a high whine at the sound of satoru's voice, as if he was spurred on by his audience. his back arched, his mouth parting as a deep sound escaped him. satoru watched, mesmerised, as the muscle on suguru's body rippled at the motion, your hands never once faltering in its ministrations.

"come here for a minute, satoru." your voice was calm, collected and almost clinical. as if you didn't practically have your entire fist buried in between suguru's slick folds, your thumb nudging at where satoru guessed must be suguru's clit if suguru's high pitched whimpers were anything to go by. "i need your opinion on something."

satoru swallowed thickly as he was drawn into the room, his motions dumb as if he was a mere puppet on your string. as he moved closer, he realised that there was more to the scene that he couldn't earlier see from his post by the door.

suguru's cunt was fucking drooling, slick dripping all over the place as his hips canted in the air as if to escape and to move closer to the pleasure. his hole would no doubt he gaping if you pulled your hand out, hungry for more. your thumb covered his clit wholly, rubbing at it mercilessly.

satoru felt himself twitching in his pants, throat working around the words stuck in his lungs.

"what do you need?" satoru asked, his voice wrecked. he would be embarrassed by it if it wasn't promptly drowned out by the sound of suguru's choked out noises.

without thinking, satoru moved a hand to rest on suguru's thigh, at the sight of his best friend in distress. he didn't realise what a great mistake it was until suguru did a full body shudder, a ragged gasp leaving him. satoru couldn't fucking breathe.

clearly, you didn't share the same sentiment because you were speaking again. "suguru wants me to stop, but i personally think he can come one more time," you said casually, as if this was a common conversation to have with just about anyone.

suguru let out a weak whimper, pathetic and desperate in a way satoru never knew him to be, at the sound of your words. you must have been trying to convince him about this for a while then.

stiffly, satoru nodded, not quite knowing how to react. "okay," he said dumbly.

he wasn't looking at you, too entranced by the sight of suguru with his legs spread wide open and his messy cunt being on full display, but he could hear the smile in your voice when you said, "well, what do you think? can he come one more time?"

satoru opened his mouth, a half-baked answer on the tip of his tongue, when he was interrupted by the sound of suguru's babbling.

"no. no, please. no more." there were tears in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks prettily, satoru noticed. suguru looked a mess, his hair a halo around his head and his hips lifted in the air as if he was nothing more than a cheap whore. satoru thought he was beautiful. "please. i can't. don't make me. please, please, please, pl—"

his words promptly turned into a loud scream, half-pained and half-pleasured, and satoru's head whipped around to look at the source of it. he swallowed thickly when his eyes dropped from suguru's face to his engorged clit, where your thumb was no longer rubbing at but rather, your earlier free hand was now gently tugging at the hood over it.

holy shit, satoru thought, his head spinning. because he just watched you pinch suguru's clit. you pinched suguru's clit. judging from the nonchalance of your gesture and the way suguru didn't try to fight back, instead canting his hips higher, this was something that you did often.

satoru was going to die. holy shit.

"shh, suguru," you reprimanded, silencing suguru's desperate sobs with a gentle pat to his thigh. suguru sniffled, but he stopped letting out those depressing sounds. "it's not you i'm talking to."

suddenly reminded that he owed you the debt of an answer, he blurted out an answer before he could think twice. "he can," satoru replied. "he's an overachiever, the dumbass. he can come another time."

suguru let out a loud sob at his answer, one that sounded a lot like betrayal.

satoru couldn't properly apologise to him, though, because your lips were curling into a sharp grin, looking like a cat who caught the canary, and satoru couldn't help but think that maybe, he was just in as big of a trouble as suguru was. maybe, with his answer, satoru had condemned not just his best friend, but himself as well.

you pulled your hand out of suguru with a lewd squelch, one that made satoru flush all the way to the roots of his hair—and oh god, he hadn't even realised he could burn up even more—and the way that suguru whimpered, both devastated and relieved by the loss, wasn't helping.

you took a step backwards, letting suguru's body drop onto the mattress. you gestured towards the now empty space between suguru's thighs. "on your knees, satoru. hands behind your back."

satoru couldn't do anything but comply. he dropped to his knees, his hands behind his back and his eyes now at level with suguru's fucked out cunt. holy shit. suguru was twitching, his pretty clit engorged and swollen from the earlier abuse and fucking pierced apparently. satoru exhaled sharply at the sight, his breath fanning across suguru's folds, and earning himself a short, aborted whine from suguru. oh my god.

satoru almost flinched when he felt your hand card through his hair, tangling your fingers into the strands as he guided your face closer to suguru's gushing pussy. "go on," you ordered him, your voice gentled by the sound of melodious laughter. "eat him."

thank you for the meal, satoru thought dazedly as his face was guided closer and closer, until he was buried in suguru's cunt and lapping up the taste of his best friend.

the response was immediate—suguru's thighs started quivering on either side of satoru's head, moving to rest on satoru's shoulders and pulling him in as if to suffocate him. satoru didn't mind, taking that as an unspoken order to start eating his best friend out like his life depended on it.

he didn't bother with hesitating or testing the waters. he licked a broad strip up the length of suguru's cunt, dipping in between his folds to gather the slick there at the centre of his tongue. satoru moaned at the taste, and he was immediately greeted by the feeling of suguru's walls squeezing around him as suguru met him with his own weak whimper.

"suguru's already sensitive." that was you again. there was notable amusement in your voice. "want me to help you make him come faster?"

satoru should say no. he wanted to stay buried in suguru's cunt forever, eating his best friend out until he was shaking all over the place. he wanted to make his best friend feel so good that he stopped being satoru's suguru and instead started becoming your suguru with satoru instead.

but he could hear his best friend's pleas even above the sound of his pounding heartbeat, the sound of suguru's suffering, and he couldn't let this keep going for much longer.

he nodded, the bridge of his nose bumping over suguru's clit in the process. suguru's thighs squeezed around him, a whimper escaping, and satoru quickly drew circles on suguru's hips in apology.

you, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the same courtesy as you told him, "suck on his clit, then open your jaw wide."

satoru obeyed even though he didn't really understand why you were telling him to do that, knowing that you likely understood suguru's body more than he did in this matter.

he pursed his lips around suguru's clit, sucking on it firmly, before he let his jaw drop open.

oh.

oh, holy fuck.

because suguru was squirting directly into his mouth, making a mess out of the lower side of his face, and satoru could only kneel there, his mouth wide open as he swallowed all of his best friend's slick juices. his head was light, and he couldn't breathe—both from the suffocation and the fact that geto suguru, his best friend, his one and only, just fucking squirted into his mouth.

when suguru finally let him free, thighs unlocking from around his head and limply falling onto the edge of the bed. satoru leaned back, unable to process what just happened, when he heard you speak again.

"don't forget your manners, suguru."

it was quiet for a moment, then he heard the small, almost shy, voice of his best friend. "thank you, satoru," suguru mumbled.

"you're welcome," satoru replied, his voice sounding fucked over. he couldn't correct himself just yet, though, his head still reeling.

he was still on his knees as he watched you rearrange suguru on the bed, peppering soft kisses onto his face and his collarbone and his chest in stark contrast to the way you had treated him earlier. there was the lull of soft conversation passing between the both of you, one that satoru didn't try being a voyeur of.

he was content with just kneeling there, his head filled with cotton and static. he didn't even bother with touching himself, still too entranced by the feeling of this all happening.

finally, your footsteps drew close to him. he tilted his head as he watched you approach him. you cupped his chin, tilting his head back to meet your gaze.

"messy," you noted, but the corners of your mouth were quirked into a smile. "but suguru's always been messy." satoru didn't have any response to that, so he simply nodded stupidly. somehow, that must be the right answer because you laughed.

you took a step back, taking a seat onto the edge of the bed. satoru's eyes tracked your movement almost curiously. he frowned when you patted your lap, as if you were expecting something from him.

"over my knee," you said. "i think fifteen should do. usually, i'd give more, but i'm assuming you're new to the scene, hm? don't forget to count."

satoru blinked dumbly. he stayed rooted on his knees. "what?" he asked hoarsely.

you raised a brow at him. "oh, satoru," you said, your voice placating. "did you really think that i was going to let you go unpunished just like that? over my knee. fifteen spanks and i want you to count."

when he still did nothing, your gaze darkened and your voice grew firm. "now, satoru."

oh, satoru thought smartly.

swallowing thickly, he moved to comply.

[alexandritefang]

A sub discovering his dom's favorite color it's diabolical. He will start wearing all pretty accessories and toys that color and that's obscene.

[war-forged-storms]

The things I’d give to have a mean trans cowboy put me on all fours and force my legs open so they can put a pail between them, just to jerk my tcock over and over again to milk every orgasm they can from me.

(Bonus points if they can get me to squirt into the bucket and make me swallow it)

[cynnkk]

mammon. oh mammon.

since he's competing w/ all the other devils for your attention, he decided to be owned by you, not the other way around.

He opened up and admitted that he fell in love with you at first sight. if you remember, you were resting on his chest when you woke up in the hospital and he spent all that time thinking about how wonderful, breathtaking and powerful you were and what it would feel like for you to own him, for him to belong TO you.

He would be solely and exclusively devoted to you and to your well-being. Mind you, he's not a low level demon: he's the king of Tartaros, the wealthiest kingdom in Hell and everything belongs to him but, as his master, everything will belong to you as well.

The whole thing is new to the both of you but he's resolute: he likes you "just because", not because you're solomon's descendant but because you are you.

You'll come around someday and love him like he loves you. He wants you to surrender to your greed, to take everything from him and he'll accept everything you have to offer: from lovely dates along the tartaros river to long fucking sessions on his throne, he would lap it all up, like the good sub he was always meant to be.

in a world where you are seen as somebody else's stand-in, he's the one asking you to recognise him.

You're his master after all, no one can replace you.

He's yours. you just have to accept it as a fact, because he's not letting you go.

[yaekiss]

𝑴𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝑵𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒙𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

�� Room Content: GN! Dom! Reader x Sub! Kaveh, no gendered terms for reader, no mention of reader's anatomy, handjob & blowjob (Kaveh receiving), praise (Kaveh receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: I've been thinking about writing something for Kaveh again lately so thank you pringles for sending in this prompt!! Also a huge thank you for waiting! Hope you enjoy the fic !! <3 ꩜ This was written for @xxpringlesxx as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the event post above ^^

As he busies himself with washing the dishes after dinner (it’s his turn today), Kaveh hums along to the tune of that catchy love song that’s been popular in Sumeru lately, one that’s been stuck in his head all week. 

From where you’re seated, you can hear the water run and plates and glasses clink as he washes them and puts them away on a rack to dry. However, interspersed between the mundane noises and his light humming, you pick up frustrated huffs. 

Concerned for your lover, you crane your head over to look at him, and you see the problem. He’s constantly rolling his shoulders back and sharply tilting his head to each side, probably trying to pop a stubborn crick in his neck.

Making your way over to the kitchen, as you get closer, you can’t help but notice that his posture looks tense as he hunches over the sink. Mind processing, you recall him complaining about his latest commissions to you over dinner.

(“Can you believe the client even suggested that?” He sighs before lifting another spoonful of soup to his mouth.

“And don’t even get me started on the deadlines, dearest! I don’t know how I’ll survive this one without pulling a few all-nighters,” Kaveh all but wails. The soup doesn’t really make it into his mouth since he just sets the spoon back into the bowl so his hands are free to tug at his hair.

You laugh lightheartedly, take his hands out of his hair gently, then pick up his almost empty bowl of soup so that you can refill it. 

“You’ll need all the energy you can get then, I’ll get more soup for you. And I hope you’d still get some rest though, beloved,” you chide him softly.)

He hears you pop into the kitchen and he turns around to face you.

“Hey, just finished the dishes, do you need something from the drying rack?”

You shake your head, “Nope. I was just wondering if you wanted a massage, since you’ve been working hard and your shoulders are tense, is all.” 

Kaveh answers as he wipes his wet hands on a clean dry cloth hanging by the wall, his tone chipper, “That’ll be nothing but heavenly, thank you so much, dearest. Ugh, you don’t even want to know how much my shoulders have been killing me lately.” 

He allows you to lead him into your shared bedroom, where he promptly faceplants down onto the mattress, a tired muffled sigh leaving him. Reaching over to the bedside table, you pick up the tub of lotion in the drawer. Opening it, you look back down at Kaveh who’s still sprawled out prone on the bed and you sigh.

“Come on, don’t you think it’ll be better and easier for me without your shirt in the way?” He doesn’t answer but you know he heard you because of the way he kicks his legs, as if throwing a fit. 

“But I just got comfy,” he groans, his grumpy tone muffled by the mattress under him. Ultimately, he sits back up, pulls his shirt over his head, folds it quickly and sets it to a side, then flops back down onto the mattress, all in quick succession.

Clambering over him to straddle his lower back, you scoop a nice dollop of the lotion and spread it across the expanse of his back so that your hands can smoothly glide over his skin. You start from between his shoulder blades, where you rub it into his shoulders and take note of how tense his muscles are. While you work at the knots in his muscles, he relaxes more and more until he has practically melted and become one with the bed. 

Then gradually, your hands make their way down to his waist. When your thumbs dig into the area around the small of his back, he shivers under you, along with a low hiss. 

Unbeknownst to you, your beloved Kaveh lays pinned and squirming beneath your hands as he desperately tries to muffle the moans that itch to make their way out of his throat. He fights back the urge to buck his hips downwards, you were nice enough to help him wind down from a busy couple of days and yet here he is getting hot and bothered under your touch.

It’s not his fault that you’ve been running through his mind, who wouldn’t be enraptured by you? You’re the only thing keeping him sane in spite of his growing workload, his thoughts wandering to his dearest lover throughout these hellish days as a balm to soothe his weary soul.

The more he tries to tear his traitorous mind away from you, the more it conjures up increasingly scandalous fantasies of how this current situation could play out. What would you do to him? Tease him until he’s begging for his release, a full-body blush painted across his skin? Or perhaps the inverse, where you’d wring climax after climax out of him until he’s mumbling nothing but utter nonsense, limbless in your arms? How’d he love for your hands to drift further down his body, trail under the waistband of his pants to where he needs you the most.

Your voice snaps him out of his daze and drags him out of his daydreams.

“Done with your back, beloved. Flip around for me?” He hears you coo from above him as you move to sit on the bed so he can change his position and yet, hesitates to turn upwards and face you.

Mainly, due to the tightness in his pants right now.

“Hmm, Kaveh? What’s wrong?” The concern in your voice is evident and he tries everything to will away his hard-on until he’s confronted with the fact that he has no choice but to do as you say, lest he causes you to worry even more.

Slowly, he peels himself off the mattress on shaky hands while the tips of his ears are burning red. But before he flips over completely, he manages to mumble out a weak, “Um. Uh. Just don’t look down too much…”

When he’s finally done shifting positions, you’re able to see just how bright of a blush has settled on his face, his brows knitted together as he quickly moves his hands to the front of his pants. However, it’s too late and you’ve already caught a glimpse of what he’s trying to hide. (And really, the rumpled state of his pants aren’t helping his case.)

Kaveh knows that you’ve realised when a mischievous look flashes across your face, “Aww, why didn’t you just tell me? Just an innocent little massage and you’re already so worked up?” He didn’t know his face could get any hotter but it does when he recognises that you’re teasing him.

Fortunately for him, it seems like you’re in a merciful mood tonight as you drag your fingertips down past his navel, goosebumps rising on his skin along the path you trace out. When your fingers go to hook under his waistband, you ask, “Do you want this?”

Kaveh thinks he has never nodded this hard in his life.

Prying him free from the confines of his clothes, he’s already almost fully erect, to which you quickly fix. Wiping your hands of the remaining lotion still clinging to them, you procure a different container, a water-based lubricant this time, and slather it generously on your palms and fingers to bring it up to your body temperature. 

Wrapping a hand around his base, you stroke upwards in a fluid motion, making him jerk his hips up into your fist. Eyes squeezed shut, Kaveh hisses sharply when he feels your other hand snake up to his chest and flick at one of his sensitive nipples. 

Filthy slick noises fill the room as you take the time prying moan after moan from his lips and he looks utterly debauched lying under you. A messy halo of golden blonde hair frames his face aflame with colour and you sear this image of your beloved into your memory.

“Are my hands really that good?”

“Hnn… Ye-yes! More, please…!” He slurs, half out his mind.

The combined onslaught of pleasure proves to be too much for him as the telltale sign of his thighs tensing signals his oncoming release. Yet, just as he tips over the edge, you instantly stop your ministrations, pulling your hands away from him.

But before he can whine out in disappointment, you take him into your mouth. The sudden replacement of your hands with the warmth of your tongue takes him off guard and it rips a drawn out keen from the architect. Your hands rove around his body, alternating from pinching and toying with his chest to kneading at the muscles of his thighs and ass.

“Absolutely lovely, beloved. I’m so lucky to have such a hard worker, someone so kind and earnest in everything that he does,” he moans unabashedly at your praise, head pressed back hard against the bed as he tries to hold himself back from coming too soon. Unshed tears cling to his eyelashes as he blinks rapidly at the overwhelming sensations.

“Going to… hah! Need to-!” At this point, Kaveh’s mind has been reduced to mush, his fingers tangled in the bedsheets as he begs and babbles in between breathy pants.

“Go on, beloved, anything you want,” you coo, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. When you lick up the underside of his shaft and take his drooling tip into your mouth, a hand twisting at the base whilst the other toys with his balls. His muscles lock up as his back arches off the bed and he cums with a shout. 

Stars dancing behind his eyelids, he moans when you press your lips to his and he tastes himself. His hand scrambles to find yours, fingers entwining as his thoughts fill with nothing except the love he has for you. 

When you break away from him, Kaveh sighs against your cheek, plastering kiss after kiss across your face. But you’re not done pampering him for tonight yet, and he knows this when you nibble at his ear.

“Looks like you’re still tense, how about we continue your massage, hmm?” 

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[primrosebow]

♡Finally!♡

I found the artttt :))) it took me a surprising hour and a half but it could have been worse, really.

Content warnings!: Uhm?? Suggestive? Actually nsfw I believe. I have never done this before AHWHAHWHD(ToT) this is like my third post of all time!

(Somewhat vaguely) inspired by @bigfatbimbo 's STELLAR fanfic about Lucifer (^ー^) my first moot of all of time!!!

Here goesss :))

I imagine he'd try to cover his mouth because the noises are getting uhm, a bit too loud.

I haven't, well, re-read the fic for the 103949202nd time recently and soon after I finish reading it the thing grows legs and exits my memory, so, it isn't all the way accurate to what happened in the fic since I don't remember if this exact position was featured, but, for a 3:45am drawing while I was unimaginably high and didn't even remember making until lunch time of the next day, I'd call this a pretty successful run

In case you're wondering where his wedding band went, I ate it. Lilith is going to have to go look for a new husband now, or learn how to deal with getting cucked(￣ｑ￣)ｚｚｚ

I will see you all soon I believe!

To the ones I already know: these 10 days just mean daily, regular posting. I will still be very much active when they're up! I honestly think I'll be more active; it'll just mean I have to wake up at 5:40am and will have a lot of free time on my way to campus. A lot of time to put the mind to work ehehehe :))

[mamayan]

★Yobai☆

Mitsuri Kanroji x Fem! Reader x Obanai Iguro

Synopsis: Someone put a strange idea in your girlfriend’s mind, and she’s roped you into a night of passion to seduce the Snake Hashira for his birthday.

Blame @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi this is becoming a thing lol I may just need to do an entire series… Original idea and inspiration for yobai from @rottmntrulesall ♥️

Read Kyojuro here, and Sanemi here, for their yobai nights!

tw: MFF • Fem! Reader • Sub! Reader • 3some • Vaginal Sex • Praise/Overstimulation • Soft Dom! Mitsuri • Switch! Obanai • Mitsuri calls you plum •

When your lover Mitsuri told you about her idea for celebrating Obanai’s birthday, you hadn’t imagined it to look like this.

Where she even got such an idea was lost to you, as you watched the beautiful pink haired girl bounced on her heels in excitement. You looked around the neat space, not a single object out of place. The bed made, clothes hung or folded, and there were no other personal items to be seen except for a poorly attempted embroidered snake set against a dresser. Mitsuri had taught you the basics and encouraged you to make something of your own. You’d made that nearly a year ago, for his birthday last year. It felt wrong and invasive to be staring at his things like this.

“Mitsuri… are you sure this is—,” she interrupted your soft murmur, her excitement just too high as it draws nearer for Obanai’s return from the bath. You tried not to think too hard about the broken lock to his estate’s front doors, or the fact that you’d been dragged along into a crime no less, breaking and entering. Obanai being a stickler for rules, most likely won’t take to this very well but… You side eye Mitsuri, her cheeks flushed and smile bright in place. She didn’t look nervous at all, and that realization struck you with a sense of instability. Mitsuri was always bold, gentle and empathetic too, but she was confident about everything but herself it seemed. You selfishly liked to think your love aided in her self esteem though, as her love did for you.

You wanted to think it would be the same for Obanai. You knew he returned Mitsuri’s affections, obediently following her and eager for her praise and attention, but your relationship wasn’t the least bit similar. You weren’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.

“Oh! I should go see if he has any candles, that’s romantic isn’t it? If he has enough, I can make a heart with them!” Her declaration and grin, as if the idea was so ingenious she couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t thought of it earlier, made you pause before you could object.

“M—,” she was gone. You were alone in Obanai’s room now, and the man himself was due any moment for… whatever this was exactly. To seduce him? Mitsuri had certainly painted a romantic and erotic image in your mind when she’d had two fingers in your pussy, breathing salacious images for you to conjure as you drew nearer and nearer to your orgasm. You’d been too engrossed to think clearly, agreeing of course to the promise of pleasure and inclusion of the man you adored.

You were about to give way to your own cowardice and make a run for it when the shoji slid open.

You had to duck to avoid his blade, panic and adrenaline flooding your system at the unexpected but also anticipated fight which would arise from entering unannounced to a sword master’s home. It only took Obanai a moment to realize you weren’t some sort of burglar or demon awaiting him. His hair was still slightly damp, his bandages removed and face on full display as he stood before you in a plain yukata with his sword pointed at you. Kaburamaru peaking out from around his neck, tongue flicking out as if in greeting.

“(Y/N)…?” His confusion is quickly replaced with irritation.

“I could’ve killed you, what are you doing here? At this time of night? Are you an idiot?” His voice and tone are icy, glaring heterochromic eyes narrowed on you. His sword is quickly sheathed as he stomps towards you, and it’s all you can do to stutter out “w-wait!” before he can haul you out of his estate. Although it’s certainly embarrassing to you, and you’re more than a little anxious and self conscious, you knew it would do more damage to not speak up with honesty.

His grip on your upper arm isn’t painful, but he’s firm in his hold that you aren’t able to squirm free. He tries to ignore the way you being in his room has him heating up, intent on dragging you home to your own bed to sleep properly. You were the weaker of the two, between him and Mitsuri, therefore Obanai was more cautious in your safety. “You should know better,” his hand raised, finger pointed and almost touching your skin as you flinch back reflexively. You knew realistically this reprimand is exceedingly light for Obanai, as you’ve seen his true wrath unleashed for stupidity on lower ranked slayers in the corps. It didn’t stop your eyes from watering a little, your lip from wobbling, or Obanai from nearly stumbling away from you.

“I just wanted to tell you happy birthday…” his left eye twitched at your words. Kaburamaru moving down his arms and sliding to the floor, slithering away from the strange quarrel going on.

“You could’ve easily said it in the morning, don’t cry—,” his hiss of guilt and annoyance not the least bit gentle. “It’s the middle of the night idiot! You shouldn’t—,”

“Shouldn’t what?” Mitsuri’s appearance had the Snake Hashira nearly turning to stone.

“Mitsuri too…?” He felt his nerves lighting up. As they always did in her presence. It wasn’t the same comforting warmth which you gave him, the kind that relaxed and soothed. Mitsuri was crackling and commanding.

“I didn’t find any candles, but we can make it romantic with just us anyway.” She grinned, unconcerned about her property damage which Obanai would surely find later. She pressed both Obanai and you back, closing the shoji behind her as she entered the room fully. You noted the room seemed smaller like this.

“Mitsuri, you shouldn’t be here either, I’m aware you both now just want to say congratulations, and thank you, but—,”

“We didn’t come here to say happy birthday silly, we came here to show it, right plum?” Your nickname caught your attention as reality sank back in. Numbly you nodded, not looking up as you studied the wood polish beneath your feet. “Which means come here~” she cooed. You snapped to attention, heart rate skyrocketing as you nervously shuffled closer to her. Her jade eyes soft and promising as you looked into them.

Obanai stayed silent, watching in an odd sort of fascination the dynamic you both shared. He was envious of both of you ironically. The dominance Mitsuri held over you, and the submission you gave Mitsuri. He held his tongue though, unsure what he was supposed to do now. Though he trusted and loved you both dearly, he still struggled to say it and even show it physically.

Mitsuri led the room.

“You want to show Obanai how grateful you are for him being born, so why don’t you get on your knees plum, let us both see your pretty mouth.” You obeyed, shakily dropping to your knees and opening your mouth like Mitsuri loves. Obanai would never be able to remove the erotic sight from his mind again.

“She’s offering her mouth for you to fuck Obanai, are you going to deny her and make her sad?” He’s dazed and startled by Mitsuri’s change in tone, her beautiful eyes sharper and trained on him. Her hand is placed gently on your head, and you leave your own in your lap as you wait with an unsure mind.

“She’s nervous because you’re waiting…” you hear her murmur, but your eyes are trained on the sharp lines of his scars. When his eyes connect with yours, something dark passes through them, but he wordlessly begins untying his belt. His lips are set in a frown, but his cheeks are warm and flushed.

“Does she even deserve my cock though?” You nearly break and close your mouth, as Obanai grips his hard aching cock and positions it just before your lips. Not touching though. “She hasn’t asked for it at all.”

Your eyes widen. Mitsuri giggles.

“P-please, Obanai, I want you to fuck my mouth,” it felt as humiliating as always, just as flustered as when Mitsuri makes you beg.

He’d never admit it drove him wild, having you like this. Like he’d awoken to some sort of fever dream and conjured you up before him. Sitting with your mouth open, begging for his cock. This sort of thing only happened in novels he believed.

He grunts, sneering down at you and making the scars on his face more menacing. They seemed to enhance his features with his mood. “You asked,” he murmured, before sliding the tip of his cock in your mouth. He still smells a bit like soap, his taste neutral as he moans, muttering something beneath his breath before his lips are stolen aggressively by Mitsuri. He doesn’t mean to shove himself deeper in your mouth, but you relax and let his cock brush back and forth inside your mouth, getting a little deeper as time goes on.

A hand is on the back of your head, keeping if you from pulling away. The soft but firm touch familiar and letting you know it’s Mitsuri as Obanai’s cock dips a bit too deep and gags you. You can’t pull away despite choking, tears pricking your eyes even as your core throbs painfully. You want him inside of you, desperately, but this isn’t you leading so you stay where you are and let him continue ravishing your mouth.

“Mm, Obanai, aren’t you just adorable? Well? Does her wet little mouth feel good? Do you want her to make your pretty cock cum?” You shiver at her arousing choice of verbiage, her sly tone teasing as Obanai’s hips jerk and he groans low in his throat.

“Fuck, yes, Mitsuri, I want to fill her mouth.” His voice sounds strained as he works his cock at odd depths and varying speeds in your mouth, poking into your cheek as he watches the skin protrude before sinking back into your throat.

“Good boy, go ahead, today is your treat. Go on and cum for us Obanai.” He loses it, his balls drawing tight as he moans and releases into your mouth and down your throat messily.

You’re made to take it, struggling to breathe through your nose as he rocks his hips and the fine curls of his pubic hair kiss your nose. He finally pulls out, Mitsuri’s hand now running through your hair soothingly. “So good for us plum.” Your blurry vision flicks up to her figure, her words encouraging you as you lean against her leg offered in support.

“She did such a good job… doesn’t she deserve a reward Obanai?” You blink the tears away, a few escaping down your cheek as Obanai stares at the pathetic and arousing sight you make. Your clothes still intact but your face being covered in his cum and your own salvia doesn’t help your decency. He can’t help the warmth spreading through him again, as he drops the rest of his clothing and moves to grab you up.

You’re swung lightly onto the bed.

“She’s an idiot that deserves more punishment than this but…” he’s close, pressing you flat against the futon and nearly kissing you. “I guess I’ll be nice this time. Say thank you.” He smirks when you do, the sight so confident it fills your heart as you look at him. There had been time he’d rather lose a limb than reveal his face, and while it’d taken longer to show you himself, and even longer to feel completely comfortable, it feels worth it now. His eyes daring but soft, because even as he calls you foolish he’s equally supporting and helping you despite it.

Your clothing is almost torn as he removes it from you, hissing complaints when he snags a knot or forgets there is a button. You aren’t even given time to feel self conscious, only aware in the back of your mind this is the most intimate you’ve ever been with him.

“I love you.” It’s said so softly he nearly doesn’t hear it clearly.

He stills, and Mitsuri, who’d crawled up beside your head to sit and watch, let her eyes flick up to your face. You lay so sweetly beneath them both, allowing them full control of your body because you trust and love them. Mitsuri is silent, only internally squealing at the cute way you decided to confess, only reaching to thread her fingers with your own as show of support while Obanai processes your words.

“You…” he’s frowning, brows pulled together and it the sight yanks at a ball of anxiety bundled in the pit of your stomach. “Do you even understand—,” he goes to lay into you, but you already know where he wants to go.

“I love you Obanai!” Half naked and huffing indignantly, you glare at him with all the force of a rabbit. Mitsuri is forced to turn her head away to conceal the laugh which threatened to break free. Unlike her though, Obanai is happy to glare back and even manhandle you. His hand grips your jaw, smushing your cheeks as he points down at you.

“You don’t get to confess first, I do,” he’s immature at the oddest times, but you’re helpless against him because he’s red like an apple and breathing heavily.

“There’s no rule that says—hah!” He smashes his lips against yours, and you can’t help but compare his kiss to Mitsuri. Where she’s warm he’s cool, his body temperature actually lower than your own by a little, but his mouth is warm inside as he forces your lips open to slip his tongue inside.

When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects you both for a moment before breaking.

“Fuck, you… You’re mine, do you hear me?” His confession isn’t as loving or sweet as yours, but his claim is encompassing. His forehead knocks against your own, and for a brief second, you see the conflict and doubt war in his dual colored eyes.

He’s nervous and scared.

It seemed to ironically dissolve your own fear. Your arms moving, Mitsuri allowing your hand freedom, to wrap around Obanai’s neck and kiss him, deeply, as if your lips could proclaim your love better than your voice. It could. It was less about dominance and more about warming one another up, as you felt Mitsuri’s fingers softly massaging your scalp as you kissed him. Obanai letting you lead for a moment as you moaned, his hands caressing your body and back to working on removing your clothes.

Mitsuri helped, happy to get you naked like him, and pleased when his eyes locked with her.

“You too…” he looked to the side, “please…”

“Ufufu, of course, I can’t let you two have fun alone tonight at least. We need at least three for a birthday party.” Her movements were quick and efficient, stripping herself and revealing each creamy inch of skin and captivating two sets of eyes. She doesn’t hesitate to let her hair free of her braids, proudly crawling back onto the futon to lean over you, kissing you with all the familiar sweetness she encompasses.

“Pretty plum, how do you feel?” She’s whispering, but your heart soars as she checks in on you, looking for any signs of distress. You were nervous, but as she touches you, caressing you with familiar hands, Obanai watches. How could he not? He wants to both step away and let you both continue all night and squeeze himself between.

It’s his birthday today though. Clearly he wasn’t going to be on the sidelines.

“Come here,” Mitsuri encourages, bringing him in for a similar kiss, and grabbing his hand to trail up her body. You watch hungrily, as Mitsuri shivers and smiles while Obanai palms her heavy chest. Mitsuri showing him exactly what she likes as she kisses his face and up to his ear, whispering something likely wicked as he moans and drops his head.

Her hand wrapped around his cock, moving her hand over the pretty swollen tip, reddened and leaking as she pumps it. “Mitsuri,” he gasps, back hunching a bit as she coos. “Obanai is so pretty too, isn’t he plum? He still needs to reward you~” he hissed as she jerks him a bit tighter, the pain and pleasure waring now.

“So pretty,” you affirmed, transfixed by the image of Obanai looking so overwhelmed. It’s usually you in that position. It felt oddly nice to see it in reverse. His eyes snap to you, and it’s like the image from a moment ago was a lie as he smiles wickedly, his hand moving to cup your pussy as you jolt in surprise.

“I do need to reward her, don’t I plum?” The condescending tone he adopts when using the nickname Mitsuri gave you is devious. You don’t hate it though, not as Mitsuri releases him in favor of tormenting you now.

He drops to his chest, yanking your legs apart as Mitsuri leans over you to capture a nipple in her mouth.

“W-wait—!” Your head falls as your back arches, a warm wet tongue licking straight up your pussy as another swirls around your nipple and sucks.

You’re helpless to the pleasure and attention, drowning even. Obanai isn’t experienced, but he’s eager and observant to every twitch and moan you release. He can’t help it, licking up your dripping arousal and lavishing your clit with his tongue, moaning at your taste and his painfully hard cock. He hums in appreciation as you gasp, one finger now working you open as he licks and swirls around your hardened clit. “Obanai~” his name on your lips is a gift in itself, but he’d never tell you. Instead he slips another finger in, eyeing you from below as he sucks on your clit and works your tight cunt open with firm consistent stokes inside of you.

“Mm, look at you plum, are you feeling good?” You nod weakly, moaning as Mitsuri sucks a few marks onto your skin.

“Please, Mitsu, you too,” you jolted in pleasure as Obanai blows cool air on your pussy. Mitsuri smiles, giving you a quick kiss before shifting and swinging a leg over your face.

Obanai can only moan as he watches Mitsuri settle her own dripping cunt over your face, your lips parting to lick at her.

He’s nothing if not observant.

Your tongue swirls around her clit, as she rocks and grinds down against you, and you find Obanai copying the exact way you eat Mitsuri. When you suck her clit, he sucks yours, and when you lick and let Mitsuri ride your face, he nearly smothers himself in you.

You lose it, your end coming quickly as you hold Mitsuri’s hips as she rides and bucks against your face, her moans long and sensual. “So good sugar plum, your mouth feels so good~ how is it? Is Obanai just eating your pussy so good?” You can’t even pull away to tell them you’re coming. Only able to weakly tap Obanai’s shoulder, but with his head between your legs, he’s hardly paying attention.

You cum, body shaking and locking up as your eyes roll back and the knot in your stomach snaps.

“Oh fuck,” he pulls away for a second to breathe, realizing your convulsing is your orgasm, and watching as you twist and moan into Mitsuri’s pussy. Your cunt soaking the futon beneath you as you try to scoot away from all the pleasure.

Mitsuri sits up, twisting around and settling again over you face, so she could face Obanai properly now.

“What’s wrong dear? Aren’t you going to fuck her pussy too?” He’s stunned by Mitsuri’s erotic display, pinching her breasts as she rides your face, moaning as you lick and suck greedily.

He more gentle spreading your legs wider, slotting himself in between to line his cock up with your tight entrance. He’d never admit to being nervous, but his eyes speak louder than words as they look to Mitsuri.

“Here, let me help~” she leans forward, bringing Obanai forward too with an arm around his neck while her other hand grips his cock and lined him up to your entrance again. “Now push,” she whispers, kissing his lips with so much love and encouragement, he melts. His tip breaches you, and your gasp and moan beneath Mitsuri encourages him further as he slowly lets himself sink inside.

“Ngh, shit, how are you so tight?” He’s panting when his hips finally touch your ass. His question rhetorical, as he slowly slides out, choking in pleasure as your gooey walls cling to his cock and try to deny him exit.

He sets a slow and somewhat experimental pace, grunting as you clamp down when Mitsuri teasingly twists a nipple. “So cute plum, doing so good, hah, taking his cock.” She’s close, and you can tell by how her powerful thighs lock up around your head, her weight becoming more evident as she fully relaxes. You can only grip her thighs and encourage her to let more weight rest on you. Too overwhelmed by the thick stretch and slight burn of Obanai’s cock piercing you.

It hurt but it felt good too. Especially when someone thumbs at your clit softly, rubbing and rolling it as you buck and moan back.

It’s not fast, as Mitsuri rocks her hips and Obanai thrusts into you, but the slowly building orgasm is enough to leave you light headed and struggling for sanity.

“Oh, plum I’m going to cum, hn~!” Her head thrown back and breasts bouncing, Mitsuri’s slick soaks your face as you lick and drink her down. Her skin reddened and sweaty by the passion building.

“I need to cum too,” Obanai’s moans becoming louder, his thrusts more sloppy and forceful as you get wetter and more vocal. Mitsuri comes down from her high before moving off of you, kissing Obanai before laying down beside you both to toy with your chest and kiss you. Obanai opts to grip your hips tight as he fucks you, the loud wet squelching of your pussy sucking him in driving him further as he groans. His tip repeatedly slamming into the spongey section of your cunt and driving you wild as you claw at his arms.

“s’too much! n-no m’gonna cum please, please let me, hii!” You squeal as tears falls, coming apart as Obanai meanly pinches your clit and throws you over the edge.

“Cum then, ah, fuck, m-me too!” His sweat drips down his nose and onto your chest as he watches your face, committing it to memory as your face twists in pleasure. Your cunt impossibly tight as it grips him as he finishes, pulling out just before his hot cum comes rushing.

He covers your chest and face shamelessly.

Mitsuri chuckles when a few drops hit her too, even thumbing a bit to slip into her mouth for Obanai to watch.

“Obanai, you taste sweet!”

He drops beside you, sandwiching you between him and Mitsuri. Like Mitsuri had done, he thumbs up a thick collection of his cum to press against your lips and force you to taste him. “Cute…” he mutters softly, looking more relaxed and sleepy.

You don’t fight it, sucking the appendage as moaning as you realize he really is a bit sweet, followed by somewhat salty and mildly bitter. You lazily suck his finger until he grows bored and pulls it free, wiping the saliva on your cheek and snickering when you whine.

“Happy birthday~ don’t fall asleep yet, I want to ride you next!” It’s your turn to snicker, watching the way his eyes go wide with a hint of worry and sleepiness.

He’d soon find out Mitsuri’s appetite is insatiable. You relaxed, happy to watch him get overwhelmed for now.

“Happy birthday Obanai,” you smile at him, loving how his face reddens further but he smiles back.

“Senjuro-kun!” Mitsuri was running towards the young boy sweeping the front porch, his eyes widening as he takes in the Hashira.

“Kanroji-sama, good afternoon,” he vows politely, smiling at the good natured slayer.

“What brings you here?” He asks curiously, eyeing what appeared to be a bento in her hands.

“I brought you lunch as a thank you! You really are a natural match maker you know?! It’s like love just flows so freely through you!” Her gushing attracts the attention of his older brother, who begins to open his mouth and greet his friend before he realizes what she’s gushing about.

He waits patiently until Mitsuri takes her leave, bento in his hands as he feels the looming presence of his older brother.

“Ah… I swear this time I didn’t mean to.”

“This time?”

“…” Kyojuro would need to speak with the women in their neighborhood, their gossip seemingly no good for a young boy’s ears.

[werepuppy-steve]

the og post is buried somewhere, but going off of my "rockstar eddie and his husband steve run an onlyfans" post (ik @wormdebut was interested in it):

a twitter account appears, and it’s obvious that it's a burner. on the day of its creation, there's a single tweet with the link to an onlyfans video.

it's a pov, the camera pointed to a head of messy curls between someone's legs as they lick and make pleased hums into someone's cunt. the room is dark but tinted blue from the led lights that line the ceiling.

the poster lets out a soft moan as their partner does something with their tongue to make them roll their hips up.

familiar dark eyes open and look straight at the camera, lips latching onto their cunt and sucking.

a loud moan rings out, "eddie-"

and then suddenly eddie munson, lead guitarist for corroded coffin, is giving the camera a smug grin, his lips swollen and shiny.

"that feel good, baby?" he asks, spreading his partner's lips open with his fingers and flicking his tongue against their swollen clit.

their moans and whines also sound familiar. "so good, daddy," they say, their left hand coming into view to brush through eddie's hair.

the plain black band on their ring finger clocks him as steve munson, husband to eddie munson. whose moans are featured in the background of many of corroded coffin's more explicit songs.

eddie hums again, gently tonguing at steve's hole and making him mewl.

"you're wetter than usual, sweetheart," eddie comments, kissing the insides of steve's thighs. he looks at something past the camera, presumably at steve himself. "you excited to show off for everyone?"

steve must nod, because eddie sits up and takes the camera from him. he keeps steve's face out of frame, but the chest hair and moles dotting his body speak for themselves.

he points the camera between steve's legs. "look at that," eddie whispers, his voice gravelly. he gently runs his fingers over the swollen lips, his middle finger sliding between them. "fucking gorgeous down here, stevie, you know that?" eddie spreads his lips to show his hole before sliding his middle finger inside.

"daddy," steves sighs, gripping the inside of his thigh with one hand.

"so tight and wet and pretty–" eddie slides in his index finer and slowly thrusts them. "whose pussy is this, baby?"

he crooks his fingers and steve's hips jump. "s'your pussy, daddy."

eddie adds his ring finger next, spreading them a little. "that's right, angel. and who gets to fuck this pussy?"

steve whines louder and reaches down to spread himself open, his cunt pulsing around eddie's fingers. "daddy gets to fuck it," he answers. "only daddy."

"good job, princess," eddie praises. "and who gets to make this pussy come?" he presses his fingers deeper and curls them against steve's g-spot. he's rough with it, his wrist shaking and steve's cries getting louder over the slick sound of his pussy.

"daddy!" steve's back arches and the camera jerks with the movement.

steve's face comes into view for a solid three seconds, his head tossing and turning and his face scrunched up in pleasure as his husband aims to make him squirt for millions of people. "daddy makes my pussy come!"

and just like that, corroded coffin fans eighteen years or older watch steve munson come with a keening whine as he's fingered through his orgasm, gushing all over eddie's hand and soaking the bedsheets below.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Carmy is a grumpy dom with repressed energy all of season 3 compilation.

[mayasdeluca]

[greensaplinggrace]

honestly, maybe i'd like 'x reader' fics more if they weren't all sub!reader focused with more daddy kink than personality and as many projected issues flattening the central character into something truly ooc as i'd get with a character-bashing salt fic

[stopthatfool]

every time someone on twitter calls buck buckley a dom/brat tamer 10 angels fall from heaven with their grace completely stripped and 10 puppies die

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Pussy Steve in a leg spreader is all I can think abouttt... Unable to escape any of the touch and he's sooo sensitive guh

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Ngl, since you sent this in in fucking August, oh god, this is all I've been able to think about.

I just... yeah. It's been on my mind. There's something about spreader bars that I fucking dying for and putting pussy Steve in one? Why didn't I think of that earlier!?

Since Bucky and Steve stumbled into the discovery of how fucking good messing around could feel when they were horny, clumsy teenagers all awkward and lanky limbs, Steve has sworn that the thing Bucky likes most is, just, punking Steve. Fucking with him.

It started legitimate, at least. His thing.

His kink, maybe.

Back then, when Steve was all too close to stumbling and falling through death's door from his precarious place curled up on its stoep like some abandoned orphan, it was for his own good. He didn't want to admit it, not even fucking close, and Bucky didn't demand that he did, but he kept it in mind regardless. He kept Steve still yet aroused, enough to keep him hard (or most of the way there) but not enough to send his heart into a frenzy of the wrong kind. That, usually, ment working him up nice and slow. But, somewhere along the way, between life and body altering transformations and devastating plunges into death and through it, the habit stuck. Maybe they just never had time to learn any other way, though.

Now, still, Bucky fucks with him by winding him up nice and slow. Consistent and sensual, as if waiting for his body to work itself up through its slow circulation and anemia and everything else going against him. He likes to watch the color wash into Steve's pale skin; he likes to feel how he burns hotter with rising arousal; he likes to hear the stuble pick-up of Steve's breath, getting more shallow and hitched; he likes to know that he's making Steve feel good, good enough to be a tugging, distracting current that's not breaking right now, not yet, but it will be, it will build and build and get to the point where, eventually, Steve just can't stand it and he'll shatter. But. By the time that he's breaking, he'll have been so fucking worked up that he doesn't see it coming. Sometimes, that means cumming without a sound, mouth hanging open, nothing but a silent exhale of agony, or, sometimes, that means cumming with a shocked, unrealized wailing-moan as he flails over the edge whether he wants to or not. He's been boiled alive, the water growing hotter so incrementally that he didn't even know.

It's that moment that Bucky chases: the break.

The moment of the break. But, still, getting Steve--a stubborn little spitfire--to break isn't half as fun without a crazy-long, agonizing wind-up. It adds to the break. The anticipation makes it better. Worse, to Steve.

Today, the slow, consistent, easy wind-up wasn't as, uh, private as usual, though. Steve wasn't laid out on the couch in their apartment, held in Bucky's lap, back-to-chest, with Bucky's fingers finding their way up his tight, tight shirt to trace over his skin, the valleys and hills of his muscle definition. Bucky just 'innocently' touching until he's not, circling and plucking and playing with his sensitive nipples until Steve's panting and has lost all sense of time. When did this even start? What time is it now? Will this ever end? Steve wasn't in their shower on a slow, lethargic evening--nothing done all day but lay around, alone together--Bucky sliding in behind him to wash his body and tease him until he's plenty fucking wet to let Bucky in by the time he reaches between his legs, sliding his thighs apart with relaxed, unhurried hands. Fingering him with no rush. Not even stretching him out on more than two fingers. The two of them enveloped in nothing but pouring sheets of water and hot steam. If the mirror could, it'd be blushing, watching Steve get pressed tight against the glass shower stall wall, his face and tits smushed, displayed, all pale pink and desperate. Steve wasn't in bed, either, under orders to not move an inch, or Bucky would stop. Still, still, still--not tense but torturously relaxed--as Bucky skirts the line between massaging him and tickling him, waiting for him to be 'ready...' Whatever that means. Steve's past ready. Hot and wet and puffy between his legs. One touch there, and he could come apart. If only Bucky would. But, no, none of that. Steve wasn't alone.

They weren't alone.

Well, at one point they were, now, when it really fucking starts, they aren't alone.

Winding-up, tighter and tighter and tighter, Steve is trying not to fucking lose his mind in the middle of a goddamn meeting. He's fucking surrounded. All sides. Right. Left. Behind him. Infront of him. Some people are in their supersuits and other agents in low-key, blacked-out S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms.

It's a storm of faceless, nameless shapes that are hardly even people to Steve right now. Whatever the hell this meeting is about (debrief? It's got to be a debrief, right? Bucky wouldn't endanger him or other innocent people by preventing him from taking in intell, right?), Steve isn't registering a lick of it. Instead, he's focused solely around the buzzing, aching, nearly-silent bullet vibrator in his boxer briefs. They're just fucking tight enough to keep it in place, nevermind how Bucky just so effortless slipped it into the pocket at the front of his drawers like it was meant to be there--as if there was no way in hell that Steve would go without it, of course, not.

Steve and Bucky's ears are the only ones that can pick up the subtle earthquake plundering Steve, crumbling his earth, inch by inch as that fucking tiny ass vibrator pulses, buzzes, and rumbles tightly against his swollen clit, soaking the dry-fit material of his boxers.

Oh, god.

All the fucking hours--it feels like hours--they've been sitting here Steve's had to keep himself from squirming or whining or doing anything that'd tip off anyone to the toy going at him. Whatever Bucky's doing to control it or whatever pre-set he's put it to, the pulsing vibrations are perfectly balanced to keep Steve balanced on the razor edge of agony. It's not enough to make him cum. It's too much to not be desperately arousing. And it's not consistent enough to be ignorable. He's still fucking sensitive to it, even after all the dragging, droning conversation.

Trying to keep himself together has resulted in the flush that he knows is painted across his cheeks, sitting high like a sunset just starting, not yet kissing the horizon line. But, more, the way he's sweating like a dog. He can feel the rivers of it pouring down his back, pooling underneath his arms, the dimples of his back, and down his asscrack to the insides of his thighs where he's urgently pressing them together. He isn't sure if he's making it better or worse for himself, pressing his legs together. On one hand, it makes him less fervently paranoid that someone else can hear his little vibrator where its rawing him, making him crazy, but on the other hand, clenched tight in his fist, it's making the vibrations spread through him so much easier. A rock thrown into a pond with the ripples emanating out, lapping at the shore. Steve's nerves are the taut surface of the water, every single vibration a pebble that builds into not little ripples but huge waves that lap and erode at his edges, making him think he's about to cum in his chair, hardly resisting from grinding into his seat, bucking his hips and letting his eyes roll back, his lip coming out from between his teeth to moan more like a roar, finally fucking released from his ongoing torture and devastated by how it eats at him. All that pleasure. Too much.

Right when Steve's about to fucking tap out, thunk his head on the table and shoot his hand down between his clenching thighs to ride his own hand to completion--shoving the vibrator tighter against his wet, wet, wet, and swollen, tortured, clit--as he moans. Fuck all the people in the room, they all have to sign so many NDAs to work for an agency like this, what's another one for, oh, yeah, that time that Captian America orgasmed out of nowhere in the middle of a meeting. Right then, Bucky's metal hand lands heavy on his upper arm, digging his fingers into his bicep through his suit and dragging him to his feet.

Steve feels like a mess.

Steve is a mess.

He can't believe no one else knows what's happening. He's hardly lucid enough to grunt out a 'yes' or bob his head or to anything to make it seem like he's on the same fucking planet as all the people around him. It's just enough, though. Just enough. Not, not enough--

If Steve was sure everyone knew what was happening when he was using all of his self-control to not hump the chair he was sitting in, then he absolutely fucking knows that everyone is immediately crystal clear about what's going on when Bucky hauls him out of that boardroom. Bucky is dragging him away, steadying him on his shaking feet, to fuck him into next Sunday. They know.

Bucky is dragging him off to fuck him.

Pre-emptive relief crashes over Steve like a wave at the realization and he pays fuck all attention to the sights and sounds around him. All he knows is that one minute they're in the meeting, it's dismissed, and the next minute, Bucky has cornered him in the elevator, and they're moving. They're alone. Steve doesn't just melt against the hot, solid line of Bucky's leather-clad body, he disintegrates.

His knees go weak, and his hands curl into clinging, pawing clumsy things that won't work. His face buries itself in his chest--between his pecs, if they were naked like they ought to be--and groans with all the breath in his chest, punched out.

Indulgently, Bucky holds him there like that for a moment, scruffing him around the back of his neck like he's a shaky, anxious kitten. Steve might as well be the way he mewls when Bucky brings up one of those fucking killer thighs to grind against his pussy.

Steve mewls.

The thick, solid muscle of Bucky's thigh forces him to confront, right fucking here in this work elevator, just how wet he is. He's wet. Soaked. Vibrating hard. He's been dripping the entire time they were in that stupid meeting, messing up his boxer briefs and probably even the inside of his suit--it's gonna be a bitch to clean. It's gonna smell like sex forever.

Steve isn't thinking about cleaning.

Steve is, oh, oh--

Bucky has him right fucking there, about to fucking cum, he's so close, he can feel the heated, tangled knot of pleasure pulling taut low in his belly, about to fucking fray apart. Pulled apart. It's in the back of his throat. He can feel it in his teeth, creeping into the muscle of his jaw, he's half-clenching his jaw and half letting it hang open. He doesn't know what his face is doing; it's probably fucked-out and dumb. But--

"Ah, ah, ah," Bucky tuts at him, pulling his thigh away and pulling him up by the nape of his neck.

Steve doesn't give a second thought about the pathetic, sharp whine he gives at having his orgasm disparagingly denied. Ruined? Whatever the fuck happened that's left his whole fucking body quivering and raw. He was so goddamn close!

So, so fucking close that that's the only thing he can hold onto. And even that, as Bucky pulls him out of the elevator--out out the building through a dizzying revolving door, pushes him onto the back of his motorcycle, heaves his arms around him, and drives them home--slips through his fingers like sand. Steve isn't holding onto anything. His arms are physically around Bucky's stocky waist as they ride, holding on, but he's not emotionally holding on to fucking anything. His brain is dripping out of his ears. Hours of vibration, his thighs clenched together, trying to keep it together. Now, his thighs are split wide around the heaving, breathing, rumbling body of Bucky's bike. It's a fucking animal.

Bucky drives like an animal. Feral and reckless as New York blurs messily past them. And Steve just nuzzles in tight, moaning recklessly and unashamedly into Bucky's ear from over his shoulder.

He's beyond desperate.

The blurred, smeared paint effect of the world around him gets worse when they're off the bike. Closer to home, Steve feels more of that pre-emptive relief surge through him more. He can't put himself back together, first shaken apart in that meeting and then blended up by the motorcycle ride. Too much. Not enough. Steve needs more.

Steve knew he was wet, but he didn't realize just how wet he fucking got until Bucky grabs him and twists him around, hauling him over his shoulder, smacking his ass and keeping a heavy, possessive hand there while he walks Steve's quivering body deeper into their home just to pin him down against their mattress all handsy and strong. Steve can't fucking fight. He just lays there, teeth chattering. He's vibrating so much himself he doesn't know if the bullet vibe is still on or not. He doesn't need it. He just. More. He needs more.

Steve needs more, thrown in through their slammed-open front door and stumbling in, unsteady and breakable as a fawn. Fuck it. He's not breakable, he's already broken. Broken open and spilling molten hot--pouring out his lust.

He's so fucking on edge anything could set him off. Anything will set him off. Just. Please.

Steve can hardly fucking hear Bucky over the blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding like mad. But he's saying something, asking something with that damn gorgeous Chesire cat grin, all predatory and sharp, "you gonna show me how fucking wet I make you, baby?"

"Wrong answer, honey," his salacious grin widens dangerously the higher he gets off teasing him.

Steve can't think.

He can't hear.

He can't move.

Yet, he must shake his head, trying to clear his mind, figure out what the fuck is happening, what to do, because Bucky responds to him like he's answered. Like he can do anything. As if Bucky hasn't turned him into a useless pile of wet, desperate need.

And while Steve can't move, so overwhelmed with his lust, Bucky has no such issues. He's crawling off the bed where he has Steve fucked up and pinned to grab, grab--

There's no time to really process what the fuck that is, what it's doing to him, and how it feels on him when suddenly, like a switch flipped, Steve's cunt is hot and wet and kept clenched between his tensed thighs then Steve's cunt is cold and drenched and exposed to open air.

Steve's vision is so hazy and blurred he doesn't even know what it is and he doesn't think it matters anyway because Bucky isn't using it, rather he's running his hands fervently all over Steve's quivering body to strip him of his uniform. The distraction doesn't last long, though, as ruined and desperate as Steve is, Bucky is the same. Their desire intrinsically intertwined. Twinned and deepened. Made that much more perilous together. Once he's stripped to nothing but his sweat and blush, Bucky uses that thing he grabbed.

It's a spreader bar. The thing. It's a long bar, reinforced, and forcing Steve's legs wide, wide apart.

Bucky peels Steve's legs apart with a grunt and obscene show of strength, his flesh arm fucking flexing and his metal arm revving--recalibrating in a way that Steve could drool over all fucking day--and makes Steve too fucking aware of how stupidly turned on he is. He's wet. He's swollen. He's raw. He's quivering in phantom vibrations. He's so fucking aware of how exposed he is.

Exposed.

He can't keep his legs together. Bucky is just--

Bucky has him.

Bucky is pawing at his wet pussy like the big bad man he is. Fucking him up like he's the wolf and Steve is innocently lost in the wood. Steve should be afraid of his claws, but he isn't. He really isn't. He wants claws. He wants teeth. He wants.

His pussy is so hot and slick compared to the rest of the air in their bedroom. It's mortifying. Could he be wetter? No. He couldn't get any fucking more turned on without just dying. He might die here. Steve wails and jerks but doesn't get anywhere. He can't. He's spread.

Oh.

Oh, god.

Unceremoniously then, exposed and spread, Bucky shoves his face up there, licking his wet slit hotly, and Steve squeals.

What is he going to do to him? Steve could sob. Steve is sobbing. What isn't he going to do to him? He just wants to cum! Bucky doesn't have to kill him. He can just let him cum! He doesn't have to murder him!! Just let him cum!

Pleeease.