Callum

You’re taking it pretty well, but it’s just a little bit more than you can handle, you can’t quite get to the base. Suddenly, you feel their hand on the back of your head and they slowly, but firmly, push you towards the wall, the dildo sliding deep down your throat. You’re struggling now, gagging and tearing up, it’s so deep, deeper than you’ve ever taken anything in your throat.

You hope that your dom will let go soon, so you can get a breath, but that’s when you hear it. As you reach the base of the dildo, there’s a click, as the ring gag attaches to the base. Your dom pulls their hand away, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Your gag is locked in place at the base of the dildo, keeping you from pulling back.

ftm’s first time ever and it’s with a cis man she found online. one of those dating apps where gross men only like her for her cunt. luckily, this guy doesn’t seem like that, he never misgenders her and even says she has a nice “dick”. and something about his fat cock just made her mouth water and her hole twitch. when he asked to meet up, she shyly said yes. he promised he’d make her first time nice and sweet.

cut to later that night and he’s using her mouth like a fleshlight on cheap motel sheets. her head’s hanging off the bed and her nose is buried in the thick hair above the base of his cock. he’s got his legs locked around her head so she can’t move as he abuses the back of her throat, her screams muffled by her violent gagging. when he’s close, he starts mumbling things like “taking a real man’s cock as you should” and pinching and pulling at her nipples. he cums so hard down her throat that she can feel his balls throb on her face. the sensation is enough to make her clit twitch.

when he finally does take her, he’s pounding into her pussy from behind, one hand around her neck and the other slapping her tits. they’re hard slaps too, leaving her with tears in her eyes as the skin slowly turns a beautiful shade of pink. he can’t stop whispering in her ear about how small she is, how sensitive her nipples are, how tight her cunt is gripping his cock. she’s never been this full, it feels like he’s splitting her in half.

he's kicking and gasping, his arms bound behind his back, saying that it's too big and he can't possibly take it, but his dom just shoves him down until the tip pops past the tight ring of his cunt, and then just... lets go

sub yelling and whining as he drops down onto the dildo, unable to kick free or get loose, gravity meaning he's forced down onto the fat cock splitting him open, and then once he IS down, the whole thing crammed so deeply inside him he feels dizzy and pained with it, he can't move, can only just rock on it, can't touch himself

Stripper Sukuna who can’t stop thinking about you after what happened at the club. Nobody has that kind of effect on him, and now he’s curious. He goes out of his way to find out where you work, pretending to be in need of your services just to get a chance to see you again.

Stripper Sukuna who always gets an attitude with you because it’ll lead to one of two things: a: you give him what he wants, or b: you put him in his place. Unfortunately for you, he loves it either way and chooses to continue giving said attitude. But you’re not gonna lie and say you don’t enjoy fucking him speechless.

Stripper Sukuna who always gets super hungry after every shift, and comes homes to either cook himself a feast or practically empty the fridge until his stomach stop crying. You wanna get mad but you know how his boss gets when he eats on the clock. So instead, you restock afterwards.

Stripper Sukuna who flat out refuses to ever let you get a dance from someone else at the club. Last time you came in and Getou tried to slither his way onto your lap, Sukuna almost cost himself his job by pushing the raven haired man off. Toji was furious, and you didn’t feel like it was worth the trouble. But you belonged to him now. You couldn’t just take a dance from anyone!

Stripper Sukuna who chooses to wear skimpy clothes around the house just to tease you when you get back from work under the guise of it being ‘more comfortable’. Tiny shorts, crop tops and sometimes nothing at all just to watch you struggle to keep your hands to yourself. It makes it all the more satisfying when you fail.

Stripper Sukuna who lets you pick out the perfumes he’s gonna wear before every show. He knows you enjoy a much picky or citrus kind of scent, so he always lets you buy it for him. In a way, even though he’s on that stage, it shows that you have a grasp on him that no one else quite does.

⋆˚꩜｡ A SPECIAL GIFT.

summary. boring birthday after boring birthday, your coworkers have had enough! they decide to bring you to a high-end strip club to celebrate your 25th. amongst the drinks and sweaty bodies, you meet a man so mean, yet so hot, it makes you wanna go insane. but you’re gonna have to tame him first.

tags: power!bottom sukuna to bratty!bottom sukuna, stripper!sukuna, sub!top to top!reader, overworked & lonely!reader, height difference (sukuna’s taller), big dick reader, crossdressing, drunk!reader, implied manager!toji & uraume, oral sex, anal sex, creampie & breeding kink, cum gurgling & swallowing, hints of praise kink, hint of dumbification, fluff at the end. slightly ooc sukuna near the end

wc: 4k

a/n: this is mostly unedited as well. i’m no pussy (i also enjoyed making this way too much which is why it’s 4k words & it’s my magnum opus. i do not use ai, i just love me some commas and quotations.)

Turning 25 wasn’t as big a deal as all your friends made it out to be. It certainly didn’t feel that big to you. No matter how many congratulations and hugs you received from family members and friends alike.

Even the thought of celebrating your birthday usually made you sigh and roll your eyes. Before you met your coworkers, your idea of a ‘birthday party’ was a store bought chocolate cake, a single candle, and the quiet atmosphere of your apartment to keep you company while you thought about all the work deadlines you had the potential of missing.

So sure, you can understand why they seemed so upset by the thought of you spending your birthday alone, but that didn’t exactly mean you wanted to change that routine.

Sadly, you weren’t given a choice. Because as soon as the clock struck 7pm, your coworkers practically had to wrestle you out of your office chair and toss you into the backseat of their car, whooping and cheering all the way. What they had planned? You had no clue. But you know you sure as shit would’ve left work early if this was their idea of fun.

Glitter and smoke made the air thick, a cough erupting from your chest as it filled your lungs. Alongside that was the smell of sweat, and all kinds of perfumes and cologne. Music blares from the loud speakers close enough to make your skull ring, but not close enough to make it hurt. You felt like a wide eyed doe as they led you through the place, a hand on your back to make sure you didn’t try to sneak your way out when they weren’t looking. But with all these strobe lights on the ceiling blinding you with every spin, you weren’t sure that plan was even manageable.

A club. These guys brought you to a strip club to celebrate your 25th!?

You can’t even glance to your side to send a mean glare before a big arm wraps around your shoulders, your male coworker leaning in with a leering grin, “Well!? Happy birthday, man!” His voice is barely audible over the cheers of passing patrons who hear the news, making your cheeks flush. Either from embarrassment, or the heat of the room and the bodies around you.

A groan full of contempt slips out, your head tipping back to lean against your coworker’s shoulder. “Seriously, guys!? This is the best you could come up with!?” Yet it seemed they hadn’t caught your tone, instead snickering amongst themselves as they led you deeper into the club. A woman bumps into you as she walks past, turning to send a smile away as she vanishes into the crowd, the gold on her dress reflecting off the strobe lights to give a halo effect.

She wasn’t the only gorgeous woman in attendance, and you’d have to be an idiot to act like your eyes hadn’t caught on the figures of several dancers on stage, or the girls passing out drinks. It was a Friday after all, the day the club would be packed with young adults, people wanting a good time, and others wanting something to take the edge off. And your coworkers thought for sure you were the last option.

The arm around your shoulders tugs over to one of the purple cushioned couches, pushing you to sit down with a huff as they sit beside you, arm kept firm around your neck to make sure you stay put. Not like going anywhere was really an option anymore. A finger moves to poke you in the chest, grabbing your attention.

“Listen man, I know you’re used to being all cramped up in that little apartment, but this isn’t just any random day. It’s your birthday! The big 25! Doesn’t that call for some celebration!?” You grimace as he leans in, sweat already on the temple of his forehead, “No—”, “Yes! Yes, it does!”

He snaps his fingers, gesturing to one of the scantily clad women, who places a clear glass of whatever that was into his hand, which he gives to you. “And celebrate we shall. Tonight you’re gonna forget about work, and forget about responsibility.”

A careful hand reaches out to grab the glass as he finishes his sentence, staring into your soul with an intent you don’t think you’d ever seen on the man’s face before. “We’re gonna get fucked up.” Is all he says before downing his glass of—what smelt like—vodka, hissing as it goes down his throat. You don’t know what you hate more; the stench of the drink, or the truth behind his words.

All day, you sit behind a computer, doing the same when you get to work and get home: rinse and repeat. Your responsibilities pile up, your happiness has halted close to a short stop, and you no longer find meaning outside of your job. You seem to drift in and out of existence, like a goddamn ghost. Your eyes move from his to drink in your own hand, watching the clear liquid slosh inside the beautifully designed class. Ah, what the hell.

You don’t give yourself a chance to overthink, letting the glass quickly meet your lip and go down in one quick gulp, the sting of the alcohol pushed back as your coworkers cheer, “Woo, let’s fucking party!” You don’t know how long it’s been since your last drink, or smile. But both are happening, and you find yourself nodding along with them as they wave over another waitress.

Thinking was something you really, really liked doing. What human being doesn’t love to think? Most think about food, or what TV show they’re gonna watch. But at the moment, you were mostly thinking of how good you were feeling right now. Like, really fucking good. You don’t know how long you’ve been at that club. One drink turned to two, turned to three, turned to your coworkers leaving to get on the dance floor or closer to the main stages.

The #whatever glass you were nursing rests in unsteady hands as your eyes wander from the cushion you were seated to the dancing, sweaty bodies. They were smiling, laughing, having a much better time than you were slouched on the couch like a fucking loser. You should be over there. You wanted to be over there.

So with a huff, you move to try and stand up, completely forgetting about the cup in your hand. Your shirt, previously warm (if not a little damp from sweat), is now mysteriously soaked and cold on your chest. It’s like a movie kinda, feeling it slip from your hand and watching in slow motion as it was about to hit the floor. Fuck, that was gonna be expensive. Terribly expensive. Probably a big chunk of your rent money. It gleamed on the way down, as if to say ‘haha, you’re so screwed’.

Well, there went your amazing night—Oh. It stopped.

A tan hand wrapped firm around the glass, long black nails tapping against the surface in a way that captures your attention instantly. It moves to place it on the table before you, and your eyes follow the movement, tracing any detail you can find. Veins stand out as the hand flexes. Black bands around one wrist that you almost mistake for jewelry, if not for the obvious movement of darkened flesh. A tattoo? A strange one, at that. Not strange enough for you to ignore the ping of strange curiosity you felt when your eyes caught onto legs: very toned legs. With the same two tattoos wrapped around each thickthigh. Barely covered by the skimpiest, ruffled black skirt you’d ever seen. Holy fuck.

“God, don’t you idiots pay attention? We don’t need more broken glasses. Unless you’re paying for it.” Where you expect a sultry voice, you instead find a deep, low rumble. One that sends shivers down your spine so strong you can’t help but drop your gaze. It was a voice that commanded respect, with a hint of annoyance in it. On instinct, you try to get up again, but that hand pushes you back onto the couch, making you lean all the way back this time.

“Nuh uh, I don’t think so. Don’t need you making more of a mess than you already did.” Huh? You tilt your head down, looking for the mess he could be mention before you look down at your chest, only to see a huge wet spot. Hm, guess there was something in the glass before you dropped it. At least it landed there instead of the floor. What a very nice lady to tell you as much.

You raise your eyes, an apology already on your lips, “Yeah, I’m so…” Sorry. That was supposed to be the last word. Unfortunately, your brain malfunctions and the words turned into a slurred stutter.

This was no woman, not even close. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t as pretty as one.

Short, spiked pink hair was the first thing that your brain can process, a strange color for the strangely gorgeous creature in front of you. Styled and gelled to perfection. Piercing red eyes gaze down at you, part of you assumes they’re contacts, and the other half is more than willing to believe that they’re real just by how judgmental his stare is. Like you’re just another problem he has to deal with. Not like you aren’t.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘you’re sorry’.” The man scoffs, rolling his eyes so far that you can see the whites, his cheeks flushing a little with irritation. It’s a good look; a really pretty look on him. “Everyone’s sorry when they break all this shit, except for Toji, who gets on my ass like it’s my fault–” His lips were glossy and plump, gleaming under the light as he ranted to you. His shirt is the tightest black tank you might’ve ever seen, squeezing enough that his defined chest stands out against the fabric, his pecs were nigh and shaped so perfectly that you knew you’d good get handfuls if he let you touch. Closer to tits than anything. God, it’s making the blood rush down—.

The quick snap of fingers makes you turn to look up, the gorgeous man’s angry gaze had turned into one of amusement and slight irritation, a smirk at the corner of his lips. “Hey. Eyes up here. You haven’t earned that yet.” Earned. God, you could earn something like that? You couldn’t tell if it was the drinks talking when your mouth opened to say, “How do I?”, but you knew it was worth it based on the raised brow and minutely larger smile you got in return. You pleased him. Good.

“Let’s worry about that later, huh?” The words roll of the man’s tongue, the clack of his shoes loud as he steps forward. You glance down just to see the flash of pleaser heels before a weight that makes you sink into the cushion a bit plops down onto your lap. “Gotta clean up the mess you made first.” The smell of whiskey cologne and skin hit you like a train, the back of your throat going desert try while you squirm a little underneath the extra weight. But you certainly weren’t uncomfortable.

As if noticing your reaction, he shifts, letting his ass press down on your crotch, making your vision go all hazy. Or maybe your eyes crossed. You couldn’t tell anymore. Not after he’d started touching you.

The tip of a long black nail presses against your adam’s apple, gently dragging down your skin until it reached the top button of your shirt, slowly undoing it and two others in a smooth motion, “Naughty, naughty boy. What did you spill? Hm?” Fuck, you needed to react. To do anything. Your mouth opens to answer, but a low groan leaves instead when you feel his finger drag up the apple of your throat.

Sukuna’s tongue wraps around the tip of his finger when he pulls it away, the sight of those glossy lips suckling around the digit sending molten lava straight to your crotch. He only pulls away when he’s had his fill, letting his finger slip out with a wet pop and a hum. “Awamori. Good taste.” It’s like a purr, rumbling within his chest, which is now pressed up against yours. Your eyes flutter back open, which you didn’t even notice closed, meeting Sukuna’s mischievous gaze. “And it all went to waste. What a shame.”

His fingers pinch your chin, turning your head to face him, crimson gaze demanding all your hazy focus. “What’s a guy like you here for in the first place? Hm? Can’t just be to sit all by yourself.” One sharp pink brow (you can’t believe he dyed those too) raises as the silence drags on, and it takes at least 2 seconds for you to compose yourself to give a decent answer, “It’s my birthday. I just turned 25…”

A fake gasps leave the pretty man’s mouth, his hand coming up to cover it like he was just as surprised, “Is that right?” His mouth forms into a leering grin that exposes pearly canines, chuckling to shift himself on your lap again, a subtle sigh leaving as his ass pushes down on your steadily hardening cock. “Today’s a very special day for you, isn’t it, handsome?” You nod, making his grin soften a little. You probably had hearts in your eyes, staring up at him like a total idiot. “And 25 at that? That’s not a small number.” His voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper, like this was a little secret between the two of you.

“No, that calls for celebration.” His head tilts, staring up at you through thick pink lashes, which flutter like glittery little butterflies in your vision, just as sparkly as the rest of him. That low growl turns a little sweet, making your ears twitch, “You wanna celebrate with me?” Fuck. He knew exactly what effect he was having on you. And what could you possibly do to stop him from taking advantage? Did you even wanna stop him?

“I, uh, I don’t have any cash on me, sir—” But that doesn’t deter him, broad shoulders lifting in a small shrug, the smug grin, “Sukuna” What? “I don’t do any of that sir shit. Unless you like that kinda thing.” Oh! His name! He’d just give you his name! The newfound information burrows into your head, the name bouncing around. Sukuna. Such a fitting name. The name repeats in your head as you feel the weight leave your lap, the automatic disappointment making your face form an expression he didn’t quite like. “Oh, don’t pout. We’re just going to the VIP lounge. Don’t wanna get interrupted, do we?” No. No you didn’t.

Hot. Everything was so hot.

The room you’re in is making you sweat a little. The blend of fancy perfumes that mixes in the air makes you feel like you’re floating, head tipped back against the couch as you stare up at the ceiling, low groans of bliss slipping past your lips. Lowly, you could hear slurping noises, echoing off the walls of the little room Sukuna had taken you to for privacy. ‘A little gift for the birthday boy’ he’d dubbed it. And this might be the best gift anyone had bothered to get you.

Hands grip your thighs, nail digging into flesh hard enough to grab you out of your pleasured filled haze enough to glance down. That head of pink hair bobs up and down, the angle showing off those glossy lips wrapped around your cock all nicely, leaving a sheen of saliva (a little glitter from his gloss mixed in) on your dick with every slide. He made such a pretty sight between your spread open legs, his knees cushioned on the thick pink carpet.

Sukuna sinks down all the way, letting your cock hit the back of his throat with a little gurgle, saliva bubbling at the corners of his mouth when his nose just barely brushed against your pubes. Just barely. A whine of either frustration or shared pleasure is let out around your shaft, your back arching up sharply from the sensations and chasing them as he slides off with a wet pop, hand wrapping around the base to let your dick slap against his tongue. And the obscene view of enough to make you twitch, precum spurting onto his tastebuds.

His mouth closes and audibly swallows the little taste you’d given him, glossy lips pressing against your mushroom tip like he was giving it a little kiss. “Fuck, you’re giving me so much to work with, birthday boy.” You could hear a bit of a strain in his voice, probably from trying to deepthroat you again and again, but to no avail. The hand around the base guides your dick to slap against his lips a few times, red eyes opening to gaze up at you. Faintly, you could see a sheen over them. “Can’t even fit it all. How do you walk around with this thing?”

But you don’t get to answer before he slides you, most of those 8 inches of you, right back into the warmth of his mouth. “Fuck…” It was like your dick was being enveloped in the best hug. A warm, wet hug that had a free hand rolling your balls in the palm of their hand.

Your fingers hesitate, twitching above Sukuna’s head, wanting so desperately to grab those pink locks and yank him down. And he sees this desperation, but doesn’t bother with shying away from you. The hand wrapped around the base of your dick moved to grab your wrist, forcing your hand to rest atop his head as he continued his work. And when you teeth one of those canines brush against a vein, all that meekness was flushed away as you gripped spiky pink strands in a tight fist.

The sudden pain makes Sukuna moan like a whore around your cock, his thighs clenching shut a little to seemingly give himself a little friction. It seemed like you weren’t the only one having a good time.

Every stroke eased you up, body slumping against the couch as you let your hand begin to guide him, your gaze never leaving his as he takes every inch his mouth can manage to. You were spurting so much pre down his throat that he could imagine the load he was gonna get out of you once you came. He was gonna be so full when this was over.

“You’re so good at this…” You let slip, eyes trying their best to stay open, or maybe not roll back as the underside of the man’s tongue drags along your shaft, swirling around the tip when he slides back up. You can see a small smile at the corners of his lips when you shudder from the brush of cold air, chuckling at you as if to say ‘of course I am’. Like he was just doing this because he had to. And for some reason, it made you a little angry.

The hand gripping his hair shoved him down, your cock hitting the back of his throat hard, and the gag that leaves him almost makes you feel sympathetic. Almost. Not enough for you not to feel the burst of pleasure that makes your stomach clench, of the saliva slides down to stain the couch underneath you as you use the man like a toy. Your hand brings his head down, forcing him to take you with every bob, gurgling and gagging around your dick while he’s at it. Hands move to grip your thighs, clinging on while you fucked his throat.

It takes only a few more thrusts before you force him down as much as you can, his struggles to breathe pushing you over the edge into bliss. Your vision whites out, cock spurting thick ropes of hot cum straight down Sukuna’s throat. Making him drink every last drop, even as he gurgles and accidentally lets some of it drip out. When you pull him up for air, strings of saliva and spunk connect from his mouth to your tip, his chest heaving and a few coughs are even forced out of him as he greedily sucks in all the air he can manage. He looked so pathetic like this. The sight made you realize your dick was still half hard, trying its best to stiffen up again.

You were wondering what else came with your gift.

“Y-Yes, yes, yes!”

The slap of skin on skin echoed in the VIP room like gunshots, audible enough to leave no second thoughts behind about what was going on in that room. That, and the high pitched gasps being bring forced out of Sukuna with each breath he tried to take, cheek pressed down against the soft cushion beneath him. The one his nails had sunken into looking for something to cling onto.

Hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise, the ruffled black skirt Uraume helped him pick out now pooling around his waist to let you see everything he had to offer. And you were very much enjoying the view before you. Eyes locked onto the sight of tan asscheeks rippling every time they met your hips, a light pink shade visible on the skin from how hard you were thrusting into him from behind.

You were deep. So fucking deep. All 8 inches of cock that his mouth couldn’t handle his hole was taking at full force, legs slightly shaking when you bottomed out like nothing, like you weren’t rearranging his insides to fit your shape. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, the side of his face shoved into the cushion to try and mask how much he liked this. Which he was woefully unsuccessful at, as at that moment you finally found the spot you were looking for.

“F-Fuck!” The squeal that leaves him makes his face flush to match his ass in shade. And he didn’t think he could get any redder than before. The hands on his hips pull them up higher, forcing the pink haired man into a deeper arch that lets you hit his sweet spot with almost every thrust inside. A groan rumbles inside your chest, head tipping back to stare up with the ceiling like God was speaking to you. “Holy shit.” And holy shit was right.

Sex was never a luxury you could afford with how frequently you worked, being left with your hand and the occasional one night stand. You’d forgotten how good it felt to fuck into someone like this, feeling their walls spasm around you desperately, the intimacy of skin on skin contact. And of fucking the brains out of the man who’s been teasing you all night long.

When you glance back down, you can see a frothy circle clinging to Sukuna’s rim, and making a little ring around your dick. Your precum and his saliva mixing with every pump. A little squelch between you now audible as you were sinking into him deeper than before. It made a heat pool in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, Sukuna–”

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” Sukuna groans out, head finally raising from the couch slightly to look over his shoulder, mouth in an ‘O’ shape while his eyes had gained that hazy film both of you now shared. With a trembling bottom lip, you hear him whimper out, “Goin’ in so deep!”

Your cock throbs so hard inside him that he gasps from the feeling, one of his hands leaving the cushion to reach behind him and grip your hip, clinging onto you for support while you showed no mercy. Every inch stretches out him in ways no one had before, forcing sounds out that he’d rather die than let anyone else listen to. With every stroke, you make his brain short circuit, drool seeping out of the side of his mouth to stain the couch below. “You’re in my fuckin’ stomach”

His once mellow voice had pitched up to that of a whine, bouncing with every thrust you sent up into him, drilling his insides like it was your job. Sukuna feels a weight press him down, your chest flush with his back, one hand moving to the one gripping your hip and interlocking your fingers. Slightly chapped lips press against the side of his neck in a mock kiss. It’s so hot, every part of both of your bodies feels like they’re on fire.

“So fucking good for me. You’re amazing.” You can barely recognize your own voice, hidden between a sweaty shoulder and neck, closer to a growl than a moan. It makes Sukuna shudder, head tipping back to rest against your shoulder, no longer caring about hiding from the pleasure you were giving him as his cock pressed against the couch, leaking buckets.

“Fuck me, keep fucking me.” His voice bordered on begging, his hips rolling to meet every thrust with an eagerness and skill that reminded you of his job. Of where both of you were. But you could no longer give a shit about the coworkers who’d probably already left to go home, or the unattended drinks you left at that table as you let Sukuna drag you into the vip lounge by your collar. All you gave a fuck about right now was making the both of you cum harder than you’d ever have.

Which by now, seemed closer than either of you had anticipated judging by the heat building in your lower guy. You groan against the side of Sukuna’s neck, eyes clenched shut as your pace quickens, raising his moans up a pitch. “G-God, I’m close.”

His insides tighten around you, moans flowing through your ears as he slightly turns, “Fuck, me too. It’s too good.” The man mewls, his other hand coming to grip the back of your head, nails scratching against your scalp, “Give it to me. C’mon, give it to me.” His words dissolve into pleas as the both of you get closer and closer, Sukuna’s eyes trying their best to roll into his own head. But you? You were barely clinging on, beginning to groan out with every thrust, feeling his walls spasm around you so nicely, his whines only pushing you further.

“Gimme your cum. Fucking give it to me, I deserve it.” Almost there, almost fucking there— “Please, please I need that shit so badly. I want your babies.” Jesus Christ. Your eyes roll back, a mix between a groan and a whine tumbling out as that heat bursts behind your gut, a supernova bursting over your eyes as you’re pushed to release, hips slamming down into the man below you like a pliant toy.

Sukuna’s body tenses, a needy whine he didn’t even think he could manage being pulled out of him as a rush of heat floods his sore insides, spurts after spurt of your cum coating every inch of his walls. God, god, god. “Fuck…” His own orgasm hits him like a truck, cock twitching erratically as pearly white strands shoot across the cushion and hard enough to reach his chest, walls spasming around your dick. Like he was trying to milk every last drop you had left.

Eventually, his legs give out and he collapses down into his own mess, limp and satisfied, only groaning when he feels you do the same. Landing on top of him. The weight is weirdly comforting, grounding him as both his mind and yours drift away in the bliss of the afterglow. In the back of his mind, he can feel your hands still interlocked, and he squeezes them gently. You squeeze back.

one day you block him from the front door.

"You are forbidden from going to the capital."

the knight reaches to stroke your cheek. "It's only a day's journey, lamb. I will be back within a week."

"I am not allowing you to leave to see the king's court dressed like that!" you point to his cloak and garments. your husband furrows his brow hard, inspecting himself. "They are stained and ripped!"

"My appearance doesn't matter, my performance is battle does." Clothing wont fix his face or scars.

"Nonsense." Clothing has always been important to you; half of the gowns you wear are made by your own hand, the fabric supplied by your father. There's been a pile of things set aside for your hubsand, but he refuses to stay still enough for you to measure. "I am coming with. There are clothes I have half sewn for you that I can finish. The rest we will buy when we arrive."

"We will be late to the council meeting-"

"And then you can blame your wife."

usually your husband rides a horse to the capital, but you have forced him into the carriage with you.

"You look regal in a high collar," you say and you work a hem. "Why are you even being summoned?"

The knight adjusts uncomfortably, looking out the window to avoid your focused expression.

"They wish to move troops back into the north in case of uprising," he whispers, voice low. "It's a terrible idea. Forcing already exhausted men to march hundreds of miles before the cold season ends is just going to lead to illness, infighting, and death."

"They don't listen to you when you tell them these things?"

"Rarely."

"Well, then make them listen. Why have a commander if they insist on ignoring him? You have earned their respect."

at the capital, you stand up for him in ways he didnt know he needed. Another member of the council greets him coldly, biting his name out with an overly polite statement that might be a jab-

"Forgive me for interrupting, sir, but you must not have heard," you say, hand coming to rest on your husbands chest, your mdoest ring glittering on your finger. "My husband has been titled as Lord of The Ironhills because of his actions as Commander of The Royal Legion."

The man blinks slowly, one eye slower than the other. "I am very aware, miss."

"Oh, forgive me! You didn't use either title, so I assumed you did not know better," you laugh. The joyous air you keep has this deeper, more pointed undertone. Many of the spots he overhears in the capital have this rhythm to them, but he never has the ability to bit back in the same way. "And you may refer to me as lady."

The man is clearly unhappy, but he turns back to your husband. "Forgive me, my lord."

HusbandKuna x Reader who lost her memory

After a tragic accident erased your memories, you no longer remember the man you married. Unfortunately for you, Ryomen Sukuna remembers everything. And he'll do whatever it takes to make you remember him too.

Everything was so much weird.

When you first opened your eyes, the world was a blur of harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beep that made your head throb. A crowd of people were hovering over your bed, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and desperation. It felt like they were looking at a ghost or maybe a god that had suddenly fallen from the sky. The moment you blinked and stared back at them with blank, unrecognizing eyes, the room dissolved into quiet, breathless weeping.

You were completely utterly lost. Who was the woman with the dark circles under her eyes calling herself Shoko? Why was she gripping your hand like her entire world was ending? You knew your own name y/n echoed clearly in the empty caverns of your mind, but beyond that single fact, there was only a vast, terrifying void. You understood the modern world. you knew what a smartphone was, you recognized the concept of Wi-Fi, and when you mumbled those details, the doctors in the room let out collective, gasping sighs of relief.

But the real shock came twenty minutes later.

The heavy door to the hospital room burst open with a violent slam. A man lunged inside like a madman, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. You had never seen anyone look like him. His hair was a soft, striking shade of pastel pink so pretty and unexpected that you wondered for a fleeting second if he had dyed it just to stand out. Dark, intricate tattoos mapped across his skin, curling around his sharp cheekbones and framing his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, burning red, swirling with a volatile mixture of terrifying rage and profound, shattering sadness.

like yeah they could force their cock inside my cunt or my asshole but they much more enjoy the way I scream around all these random things they shove inside me instead. bottles, broom handles, toilet brushes, tv remotes, shoes, literally anything and everything they can think of! and then they can further degrade me by mocking how hard I start to cum from all of it

when you first moved in, you were wary of the big, brute of a man that lived next door. you'd seen him, for the first time, taking his trash to the end of his driveway for the garbage truck to pick up while movers lugged boxes and furniture inside your house. he spared a single glance, offering a nod at your small wave before retreating into his house.

you thought that was that.

for weeks, you lived without any interaction. settling into your new home, coming back and forth between the hardware store and your house for new projects. taking out your trash before you go to work. you'd seen him take out his own trash once, but you watched from your window, so he never noticed.

you felt weird doing it. watching the thick muscles of his biceps flex against his filled out sleeve, dusting his veiny hands on his jeans before adjusting his balaclava. you wondered why he wore it, but you moved on. you'd likely never interact.

until a couple weeks later, you had arrived home with new groceries. a lot of them. it would take multiple trips that would make your arms ache.

you barely opened your trunk when a dark mass appaeared at your side. you gasp in surprise, head craning. damn, he was taller than you thought.

without a word, he reached in and grabbed at least ten grocery bags with ease. it didn't even seen to bother him as he carried it into your garage and to the door. he didn't struggle to open the door, inviting himself in and leaving you dumbfounded.

what the hell?

the next time his weird behavior manifested was when you were at work. you got a notification from your doorbell camera about some movement, expecting a salesperson or jehovah's witness. instead it was your neighbor—the one who's name you still don't have.

he carried a tackle box, and you were about to speak to ask what he was doing when something compelled you to just watch. he seemed to take apart something on your porch, taking and replacing a piece of the light before screwing it back. he left without a word.

when you got home, your porch lights shined brighter than before—they were dim and on the verge of burning out. why would he do that?

you wanted to confront him, but you appreciated these small things. he still appeared out of thing air to take your groceries in, leaving before you could thank him.

he even started pulling out your bin for you, sitting it at the end of the driveway and dragging it back to the garage when the truck came by.

it perplexed you. why was he doing this for you? did he do it for his other neighbors? he had to, you couldn't be that special.

so you continued living life, welcoming the small actions as they made everything easier. besides, you enjoyed the company, even if he never said a word to you or looked in your direction.

the first time you approached him was on the drive home when a light appeared on your car's dashboard. you had no clue what it meant, though you probably should've. when you arrived home, you debated taking it straight to the autoshop, but instead you tried your luck with your neighbor. he likes to help, so you're guessing he wouldn't mind.

with a soft knock to his front door, you stood waiting patiently, and wait you did. a few minutes later, you contemplated turning back because he wasn't answering the door despite being home (his car was in the driveway).

just as you turned, the front door creaked open, revealing your neighbor clad in nothing but a white towel around his waist, balaclava shoved on haphazardly. his chest glistened with water as it glifed down his skin. oh fuck.

you could barely keep your eyes off his toned chest, abs flexing under your gaze before they snapped back to meet his dark ones. he lifted his brow in question.

"uh, hi." you said awkwardly, rocking on your feet. you hadn't even properly introduced yourself to the man, mostly because he disappeared so quick that you didn't have the chance. "a light came on in my car, and I was wondering—"

the door shut mid-sentence. it left you dumbfounded, mouth hanging open in shock as you stare at the door like it may open again. maybe his generous actions ended at bringing the groceries in. maybe he didn't want to get dirty after just showering. you couldn't expect the man to be ready to help any time you needed it.

after a minute of contemplation, you turned to walk back down the path. you'd have to get it to the mechanics and figured out how much it'd cost you.

when you reached the last step, the door opened again. still shirtless but now looping a belt around his jeans, he walked out, bare feet padding on the concrete. he nodded to your house, signaling you to lead.

you lead him back, hand him your keys and let him do his thing because now you get a free show. his muscles flex as he works under the hood, dirtying himself in a way that's sinful. after a while working in the hot sun, you go inside and bring back a drink, which he gratefully accepts—still without saying anything.

he's a bit weird, refusing to talk to you, but he's fixing your car so you can't complain.

"is this your official uniform to fix all your single neighbor's cars?" the words slip out before you can stop them. mortification warms your face, but it forces a deep chuckle from your neighbor, whose eyes crinkle under his mask.

he glances up at you, dirt smearing his skin. "only the pret'y ones."

your heart flutters. his voice was deep, gruff, like he smoked cigarettes, but it was satisfying to hear.

"so you do talk." you tease whilst biting back a smile. you'd finally gotten words out of him. a small victory. "what's your name?"

"simon."

"really? you look like a greg."

he shakes his head with a smile and continues working, leaving the two of you in silence. what you don't know is that simon's heart is nearly pounding out of his chest. it's beating so hard, he's worried he'll break a rib.

You both meet in a mer sanctuary, you having been rescued from an aquarium going bankrupt and ghost under treatment for a boating strike. You've never seen another mer before, but the strange creature in your tank undeniably is one, that much you instincts tell you.

But....but he's so big, bigger than anything you've seen before! You doubt he could ever comfortably fit in your tank! Just looking at him makes your fins flutter nervously, hiding in the rocks on the shelf built into the pool.

He keeps peeking into your cave, chirping and churring in a way that makes your instincts perk but you don't really understand. Safety? Pod? You don't know.

Meanwhile, ghost is losing his mind.

This strange mer is too damn small, and he keeps trying to ask "are you okay? I'm safe, did they hurt you?" But all it does is squeak like a pup and hide!

Ghost can't fit into the tiny cave with the mer, and his instincts are already freaking out because he's separated from his pod! He needs to protect the weird pup!

....how the hell the workers intend to care for you when ghost is at risk of drowning anyone who tries, they have no idea.

leon will do whatever his sweet boy asks for so long as he is persistent enough. making him happy is the one mission he’ll have even after retirement. [text msgs]

p.s. although i myself am fem and write a lot of fem reader, my page welcomes any and all genders! 🖤

Leon Kennedy x husband reader

Summery: Leon has a little charm of you.

178 words. Trying to make longer stuff but I'm so lazyyy("-_- )

-

It really shouldn't have shocked you, considering Leon's literally the epitome of a man who'd have a little charm of you, his husband, with him out on missions. Whether it be a little locket strapped around his neck with a picture of you lookin all cute inside (that he'd probably have to take off after getting grabbed by a zombie).

Or in this case, a mini model of you on his favorite gun. He's sat at his desk with your chin sitting on his head and your elbows resting on his shoulders while he's giving you a little tour of guns, when you spot something dangling right under the pistol he's showing off.

You look closer to see a miniature toy version of you, perfectly painted down to the tiny, distinct features on your face, the clothes you usually wear and the tiniest grays in your hair. When you point it out he responds with a soft "i don't know, it just kinda helps with my aim?"

"Aww leon, you're so obsessed."

it starts small. a picture of my tits for $30, not even enough to cover the monthly interest. when i ask for more, they tell me i need to work for it instead of begging for a hand out. $50 for a picture of my cunt. $100 for fucking myself with a dildo they picked out and recording it. $200 for wearing a plug out in public and taking a picture bent over a bathroom sink where anyone could walk in and see. the money starts slowly chipping away at my loan, and once it starts, i can't stop.

i ask for more, and they tell me they're done paying for pictures when they could just have the real thing. i protest, because i had told them i wouldn’t meet up in person, but they offer enough that i would stupid for saying no.

i agree. they're nice, on the surface. i can't differentiate the meanness in their eyes from the arousal. the first time, they're gentle, and i think that i made the right choice because nothing bad happened. the next time, they want to use toys on me and fuck me hard with a dildo thats just a little too big, they leave it in while they torture my clit and nipples with pinches. and the next, they want to hurt me. they hit me with a paddle until i'm crying, then use my body while i’m still reeling from the pain. i leave their place with a wobble in my step and bruises all over me.

i go over there one day and they have company. they keep passing me drinks until i'm swaying in my seat. they tell me to undress and i’m sober enough to put my foot down. when i refuse, they grab me and pull my clothes off, saying that whores don't get to say no. i try to fight them off, but it’s no use. they hold me against their chest and their friends start touching me, groping my tits and cunt, laughing at me when i flinch away. someone holds another drink to my lips and spills it all down my front when i won’t open, and the next time they try, my owner forces my mouth open so i have to drink unless i want to drown. more drinks are fed to me, the friends taking turns like i’m a zoo exhibit. the entire time, they’re commenting in my ear about how wet i am just from a bunch of strangers touching me, how loose i am after so long of being their personal sex doll. they make fun of me the first time i cum on someone's fingers.

when i’m wasted, my owner finally lets me go. i’m passed around the party. people use my mouth, my tits, my pussy, my ass. i’m in and out of awareness. i end up in someone's lap without realizing it, and they complain about how i’m so out of it i can barely ride them.

when i wake up, i’m sticky from alcohol and cum, tossed onto the couch at some point in the night. someone has written all over my body with a thick permanent marker, and my stomach flips when i see the tally of how many times i was fucked. my owner makes me beg for some pain killers, then pay for them with head, which makes my headache a thousand times worse. they tell me i can have a shower if i let them take pictures of the aftermath and they force me to pose with my legs open and cunt spread. they tell me i can leave if i let them post all of it online-- every picture and video i ever sent them, all the ones that were taken the night previous, and the aftermath, a perfect timeline of my own corruption published for the world to see.