Tumgik
#writing kinky romance
birchbow · 9 months
Note
Hey birch! Quick ask for your writing on POF. What do you like the most about your Kurloz and Gamzee? If you could pick a few favorite things or traits from the versions of them you created, what do you think those would be? It's ok if you skip, I just got curious. I love your epic clown sagaaa 🥰🥰
!!! :Oc oh huh! My favorite traits are almost always the ones that create friction--some of those are neutral but create drama and some of them are outright negative, lol. Short answer, PoF Gamzee's a reckless coward and PoF Kurloz is incredibly dangerous and proud over top of a deep well of insecurity. Long answer.....under the cut, lol.
The Gamzee I write is, and I say this with authorial love and tbh no moral judgment, kind of a coward. He's not scared of the same stuff as most of us would be, he's good at combat and he likes pain, but also he's hugely, deeply afraid--of lots of stuff, but especially being left behind, and that drives a ton of his characterization.
Being left/abandoned is a pretty returning theme for a reason! From the very first chapter, when Gamzee's internal monologue is basically, "Well, time for the thing that made me happy to Go Away again. Hopefully if I'm good and I wait well enough, it'll eventually come back." He's been captured on his first mission, is his family going to leave him to die? Karkat's cocooning, is he ever coming back? Kurloz is poisoned and the family is turning on him as a suspect, are they done with him forever? He's the lynchpin of the Cult of Flesh's heresy, are his gods going to turn their faces away from him?
And when he feels like he has been abandoned, he goes through cycles of rage and then retreating from the rage, because being angry is holy but being angry is bad and drives people away, but being angry feels right, but-- It drives him to be overly obliging, trying not to drive people away, and it pushes him to be vicious when somebody seems to be interfering with his grasp on the things he values. It makes him a very sweet guy who'd do just about anything for the people he cares about, and it makes him clingy and dependent and blindly devoted, and prone to lashing out when he feels like they don't care about him as much as he cares about them!
I identify with a lot of that as an author, but I also just feel like it dovetails pretty neatly into the scant amounts of canon characterization we get for Gamzee, so I find it very compelling to read/write!
-
As far as Kurloz goes, what I like most about him as a character is probably like...his pride? And (especially because this is a kinky sex fic) the shame that goes along with that.
On a very surface level, the concept of the Grand Highblood as a grumpy, proud old guy who's getting reluctantly dragged in the direction of a still terrible but less hemoist society is very funny to me. Make up a bigoted old man and then force him to knuckle under repeatedly to the people he's bigoted against. But also on a more-plot-less-humor level, a character who's made himself a very strict code of "this is what's expected of me and I will fulfill it no matter what it does to me" is RIPE for drama. Especially when the plot of the story is then giving that character something that suddenly he finds he values at least as much as that code and pride, and making him struggle with that.
The counterpoint to that being; it's fun to set up a character as a proud, badass, dangerous son of a bitch, and then give the POV/the readers a shot straight into the shit that he's hiding behind that "I'm untouchable, don't fuck with me" pride. Sadism, especially as extreme as I've written into Kurloz, can be an intimidating thing! On the surface it's part of the mask, part of the scary persona--but it's really compelling and interesting to me to then sidestep that mask and go into the roiling mess of sexual shame and religious guilt and uncertainty and self-loathing. MAN I love writing the Brother Immortal scenes, you guys.
22 notes · View notes
ultimaid · 3 months
Text
[said while holding my head in my hands, blushing so hard i feel dizzy] people can just put anything on ao3, can’t they…
10 notes · View notes
grieving-me · 1 year
Text
Sweet Deception
Let me be your undoing
Slowly
You'll become mine
I gained your trust
Thought you were the predator and I the perfect prey
By the time you notice your error-
My teeth are already sinking into the soft skin of your neck
Tearing into flesh
Vicious, unforgiving
I might like to suffer but I give as good as I get
When I'm underestimated
Sadistic joy
I know you like it,
Your laugh rings true
Let me show you
how true predation looks like by the hands of prey
13 notes · View notes
stonebutchooze · 6 months
Text
me writing a light-hearted romance: ohoho and there will be darkness. and transgender fucking. and evil deeds. and spells cast
6 notes · View notes
powerbottomeminem · 10 months
Text
Love Is Ǝvil #94
Tumblr media
Marshall and Nicolas celebrate their 6 month anniversary. It doesn't go without a hitch but in the end they're just happy to be with each other.
A quick preview:
94 I Smile Every Single Time I See Your Face
Slowly the days became longer again. Some evenings Marshall glanced out the window and was surprised that the sun was still shining. Tonight they might even catch a few rays at the lake house, the rippling water gleamed downright mystical when the last light hit its surface. Granted of course that the roads weren’t too congested and they got up there quickly.
Marshall peered out the front window of his car. In the small street stood a small house that clung to the neighboring houses and all the colors were a shade of gray regardless of the warm evening sun. One window was illuminated, a figure stood looking out onto the street, perhaps watching Marshall’s car. The house’s entrance receded into a niche, just a few steps were visible in the shadows and somehow Marshall just knew how they ended in an ordinary door at the top, slightly worn. A familiar feeling he couldn’t quite place. Nicolas sat on the bottom steps. When he recognized Marshall’s car, he came over. A thick jacket with a fur rim on the hood worn over a black t-shirt and his dog tags sparkled in the sunlight, his usual cargo pants in a dark olive tone were tucked into heavy boots.
Inadvertently Marshall smiled proudly as his eyes drank in the sight of his boyfriend. This clearly his favorite outfit for private outings, perhaps purposefully chosen. The clothes weren’t anything flashy and yet they perfectly showed off all the features Nicolas’s body offered: square shoulders, muscular chest, big hands and stocky legs. The patented mean smirk was fixed on his face as he got into the car. The messenger bag hung from his shoulder and was quickly stuffed into the footwell, but in his hand Nicolas held a second bag. Carefully he manoeuvred …
- continue on Ao3 -
(You can now find my work on Wattpad as well: https://www.wattpad.com/story/341777006-love-is-ǝvil)
5 notes · View notes
starbuck · 2 years
Text
i feel so chaotic… a week ago i didn’t have a job opportunity OR a fetish (i was consciously aware of) and now half my recent documents on google docs are for this job application and the other half is fetish writing… help.
9 notes · View notes
bottomvalerius · 2 years
Text
my whole issue of needing to be Lucio’s surrogate mom by the end of his route is being circumvented by literally just having Sam Daddy™️ him and just fully embrace straight up DDLB shit with them lmfaooo
6 notes · View notes
powerbottomeminem · 1 year
Text
Love Is Ǝvil #93
Tumblr media
An assortment of text messages between Marshall and Nicolas, some light hearted, some less so. Will they ever talk about safewords?
A quick preview
93 Text Messages (Skit)
Nicolas: I hate parties
Marshall: they can be fun
Nicolas: I hate people. parties are full of people
Marshall: come on, you don’t hate all people
Nicolas: I hate most people
Marshall: those are your friends. you’d do well to be less misanthropic sometimes
Nicolas: wow, that’s a big word
Marshall: fuck you
Nicolas: I especially hate many people all at once. which is colloquially called a party
Marshall: now you’re throwing around big words
Nicolas: it suits me
Marshall: I get that though, parties are pretty exhausting
Nicolas: I might like it more if you were here
Marshall: sorry, I wasn’t invited
Nicolas: that actually surprises me. he didn’t ask you?
Marshall: your roommate? nope, heard nothing from him
Nicolas: I really don’t get that guy
Marshall: does he even know I’m your boyfriend?
Nicolas: unfortunately, yes
Marshall: hey! I’m putting a lotta effort into being your boyfriend, you can show me around, dickhead
Nicolas: and I do very much appreciate all your effort
Marshall: I think I only texted with him once, over your phone too. you were out of commission or something?
Nicolas: yeah, that happens sometimes. did he say something?
Marshall: not really
Nicolas: good. don’t ever believe a word out of his mouth, not ever!
Marshall: aight?
Nicolas: he’s a manipulative bitch. don’t get lured in by his pretty face
Marshall: I don’t even know what he looks like. or what his name is
Nicolas: the less you know the better
Marshall: that’s a way to talk about your best friend …
Nicolas: we had this conversation already, I don’t trust these people to be good to you. and they agree, don’t worry
Marshall: that ain’t my point
Nicolas: you don’t choose your friends, you just befriend the people around you. I’m not around good people
- continue on Ao3 -
4 notes · View notes
yorsgirl · 12 days
Note
Yan!Heian!Sukuna and with Y/N?
Lately, whenever Darling got pregnant she ended up having countless miscarriages, the longest lasting at least 3 months, Sukuna began to suspect these countless coincidences.
He doesn't care about these losses since he didn't want to share Y/N with some brat, but he found it very strange that every time she got pregnant resulted in a miscarriage, so he started investigating and finally found out why this was happening.
He discovered that Y/N was causing her own miscarriages, as she knew that the last thing the world needed was Sukuna's descendants, so he finally confronts her but with that damn psychological terror that he loves to do to her.
Oh my, I love love love this idea!!
I kinda went out on this one, but I hope I did justice to what you were aiming at. Hope you like it :) Also I am sorry for being so late
Playing God
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted. Needed. You had to realize that no other heaven except his arms would be comforting. Even if that meant, breaking your very soul.
Tropes: Dark Romance, Historical fiction, Angst
Warnings: Implied nsfw(forced), mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, cannibalism and isolation. Trauma, mild stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, minor character death(s), gore, gaslighting, manipulation, misogyny, blood, degradation(non-kinky), patriarchal society, unhealthy relationship, implied child birth.
General warnings: Yandere!True form!Husband!Sukuna, Wife!Reader, Heian Era, both Sukuna and reader are a red flag on their own, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n, not proofread.
Word Count: 9.7k ( Just when I thought AFW2 was long, I write this... I know its too much but trust me, I needed to. There was just so many things which I couldn't miss out.)
A/N: This is the first request which I worked on, so idk if I did it up to your standard. I sincerely apologize, if this isn't what you wanted. + I hope its similar to what you wanted. Thanks for the wait and request.
Tumblr media
You were digging your own grave.
So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.
Playing with fire only gets you burnt.
For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.
Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw was the burning hut, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent. The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.
Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.
You expected calamity, but you were calm.
Everything went down in flames. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.
Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.
The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this reverie of madness, he held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.
.
"I am sorry for your loss, m'lady."
You had seen it all.
You had your fair share of encounters, received news and such. Women losing their mind and sanity after delivered with a news this devastating. Notably, no woman would feel any bliss after knowing that they had lost their child. Lost the chance of motherhood before experiencing it. Violent outbursts was the most probable outcome.
"This is a hard time," The midwife spoke softly. "Yet, you shouldn't neglect your health."
You perceived the softness to be fear. She must have had dealt with situations like these, most of them traumatizing, you assumed. Perhaps, she expected the same from you too. You tore your gaze off her, leaning back on your bedframe, "I'd like to be left alone."
Your declaration was answered with compliance. Offering a humble bow, she bid you farewell, walking out of your chambers. Once her footsteps seized, you finally let your guard down. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you laid back down on your bed.
"Good riddance," You muttered to yourself. Moments of such vulnerability wasn't rare – considering you were served with loneliness, lately. Save for the times you spent in the presence of Sukuna. His decree, one might say. Your attention shouldn't be wasted on anyone but him.You scoffed recalling his words. Involuntarily, your hand stroked your belly, the corner of your lip curled up.
Once a house to life, given by your husband; now lay vacant from your doing.
A twisted sense of pride swelled up in your chest, a wide grin stretching on your face. You were successful in your quest, again. Mercilessly, you uprooted the seed of your Husband's lineage. Perhaps, you've truly gone sick.
Yet, this revolt of feelings were miles lesser than the repugnant you encountered when you realized your first pregnancy. You were on the brink of clawing out the creature growing in your womb. You'd have torn it apart with while revelling in the joy of watching its blood drip down on the face of Earth. If not for Sukuna's presence in the room, you might've gone through it.
You lost a fragment of yourself, that day.
Throwing up countless times, dizziness, nausea, even losing your consciousness while walking down - no, they weren't pregnancy side effects. More so, the outcome of the stress accumulating in you.
Sickening. His kin you'd have cradled in your body. To have born and grow up into a revolting, merciless creature like his father. To take up place in your womb, your flesh and blood combined with his, a living proof of your plight - disgusting.
Never. You'd never let that happen.
You'd never succumb to such monstrosity.
You had already given up your freedom, your dignity, your alight life to Sukuna in exchange of the lives you held dear. The lives back in your ancestral village, home to your kin.
You were affirmed, an heir of Ryomen Sukuna would never be birthed from you.
Speak of the devil, he appears.
An overwhelming familiar aura surrounded your very being, the doors to your chamber slid open, your captor, your husband strolled inside. Even his mere presence held the malevolence in him. You attempted to rise from your position at his arrival.
"Sit." He commanded.
You silently obeyed his order, keeping your gaze settled on your lap, the energy had your stomach churning with trepidation; at times when you didn't do anything either. And this time, you were guilty. Two moments passed in silence until he spoke.
"I heard from the midwife."
You took in a sharp breath, swallowing a lump in your throat. It was the same ordeal, like the first two times. Yet, you were a tad bit calm since the previous encounters. Probably, due to the fact you were getting used to this role. In this past moons, you had developed into the wife, he was carving you out to be. Giving him just the reactions he wanted, for that saved you a lot of anguish and pain. Even if it came at the price of your self-respect. This was the only way.
With your head hung low, you spoke, "Forgive me, my lord. I am incapable of bearing you an heir. I-It must have been my fau-"
"Not another word."
You instantly stiffened up, his deep voice causing chills to run down your spine. Did you make an error? Was he aware of your tumultuous acts? Was the play not convincing enough?
He held your chin, forcing you to look up at him. All of his four, red eyes bore into you. You bit on your inner cheek, blood coursing in your veins - steadfast.
They say, your fear start to vanish once you've remained in the source of their vicinity too long. That statement is false. For even after staying with your captor for almost two years, you still held your fear.
"The one at fault bore consequences."
That's when you were hit with the faint stench of blood from him. Another one perished. You took the wild guess of it being the midwife. However, instead of amplifying fright, it was lessened. You wouldn't be on the receiving end of his wrath.
"You aren't at fault, wife."
Oh, but you were.
Sukuna held your gaze, cupping your cheek; the rough pad of his thumb trailed a line on your skin. His tone and grip were surprisingly gentle. "There's no need to apologize."
The corners of your eyes crinkled down, you lean into his touch. You assume, it's a good move as you noted the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "It's the third time, my lord. Perhaps, I bear some shortcomings."
"What nonsense," He rolled his eyes. "There's none, not in my eyes. Don't fill your head with such fickle thoughts." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Is that understood?"
He wasn't one for affirmations but maybe- just maybe it was his attempt at comfort, you supposed. The previous losses must had him learning, the threads of condolence. Still, for you, they'd never mean anything less than empty words. The last thing you wanted was to be comforted by your tormentor. You'd rather step into hell willingly.
But you were living under his wing. You have to play according to his whims. You nodded. "Yes, my lord."
His hand left your face, dropping to his thigh. He looked at you, as if sizing you up. You had to keep yourself from making any unnecessary movements. Sukuna wanted you composed, whatever the situation. (Except the times when he bedded you, you were allowed to scream, cry and thrash around then. Cause you were trapped under his immense strength, struggles were futile).
After a while, he asked, "Any wishes?"
You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering down then back to him. You let out a breath, before continuing. "May I visit the shrine... this evening?"
Silence.
You were contemplating whether you had offended him, somehow. Previously, he did allow for your little trips, you wondered if his patience was running thin cause of your repeated incapability of bearing him an heir. Maybe, you ran out of luck.
You were about to mutter an apology but then a smug grin spread across his lips, "Why so?" He asked.
"To-" You swallowed a lump, preparing to answer the practiced dialogue. "To offer prayers for–"
"Why grieve for someone who didn't even take form?" He cut you up, raising an eyebrow. For a tad moment, he sounded curious. It broke into a cruel chuckle, "You humans would make a funeral out of anything, yes?"
If you held an ounce of sympathy then you wouldn't question.
You wanted to say but you knew better. Besides, you still have to keep up the act of being his loyal wife. Heaving a out a deep breath, you replied, "I suppose." You paused, running the tip of your tongue over your lip.
"I'd pray that I can bear you an heir the next time, my lord."
Nay, more so: I'd pray that you receive your end soon, my lord.
Sukuna watched you. No, not look. He watched, like a predator. Then, his lips cracked into a sinister grin. "You've a way with your words, wife."
It caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, attempting to voice out your confusion. "What do-"
"I will accompany you."
.
"Sukuna sama, the herbalist you asked for, has arrived."
Sukuna spared a glance at Uraume, who knelt by his feet.
"Bring him."
As on cue, they rose up from their stance, pivoting around towards the door. It parted, two curses had a man in their grasp as he struggled to break free. His eyes widening with terror when it fell on the King, sitting atop his throne.
The man was pushed down to his knees, face meeting the floor in a loud slam. His scuffles were in vain against such power, he knew that. Still, in a situation of life and death, rationality takes it's leave.
Sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance. All he wanted was some herbalist to answer the flurry of questions in his which had him restless for the past few days. Did this scum think he'd be killed? Maybe he would be, if he deems it necessary or he proves to be useless.
What had him restless was your miscarriages. Counting the most recent would make it a fourth. Where did he go wrong? You were kept in utmost luxury, no toils whatsoever. Still, what was wrong?
—》《—
"Perhaps, there's some faults in her highness."
"Keep your voice down, Mira. Someone may hear you."
"I am a lot quite... but tell me, don't you find it strange? How come she has lost all of her children?"
"I- I suppose. Perhaps, motherhood is not written in her fate."
"Or so, she's simply incapable."
—》《—
Safe to say, those were the last words they uttered before they were turned into a mash of flesh and blood.
Sliced into pieces that even trying to make a proper corpse out of the remnants weren't possible.
At times, Sukuna wished he held the power to bring back someone to life. Then maybe, he'd have given those servants a death, more worthy. Maybe, ripping out their limbs, piece by piece. First the bones would break, ripped from the ligaments, then it'd be the muscles; that was easy to just tear out. And after that happened, he could have just sewn up the blobs of flesh again and repeat the process until they learn their lesson or the life leaves them again.
He deduced the latter would be more probable. Still, it would be fine. They deserved that.
Speaking ill of you in his palace, in his vicinity, in his world was prohibited. A sin, in the words of humans. And a sin never goes unpunished.
You - his consort, his queen, you were heavenly. There isn't a fault in you, it's some external factor, must be. But he can't let go of his growing suspicion either.
Sukuna detested children, it was a known fact. Always ending their lives first, whenever he set foot in a village. They were of no use to him, unless they were served to him on his platter. He couldn't deny, their flesh was flavourful.
Even though, he held great disdain for them, he couldn't help but desire a kinship with you. With the price of letting go of your undivided attention? Hmm, doesn't sound too great. He assumed, he can hire a wet nurse, just in case. Still, he desired to see you round with his child, feet swollen as you struggled to walk around. You do not have to worry, he, your husband would joyfully oblige in carrying you in his arms. You were more than perfect, he couldn't even imagine just how beautiful you'll look, during and after carrying your child.
It was destined. You'd extend his lineage or no one else.
You were flawless then why were you causing such errors? Contradicting. It was his question until he started to take a note in your behaviour, and he found...
Sukuna stood up from his throne, walking down the steps of bones, presumably of the ones he killed. They act as a pretty show piece, according to him.
The court resonated with his footsteps, each one carrying a promise of death. The man's struggles seized once he was harshly pulled up by his hair, his eyes met with Sukuna's.
"Yo-your high–ness," The man fumbled with his words, a spine chilling sensation going down his frame.
"Time's wasting," Sukuna said, his glare pointed. The fury evident, though his exterior was calm. "Comply if you don't wish death."
The man nodded frequently, his fingertips trembled with anticipation and horror. "Ye-yes, your highness. It's an honour to s-serve you." The man fell to his feet as he was dropped. Sukuna dismissed the extra company with a wave of his hand.
"Rise," He declared.
The man still on his knees, raises his head. "What can I- I do for you, your highness?"
—》《—
"May I make a request, my lord?"
Sukuna's eyes flickered to you, yours not meetinh his. Knelt before him, you gracefully poured the sake in his ochoko.
"Speak."
He marked the squinting in your irises, fingertips trembled when you put the vessel down. Your shoulders rose and fell before you gazed at him, reluctantly. He couldn't help but find your antics inhumanely amusing. 
"Would you be kind enough... to bring me this-" You paused for a fleeting moment. "This herb called... aloe vera?"
—》《—
"Aloe vera," Sukuna tilted his head aside, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest. "What use does it have?"
"We-well, my lord it's used for heal-healing purposes, burns, cuts, rashes... it heals injuries, yes." He answered, taking a gulp. There was other uses too yet his head was alike a blank canvas, before such a formidable strength. He wasn't even aware if it was satisfactory or why the King of Curses needed to know about such a measly plant. But if it meant, he gets to live another day, then he'll just give what he could offer. "I-It can also be used to– to make me-medicated food. N-not a delicacy... I might add."
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"
"N-no, my lord. There- it can cure diges-"
"In pregnancy."
The man stiffened, his mouth parting a tad bit. A whisper leaving his lips, "Yo-your highness...?"
Pregnancy, menstruation, considered taboo. A matter regarding women, spoken in the inner chambers, the men should remain ignorant. A topic whispered in ears not spoken aloud in any hall, let alone the royal court. Certainly, Sukuna was aware of this societal construct, yet he didn't care. The society and its idiotic rules could go to hell. He just needed answers.
"Speak," Sukuna's voice was louder, deeper when the man before him fidgeted in his spot due to discomfort - on speaking such a topic.
"It-Its a- your highness, I d-don't think you-"
"Bastard," His fumbling was interrupted by Sukuna. The warning evident in his profanity. His face grew darker, the four irises glowing with impending danger akin Satan himself. "If you so much as want to live, fucking speak."
The man's blood ran cold as on cue, face turning a shade paler as if winter had started to pool in. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, "Forgive me, your highness! I will speak, I will- yes- aloe vera its-" He heaved out a deep breath, an attempt to slow down his beating heart. "Any fo-form of it is ill-suited during pregnancy... it can cause... cause pe-pelvic haemorrhage leading to... to  misc-"
"Miscarriage?"
"Yes, miscarriage... can lead to miscarriage, your highness."
A profound silence prevailed. Not a soul spoke neither was a footstep heard. Not a leaf rustled or the howling winds tapped on the window pane - assumed, mother nature had halted its elements from making any noise.
The stakes were high yet an flicker of courage alighted in the man as he raised his head up to glance at Sukuna, "My lor-"
The man's head tumbled down before he could even complete.
He couldn't scream, he couldn't beg, he couldn't apologize, he couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch. Watch as his beheaded body fell limp before his eyes. Watch as the blood poured out like waterfalls staining the carpet with its hues. The red marred bones protruded out amidst the flesh, globs of blood was gushing out of his severed voice box. His body jerked, the remnants of conscious nerves trying to survive.
It was a neat cut. A heavenly sight.
The world started to blur in. And before he knew it, the light was gone from his eyes.
Sukuna didn't even spare a glance as he marched out of his court.
Uraume approached the body, a few maids accompanying them. They casted a disapproving glare at the corpse.
"Not edible, dispose of it."
.
You didn't see or hear from Sukuna for a week.
He didn't visit your chambers at night neither was he present when you sat down for your meals. Even his energy was alike a hushed whisper which would remind you of his presence in the residence, but not reveal himself to you. For some reason, it had you in an unease.
No, you certainly did not miss his presence. But his absence just made the surroundings almost suffocating. There was the looming threat that something had happened or something were to happen. One worse than the other.
Silence was never uneventful.
Taking up the courage, you had once inquired Uraume about his absence. Presenting a polite bow, they answered, "Sukuna sama doesn't want to be disturbed."
Disturbed... as if he wasn't the cause of all disturbances. A natural disaster in himself. You resisted the urge to scoff and uttered a meek line of gratitude before going about your day. (Which extended with you strolling down the halls or garden or just be in your chambers and read the few books, Sukuna had bought you)
On the very same day the dark commenced. While you were mesmerized by the fall of twilight over the garden, you heard his voice.
"Don't you love playing with poison, wife?"
The sudden question made you halt your steps, you weren't even aware that he was present- shielded his aura, presumably. You turned around, raising an eyebrow with bewilderment.
"Pardon, my lord?"
Sukuna snorted , walking up to you, a smirk played on his lips. You had to make the effort of tilting your head to gaze up at him. His towering figure loomed over you, his lower left hand snaking around your waist - pulling you closer to him.
"You love poisons, don't you? Or in your words - herbs."
Your shoulders grew rigid, eyes widening with realization, a sharp breath hitting your throat. Your fingertips trembled with anticipation. You were sure to be discreet in your affairs, using the isolation he subjected you to at its best. He knew. It was bad. Very much so. And what were to happen now? What would he do to you?
Another night of horror where your screams would be unheard, your resistance proved to be futile, where you'd be left to suffer alone, where another shard of your remaining soul would be plunged by him. Another night where you'd again play into his whims... Or something more vile, leaving you physically disabled? Perhaps, even death...
The foremost was the most heinous one. You silently prayed that he wouldn't resort to that. If you were to be subjected to his torment then you wished he'd just kill you, liberating you for once and for all. Even so, survival is what the mind wants. Piecing through any tactic just to live another day. The play for now should be denial.
Sukuna's affections for you worked as a double edged sword. You aimed to take advantage of it, in every way possible. You instilled a bit of courage, standing your ground, you spoke "I don't understand what you're trying to instigate, my lord."
He looked down on you, a coy smile uplifting his lips. He threaded his fingers through the knot of your kimono, leaning down next to your ear, he inhaled your scent. His lips brushing over your neck.
"I do not believe so, wife." He murmured, his warm breath hitting your skin, a range of goosebumps rising over your arm. "In fact, I think you clearly know, what I speak about."
Before you could let a word out, he straightened up, turning around, he pushed you to walk with him. His large hand still covering your back.
"Come, let me entertain you."
.
You were walking to the gallows.
Not literally but you were sure, your end was near.
The wooden floors creaked with footfalls. Each step heavier than the previous. You hesitantly glimpsed at Sukuna, his gaze was far ahead. Not a word left his mouth in this while. Only his hold remained firm. He pushed you forward every moment your step faltered.
Your breath hitched when you turned a corner - the right wing. A rule, you could say. Sukuna made it clear since the day he held you captive brought you home - never step a foot in the right wing. Despair drowned your curiosity that time, you didn't question, least bothered to. Even later, you didn't dare to defy him; courtesy to the pain you were subjected to once.
Still, you could make the wild guess of what happened in there. The muffled screams kept you awake at midnight, it was easy to put the puzzle pieces together. There he revelled with the sick pleasure of tormenting your kind.
He stopped before a pair of oak doors. That's when he glanced at you, for the first time in a long while. For a moment, he stared at you with an emotion you couldn't decipher. The next moment, he pulled out the Kanzashi from your hair, letting your strands tousle down.
You flinched, pushing away the curls which clouded your vision. Sukuna held the pin in his hand, holding your gaze. He was unmoving.
What happened to him?
"My lord," You called. "What are you-"
"Stay quiet," He handed you the kanzashi back, adjusting your hand to hold it as if it were a dagger. Turning to the door, he spared you a glance. "Don't speak a word." With that, the doors opened.
Dark.
It was dark save for the light of the lantern which illuminated the room. He shoved you forward, the door locking behind as he stood aside you.
"One bite."
Huh? Bite? What did he mean? You slightly turned your head towards him but you were stopped in your tracks. It wasn't only you and Sukuna in this room, seems you had a guest. More appropriate word? A Captive.
Your eyes were wide open. On the corner of the room, sat a young boy, not more than a adolescent - blindfolded. Restrained by chains, his wrists and ankles were cuffed with metal. A small whimper left his lips as he registered the presence of both of you.
You were about to speak but then his words rang in your mind.
Don't speak a word.
Sukuna gripped your wrist, leading you to the boy, "One bite, in the arm."
He wasn't talking to you. To the boy, he kept his eyes. You marked how the boy flinched. The metals clanking on contact.
He turned to you then, motioning to the pin in your hand then the boy's arm. Realization hit you. You tried to shake your head, refuse; but one glare of his and you were compelled. Reluctantly, you turned around, trudging to the boy.
Something was wrong.
You could feel it. Why... why would he want you to stab this poor boy? A picture of misery, he was. You noted he didn't have any sign of bruises in his body - peculiar. Yet, his fragile state was enough to give you a hint that he had been here for days. Perhaps, starved too. The tension was high and all you wanted was to leave this room, in an instant.
Fine, if Sukuna wanted you to just stab the boy. You'd do it. Missing the vital points which could end his life. One, he said. You'll miss the point and done. Its not upon you that you'd pierce the wrong place. His instructions weren't specific - that'd be your excuse.
He won't die. Not from your hands.
You gently held the boy's arm, angling the pointers on the muscles. You drove it in.
Miscalculation.
The boy's body instantly stiffened, an gut wrenching scream erupted from his mouth. He thrashed around, swinging his legs and arms, his body twitching violently.
You recoiled back soon, yanking out the pin, stepping away on instinct. You watched with terror.
Foam rose up the boy's mouth, his shrieks pierced your eardrums. The fluid dripped down his jaw, marring his clothes. He clutched the area where you stabbed him. Scratching at it with all his might. The sound of flesh ripping filled your ears as the boy ruthlessly, tore the muscles.
You were stunted. You couldn't speak or move. You weren't chained but you felt as if a thousand shackles bore you down.
The next seconds were a blur. The screams started to die down, his body losing it's color. Sooner than you could grasp, did the room turn silent again.
The boy was dead.
.
"Enjoyed the show, wife?"
You slapped your hand over your mouth, stumbling a few steps back. You couldn't tear your eyes off the young boy, bile rose up your throat as the room started to spin.
"Wh-what did you-"
No- you couldn't throw up, whatever second thought it was, it refrained you from crumbling to your knees and make a mess. Shivers went down your spine, you struggled to stand straight. The stench of the corpse and the expunging liquids started to fill your nostrils. You were almost on the verge to lose consciousness.
"What... did you do?"
Your eyes flickered to Sukuna. He stood tall, not a sign of emotion on his mien. You regret ever considering mirth to the worst feature on him, cause none was more terrifying.
And he was watching you.
It reminded you of the time, you first saw him -  covered with blood of the lives he had taken, down the river bank. Victim of naivety and ignorance, you didn't know any better than to not let him see you. Wandering towards the peculiar beast, even when a gut wrenching terror asked you to run; you were stubborn. You had asked - are you alright?
"What did you do?" You repeated again.
Tilting his head, he kept his unwavering gaze fixed on you. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do anything, wife." He paused, letting the horror shadow your features, "It was all you."
You needed to run.
The kanzashi, which was till then clasped in your hand firmly, fell down. A clank, you heard.
One step.
One step towards the door. He is standing afore you, the fingers of his upper right arm ran through your open hair, tangling in the roots, he yanked your head back.
"I don't remember, giving you the permission to leave."
Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to break free. Sukuna was having none of it. He dragged you by your hair towards the corpse of the boy. Your nails jabbed into his wrist while whimpers of anguish left your mouth.
Sukuna shoved you down to your knees, tugging your hair back - you were sure, they will be ripped off if he puts any more pressure - he made you glance at its face. He crouched beside you. With a flick of his finger, he ripped the blindfold out of the boy.
"Dare to shut your eyes."
Compliance had become second nature.
The body was rigid, skin turning blue. The veins on his arms were bulged out, his mouth wide open, filled with foam, trickling down his cheek, drying on it.
The sight caused you to gag.
Horrifying. His bloodshot eyes were wide open, protruding out of the sockets. Irises dilated in shape, which you considered humanly impossible. But what had your heart hammering in your chest wasn't the vivid details you saw on the corpse. It was the fact, that you recognized the boy. Son of that distant elder cousin, you'd seen once or twice in a year.
"Look at that, love." Sukuna cooed in your ear, forcing you to face the corpse.
You shook your head violently, clawing at his wrist - desperate to escape. Your heart thumped inside your ribcage, you could hear it in your ears, your guts twisted in numerous ways as sweatbeads trailed down your forehead.
"You did that."
No. No, you didn't. You didn't do it. It wasn't you.
"You killed him."
No, you didn't... he didn't die because of you.
"Take a good look. See what you've done."
You vigorously shook your head. Denying all of his claims cause... cause they were... false, yes, false. They were false.
"No," You stated once you found your voice. "N-no, no... I- no."
Sukuna hummed, twisting a knot in your hair, "Yes, you. You did it."
No. You were innocent. You weren't to be blamed. It wasn't you.
It was... him.
"No, no, I didn't," You refused again, standing your ground. Moving your eyes towards him, you gritted your teeth. "No, I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. It was you."
"Really? How so?"
Fire burnt in your eyes. It was enough. He couldn't make you believe which you didn't commit - you didn't kill him.
"Poison," You said with conviction lacing your tone. "He was poisoned, a stab wouldn't procure such a reaction."
"Observant as ever," He mused, quirking up an eyebrow. A faint smile curled up on his lips. "Still, it doesn't gratify the fact that you were the one to end his life."
Blood boiled inside you, surging through your veins like lava. He had no right to accuse you of something. You didn't kill him, he couldn't make you believe it, whatsoever may happen.
"I may have stabbed him with the kanzashi, but that didn't have any trace of poison in it. I am-"
"Sure of it?"
You could only glare at him. He was toying with you. Tugging the strings of your conscience but you won't have any of it. "I am," You confirmed, staring at him without any falters. "I held it... you held it. If it was really drenched with toxicant as lethal as that, we- we both would be dead."
His grip loosened from your hair, hand falling down. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the smile turning into a smirk.
"It was you," You continued. "You did something to him at first and-"
Sukuna broke into a chortle of laughter. Far from jovial, more so sinister, filled with sheer malevolence. He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer to himself. His sharp canines glinted in the dim light.
"You just keep on fascinating me, wife."
Each second with him was revolting. Just his touch alone had your skin crawling. Yet, you couldn't let
"We had a pact," You stated firmly. His game was disgusting. What was he trying to do? What was his goal? "If I stay with you, you wouldn't lay a finger on my family, then- h-how could-"
"I would still stand on the ground, that I didn't do anything." He replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It was all you, wife. I can assure you that I didn't go back in my words." His canines glinted while he smiled. "Not a flick of pain. Save for..." He paused, his eyes widening, the carmine irises glowed in the dark. "Save for telling him, he'd be killed by a snake bite."
"There was no venom on my pin."
"Know so," He confirmed, a playful smirk on his visage. You wished you could read minds, if possible only of him, that'd been enough. Then where did poison come from? You wanted to question but he beat you to it.
"His fear turned into poison."
You blinked. Once. Twice. You knew he had an urge to play mind games but this was ridiculous. You questioned, shell-shocked, "What?"
"He let his fear get the better of him, assuming your pin to be a snake. He believed it." He explained while you listened without so much as a word. "His conscience caused his body to give out the exact reactions, he imagined. A shock, you might say. That caused his death."
His game was disgusting. If he thought, he could just give you any excuse as this and let you believe his accusations then he was mad wrong. You gritted your teeth, yanking your face away from his grip. For a second, you saw all of his eyes opening wide with surprise. But that didn't extinguish the fire burning in you.
He reached out, dragging you towards him via the arm. A glare resting on his face. "What did I tell about refusi-"
"I don't believe you," You cut him off, hands clenched into fists. It was the first time in a long time, you lost your composure in front of him. No, you wouldn't play as his doll anymore. He broke his promise, its only fair that you do so. "I don't believe a single word you say. You- you did something, you must have. Fear, belief, whatever the fuck, something as trivial as that-"
"So you think fear is trivial, wife?" He sighed, his clutch in your arm remained firm. The rough callouses of his palm, rubbed over your skin. "And here I thought, you might be different than the rest. But you managed to drop below my expectations."
"Maybe that's what I love about you, darling." He continued.
Disgust arose in you, yet again. Love. As if he had any of that. He wasn't capable of love. Not in this lifetime. Never. 
He spoke again, "Times you are the smartest I have seen, then you speak such blasphemy which would even embarrass the Gods you worship. Your silence was awarded by him leaning near your ear. He twisted a curl of your hair between his fingers. "Fear, wife..." He whispered to you. "Fear is a mind killer. It makes you believe anything. The small drop of poison which contaminates all the water."
"In the end, belief and fear are sides of the same coin," His top two eyes, flickered to the corpse of the boy. "I made him consume the poison of fear and you-" He turned to you again. "You made him believe it... so, in a way, yes. Yes, I did do something. Save for the part of ending his life. Though I didn't break my part of our pact." A smirk tugged on his lips. "You were the one who killed him. Isn't that great?"
Your breath hitched, throat gone dry. You gazed at him, eyes wide open. Your mind was a blank canvas.
Fear, poison, belief, killing...
He made you kill someone. An innocent boy who didn't even do anything.
Why won't he much rather just end your life?
Sukuna pulled away from you, standing up, he walked over to the lantern placed in the room. The stench of the rotting corpse had long ago started to pool in.
"You made me kill him." You whispered, still knelt, staring at the floor. When greeted with silence, you questioned again, a tone higher, "You made me kill him."
"And?"
His nonchalance had always been infuriating to you.
You could feel him standing a few steps behind you. "If you really wanted to kill my kin, you should've just told me. Getting your herbs was a tiring chore." You didn't miss the emphasis he put on, herbs. You could see him, rolling his eyes while speaking. "However, the taste of taking a life - isn't it delicious, wife?"
Guilt gnawed at you, tearing you internally. Your shoulders trembled as you let out ragged breaths, eyes fixed on the bloodied arm of the boy. The same arm where the kanzashi pierced, the muscles torn apart, blood drying on it due to the boy's onslaught. Nausea overrode your senses, bile rose up your throat and the next moment you were throwing up. The wastes ran down your mouth, your nails dug into the wooden - bruising your fingertips and chipping the nails. You don't realize Sukuna stepping up to your side, pulling your hair back while you were caught into the ordeal.
A disapproving grunt left his mouth after you were finished, yanking you up with your wrist. He pulled you towards the door. "Com-"
"No." Your heels remained firm on the ground. You refused him before you could even think. He turned towards you slightly, a scowl resting on his features before he pivoted around. He cast a glare upon you but before he could speak, your mouth opened again.
"You're even lower than scum." Your jaw ticked, hands clenching into fists. "You made me kill an innocent boy. Someone who might have done nothing to you, You– You disgust me, Sukuna."
Done you were with the respect, he demanded. If that angered him, made him want to rip out your heart and watch the life drain from your eyes. He was most welcome.
But it looks like, he wasn't resorting to any of that.
"You made me a murderer." You urged, staying strong in your stance. "You turned me into you."
His eyebrow twitched, a wave of mirth washed over him. "You were always like me, wife."
"I am nothing-"
"You're. You are like me. You are no saint, as you think so of yourself. " He said, leaving no room for argument. His lips pressed tight into a thin line. 
Yet, you refused to believe that. You were nothing like him. Couldn't even dream so. You were not him.
"You kill children in your womb, I kill them, after they're born. How is it so different?"
"It is different." You yelled, your jaw clenched, teeth baring out. "This world needs no more of your lineage, it needs no more of you." You jabbed your pointer finger on his chest, tears pooling into your eyes. You refused to shed them. "I kill for your own sake, I do not."
"Then who do you kill for?"
"For everyone." The faint snort of his reached your ears. You couldn't decipher what he found so delightful in this.
"Playing God, are we?" He mocked causing your vexation to rise.
"Maybe I am. For the least, I am not killing innocent people like you."
From where such defiance arose, you weren't sure of. Perhaps, all the frustration, fright, terror which accumulated till now had reached its limit. Moreover, Sukuna's provocation must be the fuel to the fire.
You might be left bleeding– No, you would be left bleeding. You welcomed it with open arms.
.
"Careful," Sukuna pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. "All Gods aren't worshipped."
He was enjoying himself. In all honesty, your obedience was getting too monotonous. This was better. Your defiance was amusing. Arousing, if there's to add. If he knew, letting you end a few lives would have this effect then he would have resorted to this long ago.
"Better than you." You shoved his hand away, "You are nothing more than a wretched, two-faced curse destroying all of our lives."
He noted your scowl, the way your lips were shut tight, your eyebrows crinkled together. Reasons evident, all he desired was to pull you into his arms smash his lips against yours. Taste the very essence of your being. Consume you wholly, just the way you are. So that in the end, your name, your taste, your scent would be engraved in his very soul. Without your mention, he wouldn't be complete. 
But he refrained from giving in now. His desire extended to a far more sinister route. "I wonder..."
What would it be like to break your conviction? What would it be like to break you?
Oh, he knew.
Would it be right moment to let you know? Maybe he should wait for another, more appropriate time.
Hmm, perhaps he should. But no.
He let you play these games for too long. Tired of this game plan, he was. Maybe, you would just come to your senses if he let you know. So he let the words, flow out:
"I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay siege to your life?"
Worth everything.
Sukuna watched as your face lost its color. The previous boldness you presented him with was replaced by a mask of confusion and. Such a pretty sight, it was. To see you, falter from your stand. Second guess, yourself, be in denial then rage consumes you. And you look at him, like he was the forbearer of your misery. (He is).
Oh, how good he has you memorized.
Even the littlest of reactions you contort on your mien, on your mannerisms; everything has him intrigued. You have him intoxicated.
"You know the ones, the people... your people, for whom you play this God."
Sukuna wished he could capture this moment. He'd have the chance to take a glimpse of it again, whenever he wished to. The horrified look on your face as the weight of his words started to sink in.
Would you still look like this if he tells you the terror he bestowed on them who tried to steal you away from him? What would you say if he vividly describes each imagery of how he slowly, agonizingly burnt them, severed them and tormented them? Leaving them nothing but fragments beyond recognition.
You were his. All of you belonged to him. Without his sanction, no one could even see you, let alone touch you. Ah- just how many sorcerers perished from his hands, the number of villages, bathed in blood; save for yours. (Courtesy to that stupid pact, he forged with you)
Something had told him, that there'd be a better time to put an end to the pitiful lives of your kin.
"Can't speak? What caused so, darling?" His tone was laced with smugness, a twisted joy elicited in him. "Fearful that your play amounted to nothing?"
Your jaw ticked with anger. You were furious. "I don't believe you. You are lying."
Your trust on humans was commendable, he'd give you that. However, there's stark contrast between faith and blind belief. You were inclining towards the latter.
So, what do they do when words fail to convey message? Oh right, you give them a prime example.
"Let me just show it to you then, wife."
It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted - he needed you to know that no place other than his arms would be as comforting. Even if that meant breaking your very soul, so be it.
.
You were home.
One moment, Sukuna held your gaze. The next, you are standing before your hearth.
Toes dipping into the familiar black soil, the land where you ran and played during your childhood. Your familial home stood steps away from you. Still looked the same except the visible cracks on the wall, a layer of dust on top of the door and the woods looked worn out. However, what caught your eyes weren't the flaws of your home but the familiar older woman walking into your home.
"Mother…"
She stilled all of a sudden, rotating on her heels, her eyes landed on you. Shell shocked, that's what she was with the widened eyes and parted lips. A small smile curved up on your lips, she still looked the same except the few grey hairs and wrinkles aside her eyes.
"Mother," You called again, taking a step towards her. "I am back."
Sooner than you expected, her eyebrows scrunched up, mouth curving down when she finally registered your presence. You weren't some illusion or her mind playing tricks. "What are you here for?"
The disdainful tone caused you to flinch. You didn't expect this. Returning home, you dreamt of it to be filled with tears of joy and warm embraces. Not this… whatever, she was presenting you with. But- But its fine, you have returned after a two whole years. She must have been worried. The reason of her apprehension. God, you had a lot making up to do.
"Well, you know," You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck. "Back… just back. I have returned."
"Found your way after two years?" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at you with a look you didn't want to recognize.
You nodded, "Yes. How could I forget my way? Our address, its-"
You were interrupted when your name was spit out from her mouth. Her glare on you was palpable, "I know what it is. What are you here for?"
Her fury even made your skin crawl with fear. You were often on the receiving end of her glare when you were a child, given by your tendencies to run around and cause trouble for others. Yet, those glares, were none like this. This- this- you didn't want to name what it was.
"You are angry," You don't know if its directed towards your mother or yourself as you hold onto the last bit of fragments that not all is lost. "I get it, I really do." You stood on your toes, attempting to look behind her, into your house. "Where's father? Tell him, I am-"
"No more."
As if the air was knocked out of your lungs.
"What?" Your neck craned towards her so fast, it might have left a sprain. Yet, that was the least of your concern. "What do you mean by no more?"
"No more means no more." Your mother's sigh fell heavy on the air, words carried the weight of the world. Laid with pain underneath.
"How- when? Wha-what happened?" You couldn't wrap your mind around the new discovery. No one told you such. Who could've guessed? Such an ordeal to occur in your absence. And what might she be going through, without you. You didn't even get the chance to talk to him, one last time.
"A year ago," She confessed, her voice conveyed her lament and sorrow. Her words felt like a hammered blow on the fragile façade of hope, you had intricately crafted for yourself. However, she wasn't done. Her eyes held scorn, lips curled up to a sneer. "Aren't you satisfied? You finally made your mark. Must tell you," Her voice, once filled with love held nothing save for contempt, directed at you. "Good game, you played, dear." She spit the endearment as if, it were poison.
"No, I- I never wanted any of this. What are you even talking about?" A trembling footfall towards her, you whispered, "M-mother-"
"Don't you dare call me that."
The weight of her judgement felt heavy on you, pressing down, suffocating you alike chains.
"You are no daughter of mine."
You weren't aware since when the tears had sprang up your eyes, breaking the barricades, they shed down. Your throat burnt as you struggled to even breathe, clutching your chest - a searing pain shooting in your heart. Your heart was shattering from the ultimate rejection from your own flesh and blood.
"While you're at it, know this." Your mother continued.
The next words were like a blow to the gut, each syllable lined with the weight of revelations. Ones that hung in the air like a funeral shroud.
"In his last moments, his only regret was bringing a daughter like you in this world."
.
This night just doesn't seem to end, does it?
You were left as a hollow shell. Tethering the steps away from the home you were no more welcomed. Exhaustion reigned heavy on you. Physically and mentally.
Where were you going? You didn't know. Just where your feet would take you, there would you go. Perhaps, you can return to Sukuna. Would he take you back? Most probably not. Considering, your earlier outburst, adding to the fact that you refused to give him what you want; he might just discard you as you proved to be useless.
Funny. It was so damn funny. Once, you wished to escape from his hands whatsoever the price yet now… now you considered returning to him.
You could hear him calling you pathetic. Disgusting. More disgusting, that you agreed with him.
You were truly pathetic.
But before you could spiral down the void of self-hatred, a voice- nah, multiple voices startled you.
"There she is, parading around some meek, innocent girl." A scoff is added. "You are far from it."
"The nerve of you to just walk back into our lives after you betrayed us."
Your neck cranes to your left, an old man - the village elder with a few other men and women following behind; they approached you. "Excuse me?"
"Who do you think you are?" A woman's cry reached your ears. "Returning after you turned your back on us."
You flinched at the accusation thrown. What could be possibly be instigating? To all your knowledge, you were walking in this- in your village after two long years. Anger, disdain and accusatory glares clouded their features. If your mother's insults weren't enough to pierce through your heart then it certainly did now, with all the people, you once called your own to look at you like you were the monster.
You summoned the least bit of courage you had, squared your shoulders and started, "I'd have you know-"
"Traitors don't get to speak." At the center of the crowd was the village elder. He was the pillars of your hamlet, revered for his wisdom and guidance, but now he looked akin a judge ready to deliver his sentence upon you. A sentence which would push you more into this conundrum. "You've been cavorting to that monster. Disgusting."
"I am no traitor." You retorted soon. "You can't accuse me of such when you don't ev-"
"Save it for someone who would care, whore."
The curse had your mouth parted in disbelief, horror etched upon your mien. Sooner than you could compose yourself, did whispers of agreement rippled through the crowd which branded you as a traitor.
"You are just as twisted as him."
"Get out of here if you so much as hold your life dear."
"Don't play as the innocent bitch, now."
The accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, poisoning the atmosphere with its venomous hatred. Your breath was caught in your throat as you searched desperately for words to defend yourself; the crowd's hostility rendered you speechless. But amidst the cacophony of condemnation, one voice stood out above the rest.
I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay down yours?
Really? Were you really recalling his words now? Now of all times… You truly were pathetic.
For one moment, You just stayed silent - letting their accusations bore you down. Somewhere you wished all of it were just a nightmare. You'll soon wake up on your bed beside Sukun- fuck! Since when did you start to expect to wake up with him? He- He was toying with your mind. This was the only result. But the fact that this was your thought process had you recoil back.
The next moment, everything made sense.
These accusations were stemmed from the fact that you- you were proclaimed to be the wife of the King of curses. Your unwillingness to return, given for the pact you forged with Sukuna, was taken as your cue that you betrayed your family, your home, your people.
Your family despised you. Your people despised you. The very same people you chose to protect were turning their back on you.
Did they truly try to lay down your life?
Amidst your plight, you didn't register when the village elder marched up to you. "Didn't you hea-" His trial at speech was cut off. Nay, his lifeline was cut off. (Humorous, isn't it?)
Numerous red lines appeared on his body before it burst off into a globs of flesh and blood. Blood which splashed onto you, marring your visage and attire with its hues.
He was here. You knew it. You could feel it.
For some reason, it filled you with a sense of relief.
However, your people were on the other end of the rope. The eyes which afore held hatred and disgust, they were now filled with horror and fright. In this reverie as the villagers started to flee, a torch tumbled on the ground - lighting the grass on fire. The winds showed no mercy, as the howls increased, so did the flames.
Provoking him was never the right move.
You were digging your own grave.
So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.
Playing with fire only gets you burnt.
For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.
Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw were the burning huts, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent.
No one touches what's mine.
The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.
Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.
You expected calamity, but you were calm.
The sparks danced over your irises as everything went down in the crimson hues. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.
Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.
The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this trance of insanity, only one thing held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.
All of a sudden, something burnt inside you too.
Unbridled rage consumed you. Your chest heaved up and down as ragged breath left your mouth. Their words came back to you, ringing in your ears as if you were pushed into a void.
Who do you think you are? Returning after you turned your back on us.
Would this bitch even be alive if you prioritized yourself?
Don't play as the innocent bitch, now.
Is that the thanks you get for trying to protect them?
Traitors don't get to talk.
Traitor… fine, you'd be the traitor.
With caution you took one step towards him. No reaction. Your chance - you took another. Then another and another. You stood before him, with nothing save for a void etching your features. Amusement flickered over him, the corner of his lip curled up.
"Saw it for yourself wife?"
Seemed like silence was your go-to response lately. From your peripheral, you saw the burning houses, the distant screams reached you. For some reason, the screams were almost soothing. You revelled in this. Their gut wrenching shrieks were like a balm to your essence.
Their predicament was your solace.
Sounded like someone you knew. Someone who had warned you about them but you chose to remain ignorant. Sickening… were you becoming like him?
You were always like me, wife.
You could laugh. Maybe you were like him.
"Let's forge another pact?" You offered, keeping your eyes pinned on him.
"A pact?"
"A pact."
A smirk curved up his lips, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest, "Humour me, love."
The smirk wasn't directly for you. But he did. So you returned it too. An equal one with an equal malicious intent. Cause in that moment, no second thoughts, no doubts clouded your mind. And so, you uttered the blasphemy:
"You kill them all, each and everyone. In return, I will stay with you, give you an heir. Whatever you want from me."
.
A year later
Screams died down after a gruelling ten hours.
"Good news, Sukuna sama. It's a boy."
Tumblr media
A/N: Honestly, I was almost done with this fic, long ago but while writing the climax, I kept thickening out with all the self-doubts but then I just wrote what I wanted. I do understand if the ending is not up to your liking and I sincerely apologize for it.
However, thanks for reading up till the end. I enjoyed writing this a lot. Some feedback is appreciated <3
736 notes · View notes
ipseitydelrey · 3 months
Note
hi!!! i love your writing!!!! idk if you’ve done this yet but maybe…. a nsfw alphabet with hotch 🤭🤭
I BEG
omg yesss
nsfw alphabet ☆ aaron hotchner
Tumblr media
ship aaron hotchner x afab!reader
warnings smut (duh), mention of sex toys, implied unprotected sex (practice safe sex please!), size difference kink, thigh fucking, mention of degradation and spanking, masturbation, office sex, oral (mostly f receiving), rough sex, quickies, shower sex, phone sex, teasing, mentions of haley (rip queen)
a/n i need him; also sorry this took so long !!
Tumblr media
A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)
it’s like a half-half thing; sometimes he’ll run the shower for you, get you some water, etcetera — or he’ll just lay in bed with you and hold you. either way, you’re not complaining.
B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and of yours)
aaron hasn’t really thought about a particular body part of his that he likes more than others, but he does sometimes favour his hands. a size difference kink might come into play with this preference, but he just likes stroking your cheek or thigh, or maybe just holding your hand.
as for you, it’s no contest that he loves your thighs the most. it’s obvious to you, but he honestly also hasn’t thought about his preference for your body parts too. but during sex, you notice how his hands tend to trail down to your thighs, or he would pay extra attention to them when he’s eating you out.
C = cum (anything to do with cum)
buried in you; that’s how he likes to finish. he loves cumming in you and filling you up to the brim, it’s a mouth-watering visual for him.
D = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)
with other partners (mostly haley), he’s definitely vanilla; like definitely, no degradation/dirty talk either. however, with you, he’s been thinking about discussing trying more spicy things in the bedroom — namely things like degradation and spanking.
E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)
ahem, haley. most of his experience with sex is with her, so after she died and he had time to heal and go back into the dating scene, he experimented a little more with different types of partners; he’s probably more experienced than you, at this point.
F = favourite position (this goes without saying)
prefers missionary for more control and intimacy but if you wanted, he would be more than willing to let you ride him.
G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)
serious both outside and inside the bedroom; he’d definitely take sex much more seriously at the beginning of your relationship. as you both grow much more comfortable with each other, he’ll make small quips of humour during the act.
H = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
just look at his hands — you can tell that he has a lot of body hair without even seeing him naked. definitely has a mouth-watering happy trail.
I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)
he absolutely does not do one night stands or hookups, so romance is a necessity for him to even think about having sex with someone. expect a lot of “i love you”s during the act and expect to return them.
J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)
he does it, but not as often as other people might. probably would do it on a case in the hotel/motel if he really misses you :(
K = kink (one or more of their kinks)
before you, aaron didn’t really explore the kinky side of sex, so he always remained pretty vanilla in that department. one kink that you noticed he has but he himself would never admit to is a size difference kink.
L = location (favourite places to have sex)
as much as he would love to fuck on the desk in his office…yeah, he prefers to keep it in the bedroom. he has yet to tell you about his office sex idea but knowing you, you’d be onboard for it.
M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
doesn’t have any specific things that turn him on — except whenever you wear his work shirts. they look loose and a tad too big to be form fitting, but he absolutely loves it and can’t wait to rip it off you.
N = nope (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)
as much as he would like to experiment with kinky sex, he really objects to being too dominating; he wants you to still have some level of control so if you want, you can take the helm anytime you so wished. of course, he’d also never want to hurt you, and he might not want to experiment with possible bondage until a while later into your relationship. also, he absolutely does not want to be called any dominating title in bed, like “sir,” “master” and especially “daddy.”
O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
aaron’s a giver, through and through. there are times where he does like getting a blowjob, he likes eating you out way more. probably because you tend to bury your hands in his hair and tug a little bit to signal something you like him doing.
P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
it does depend on mood and the reason you’re having sex, but typically the pace is slow and deep. this can change since — considering how stressed out he usually is because of his job and workload — some cases would just get to him, or his job gets to be too much. so he would take it out on you by going fast and rough.
Q = quickies (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
doesn’t particularly favour them, but what can he do when he’s on-call 24/7? the only time he likes quickies are when you’re showering together and he just can’t handle how good you look soaking wet. first round in the shower, then the second, third, or even fourth round(s) in the bedroom.
R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
later in your relationship, he does want to experiment with kinkier sex, but risks are a hard no.
S = sexts (yes? no? pictures?)
aaron wouldn’t be into sexts and nudes so much as he would be into phone sex. considering how often you’re away from each other, and you both have the opportunity to be alone with your phones, he would 100% take it.
T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he knows the different types of sex toys, but he doesn’t own any and has never used them. but sex toys are definitely on his list of things he would like to test on you during sex. only if you’re up for it (who are you kidding, of course you are).
U = unfair (how much they like to tease)
again, depends on the mood, but sometimes he does like to tease you. only sometimes though; usually he just wants to get right to the fucking just in case he gets called in.
V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)
unfortunately, aaron’s the type of guy to mostly be quiet and not outright loud. he also doesn’t moan; he sticks to grunts and groans (they’re still hot to listen to).
W = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
he really wants to try thigh fucking. seeing his cock push and drag through your closed thighs, getting lubed by a combination of your wetness and his precum is a visual that turns him on so much. he has yet to tell you though, but he’s been hinting at it…
X = x-ray (dick size)
girthy, above average, and not one, but THREE prominent veins (good lord…).
Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)
not that high, unfortunately; you definitely have a higher sex drive than him, that’s for sure. rarely, he’s one and done, he does tend to aim for two or three rounds if possible. if he’s worked up or stressed out, however, he could probably go all night.
Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
he tries to keep himself awake until you fall asleep. he wants to make sure you’re comfortable and content with the outcome of the night’s activities before he can relax; you’re a top priority to him.
Tumblr media
345 notes · View notes
blackcathjp · 2 months
Text
drarry fic recs loosely based on my post: fics where harry has a praise kink / draco's dirty talk makes harry's brain fuzzy and needy.
i especially love fics where draco calls him "sweetheart" or "darling", so cute and hot when he says it so naturally, feels so intimate and loving.
mostly pwps and dmhp fics.
***
the way you say my name by innerlilith (5k)
the inspiration for this post... the reason why my brain chemistry transformed, the reason for my obsession with sweet pet names. their relationship develops in such a real way, the banter is so drarry. you can feel the sexual (and romanticl!) tension build and build until it breaks and the climax is SO satisfying. also really love draco's "unhinged flirt" characterization. harry getting so hot under the collar is just *chef's kiss*.
far from the tree by aideomai (112k)
reason #2 for this post. it's THE fic. need i say more? you just have to read it. draco can't believe harry would want him, yet he's posessive and can't let him go. harry's obsessed and will do anything to protect him. throw in some angst, mystery, kinky times, next gen kids, draco calling harry "darling" (and subsequently changing the trajectory of my life), and voila! a masterpiece.
dinner and diatribes by hephaestiions (5k)
legilimency sex is SO UNDERRATED. another fic that altered my brain chemistry and lives in my mind rent-free. established loving relationship, with draco knowing how to help and ruin harry. be his peace of mind and make him crackle with sexual need and wild magic. it's a truly delicious fic that is filthy, intimate, and comforting. "to forever and a day" is such a devastating declaration of love.
back where we began by cassiara (25k)
oh. my. god. the way it's slightly teacher/student dynamics but not really, combined with accidental bonding and sorta legilimency because harry is impulsive and curious and obsessed with draco's voice in his head. like??!
stamina spells pleasure by lettered (10k)
bonkers multiple orgasms fic with dom draco and magical spells for sexy times! when i say harry deserves to be RAILED and reduced into a needy little mess, i mean this!
knot your average coworker by @thecouchsofa (22k)
werewolf draco and oblivious harry! subtle praise kink, great feisty banter. sweet and hot fic about harry's desire to care for draco, and draco being baffled by that. also, harry's obsessed with his knot 😏 that is all.
bonus fics (not so much about praise kink):
the earth from a distance by spqr / @andthepeople (15k)
genius and competent draco and action-oriented, need-to-be-useful harry! masterful world-building about 16th century hogwarts, lovely speculative twist on life in the past. survival-based co-dependent relationship turned into intimate & loving romance.
paragraph twelve, clause four by innerlilith (15k)
innerlilith knows how to write lust and tension with longing and gentleness. this is all about quidditch player harry and his sexy bodyguard draco, with a silly premise of hearing your love/hate crush wank loudly next door. the scene where draco begs to see more and how his words make harry turn into a puddle... the push and pull, the burning need, you just have to be there, the build up is so worth it.
305 notes · View notes
rogueddie · 1 year
Text
Steve and Eddie both famous with their music.
Eddie writes this heavily romantic songs, using metaphors to describe just how much Steve has done and how impressive Eddie thinks he is. He tries to tell their story, the real, Upside Down one, in vague terms.
But people always read into it and assume it's sexual. They assume it's some really raunchy, kinky shit. Even the most sappy, romance songs. Eddie finds it slightly annoying.
Steve writes soft pop songs and he doesn't like thinking about the Upside Down, not when hes performing. So he focuses on the simple things. And he usually ends up writing songs about their sex lives, barely managing to be vague.
But people always read into it and assume it's romantic. They assume it's soft, loving and not sexual at all. Even the song he wrote about BDSM. Steve thinks its hilarious.
1K notes · View notes
dnd-smash-pass-vs · 13 days
Note
Inevitable been thinking about how that one anon viewed Laios as a monsterfucker, and I think it made me realize the source of that confusion:
I think many monsterfuckers, and also many (dare I say most) monster devourers like Laios, both derive their desire from the same source: a latent wish for apoteratosis, the wish to become a monster.
Linguistic side note: apotheosis, becoming a god, breaks down to apo- (towards the end point), theo (god), -osis (turn noun into verb), so I swapped in the root for monster, hence apo- terato -osis. Side note over.
Monster devourers are a rather rare archetype in (mainstream) fiction, but they do exist. Those who seek to mimic or emulate the monster's power, those who find them endlessly fascinating and study them well past the point of obsession, those who wish to show their dominance over the monster by proving that they can kill and eat it... and I think Laios is the first I've seen who takes the title quite so literally, where his obsession goes straight to monsters-as-food.
Monsterfuckers, meanwhile wish to become close to the monster in a non destructive way (or at least a typically less destructive one, usually the only casualties are furniture and few bandages are needed, but I'll acknowledge that exceptions definitely exist). They wish to bond with it, to connect to it through lust or intimacy, to be able to stand at its side. They wish, on some level, to join it. Side note, I'm not saying this is true of all teratophiles, some are just kinky and driven by the thought of positive physical pleasure, or who find the personality of a given monster appealing, but I do think the apoteratotic desire is an underlying driver for many, I'd guess well more than half, it's just a subtle enough thing that I don't think most are consciously aware of it.
There's also a third point to the secret apoteratosis triangle that might surprise you: the monster slayer. Sure many, even most, slayers are driven by something like disgust or xenophobia or even rationality, but a significant minority land in the "if you can't join 'em, beat 'em" a.k.a. "I can't be you, so I'll destroy you" camp.
And these three reactions are, I notice, the three most common reactions that people have to one thing: the unattainable desire. The sentence begins "I cannot have it..." and these three camps end it different ways.
The teratophages say "so I shall dominate it." They seek what power they can grasp so they can have some modicum of control, so they can try to "have" it anyway. The kaiju corpse scavengers in Pacific Rim including refined and suave mob boss types just smacks of this attitude.
The teratophiles say "so I'll get as close as I can." There's a werewolf romance book where they're considering trying to turn the girlfriend, though they have no idea if she'll survive it (boyfriend was turned by accident then abandoned, so he's clueless, and they haven't found any others to teach them), and she says that she's fine remaining human, because she shares the power through him. "I have it, because you have it." The façade eventually breaks and in a vulnerable moment she confesses that she'd be willing to risk even a likely death to try to be turned. When they get in contact with an elder who can turn her safely she doesn't even wait a week.
The teratophobes write that whole sentence as "if I can't have it, then no one can." I'm sure everyone has seen enough examples of this behavior to understand that it's just a kind of love turned corrupt.
I'm not the first to notice the underlying apoteratotic urge: the aforementioned werewolf story, indeed many werewolf and vampire stories romanticize the transformation of a human into a monster. Back to Dungeon Meshi, author Ryōko Kui is fully aware of it with how Laios's underlying desire is eventually brought out of the subtext and explicitly named as his dysphoria with humanity, and his wishing that he could be a monster. For Laios that desire skipped right past the socially unacceptable monsterfucking, explicitly a form of bestiality in that world, to the socially acceptable devouring, though tempered by his respect and admiration of monsters into a desire for symbiosis with them. He cannot become one in truth (or so he thought when younger) but he could become part of their food web. It's as close as he thought he could get. Of course, that's the Watsonian explanation; the Doylist explanation is that Ryōko Kui wanted to subvert expectations, and also wanted to explore this angle of it.
So, all taken together, I think people read Laios as monsterfucker coded simply because teratophiles, teratophages, and teratophobes all share the same root motivation: apoteratosis. Thus, all three branches are coded very similarly.
It's similar to something I've seen in Batman fandom: some fans project romantic love between various members of the Batfamily, which is both wildly against canon and thoroughly hated by some other branches of fandom. But it is understandable, since familial love and romantic love both come from the same root, love of another. If someone doesn't recognize the simultaneous similarities and distinctions, it's all to easy to conflate them. If you don't actually understand the distinction, then the signs of affection between siblings might look the same as the signs of affection between lovers. Likewise, if you don't understand the distinction, the urge of the monster devourers (or ecologists) might look the same as the urge of the monster fucker.
I've sat on this for near a month, partially because of my repeated absences, partially because I wanted to honor it with an equally in-depth response. But 24 days later I've still got nothing, while I can't speak for that particular person I think in general you hit the nail right on the head for the base roots. I got no notes. Even with Laios...like all I can add is how supplemental materials actually confirm he did want to be a monster researcher but found books too dry, the only one who seemed to really *get* monsters was shunned. and how wild he goes when talking with an actual werewolf, "The existence I thought unobtainable is now right in front of me".
179 notes · View notes
archive-of-alexandria · 7 months
Text
Mind Your Manners (Sanji X Reader)
Tumblr media
A/N: ITS KINKTOBER! I have it in my head that head-over-heels, perverted Sanji would absolutely give the Reader snacks or food that are just a little bit too messy as an excuse to watch them clean up after themself and I just had to write it out. Kinda feels yandere? Smutty Food Play, because I haven't seen enough kinky Sanji action on here. xx
Sanji knows better than to play with his food. However, the way you're sitting at the dining table - pretty legs tucked up underneath you and breasts pressed together as you lean on your elbows - makes him think that he may have to make an exception.
Sanji's rule about manners doesn't extend to you, however.
No.
Sanji goes out of his way to ensure that you'll make a mess in his kitchen.
Back during the summer months, the Going Merry had made a pitstop at an island known for their enormous strawberries. Sanji had been eager to try his hand at pastries for a change - tarts, pies, the works - and the gargantuan summertime fruits seemed the perfect challenge.
A challenge the cook didn't anticipate, however, was finding you elbow-deep in the barrel of harvested berries that same evening, caught literally red-handed from the saccharine juices that dripped from your fingertips to the floor with a heavy tap tap tap.
The sight was enough to make his heart nearly stop.
Your eyes had been wide and your flushed cheeks were even wider, stuffed with sweet fruit as juice covered your face and hands...and every bit of you was dripping. Sanji had been unsure of where to look and his eyes darted between your slick fingers, your shy expression, and your perfectly tinted, glossy lips. He had never seen a more heavenly sight.
In his mind, nothing could ever compare...until your tongue ran along the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to clean yourself.
In the darkness of his room, Sanji thought about that tease of a tongue for weeks afterward.
Ever since then, he has taken extra care to make sure that you're given the messiest meals he can make. They're not gross, of course - Sanji is a chef first and a lover second. No, they're not gross. They are delectable. Every hum of enjoyment, every slurp, every squish...Sanji would lie awake in bed and dream of the different foods he wished to cover you in, if only just to watch you lick it up.
You had offered to help him make cinnamon buns one morning - though not without taking a generous helping of frosting on your finger and sucking it clean. "Labor tax", you joked with a wink. The image of your tongue licking the sinful-looking sweetness from your finger, mingled with your contented sigh, was seared into Sanji's brain from that moment forward.
Sanji became obsessed with watching you eat.
Food has always been an extension of Sanji's love for his crew and an expression of devotion. The act of cooking is artistic, and the act of eating is intimate. Hell, the kitchen itself is a lesson in foreplay: the preparation, the getting hands dirty, the building heat, the waiting game...all leading to a very satisfying end.
If only Sanji's cooking prowess had an excuse to leave the kitchen and move into the bedroom.
Sanji has yet to make his cake and eat it too in the ways of romance, though it would seem that you have recently taken a keen interest in his particular set of skills. The cook has noticed an increasing frequency of your kitchen visits, observing the way your eyes seem to latch to his hands and arms as he works. You've grown bolder, assisting him in his preparations and letting your elbows brush up against one another.
Sanji relishes the days you ask for his help and he nestles you between his body and the table, guiding your hands in his much larger ones.
The cook has grown bolder too, sometimes pressing too tightly against your back to allow his front to press up against your firm bottom as he huskily mumbles praises in your ear. He swears, sometimes, he can feel you lean into him.
The kitchen is the way to Sanji's heart, and he hopes that it may be the way into your bed.
And here you were, seated at his table awaiting the meal he had promised to cook for you once the Going Merry restocked at port.
As Sanji wipes down his cooking station, he lets his eyes drink you in without shame. Your breasts are practically falling from your tattered blouse, soft pillows highlighted by the dim candlelight of the galley. You're playing with your fingers, unaware of Sanji's gaze. He smirks.
"Sanji," You sigh, flushing pink as you look up to meet his gaze already set upon you,
"Is it almost ready?"
He chuckles, crossing his arms.
"My sweet girl is hungry, hm?" He muses, tossing his dishrag over his shoulder,
"Just a few more minutes, love."
"Wha-? But-!"
"You can't rush perfection now, can you?"
"Sanji," You whine, wiggling in your seat. His eyes once again meet your chest.
"If I had known it was going to take this long I would have taken up Zoro's offer to go to the pub."
Sanji stiffens.
The chef stands to his full height, a cigarette appearing between his tight-pressed lips as he turns from you to check on the pot simmering on the stove.
You, however, hold your ground.
It's silent.
"I didn't know you and mosshead had plans."
Sanji's voice is low. Much too low, and empty. It unsettles you.
"San-"
"-It's ready."
In a manner much too abrupt for the usually smitten Sanji, a steaming bowl is placed before you with an alarming thud. The spoon rattles in reaction to his aggressive delivery.
The enticing smell of the ramen can't mask the uneasy way Sanji stands perfectly still in front of you, face shrouded in shadow except for the blazing butt of his cigarette.
You're unsure of where to look, splitting your attention between the meal before you and the man hovering above the table. Sanji makes the decision for you.
"You were so hungry just a moment ago," he quips,
"So eat up."
You swallow, heat pooling in your cheeks and between your legs. This was nothing but the "Zoro effect" on Sanji, as you and Nami call it. Gingerly, you take hold of the spoon. Peering into the bowl, the meal looks heavenly - though you're soon aware of the way your hair keeps falling into your eyes, threatening to become part of the soup.
Your hair had grown long during the months at sea, and you had unwillingly lent Usopp your last bauble for slingshot practice. Your frustration doesn't go unnoticed.
“Here, my darling,” Sanji hummed, circling the table until he was behind you, “Let me help.”
At this moment, Sanji feels dangerous.
Your body erupts with heat as the cook looms behind you, your eyes glued to the steaming bowl of soup displayed before you. The galley feels all too warm, and the meal before you begins to feel more like a test - a challenge - rather than a token of whatever unspoken feelings float between you and Sanji.
Without another word, Sanji’s cold fingers glide along your feverish neck, scooping up your hair in their wake. He gives his wrist a well-practiced twist, eliciting a gasp from your lips at the feeling of your hair pulled taught in his grasp. Sanji feels his ego swell, giving your hair a sharp tug. Your head is thrown back as he lowers himself to your ear.
"Go on," His scruff grazes you, and your skin is suddenly on fire.
"Eat."
Heat floods through Sanji as he watches the way your neck moves as you swallow, nodding at his command. He eases up on his grip and observes the timid way you scoop the broth into your mouth.
He catches the way your eyelids flutter closed at the taste of his meal. You liked it. You always liked his food.
Tonight, simply liking wasn't enough.
"Eating so silently? Don't you know it's rude to the chef?"
Sanji's eyes darken as your fingers twitch on the tabletop. So, he muses to himself, you think you would get away that easily?
"Don't you like it?"
"S-Sanji-"
"Don't use your words, pet. Just enjoy."
From above, he watches as the plush peaks of your breasts begin to heave quicker. You allow yourself to fully dive into the meal, this time taking noodles and broth quickly between your lips. For a moment, you seem to forget that Sanji is there. You hum, in something akin to ecstasy - Sanji had made this meal just for you, just the way you liked it.
The obscenely wet squelches of your lips slurping up his creation elicit a deep groan from the chef, fingers tightening their grip on your hair. He can't help but chuckle at the idea of Zoro sitting alone in some corner booth and nursing a drink, all while you're here sucking up and savoring Sanji's affection.
You lift your head, lips puffy from the spice and heat of the meal. Sanji presses himself into your back, as his free thumb comes around and wipes your bottom lip. Your gazes meet, and Sanji brings his thumb to his mouth - tasting remnants of your meal.
A low chuckle escapes his lips.
"What, my love? Finished already?"
You understand his insinuation, whipping your head back to your meal and bringing the ladle back to your mouth.
Eat it all up, love. Made just for you.
In a moment of weakness, Sanji gently pushes your head down.
You gag on the spoon.
Sanji moans.
His hips buck forward, desperate for friction, meeting the soft dip of your arched back. His throbbing cock digs into your back, your buttocks...Unable to compose himself, Sanji begins to rut himself against you – and you don’t protest.
Sanji knows how fowl this display looks, and yet he can’t help himself. He has wanted you - really wanted you - for so long...the idea that Zoro could possibly take you away from him was enough to drive him over the edge.
When Sanji hears your voice rumble from your chest - "nnnugh-! Sanji...!" - he swears by the heavens that he'll do anything to make you his.
His hand moves from your hair and wraps around your throat, slick with the broth that dribbles from your lips. He wishes to lick every part of your sticky, salty skin, gently squeezing your throat as you gasp out his name.
Your head lolls onto his shoulder, hand gripping the table as it shakes under the weight of Sanji's wild bucking.
Sanji is everywhere, mumbling streams of thought between hot kisses along your forehead:
"I fucking love you, you know that? Would Zoro treat you so well?"
"That pretty mouth, always teasing me - you think that's fair?"
"Just wanna fill you up with all of me, darling...Want those gorgeous lips around my cock..."
For all his talk, he fumbles and lurches forward. His hand unceremoniously lands in the bowl, soaking him up to the cuff in warm broth. You're both breathing heavily, the high beginning to wind down. However, you see your moment to gain leverage.
You grab hold of his wrist before he can think, turning your face ever so slightly to meet his.
With a twinkle in your eye, you guide his hand to your lips. Sanji's mind is a fluffy haze, unable to anticipate your next move.
"We don't waste food, right?" You purr.
You take Sanji's fingers into your velvety mouth and he practically sees stars. He has been dreaming of this exact pleasure for months, straining to keep from collapsing on top of you as your tongue swirls between his fingers.
As your cheeks hollow out around his digits, your hooded gaze keeps his in a near mocking way.
So, you had known his game all along.
Sanji's chest heaves against your back, his hot breath fanning across your face with a stutter. His inexperience shows in this moment, numb and capable of doing nothing but watching the expert way your mouth moves around his fingers.
A faint pop of your cheeks accompanies the release, a ghostly string of spit connecting his fingers to your lips. The faint moonlight catches hold of his soaked digits. Sanji inhales sharply.
His hand, frozen in your hold, is easily guided down...
down...
down...
"I've already had my meal," you murmur.
A shiver.
His eager fingers meet your soaking, pulsing warmth.
"It's time you eat yours."
696 notes · View notes
dirtybg3confessions · 19 days
Note
As someone who loves erotica but is often disappointed by erotic romance novels, the BG3 community has been a godsend. There is so much amazing and kinky fanfic and fanart of this game that I wouldn’t even know where to start recommending stuff. I’ve read fics that have opened my eyes to kinks I didn’t know I would ever enjoy reading about (breeding, foot fetish, period sex, um… cannibalism?!). There are dynamics here that most published authors wish they could write well. And there’s so many different flavors of every single ship so really there’s something for almost everyone. So big shout out to the horny creative bg3 fans making the internet a better place one piece of smut at a time. Y’all are the real recipients of the best community awards!
Tumblr media
182 notes · View notes
hells-wasabii · 3 months
Note
Can U Make Head-cannons of Angel Dust SFW and NSFW pls 🙏🏽
A/N: so, I actually have two asks for hcs for Angel, so I'll probably do another set of em as well when i reach that other ask! for now though I hope you like these! I did also write these with a male reader in mind
Part 1 | Part 2
Character: Angel Dust
Type: Headcanons (Angel Dust x reader, General, Fluff, Angst, NSFW under cut)
A romance with Angel Dust is a lot of things. It's passionate, it's loving, it's heavy. It's real. He uses his flirty personality as a defense mechanism, but you saw through it early on. There were times when the two of you were out on the town together and sometimes when he thought no one was looking, you could catch a glimpse of the demon under the mask.
He's been hurt at nearly every turn, so he's opening himself up to trust you not to. But this doesn't mean to coddle him or to treat him like he's made of glass. He just wants you to be real with him, you know? Sure, he has bad habits, and bad coping mechanisms that he will need help breaking, but if you're gonna see the real him, he's gonna need to see the real you too. No bullshit.
Angel doesn't really get jealous, he likely feels that due to his line of work, he doesn't really have room to talk. You're sure to assure him that this is not the case, that it doesn't work that way.
He does love showing you off, just as much as he likes being shown off, so please, please take him out. It doesn't have to be fancy, as long as he's got you on his arm he's happy
Warning! NSFW under the cut
When it comes to sex workers and their partners, intimacy is VASTLY different between work and home. At home, it's all about the connection between the two of you, the intimacy, holding each other close all the while being completely vulnerable to your partner.
This isn't to say that things won't get kinky in the bedroom. The two of you have delved into your fair share of kinks, deepening the trust you hold in each other. So long as you communicate your needs, Angel is very open to exploring new things with you.
Being that his actual job is in sex work, he understands just how important aftercare is. Water is readily available and you'd best believe that cuddles are required. Did you two get a little rough? Angle will have hell's equivalent to aspirin right there for whichever one of you needs it. Hell, the two of you would even have snacks at the ready too if that's something you're into
319 notes · View notes