i’m blaileen, or mrs blaileen if you’re feeling extra polite. (<20’s, any pronouns despite the username).
warnings. 18+ nsfw mdni. may contain dark themes and hard & soft kinks. the epitome of “oh no it’s the authors barely concealed kink!”. if you don’t like, please don’t read - to be cringe is to be free!!
this is a side blog, so unfortunately I can’t follow back, but trust I will be lurking on my main.
while my works are generally not intended to be exclusively aimed at readers with/of any particular physical attributes/gender expression/sexuality/ethnicity/race/background - you may find some descriptions of mc/reader are more inline with my own identity.
requests are open!! but please note that I will decline/not write any prompts that I’m not comfortable with or interested in!
likes, reblogs, kudos, and comments are always appreciated.
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fellow horror freaks I’m thinking heavy about med play with surgeon!sukuna who secretly indulges in the occasional bout of cannibalism, and also happens to be using his surgeries to secretly harvest organs… nsfw 18+ dark horror drabble below
──── ୨୧ ────
Your surgeon seems utterly normal. Maybe a little cold for a doctor, a little stern. You’d never seen any sort of emotion paint his face aside from when he’d first run his eyes over your CT scan, and even then you couldn’t quite identify just what it was that had been swirling in those dark eyes, aside from maybe a mild professional curiosity.
He’s curt during your initial appointments, stern and serious while he explains to you the procedure and the preparation you’re required to undertake - fasting and the like. Maybe you’re a med student, so you bother him with a plethora of questions that he answers clinically, thoroughly unimpressed with your incessant inquiries.
You’re a little nervous going in, but that’s nothing a healthy dose of anaesthesia can’t fix, and you soon find yourself lulled into a smooth blackness by the slow methodical voice of your surgeon as he counts you down from ten. Imagine your horror when you wake up midway through, groggy and disoriented, sure that the sight before you is nothing but a drug induced dream.
Sukuna catches your eyes over the lip of his mask, warm brown that look almost carmine now in the light, starkly reflecting the hues of your blood as it beams off the clinical sheets. He’s more alive than you’d ever seen him, gaze sharpened with an animal sort of interest. He’s smeared with it, up to his elbows in your soft innards, skin still split and spread open by clamps - all stark blue nitrile smeared red and sticky.
It hits you all at once through the drug induced haze, the dull horror of it. You want to look away, want to squeeze your eyes closed, but you instead find yourself utterly absorbed by the sight of him rummaging through your insides like he was searching for something.
The anaesthesia is doing a good enough job that even when he slips a gloved hand loose and draws a thumb over some exposed stretch of meat, you don’t really feel it. There’s no pain, no discomfort - just a wet sort of warmth where his skin is touching you through the barrier of latex. The foreign sensation of someone touching where you’d never been touched before. It’s invasive, intimate, and the thought makes your head spin. Sends a sizzle of goosebumps careening up your flesh, barely shielded by the remnants of your medical gown.
It’s messier than you’d imagined, nothing like the clean sterile images you’d seen plastered over the pages of med school textbooks. The reality of it now unfiltered by the soft haze of unconsciousness, was rough and vicious. The way he’d split you open, sliced skin and stretched bone until you were laid bare - butchered you, really. All with an undeniable hunger swirling in that blood red gaze.
maybe he compliments you too, in his own sick sort of way. comments on how pretty healthy your organs are. or maybe he takes the opportunity to quiz you on anatomy (you are a med student after all) - pointing to specific organs or muscles and telling you to name them, describe their function for him. he keeps snapping his gloved fingers in front of your face to keep you awake, and midway through the test you realise what he’s actually doing…
fellow horror freaks I’m thinking heavy about med play with surgeon!sukuna who secretly indulges in the occasional bout of cannibalism, and also happens to be using his surgeries to secretly harvest organs… nsfw 18+ dark horror drabble below
──── ୨୧ ────
Your surgeon seems utterly normal. Maybe a little cold for a doctor, a little stern. You’d never seen any sort of emotion paint his face aside from when he’d first run his eyes over your CT scan, and even then you couldn’t quite identify just what it was that had been swirling in those dark eyes, aside from maybe a mild professional curiosity.
He’s curt during your initial appointments, stern and serious while he explains to you the procedure and the preparation you’re required to undertake - fasting and the like. Maybe you’re a med student, so you bother him with a plethora of questions that he answers clinically, thoroughly unimpressed with your incessant inquiries.
You’re a little nervous going in, but that’s nothing a healthy dose of anaesthesia can’t fix, and you soon find yourself lulled into a smooth blackness by the slow methodical voice of your surgeon as he counts you down from ten. Imagine your horror when you wake up midway through, groggy and disoriented, sure that the sight before you is nothing but a drug induced dream.
Sukuna catches your eyes over the lip of his mask, warm brown that look almost carmine now in the light, starkly reflecting the hues of your blood as it beams off the clinical sheets. He’s more alive than you’d ever seen him, gaze sharpened with an animal sort of interest. He’s smeared with it, up to his elbows in your soft innards, skin still split and spread open by clamps - all stark blue nitrile smeared red and sticky.
It hits you all at once through the drug induced haze, the dull horror of it. You want to look away, want to squeeze your eyes closed, but you instead find yourself utterly absorbed by the sight of him rummaging through your insides like he was searching for something.
The anaesthesia is doing a good enough job that even when he slips a gloved hand loose and draws a thumb over some exposed stretch of meat, you don’t really feel it. There’s no pain, no discomfort - just a wet sort of warmth where his skin is touching you through the barrier of latex. The foreign sensation of someone touching where you’d never been touched before. It’s invasive, intimate, and the thought makes your head spin. Sends a sizzle of goosebumps careening up your flesh, barely shielded by the remnants of your medical gown.
It’s messier than you’d imagined, nothing like the clean sterile images you’d seen plastered over the pages of med school textbooks. The reality of it now unfiltered by the soft haze of unconsciousness, was rough and vicious. The way he’d split you open, sliced skin and stretched bone until you were laid bare - butchered you, really. All with an undeniable hunger swirling in that blood red gaze.
I think characters like Geto would like bondage as a form of control, clean indirect submission.
Sukuna on the other hand - I think he’d enjoy wrangling his partner by hand, especially if they resist a little. He likes the fight, the biting, grappling, bending limbs and gripping skin until it aches and bruises. The constant physical demand, having to hold and press and dominate - to prove he’s stronger until his partner ultimately folds, beaten, beneath his weight.
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scrolling through another writers blog bc I’m genuinely enjoying their work and its just a wall of 3000 reblogs of the same fic… is this how people are engagement farming these days?…
I NEED a part two for ‘I said I was sorry’ PLEASE but let’s see this man YEARN for teasing with us like that 😭✌🏻 aka we play completely nonchalant (at least externally)
Yessss!!! I am drafting a second part to this!! I’m thinking Higuruma loses the case and we pay him a visit to “thank him” for fumbling it (rlly it’s just to fire him up and be a big ol’ tease). He’s all annoyed bc of the lack of justice, but also torn bc he’s lowkey down bad for reader… many thoughts…
my favourite part of positions like mating press is 1. You can watch it all, chin tucked to your chest watching him sink inside nice n’ slow. 2 the closeness of it, his hips to the underside of your thighs, grinding against you like he’s trying to push past them, get even deeper, hnnn….
Dom!Sukuna who finds a pack of cigarettes in your purse after you explicitly promised him you’d quit. sfw drabble.
──── ୨୧ ────
Not only had you broken a rule, you’d broken his trust - and that in itself is a rare gift, one that is not to be discarded so lightly. So one afternoon when you stumble in from your workday and he once again catches a faint trace of that familiar sticky tar lingering beneath an offensive amount of perfume, he ties you to your office chair and makes you watch him crack open the pack and burn every single cigarette within down to the nub.
Except he doesn’t tap the ash out into a tray like you might have done, no - he litters you with it instead. Little flecks of flaming ash nipping at your cheeks, at your skin laid bare where he’d tugged your shirt open, rolled up both your sleeves just to watch the way you flinched at each sharp sting against naked flesh.
He says nothing, just lights each stick anew with a solemn sort of reverence, and when each one is burned down to the filter he twirls it around between thick fingers and stamps it out on you. Presses the searing tip onto any slip of skin he can reach until you’re littered with ash ridden little kiss marks and tears are rolling hotly down your cheeks, all the while listening to you beg and plead and promise him that you’ll stop this time.
hello my loves if you’ve sent me a request recently and I haven’t replied it’s not that I’m ignoring you, it’s bc I am jumping between drafts of them all heheheh 😈🫶
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dom!Sukuna who’s fine with you touching yourself, so long as you don’t put anything inside... nsfw 18+ mdni.
──── ୨୧ ────
“You’re soaked. Really gave her a workout, hm?”
His thumb swiped between your legs slowly, lazily. Just enough to graze over your clit, still perked and twitching with residual little sizzles of pleasure.
He paused a moment just to watch you clench around nothing, to indulge in the feeling of your clit pulsing beneath his thumb before his touch dipped lower. Calloused fingertips traced around your entrance, smearing the slick left drooling there in the wake of your nth orgasm.
“But not here, right?” He questioned, voice nothing but a deep rumble as he teased at your rim.
You shook your head slowly, feeling dizzy and a little breathless. Brain fuzzy now with the delicate brush of his fingers tracing your neglected entrance, and the way his voice felt over your ears - silky and utterly decadent.
“Of course not,” he soothed, voice still low, painfully intimate, “because only I’m allowed inside, isn’t that right, pet?”
As the last word left him, his wrist finally moved. Two thick fingers slipping inside with an ease that made your stomach drop and your pulse leap to a frenzied thrum. Your body welcomed the contact, sucked the length of him inside greedily until you felt the heel of his palm grind against you.
“Yes sir…” you breathed, nothing but a whisper as you watched the muscle in his forearm jump from beneath half-lidded lashes. Listening to the slurry of wet noises he was beginning to draw from you, and huffing out a choked little gasp each time his palm kissed your sticky clit.
His fingers curled with an obscene ‘squelch!’, petting somewhere deep and tender that had your lashes fluttering closed and a shaky breath escaping from between your parted, raw-bitten lips.
“That’s a good girl,” he purred, savouring the sight of your chin hitting your chest as you began to melt into the mattress, the feeling of your pussy clenching desperately around his digits - blindly chasing a pleasure only he could provide.
Today I got diagnosed with stage one ovarian cancer. It’s been really hard to wrap my head around it and I’ve been rereading your works and they’ve been helping me a lot. Thank you for being the author I need right now, can’t wait to see what you write next.
Much love
Hello my friend, I am so devastated to hear this. Thankyou for sharing with me.
I can’t begin to imagine how difficult such a diagnosis must be to handle, and I’m so happy to hear that my works can help even a little.
I smile everytime I see your username pop up. Your support is so appreciated, and it genuinely inspires me to keep writing.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I think people sometimes have differing opinions about what “shipping” entails… like if I ship characters it’s not that I necessarily think they should have been canon or in a relationship or anything, it’s just that I think their dynamic is interesting to explore and I also want to see them kiss a lil
Sukuna is definitely the type to be purposefully cruel when sparring, especially with a partner who is not a particularly strong fighter.
I’m talking kicking the backs of your knees so you lose balance, surface level cuts just deep enough to bleed - like you’re not worth the effort of even an iota of his power, like he’s playing with you. Maybe an elbow to the ribs, or a punch straight to the stomach just to watch you crumple to the floor gasping for air. God forbid he nails you right and you keel over and actually vomit…
