Ghost is so fucking done with hearing soap go on about the joys of a good prostate massage. Not because he thinks it's bad, but because he's jealous.
Of course, you notice the way ghost huffs and rolls his eyes, the same way he does when kyle walks shows up for breakfast at the same time as price. Jealous. So, being the best friend of soap and consequently lacking the same filter, you ask "what's wrong, ghost? You can't seem to do it yourself? Never tried it?"
Ghost shocks you be frowning, tucking his head down at what is obviously an annoyance to him and grunting "i don't like all...that. takin' it up the ass just ain't for me, never works out. Fuckin' hell a prostate message sounds amazing, though."
"...you ever tried sounding?"
"Wot?"
...which is how ghost ends up in your bed, face pressed into soaps thigh to hide his face, wet with overwhelmed tears. Ghost had taken one look at the metals rods of various sizes and textures, and from the sound be made alone you knew he was down.
"Fuck! Fuck– no, no, don't stop– please–" it doesn't mean he was prepared, though. The rod you chose is on the smaller side, with barely detectable ridges that you're sure feel giant to ghost.
He presses his face more firmly into soaps thigh, sobbing. Soap just chuckles, pets ghost head "Aye, yer doing better than me, simon. Had to tap out before the first minute, and you're on yer tenth!"
"Doing good, simon! Good boooyy, yes!" Cum leaks out around the edges, and theres a solid pool on ghosts tummy from where you pulled the rod out to let him cum properly before sticking it back in. Massaging over his prostate with the tip of it gently.
You go for a few more minutes before deciding ghost needs a break, probably dehydrated with a headache from all the crying. If he had it his way, he would keep going, but you promise to do it again later.
He asks what the biggest size soap has taken, the asks for help getting to the size above it. Bastard.
Ghost was trembling heavily, chest heaving. You held him against your chest, his head resting in the crook of your neck. He let out a soft whine.
You had rubber gloves on your hands. They were soaked with lube. You gently rubbed the tip of the sound over Ghost's slit. Poor thing, Ghost already looked all out of it.
Soap sat in a chair a few feet away, watching the show you were putting on for him.
You carefully pressed the tip of the sound into his slit, listening to his high-pitched squeal. Your free hand swept over Ghost's hair to soothe him. Ghost slumped against you, whimpering softly.
"He already looks so fucked out and ye've barely got any of the sound in 'im yet." Soap comments, watching Ghost twitch and whine.
You smirk at Soap, "He always gets like this when I sound him."
You press the sound deeper. Ghost whines, his hips twitching upward. You press a soft kiss to his forehead. You press the sound down to the hilt.
Ghost lets out a pathetic noise. His cock is twitching repeatedly, his tip nearly purple.
"Christ, look at his cock..." Soap groans, jerking his cock to Ghost's whines.
You slowly thrust the sound in and out of Ghost's cock. Ghost repeatedly whines and shivers, trembling in your hold.
"You want to cum, baby?" You ask Ghost, moving the sound at a steady pace. Ghost nods desperately, whining your name softly.
You kept the sound in as you jerked Ghost off. He whined desperately, begging you to take the sound out. "Please, please, please, I wanna cum, please..."
You just sighed, kissing Ghost's temple. You carefully removed the sound. Ghost whines in relief, panting heavily. His cock dribbles precum heavily.
You jerk Ghost off quickly and roughly. Ghost bucks up desperately into your hand, begging to be allowed to cum. You decide to let him cum. You rub his tip with one hand and work his shaft with the other.
Soap laughs at the fucked out expression on Ghost's face. Soap jerks himself off calmly, like he was just watching some porn video he found online.
Ghost bucks up into your hand, spilling his cum all over you. Fucking pathetic how quick he cums.
sum. trying sounding with sukuna for the first time
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ cw. sounding, oral (m receiving), bondage, slightly dom reader maybe, dirtytalking (use of the word pisshole once this is your warning)
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ an. the smut always HAS to be a little gross....
Like many things, it had started out as a joke—the two of you laughing at some random insane kink.
Then one night, curled next to him you searched up porn—out of curiosity you claimed.
Dozens of thumbnails of meta rods stuffed inside penises popped up… and by now your curiosity had infected him too.
The first reaction from both of you was expected—visceral, averse.
But you started watching porn of it more and more, until finally you admitted… you did find it kind of hot.
This was your effect on him; because soon after, his own cock started stiffening while watching those videos.
The idea had settled in his head thanks to you until he finally confessed he was intrigued by the idea enough to try it.
"Intrigued" was putting it lightly—for days before that confession he was consistently jerking off to the thought of you sticking something up his dick.
And now he's ended up here—seated on a chair completely naked, hands bound behind him, ankles tied to the chairlegs, burly thighs spread.
He's a bit quieter than usual as he watches you pick up one of the flexible, long metal rods... with what seems to be a handle with buttons attached to the end.
"They're all sterilized—and the lube is too, so you won't have to worry about a UTI," you reassure him. "Also this is the thinnest I could find with a vibrator attached."
"…A vibrator?" he repeats hoarsely.
"Mhm, it's supposed to feel really good… but I'll only turn it on when you're ready."
He swallows. "Alright."
Yes, he did want to try this, but anyone would be daunted by the idea of having something up their urethra for the first time—not to mention the whole set up looks like he's about to be tortured.
"I also got the one that's a bit ribbed so you can really feel it going in," you inform him, snapping open the bottle of lube to dispense some of the clear substance. "Because if you're gonna do this, might as well do it right."
"Right…"
Sukuna would have gladly settled for half-measures for his first time, but he's already here.
Tied up because you told him that if he moved it would really mess things up—and with a bit more probing he got you to shyly admit you kind of really found the idea of him being restrained hot.
The latter was the reason that convinced him—even if it made this whole thing even more intimidating.
Finished coating the sound with as much lube as you can, you inch forward on your knees till you're between his legs.
Your eyes flick up to him. "You ready? If you're not, that's o—"
"Do it," he cuts in quickly. Before adding, softer, "I trust you."
You don't say anything, but offer a small nod.
Looking down, you hold his flaccid cock from where it lays against one of his thigh tattoos.
"Tell me if anything hurts."
Sukuna nods. He's maybe never felt as vulnerable as right now, watching keenly as you bring the small tip to his slit.
The first thing he feels is a pressure.
A cold pressure.
He bites in a hiss as it pushes into the hole.
Once its just barely in, you pause to peer up at him. "Is it okay?"
"Yeah, just feels a little… weird."
Weird is an understatement.
As you focus again, you slowly let the rod slip in—not even requiring much pushing on your end; the toy seems to just… slide down the canal.
"Look, you're taking it so well," you murmur.
He is looking—at the metal rod spearing the tip of his dick—and honestly, the sight is so wrong that somehow it starts to send blood flowing down to his cock, slowly filling up the soft tissues.
You work carefully. With a precision that he's not sure anyone else would ever bother to offer him.
Carefully sliding the rod further in, adding extra lube to the length that has yet to go in, intermittently flicking your gaze up to check on him.
"What's it feel like?" you ask when you're about three-fourths of the way down his shaft. You can feel the toy through the flesh under your fingers.
Sukuna's gritting his jaw without even realizing, chest rising and falling in deepening breaths.
He swallows. "Like something being put where it isn't supposed to be."
He lets out a shaky breath.
"And it feels good… in a weird way. I don't even know how it feels good."
With every ridged edge dragging gently against the walls of his urethra, an almost overstimulating sort of pleasure sparks from around his tip.
"Where does it feel best?" you whisper. And before he can answer, you brush a finger around the ridge of his glans. "Here?"
Sukuna jolts. His swelling cock feels much more sensitive than usual.
"Yes, fuck— right there."
You hum. The rod slips deeper.
"And what does it feel like," your fingers drop to skim around the base of his shaft, "down here?"
"Just… pressure. A dull, deep pressure."
"You feel full?"
He nods.
The sound has nearly reached the base. You watch his muscles flexing and tensing under tanned skin, entire body wound tight.
"Should be almost there," you murmur.
"Almost… where?"
You peer up at him curiously. "Oh, you don't know?"
Sukuna doesn't know if he should be worried, but he's definitely getting there. "Know what?"
"You can reach the inside of the prostrate through here."
Admittedly, this is new information to him.
"…How do I know when you've reached it?"
You laugh lightly. "Oh, you'll know."
Just a little deeper—then the toy hits the slightest resistance.
Sukuna's inhale splinters into something jerky and sharp—he almost chokes on his breath.
"Think I found it," you tease with a small grin. "…This is where the real fun begins."
You move the rod a little and his brows scrunch, mouth falling open. "Oh—shit—"
He's not sure what kind of pleasure this is—just something deep and intense and untouched.
"Want me to turn on the vibrator?"
"Yes," he says a little too quickly.
You click the button—and the noise he makes almost sounds like he's in pain.
Sukuna's at a loss of words—the sensation is so overwhelming that the pleasure borders on painful.
You watch him slowly lose every last ounce of control as you bend your head and stick your tongue out to lick a long, wet stripe up his veined length and around the edge of his swelling tip.
A full body shudder runs through him as he pants.
"Fuckfuck, that's—hah—"
You do it again, peeking up at him—and he catches that glint of something a bit darker in your eyes.
Placing sloppy kisses around his flushed cock, you move the vibrating rod back and forth slightly as your voice drops lowering, dripping with something filthy.
"You like this? You like it when I stuff your pisshole?"
For some reason, his cheeks are warm, wrists straining against the restraints.
"Answer."
"Y-yes, I do," he manages.
"Mmh, look how pretty your cock looks like this."
His thighs are trembling—and when you slowly start fucking the rod in and out of him he whimpers.
Actually whimpers—a high, pathetic little noise.
"If only people knew how much you love getting violated by me," you whisper.
He goes rigid—
Then his orgasm crashes into him like a truck—abruptly and intensely.
With the rod vibrating deep inside him and your tongue lapping around where it's inserted, he cums harder than ever before—though ironically, the load of semen has nowhere to go.
It builds and when his orgasm finishes with one last contraction around the toy sheathed inside, you lift your head away to look at him as you click the vibrations off.
And slowly you begin to slide it out, centimeter by centimeter from his softening covk,
Every once in a while he'll shiver from the friction inside.
The metal comes out partially coated in cum—the rest of the milky fluid leaks from his slit.
Except the semen is just barely tinged pink.
"You're bleeding a bit," you tell him, lifting the wound to your mouth to lick it clean. "Probably just a mild abrasion. Completely normal, especially your first time."
Sukuna's still recovering, trying to process whatever just happened, so he just dips his chin in acknowledgement.
"It's also normal if it feels like you're passing razor blades whenever you pee for about the next day or so."
That makes mild alarm cross his face, but you keep going.
"But it'll be easier next time and after that, all pain should completely go away."
"...Next time?"
You look at him like he's said something strange.
"I ordered a whole set of sounds, so you can work up to the biggest one."
Nikolai with amab! reader in his lap, handing running up and down their cock, while he grinds into them all so softly. Keeping his eyes on their face, seeing that glassiness of their eyes, the way their lips were parted, that made him lean in and slide his tongue into their mouth.
Swallowing their noises as his tongue ran over their teeth, their tongue, their cheeks, before he pulled away and finally grabbed that small silver bar.
"Be still for me." Nikolai coo'd as he lubed the bar before he pressed it to their slit. Be careful as he slides the rod into their cock, once it's inserted fully, he leaves it alone for a moment, going back to storking reader's cock. "There we go. Good job, being so good for me."
Reader who's arched into Nikolai, and can't think properly the pleasure of being stretched around Nik's cock, the sounding rod, and the stroke of Nikolai's hand only had their brain fuzzier and foggier as they slowly rocked their hips against Nikolai's.
Nikolai who keeps reader in a blissful subspace for a while just enjoying the shared pleasure, intimacy, and peace.
—summary. They arrived at the inn but there’s only one room and too much time. Y/N for sure wouldn’t mind if Tobi messes with some more Or Obito and (Y/N) have a fun night while being alone
—content warning. Sounding, somewhat dubcon
—word count. ~ 2,55k
—azia's notes. Guys please tell me if I forgot to add a warning and if y’all continued read just a warning k?
𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯-𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱
The two of you, Tobi and (Y/N), sat in a small inn along the outskirts of a quiet village, far from the chaos of your current mission. The night air was cool, and the soft glow from the single lantern hanging in the room cast shadows on the wooden walls. You were tired after a long day of travelling, but Tobi, as always, seemed to have boundless energy. You could feel his gaze on you, even from behind that ridiculous mask.
“Tobi is a good boy!” he chirped, bouncing onto the bed next to you, completely disregarding your need for personal space. His voice was loud and high-pitched, instantly shattering any hopes of peace for the evening.
You groaned, leaning back against the headboard. “Tobi, can you give me a break? We’ve been running around all day, and I just want to rest for a bit.”
But, of course, Tobi wasn’t having it. He scooted closer, practically glued to your side, and leaned in until his masked face was inches from yours. “But (Y/N)-senpai, Tobi wants to make sure you’re having fun! Isn’t it better to relax with some company?”
You blinked, immediately suspicious of his behaviour. Sure, Tobi was always weird, but lately, his antics have been… different. He seemed to invade your personal space more than usual, always finding excuses to be close. And the mask — the way he always gave you little peeks from behind it, almost as if he was trying to see your reaction.
He leaned closer again, and though you couldn’t see his face through the mask, you could feel his eyes on you. “Wanna see Tobi’s face? Just a little peek, (Y/N)-senpai?” he teased, his voice light and playful.
You swore you saw him shift the mask slightly, giving you just the tiniest glimpse of his face beneath. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it either. It was like some sort of strange game for him — always pulling you in close, always teasing with that mask of his.
You narrowed your eyes, uncomfortable but also curious. “Tobi, what is it with you and that mask? You’re always showing me little peeks. It’s… weird.”
Tobi tilted his head, giving a mock gasp of surprise. “Weird? Senpai, why would you say that? Tobi just likes being close to you!” He leaned even closer, and you could feel his breath through the small opening in the mask. “Tobi thinks you’re special.”
There it was again — that bizarre, almost too-close interaction. And every time, it sent your mind racing with questions. Was Tobi… flirting with you? Or was it just another one of his insane jokes? You couldn’t tell. He was always so unpredictable.
“Okay, okay, seriously.” You shifted uncomfortably, pushing him away slightly. “You’re acting really… I don’t know, kind of gay? You’re always leaning in close, giving me little peeks. It’s weird.”
Tobi let out a playful laugh, completely unfazed by your comment. “Gay? Silly (Y/N)-senpai! Tobi just wants you to have fun! Isn’t that what friends do?”
You weren’t sure how to respond. Tobi, with his unpredictable nature, was impossible to figure out. Every move he made, every strange comment, left you wondering if he was messing with you or if there was something more going on in that chaotic brain of his.
But then, as if to prove your point, he suddenly leaned in again and pressed his mask softly against your cheek, as close to a kiss as he could manage with that thing on. It lasted only a second before he pulled away, giggling like a child who had just played the most harmless prank.
Your face heated, and you glared at him. “What the hell was that?”
“Tobi is just being affectionate!” he said in a sing-song voice. “It’s how friends show they care, right? Right, (Y/N)-senpai?”
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Maybe it was just Tobi being Tobi, or maybe… you didn’t even want to think about it. “Whatever, just… go to bed.”
Tobi laughed again but finally backed off, hopping into the other side of the bed with a carefree hum. “Good night, (Y/N)-senpai!” he chirped, as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
You rolled your eyes and pulled the blanket over yourself, trying not to dwell too much on how close Tobi had gotten. Just as you were about to drift to the sweet promise of rest, you felt Tobi‘s presence getting closer to you. Nearly caging you between the wall and him.
You tried to ignore the closeness and drifted off.
It was well past midnight when you finally stirred, groggy and half-asleep, only to feel an unexpected warmth pressed against your back. For a moment, you thought it was a dream—until you realised, very quickly, that it was anything but…
Tobi.
Your eyes shot open as the weight of his arm draped lazily across your waist, registered. The soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing was right behind your ear, way too close for comfort. His bare face, mask discarded somewhere in the room, was resting lightly against the back of your neck. He was hugging you or more like spooning you, really.
“Seriously?” you muttered under your breath, the irritation building as you fully woke up.
You shifted slightly, trying to break free from his hold without waking him up, but his grip only tightened in response. His breath hit your skin again, warmer than it had any right to be at this hour.
“Tobi…” you hissed, trying to wriggle out of the awkward position. “What the hell are you doing?”
But there was no answer. Of course there wasn’t. He was fast asleep, and judging by the way his body was pressed so intimately against yours, he didn’t have a care in the world.
A leg of his was positioned between your legs, you realised after trying to wiggle out again and the leg pressed more up, making you grind on it involuntarily. A strange tightness formed in the pit of your stomach.
How had you even ended up in this situation? Sharing a double bed with Tobi of all people. There was only one room left at the inn, and it came with one bed—one damn bed—and of course, he had convinced you that it’d be “fine” and that “Tobi is a good boy!” It was ridiculous, and now here you were, trapped in his ridiculous, clingy embrace.
You sighed, more out of frustration than anything else. His hold on you was surprisingly firm for someone who looked like a child in an adult’s body. His arm wrapped securely around your midsection, keeping you pulled against him like he was some over-affectionate pet. His hair—without the mask in the way—brushed against your neck, tickling you enough to make your skin crawl.
You grumbled under your breath, feeling a mix of annoyance and confusion. Why was he always like this? He invaded your space, poked and teased, and now—he was hugging you like you were some sort of stuffed toy.
“Is this guy serious…?” you muttered to yourself, trying to gently pry his arm off you without waking him.
But, as if sensing your attempt to escape, Tobi shifted in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible and burying his face even deeper against the back of your neck. You could feel his breath tickling your skin, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine.
“This is so gay…” you muttered again, heat rising to your face as you realised how close his lips were to your neck.
Normally, you'd expect this kind of behaviour from him during the day when he was wide awake and playing his usual irritating games, but this? Hugging you from behind, face-to-face contact—without his mask? That was a whole new level of weird.
You groaned, shifting more aggressively now, hoping to wake him up in the process. Anything to get out of this awkward position. “Tobi, seriously, get off me.”
But Tobi, even in his sleep, was relentless. His grip tightened slightly as he shifted his body, now pressing even closer, his grown erection prominent in that position, like he was trying to get into your back. It was maddening.
You could feel your patience thinning with each passing second. The softness of his breathing, the warmth of his body against yours, the fact that he was clinging to you and being apparently turned on by whatever fucked up dream he aparently had, made you feel like some sort of pillow—it was too much.
“Tobi…” you growled, voice low but seething. “Wake up.”
A sleepy mumble escaped his lips as he finally stirred, his body twitching slightly as if he was coming out of a deep dream. "Mmm… Senpai?" he mumbled drowsily, his voice softer and way more deeper than you’d ever heard it, which would have caught you off guard in any normal setting.
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, if you ‘senpai me ’ one time.” You growled when he didn't go completely off.
He finally blinked his eyes open, still half-asleep, and you felt him register what was happening. Slowly, as if the reality of his position hit him, he let go and shifted back, pulling away just enough to give you some breathing room. But his voice still carried that playful, oblivious tone as he chuckled softly.
“Aww, (Y/N)-senpai... Tobi just wanted to stay warm,” he mumbled, not even fully awake yet.
You turned over to face him, which quickly failed with Tobis hand securing your position to not see his face. You resorted to glaring in the dim light of the room.
"Stay warm somewhere else," you grumbled, rubbing your face in exasperation. "You're practically suffocating me."
You rolled your eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, as far away from him as you could humanely get. “Just... stay on your side, Tobi. And if you hug me again, I’m throwing you out the window.”
Tobi had a big smile on his lips and suddenly felt energised. “You sure you don't want some help with that problem from your beloved one and only Tobi?”He whispered behind your ear and grazed your neck slightly. Your reaction made him regret not activating his kamui.
You had flipped him over on the bed and straddled his hips and pinning his hands besides his black locks. That was the first time you saw his face, his pale complexion had you stare at his half scarred face. And his eyes, they were hypnotising you with their depth. They held so much admiration, that it slightly even creeped you out and at the same time appreciated in a twisted sense.
You just stayed like that for a minute, then you felt something grabbing your waist. With a panicked look down you only got a mischiefly grin as an answer.
A dark woody cold thing grabbed and tightened around your waist, going under your shirt.
“Tobi, just be normal for once” you snared slightly, too occupied to notice that Obito had something in his mind all that time and that he wasn’t even really listening right now. His sole focus was on how the moon was illuminating you in such a beautiful hue and how your eyes looked ethereal from that position.
He moved his arms to knock you out of balance and clashing on his half scarred lips. Obito enjoyed the moment, the wood wrapped around you tightens when you tried to pull up from the surprisingly soft kiss.
One branch snaked itself around one peck, letting Tobi feel your ragged heartbeat through the branch.
“Let me fucking go” You hissed against scared lip. Contradictory to your words your hips rutted back on the others bulge, getting a drawn out sigh of your name with a shudder from Tobi.
After one last push from you, you pulled yourself up with all the strength you could muster and clamped your hand on Obitos lower face. “Don’t even think about mentioning this to the others or you will end up dead” you threatened with a slightly trembling voice. Then his hand went from circling your thigh to your forming erection.
Your hips involuntarily pushed forward to meet with Obito’s lazy strokes as the vines started to travel under your undergarments, making you gasp as it grips your dick firmly. You leaned back, quivering but yearning more.
“Just lean back” Obito’s smooth voice could be heard but your mind was too occupied by the vine circling your tripping tip, making you spasm.
At first it was uncomfortable. The vine trying to wiggle in made you want to break out of the hold but Obito’s arms holding you there, didn't leave you any room to argue as tears pathetically were about to fall out at any given moment.
However after the small rod finally breached the ring, you felt invigorating for a small moment like it’s meant to be there inside of you.
Just soon after your world came crashing down with the gentle pressure he added. The unfamiliar but somewhat familiar feeling lets you relax into Obitos lap more and huff a bit for not feeling the imagined pleasure that was promised indirectly to you.
Just as you were about to protest a gasp was heared and you came undone. The resistance felt like a firework in your core as one of the vines nudges your prostate in a new way, you didn’t know was possible. Precum was lazyly dribbling from the stuffed hole and with one final push the pressure got too much.
You pushed your pants down, letting the white substance dribble into Obitos torso.
Black was already foaming on the edges of your vision and you began to lean down on Obito but just as sleep took you, you mustered out the rarely quiet voice of Tobi. “You look so beautiful like this” he reached out.
Obito had a tired but amused smile, stretching slightly before settling back onto his side of the bed however not really completely going to his side with you in his arms. “Sleep well...”
His face bare for once, looked almost innocent, even if his actions were far from it.
Obito’s laugh was soft, and somehow, even without the mask, he still managed to annoy your half asleep self. "Tobi will try to be gentler next time, senpai!"
You sighed, closing your eyes again, doing your best to ignore the lingering heat from where his body had been pressed against yours just moments ago. You just had to make it through the night. Only one night...
this one is SUPER interesting to me. It's never been my thing before, I feel like it's gotta be some delicate art to make it not too painful or unsafe for the soundee but I'll write some quick headcanons for this situation
(Disclaimer, I as someone with no experience in this, had to research to even know how this would feel for him hahaha)
★waterboy x gn!reader
★nsfw (BIG CW for object insertion, sounding, etc. Freak at your own risk, completely understand if this kink is not everyones cup of tea 😅)
☆believe it or not I think this is something herm brought up himself. after a lot of gathering the bravery to admit he wants it
☆i think he's a huge freak secretly, into adventurous stuff like this from enjoying more niche porn, idk
☆i also think despite his nervousness and general inexperience with sex he knows what to expect out of this, and trusts you to try it on him. in fact i think he would have never tried it on his own when he was single
☆don't make him go to the sex shop with you when you're looking for rods. i think he'd be quite mortified if anyone knew you were doing this to him
☆his water was NOT going to be enough for this. lots and lots of lube to make sure you don't hurt him in the process
☆taking it slow, you might have a better time somehow keeping his legs restrained. he's a jittery boy and you want to be careful with him for this
☆he looks uncomfortable, at first. but pacing him through it helps, allowing him to be accustomed to the feeling as you go deeper with the little rod.
☆i don't even think he's whimpering through it, more like gritted teeth and hissing inhales in anticipation of you reaching his prostate
☆looks like he's been electrocuted once you get him to come from it, eyes rolled back and moaning like crazy. you can tell it's the most intense orgasm he's ever had.
☆the boy is a mega freak, what can ya do besides indulge every once in a while
Cw: sound play, takes place in replaced God AU, chast!ty cage
The rod in your hands was silver, shiny and brand new. It was the one you used on Gabriel back when you were in Hell, Gabriel had kept it since then last Christmas, you thought he threw it away, but randomly, he gave it back to you.
“I want you to do what you did again…please?” Was all Gabriel had asked, looking to you hopefully. You thought it over…honestly there was nothing else to do here, so you agreed.
Now, you’re in ‘your’ room since he shared his room with the other seraphims, leaving no privacy. You had already instructed him to sit on the edge of the bed and take his clothes off. He obeyed without issue or question, though he seemed unsure now that he was as naked as he can be.
Once you approached him, having lined up the rod, you stand between his legs. “Don’t move too much, or it might get uncomfortable.” You say, taking the rod you line it to the opening of his cage, without a pause you gently press it down into his caged cock.
Gabriel let out a low whine, his legs subconsciously closing around you as the intrusion leaves him trembling. You shush him, patting his inner thigh. He tries to take deep breaths but can’t help the trembling as you slowly move the rod in and out of his cock, his precum tipping out with each press downwards.
“It…it’s stretching..” The angel whimpered out, his hands instinctively going to your hand as you slowly speed up, he only keeps his hand on yours, not even applying pressure.
You moved the rod faster, your free hand moving from his thigh to hold the cage, you could feel the heat of his arousal and it shaking under your ministrations. “It’s supposed to, does it hurt?”
You ask, looking up to him, you can see tears pricking the corners of his eyes, he shakes his head, sighing. “Did I say? It’s odd…there’s no pain.” He murmured, his other hand gripping your shoulder lightly.
He let out a loud whimper as you twisted the rod, you feel his cock pulse right before you feel a pulse of a warm, wet substance on your hand gripping his cage. Looking down you can see it’s his cum, having spilled over your hands. “You’re done? That’s unfortunate.” You chuckled, twisting the rod again, making him yelp.
Summary: What begins as control and sensation unfolds into something deeper: a physical and emotional tether forged through steel, sweat, and sound.
Word count: 3k
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Ifrit’s breath stutters when he sees it: sleek and silver between Alpha’s fingers, glinting in the low light of their quarters.
Alpha watches him carefully, almost appraisingly, perched on Ifrit's hips, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he twirls the thin rod of metal between his fingers. A gleaming instrument, finely delicate, but Ifrit knows that delicate is the last thing it is.
"Do you know what this is for?" Alpha murmurs, voice low and teasing. He twirls the rod again, just a little faster, the metal making a soft, high-pitched sound as it spins. His gaze remains on Ifrit, intense. Hungry.
He's already made a mess of Ifrit this evening; pale flesh marked red and purple, streaks of pink from nails biting deep but not too deep, mixing in with the flush of his skin. Ifrit gives a nod, swallowing hard. He knows this is something Alpha's done to himself, but the idea of his own experience makes him tremble slightly. He expects Alpha to lose patience; he's not often even-tempered.
But now Alpha pulls back just a little, just enough to guide Ifrit up, off his back and onto his knees. They’re face to face, breathing the same air, and Ifrit’s still reeling a little, legs wobbly and lips kiss swollen. He sways slightly forward until Alpha steadies him with a hand on his hip, the other bringing the rod to a stop in his fingers.
“You trust me?”
Ifrit shivers, eyes flicking between Alpha’s face and the metal, his breath hitching, coming shorter, “Yeah. You know I do.”
Alpha hums, pleased, and leans in, mouth brushing against Ifrit’s jaw, then lower, sucking a bruise into the column of his throat. "So be good for me."
He trails the sound up Ifrit's arm in a tease, pulling back slightly to look down at him again.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Alpha murmurs, voice thick and low as smoke, the tip of the sounding rod grazing Ifrit’s bottom lip with featherlight precision, “Need you to get it wet for me.”
The metal catches a glint of the candlelight, cold and gleaming, and Ifrit shivers, breath hitching as the cool edge nudges more insistently, clacking against his lip ring. Alpha's other hand slips under his chin, tilting his head up just enough to keep him right where he wants him.
“Open up.”
The command hums like a thread pulled tight through Ifrit’s spine, and this time he obeys without hesitation, lips parting on instinct, breath shaky, pupils blown wide as heat pools low in his belly.
Alpha watches every second with a predator’s patience, the metal now slipping just inside, pressing to Ifrit’s tongue.
“Good,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. “That’s it.” he presses a soft kiss to Ifrit's cheek, pulling the sound away with a wet little noise that echoes through the room before catching Ifrit's lips with his own.
It's barely a distraction as the cold tip of the sound presses to Ifrit's slit, and he arches instinctively, but Alpha keeps him steady, keeps him right there on his knees, thumbing circles into his hip.
“Breathe,” Alpha whispers against his lips, voice low and coaxing as his free hand anchors at Ifrit’s hip, “You’re doing so fucking well for me, sweetheart.”
Alpha’s expression shifts the moment he sees that first deep shudder roll through Ifrit’s body, his usual smugness giving way to something sharper, more focused. The metal rod in his hand is coated generously with slick, drips of pre a steady stream, gleaming faintly, and his movements are slow. Careful. Every millimetre he eases in, he watches Ifrit’s face, the way his brows pinch, the way his mouth opens around a soundless gasp.
Ifrit’s fingers dig hard into his shoulder, enough to bruise, but Alpha doesn’t mind. He barely feels it over the sound of Ifrit’s breath catching again, over the faint metallic click of Ifrit’s lip piercing against his teeth as he bites down hard—trying to keep some semblance of control while his body trembles, overwhelmed by the foreign intensity of the sensation.
“Fuck,” Ifrit chokes, hips twitching, a whimper torn from his throat, “Alph—”
Alpha shushes him gently, but there’s reverence in the way he moves now—no teasing, no sharp commands, just a slow, precise glide of the rod and the softest press of his palm over Ifrit’s thigh to keep him steady.
Ifrit’s shivering, body humming with pleasure and tension all at once, every nerve focused on the fire building inside him; a quiet internal pressure that settles deep in Ifrit’s gut. The steel slides a fraction deeper, and he gasps, fingers flexing, his body tightening, eyes fluttering closed.
“Don’t stop,” he breathes, and Alpha smiles, slow and wicked, but the edge of gentleness is there, a soothing undercurrent,
“Wasn’t planning to.”
Alpha stills for a moment, watching the way Ifrit trembles—legs spread and barely supporting himself, face flushed and lips parted. His chest is rising in shallow, desperate breaths, but his eyes are locked onto Alpha’s with a mix of need and awe that makes Alpha’s pulse spike.
An idea sparks behind his eyes.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing sweat-damp strands back from Ifrit’s forehead with a gentleness that betrays the hunger rolling just beneath the surface, “I wanna try something.”
Ifrit’s voice is wrecked when he speaks, barely more than a rasp, “Try what?”
Alpha doesn’t answer immediately. He reaches for the tip of the rod with fingers made steady by intention. The other end is still deep inside Ifrit, but he shifts slightly, angling it—carefully—and then, with his other hand, he reaches for himself.
“Gonna share this with you,” he breathes out, voice a shaking timbre, a mix of restraint and anticipation, “Feel you in a whole new way.”
Ifrit’s eyes widen, pupils blown, sunset swallowed up by void. He sways forward a little, both hands now gripping Alpha’s shoulders. "Alpha—"
Alpha leans in close and presses another kiss to his jaw. "Breathe."
A gentle reminder, and he's adjusting slowly, surely, easing the other end of the rod toward himself. He doesn't flinch as the steel slips past resistance and sinks into his body. A quiet breath escapes him, not sharp, but accepting.
Ifrit moans, and it’s ragged, desperate, high in his throat. Alpha groans through gritted teeth at the noise, his forehead dropping to rest against Ifrit’s as he pushes just a little further.
“Holy—fuck,” Ifrit chokes, his hips jerking despite himself, and Alpha nods in agreement.
Alpha’s hand wraps around the centre of the sound, keeping it steady, and their foreheads stay pressed together, sweat-slicked and trembling.
He moves carefully, purposefully, adjusting the angle just slightly, just enough to make the sound inside Ifrit drag across something raw and lightning in sensation. A wet noise follows, quiet but obscene, and Ifrit arches with a ragged groan.
“Gonna make you cum like this,” Alpha breathes, voice dark and reverent. “Wanna feel you pulse around it while I’m right there with you.”
And Ifrit? Ifrit is already close—he can barely think, the connection between them lighting up every nerve in his body like a fuse burning too fast.
Alpha’s breath hitches, and he tries to force it down, but Ifrit feels it in the tense rise of his chest, the sharp intake that ghosts across his lips. Still, on the surface, Alpha holds together like always—lips parted, gaze heavy-lidded in deep pools of burgundy, but in control.
Ifrit's forehead drops to press into Alpha’s collarbone, sweat beading along his temples. His eyes stay locked low, transfixed by the filthy intimacy between them—the glint of metal, the glisten of slick, the way Alpha’s hand glides so carefully over the length of both of them where they meet.
Every shift pushes something deeper inside Ifrit, burns him up from the inside out, and tears begin to prick the corners of his eyes.
Alpha’s voice is low, a soft command laced with filth and reverence as he curls his fingers around Ifrit’s wrist and guides it lower, beneath them. “Here. Press right there, sweetheart.”
And Ifrit does—shaky fingers obeying, pressing against the stretch of metal where it bulges faintly under Alpha’s skin, right against the ladder of piercings that run along the underside of his cock.
Alpha groans, deep and guttural, something strained slipping past his lips. His hips twitch forward slightly, breath shuddering, “That’s it,” he breathes out, “You’re so deep in me, could cum just like this.”
Ifrit shudders fully, violently, as the last thread of control snaps inside him at the filth laced in Alpha's words. The pressure, the drag of the sound, the way Alpha’s hips grind forward just enough to make the glide between their tips echo loud in his ears as they finally touch with a sticky wet noise—it’s too much. Too heated. Perfect.
The slim steel between them pulses faintly with every breath, every tiny shift inside their bodies, and when their tips touch again—barely brushing in that wet, tender space—Ifrit jerks like a wire pulled too tight.
His breath stutters out of him. His chest lifts with a ragged inhale, and the tears that had only shimmered at the corners of his eyes finally threaten to fall.
Alpha watches, transfixed. Stunned.
He hadn’t expected this.
He dips his head, brushing his lips against the corner of Ifrit’s lashes, tasting salt, and then again at the hollow of his cheek where another has begun to fall. Slow. Shaky. Barely there—but enough.
Ifrit doesn’t know what finally tips him over.
Maybe it’s the unrelenting fullness. The way their bodies pulse in tandem, every beat of Alpha’s heart echoing down the slick, vibrating length of steel between them. Maybe it’s the pressure—steady, too steady—against that unbearably deep place inside him that won’t stop throbbing.
Or maybe it’s Alpha’s voice, low and reverent against his jaw, "Let go, sweetheart."
He gasps, high and breathless, fingers clawing against Alpha’s shoulders, nails raking over pale skin. His whole body trembles as the wave crashes over him—his thighs tense and stomach tight, and his forehead buries deeper against Alpha’s collarbone like he can hide from how hard he cums. It’s not clean or quiet. He whines through it, near-pathetic little sounds spilling from his lips, each one more desperate than the last.
Alpha chuckles, deep and pleased, his breath ruffling strands of sweat-damp hair, his lips brushing the shell of Ifrit’s ear.
“Fuck,” he rumbles, smug and warm, his voice rippling through Ifrit like velvet soaked in sin, “That’s it, sweetheart. Just let it go. Listen to you—so needy. So fucking pretty like this.”
He’s still slowly rocking into it, chasing slick, slippery friction between them as the aftermath rolls through Ifrit’s body and Alpha’s fingers never stop moving—one hand at the base of his own cock, the other still guiding the rod just so, not pushing any deeper now, just... feeling. Relishing.
And Ifrit, limp and overstimulated, can’t do anything except hold on tighter and sob into Alpha’s skin, wrecked and gasping, the sticky mess dribbling between them a testament to just how thoroughly undone he is.
Alpha grins against his hair, voice like a hum, "You okay, sweetheart?"
A nod, another shuddering sob, and Alpha can feel the shiver still running through Ifrit’s thighs, the way his breath stutters in the aftermath. He’s gentle this time, hand steady, slow—carefully easing the rod free from Ifrit with a quiet slide, coated and warm, the motion enough to make Ifrit flinch and gasp like he’s still on the edge.
“There we go,” Alpha murmurs, low and fond, brushing his fingers over the inside of Ifrit’s thigh in a soothing stroke. “You did so good for me.”
He doesn’t give much time to recover, though. Because the moment the rod’s out, Alpha shifts—lithe and sinuous as he pushes Ifrit back onto the pillows, climbs up to straddle his hips with fluid, effortless grace, and that same rod glints between his fingers, wet and wicked.
“You just lay there, sweetheart,” he purrs, a little breathless himself now, but riding that edge of smugness and lust, “You’ve earned the front-row seat.”
Ifrit watches, wide-eyed and dazed, as Alpha sinks it in slow, biting his lip at the stretch, the click of the ring threaded through it loud as it taps the enamel. The sound he makes is low and feral, a growl curling at the edges of it, but there’s something achingly tender in the way he works it in, hips flinching, breath catching. His thighs tremble where they cage around Ifrit’s waist, his hand braced on the smaller ghoul’s chest as he sinks it down with practiced control.
Ifrit can feel the heat of him, the slick grind of Alpha’s length brushing against his stomach as he works the rod inside himself, the faint tremble in Alpha’s arm as he holds himself upright, fingers curling tighter around the metal.
“Fuck, feels—hah—feels different with you watching,” Alpha pants, flushed and shaking a little, pupils blown wide, “You’ve got no idea what this is doing to me…”
But Ifrit does. He can see it. The way Alpha’s body flexes, pierced cock kicking with every shift of metal. His breathless moan, the little stutter of his hips as he rocks, deliberate, dirty.
Ifrit reaches up, hands on Alpha’s thighs, grounding him, feeling the strain, the tension, the desire rolling off him like heat.
“You...” he breathes, voice hoarse, still wrecked from earlier, “You’re fucking unbelievable.”
Alpha grins—sharp, all fangs but strained, and entirely sincere. “Then keep watching. I’m gonna make sure this is burnt into that pretty head of yours forever.”
He groans low in his throat, a sound that rumbles straight through Ifrit’s chest where he’s pinned under him, hands splayed wide on Alpha’s thighs like he’s trying to hold himself together—trying, and failing.
Because Alpha’s taking it deep now.
The entire length of the rod disappears into him, slow and steady, and when he finally bottoms out, Alpha arches—head falling back, throat bared, chest rising in a shaky breath. The motion makes every line of him flex, every piercing catch the low light. The barbells along the underside of his cock stand out in sharper relief and-
“Fuck—” Ifrit gasps, voice breaking like it’s been punched out of him. He can’t stop staring, can’t breathe around the way his cock twitches against his stomach, the way it kicks and threatens to punch another orgasm through him again just from watching.
Alpha smiles. Not cruel. Not entirely. Just full of that dark, heavy hunger, soft and wanton in a twisted, possessive way.
“You’re mine.” He says it like a prayer, fingers wrapping around both their lengths now, smearing slick between them as he starts to move. Slow at first—then not, “Come for me again, sweetheart. Just like this. Come from watching me lose it for you.”
And Ifrit does.
He jerks, chest heaving, body bucking up into Alpha's hand and the filthy, electric friction of their cocks pressed together with the rod still deep inside Alpha. He cries out—a stuttering, broken sound as he cums, vision white-hot and hips shaking. Alpha rides the wave with him, breath catching as he watches Ifrit fall apart, as he squeezes tight around the rod and shudders with the effort to keep control.
But it’s slipping—already—because Alpha is right there on the edge with him.
It starts with a full-body shudder. His hand glides up his cock in long, sure strokes, perfectly in time with the slow rock of his hips—steel still buried deep—and then he stills, shoulders tense, eyes squeezed shut as his breath stutters in his throat. Then he lets go.
His release spills out slow, warm and thick, dripping down the sound still buried deep inside him, slicking over the gleam of his own piercings—smearing over the barbells with a crude, wet warmth. The sensation is too much, almost delirious. A hot rush that crawls up his spine and blooms out in lazy sparks behind his eyes.
And Ifrit whines, gutted by the sight, his own spent cock twitching pathetically against his stomach.
Alpha exhales like he’s just surfaced from deep water. His body tipss forward slightly, but he keeps the sound in, holding it there as if to savour the ache, the fullness, the exact moment of release stretching long and deliberate.
And then—he laughs.
It’s soft at first, barely a breath, then it rolls out of him low and warm, bubbling from his chest like something giddy. He slumps, hands braced on Ifrit’s chest, still riding the aftershocks. His hair falls over his eyes, a sweaty, tangled mess, and his mouth finds Ifrit’s collarbone to press a kiss there. Not possessive, not taunting—tender.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, voice frayed at the edges. “Fuck, that was—”
He doesn’t even finish the sentence. Just laughs again, body too warm, too soft, too wrecked. He pulls back just enough to look at Ifrit through half-lidded eyes, the ends of his grin lazy and fond in a way that’s rare and precious.
“You look ruined,” he smirks, thumb brushing over the smear of cum on Ifrit’s stomach, chasing it in lazy, teasing circles, “Like I broke something in you.”
Ifrit just exhales shakily, eyes narrowing and lips parted, still floating. “You did, asshole,” he mutters, voice hoarse, hand sliding up Alpha’s arm—over the muscle, over warm skin—and curling there.
Alpha hums, pleased. He shifts slightly, hissing at the sensitivity of it all as he carefully begins to ease the sound free from himself. Slow, steady, his breath hitching at the drag. He winces, but his mouth is still tilted in a smirk.
He slumps forward fully now, resting his weight gently against Ifrit’s chest, the last of the tension leaving his shoulders in a tremor. His voice is a hoarse scrape against Ifrit’s skin when he grates out a worn-out "Fuck."
Ifrit blinks up at him, dazed, chest heaving, lips parted in something close to awe. His fingers twitch where they’re still clinging to Alpha’s hips, grounding himself.
Alpha turns his face to the side, presses an open-mouthed kiss to Ifrit’s collarbone, then noses lazily at his throat, still laughing under his breath.
“You,” he says, voice still a little breathless, “are the worst kind of addiction.”
They lay there in the thick warmth of it, tangled and trembling, breath shared in the silence that follows.
Alpha’s head rests against Ifrit’s shoulder, face turned slightly, eyes fluttering shut as he exhales the last of his laughter in a sigh that sounds almost reverent. A clawed hand is still curled lightly around Ifrit’s waist, thumb brushing slow, mindless strokes over sweat-slicked skin.
Ifrit lets out a breath, almost a laugh but not quite—too tired, too full. His heart still hammers like a drumbeat in his ribs, but the rest of him is melted, boneless, completely undone. His hand lifts sluggishly to thread into Alpha’s hair, the motion gentle, dragging slow through the damp strands.
Neither of them speaks.
They don’t need to.
It's just them. Just this: skin on skin, breath syncing up, the heady mix of release and warmth lingering between them like incense smoke. Alpha presses the softest kiss to the space beneath Ifrit’s jaw. Ifrit turns his head, pressing his lips to Alpha’s temple.
Completely spent.
Utterly ruined.
And euphoric in a way that has nothing to do with dominance or pleasure and everything to do with each other.
