Just You - Sukuna X Reader

Just You - Sukuna x Reader

Word Count: 492

Prompt: @kaizokuwritings 's 700 followers event Character: Sukuna Flower: Burnet; exclusive love

A/n: For the sake of me just 2 followers away from 100 followers I have decided (since idk what to do with the milestone) to start writing for JJK and start it off with the amazing Meli's 700 milestone event. Btw, this Sukuna is before he was defeated and just reduced to fingers basically. I hope all of you enjoy this and I apologize for really pushing the maximum word count ahahaha.

🖤❤️🖤

Sukuna, the king of curses, a man who reigned supreme over both humans and curses alike. A king such as him should have anything he ever wanted. That’s exactly what happened. Whenever he wanted sacrifices, the humans will give one of their own, whenever he wanted offerings, they will bring him this season’s crops, and when he wanted women? They would give him only the most beautiful.

These women were what pleasured Sukuna both day and night, whether it was under the covers or just to do his bidding. They were obedient humans he can make do whatever he wanted. Not to mention, the idea of having a harem stroked his ego.

But then you came along out of nowhere.

Just another measly toy, he thought to himself. Just another measly toy that caught his interest, sooner or later he’ll throw you out like he did to many other women right before you. And yet, the word measly soon became non-existent to him.

That interest soon became endearment, and not long after infatuation.

Out of everyone in the world, it was you who took the King of Curses’ heart. The one who he physically can not and will not be apart.

He sometimes pondered if you questioned your relationship with him, or how odd he began acting after just a few weeks you had arrived as a sacrifice to his temple.

How one by one, his women, his concubine, would disappear. How his demands became odder, from asking you to sit on his lap whilst he listens to the villagers from upon his throne, to sleeping in his bed and yet not bedding you without your consent.

Though he would push all those thoughts aside, he was the King of Curses, after all, he would do whatever he so pleased and no one would dare question him.

Yet he should’ve known from the start that the reason he fell so madly in love with you was because of your bravery. Sure, you feared him, but you still looked up at him like you were a champion. A champion worthy to be in his presence and not cower in fear.

That same bravery led to the question he dreaded the most.

“My lord Sukuna?” He hummed in reply, “May I ask why I get the special treatment?”

You felt his chest rumble from beneath your head, he was chuckling. It sounded slightly more strained than the ones he would usually do though.

“Only a human so idiotic would question my decisions.”

He saw you widened your eyes, and immediately look up at him. Only to relax back when you saw that he was teasing you, the fact was quite evident from the mischievous grin he held.

“You interest me in a way no other women can.” He didn’t want to say the words, “Does that satisfy you human?” But you knew from the way he treated you, how much he truly cared.

“Very much so, my lord.”

Imagine 02

You've been avoiding Aemond for a whole week. That was the adamant truth of it.

In your defense, there was hardly anything you could say to him, while remaining neutral and polite about it.

The speech he gave at the dinner table, when his father announced your engagement with his nephew, Jacaerys, was shocking, low and disrespectful - even for him.

His 'final tribute', as he so called it, not only put Jace's legitimacy into question, but strode to poke at your honor, as well.

"And to my dearest Lady," He had said, "Who'd rather stay a Riverland cunt, than bear a true Targaryen name."

His harshness and impetuous words were the last straw for your betrothed, who marched forth and punched him straight in the jaw, despite his attempts to be prim and proper the entire night.

You recalled the ease with which Aemond pushed him away, schooling his features into a proud and arrogant smirk - one that faded away within a second, the moment he saw your hurt and angered look.

You merely shook your head, letting out a huff through the welling of tears, and made your way back to your Quarters, followed close behind by Jace.

Pleasantries were exchanged with him, heartfelt goodbye's were said - it would be a while yet until your wedding would take place, and, as his mother considered then, it would be best for them to take again to Dragonstone, until the animosity between her and the Queen's sons would simmer down, allowing for curteous conversation to haul its place.

For the first time in forever, you felt completely alone.

Whenever Aemond would appear at the table to break fast or bread with you, you'd elegantly excuse yourself, not even sparing him a second look.

And the Prince felt broken, in such agony and despair. He could count on one hand the amount of times he saw your shadow linger, the times he heard your skirts kiss the stone grounds which your feet carried you over.

Such was the way of things, until one fated night, when neither of you could find sleep - only then did Aemond corner you in the dark, secluded library. Only then did he turn so red in the face, you humorously thought he matched both your Houses' banners.

"You've been avoiding me. And I need you to stop."

His tone of voice ought to have vexed you. For who was he to command you so?

You turned around to face his gaze, and promptly raised your head at him.

"Some might say you now reap what you have sown, my Prince."

His shoulders slouched forward - and if you didn't know him so well, such movement would have gone unnoticed. Gingerly, he tried again.

"You've not once called me that. Not even when it was expected."

"People have a way of surprising you sometimes. Wouldn't you agree?"

He pursed his lips tightly, and lowered his lavander glare. Half a heartbeat later, and a drawn-out breath in, Aemond Targaryen fell to his knees.

Deep creases marred over his forehead, his silky hair having fallen out of place. He dared not to look at you, and instead trailed his eye over the details of your blue dress.

"Your silence cuts me. Deeper than a thousand blades."

His able words had made you scoff. You were tempted to praise his silver tongue, and quirk an eyebrow at his attempted poetry: after the stunt he pulled, it was a wonder he knew how to speak so sweetly.

Still, you settled on biting your inner cheek, in favour of listening to him further.

"I shall beg you on my knees if you so desire. But... torture my heart no further."

Quietness ensued a while, until you thought of an appropriate reply.

"I thought we were friends."

"We are, My Lady. We always have been -"

"Clearly, I was wrong." You assertively interjected, "Gods, Aemond, how can you say such a thing?"

His face was every bit as hurt as you imagined your own to be.

"What you said at dinner..."

"Was very wrong on your behalf, and I apologize. I deserve no less a punishment, but please - Please grant me release and forgive me."

"You bring forth foul rumours of my future husband's legitimacy, and put everything into question. You tried to hurt him, and by extension, me." Breathless from the intensity with which you spoke, you pinched the bridge of your nose to calm your aching nerves. "It's not enough to be sorry for what you said to me. You must regret what you said in regards to my future family, too."

For the first time that night, Aemond's eye shot back up, and his swirling orb came in direct contact with yours. Confusion and anger were etched into his sharp features, and the Crown Prince fought to stay composed as he spoke.

"You cannot mean to tell me... you actually intend on marrying that bastard."

Ired far beyond belief, you opened your mouth to face his allegations, but Aemond's minestrations were faster than yours.

"You see no problem in becoming the Realm's laughing stock, in moving to Dragonstone to mother the Strong's bastards?"

It was your turn to feel your cheeks catch aflame. Your face twisted into a painful scowl, and you bravely took a step ahead, pushing out your chin out to openly defy him.

"Jacaerys will be King of the Seven Kingdoms. Our offspring will be anything but bastards."

Before you knew it, Aemond rose up from his taciturn pose, towering over you, as he pushed you onto the cold, stone wall. His face mirrored the expression he wore not a week prior, and the man nodded in understanding, before tracing your jaw with his calloused finger.

"There is nothing I won't do for you.. I would carve my heart out and bear it in front of you. If you won't see to reason, then I will make you understand."

Your mouth slouched open, and your eyebrows furrowed in grave turmoil. All the colour drained from your face. "... Excuse me?"

"After all these years," Aemond huffed, "do you still not understand? I love you. I have loved you... ever since we were children."

You jerked your face away from him, and closed your eyes in disarray. You chewed on your bottom lip for but a moment, and forced yourself to stare at him again. "I'm marrying Jacaerys." You whispered lowly, despite your inner certainty, "And there is nothing that can be done about it now."

Aemond growled - animalistically, possessively - all over something he could never have. His hand tried to rest over your cheek, but you sternly pushed him away, widening the distance between your two, heaving bodies.

"No, Aemond." You chastised in vain, as you felt his arms snake around your form again. "No good will come out of this. And you know it, too."

"Hmm..."

"You're to be betrothed, as well." You halfheartedly reminded him. "And when you meet with the Baratheon girl, you'll think yourself very silly for ever wanting this - for ever wanting me."

"To Hell with the Four Storms." He gently whispered into your ear, "All my life I fulfilled my duty. I will not be denied the one thing I desire most."

With one final push and pull, you wiggled yourself free of his scorching embrace. "The hour is very late. I'm going to bed." You declared in your best neutral tone.

Aemond remained hammered in place. His erratic breath accompanied your hurried footsteps and swish of your dress - until none of the two echoed throughout the narrow hallway anymore.

"Ziry iksos issa ao jāhor nykeōragon hembar naejot mēre tubis, issa jorrāelagon... Se nyke jāhor zālagon glaesagon... qilōni elsvōk issa hen melaestōr ao."

For Aemond would not renounce you so easily. That was the adamant truth of it.

Supposed To (Pietro Maximoff x Reader)

Request: Hi💜 because you are an amazing blog, can I have a Pietro imagine? In which instead of Pietro dying, it’s the reader, and how he reacts to it. Love u xx

Requested By: @rowena-ravenclaw48

Word Count: 1,515

Warnings: Major character death, angst

A/N: Hello lovely followers! I actually got a request done! I just received this request today and I was so inspired by it that I just had to write it! This definitely helped with my writer’s block so hopefully I can write the requests that I still have. Anyways, I know it probably isn’t the best but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! As always, if you want to be added to my Tag List just let me know.

Tag List: @mp938368 @generalantiope @thatgirlsar @jumperswellies @quicksoldier @kitkatgaming @marvelfandom-stuff @itsmaytimetosaygoodbye @agentraven007 @marvelgoateecollection @thaniya82 @thats-so-rhyan @hymnofthevalkyrie @themanwiththemetalarm @mslaufeyson **if your blog is bolded, that means I can no longer link it**

MASTERLIST

Destruction was everywhere that you looked. No matter which way you turned your head, you would either see clouds of smoke surrounding a newly collapsed building or the robots of Ultron flying through the air bringing terror to the citizens of Sokovia. Death surrounded you in every single aspect as children cried out for their parents that were nowhere to be seen, or by spouses cradling their loved ones who left them too soon in their arms. Death was everywhere.

As you and the other Avengers fought tirelessly against Ultron’s henchmen and tried to save everyone that you could, you couldn’t help but feel the helplessness rise up in your chest. Staring off into the distance as the great city rises miles above where it should have been peacefully resting, Steve and Natasha walked up beside you.

“Tony, how’s it going down there?” Steve asked into his ear piece, Tony’s voice crackling through in response.

“Not good, FRIDAY is trying to figure it out. I’ll figure it out. Just get these people off this pile of rock.” 

As Steve’s brow furrowed, you couldn’t help but notice how a small tear welled up in the corner of his eye. Quickly turning away, you knew Steve wouldn’t have wanted you to see him like this. A leader always had to be strong.

“Steve,” Natasha broke the silence, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “There is no way that we can-”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Steve ordered, glaring at her. “We aren’t leaving until every last civilian is off of this rock.”

Shaking her head softly, she looked into both of your eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying. I say we fight, and I say that we try to save every last person here even if that means we don’t make it off.”

Your eyes widened as those words left your friend’s lips.

“Besides,” She started, cracking a small smile. “Where else am I going to get a view like this?”

Following her nod, you couldn’t help but agree with her. Even in such destruction and death, the view before you was a beautiful sight to see.

Nodding his head at her words, Steve relayed the message back to the team. With a quick glance over the both of you and with an encouraging nod from you, Steve’s face became set with determination. “Avengers, let’s give them hell.”

And hell you provided.

“(Y/N), I was thinking,” Pietro quickly said as the two of you fought off the robots back to back. 

“Duck!” You shouted as you interrupted him, blasting the robot that was getting way too close for comfort with your energy beam.

As he stood back up, Pietro smiled at you. “Nice one. Anyways, I was wondering, after this whole mess is over, would you like to go out sometime?”

Trying so hard to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, because dammit, you’re in a war right now, you couldn’t help but smile at Pietro as he easily fought off the incoming horde of robots.

“You mean if we survive this?” You retorted as you too fought off robot after robot, naturally defending Pietro’s six o’clock as he does the same for you. You two made a pretty good team.

“Yes,” He smirked as he ran circles around the enemies, screeching to a halt in front of you. “If we survive this battle, I get to take you out on a date.”

Smirking back at the speedster, you playfully nudged him as you stepped over the debris and rubble, looking for more robots you can destroy. “You’ve got a deal, Maximoff.”

Smile encompassing his face, he quickly ran up to you and grabbed your hand. Placing a gentle kiss on it, he looked into your eyes deeply. “Until then, printesa.”

And then he sped off.

You were absolutely drenched in sweat. The battle was finally starting to wind down as you and the other Avengers rushed civilian after civilian onto the life boats Nick Fury generously brought. With no more killer robots in sight, you allowed yourself a small feeling of relief that this day was almost over. 

“Help!” A lady’s shrill voice screamed, causing you to snap your head in her direction. “Help! My son is still in there!”

“Where is he?” Clint asked the lady as he tried to console her through her tears.

“We were in the marketplace, and-” She broke off in a new wave of sobs, collapsing against the chair of the life boat in agony. With a quick nod to the lady, you watched as Clint jogged off to the marketplace, finding the boy among the rubble. Effortlessly picking the kid up, Clint began to make his way back to the life boat when the roar of a jet filled the surrounding space.

And that’s when your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach.

Clint wasn’t going to make it in time, there was no way in hell that he could outrun the jet that was firing round after round of bullets directly in Clint’s path. And then you saw that steely look settle upon Clint’s face. You’ve only seen that look on his face once before, when you were a little kid and he was rescuing you from a burning building. He almost died trying to save you, and you weren’t about to let him die now trying to save another little kid. It’s different now. Back then when he saved you, he didn’t have a family that was depending on him and that needed him. But now… he had family that he would be leaving behind. You wouldn’t be leaving anybody behind to fend for themselves.

Swallowing the feeling of dread building up in your stomach, you quickly pushed it away as you stepped off that life boat. As you ran directly in front of the line of fire, you used your energy beam to push Clint and the kid back to a safe area.

“(Y/N), NO!!!” You heard Pietro cry as you felt bullet after bullet enter and leave your body. Looking down at yourself, you could barely even count how many holes were in you right now. Glancing back up, as if everything was in slow motion, you saw Pietro running towards you as Clint dropped to his knees in grief, child still clutching to his chest.

Crumpling to the ground, you could feel yourself slipping into the darkness.

“(Y/N), no, (Y/N), don’t do this to me,” Pietro sobbed as he held you in his lap, clutching your mangled body to his chest. Brushing back your hair away from your face, Pietro’s tears fell swiftly down his cheeks as he rocked you back and forth. “(Y/N), no, you can’t leave, not yet. No, printesa, please, please come back!”

Pietro’s tears decorated your lifeless face as he cradled you in his arms. No, Pietro thought, this isn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to go on a date with him that ended up turning into multiple dates, where he would finally kiss you on your beautiful pink lips. And then, when he built up enough courage, he would ask you to be his girlfriend, his first real girlfriend. Not the flings or one-night stands that he usually had, no, the type of girlfriend that would eventually turn into his wife. And he was supposed to propose to you on some lazy Sunday morning, or perhaps make it very extravagant where everyone was there to celebrate your engagement. And you were supposed to walk down the aisle towards him in all white, where you would meet him at the altar and say ‘I do,’ finally starting your lives together. He was supposed to hold back your hair as you got sick from having his child grow inside of you, and he was supposed to hold your hand as your child was born. And he was supposed to laugh with you when you realized that your son was just like him, to which you would shake your head playfully at him. And the two of you were supposed to have more children after that, loving each and every one of them. You were supposed to watch them graduate together and watch them get married together. You were supposed to grow old together, and Pietro was supposed to still kiss you just like how he kissed you for the first time even when you were both all old and wrinkly. And when eventually one of you died, he just knew that the other wasn’t going to be far behind just like those old couples he always heard about dying within hours or days of each other. 

But it was all ripped away from him. His whole future was torn away from him as he carried your lifeless body back onto that life boat. And just like that, Pietro no longer had a future as he continued to hold your body, still trying to protect you from whatever danger came near. 

After that fateful day in Sokovia, Pietro was never the same man again.

Prince Aemond, your Aemond

Pairing: Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: none;

Author’s Note: some fun thoughts about Aemond being in love with you; this was for a request I accidentally deleted LMAO - please send me more tho, I live for writing them :D

Aemond, who has had a crush on you since you two were children. He paid attention to everything you took an interest in, and made it a point to learn interesting facts about those things, so he can woo you in his own way.

Aemond, who only waltzes with you at balls and name days. For you, he takes dancing and etiquette lessons and treats them just as seriously as his sword-playing;

Aemond, who is somehow always there for you - sitting next to you at supper, guarding you silently as you read in the library;

Aemond, who lets his hand graze yours from time to time, as you walk side by side through the opulent gardens - the impropriety of it all!

Aemond, who so rarely smiles, but is always wearing a calm and content expression when you happen to be around;

Aemond, who allows himself to be vulnerable around you and shows you his sapphire eye for the first time, his hand shaking and brows twisted in painful anticipation for your horrified reaction;

Читать дальше

The Yule Ball

(HotD Hogwarts!AU)

Part 1 of 3;;

Warnings: Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy; slight yandere Jace and Aemond (you’ll be able to tell that better in part 2); angst if you squint; fluff, spice and everything nice

Pairings: Aemond x Reader, Aegon x Reader, Jacerys x Reader

Word count: 13k+ (not proof-read)

How would HotD’s Main Three (Aemond, Aegon, Jace) ask you out to the Yule Ball? Would they even gather the courage to do so, before it’s too late?

╰┈➤ In this fic, you’re a daring Gryffindor, navigating your 5th year at Hogwarts. For the sake of this AU, Aemond (Slytherin) is your best friend, Jace (fellow Gryffindor) is utterly in love with you and Aegon (Hufflepuff) is that emotionally unavailable pervert whom you’ve befriended… though you’re not quite sure why.

Christmas was a time to be celebrated at Hogwarts, both by muggle-born and pure-blood alike.

This year, the latter had been most excited, as the Headmaster announced the on-going preperations for the Yule Ball, a grand festivity that took place once every 4 years, all in honour of the Triwizard Tournament.

The buzzling happiness of the students was palpable: the nervousness of the girls and the slight waver in their voices. The boys, either completely unaffected by the notion of a partner or just as spent on the lingering question plaguing everyone’s thoughts… ‘So… who will you go with?’

The older students stricking their claim, the younger girls seducing away to secure an invitation…

Читать дальше

Aemond In Love

Note: A simple guide to Aemond's heart;

Warnings: None.

We needen't start off by saying Aemond had a rough childhood;

The deepest I can see him fall in love is with a person who's seen him for all that he is - for better or worse;

A childhood companion, who always jumped to his defense against the crude remarks that his brother and nephews laid on him. Who held onto his tiny hand when he sulked about not being good enough. Who always had something kind to say - to him, to anyone.

He craves for someone who is patient, but also incredibly head-strong: after he loses his eye, he will try his hardest to push his love away. He will rain insults upon her. About her status, her looks, her character, anything that he can think of.

He doesn't mean them. He never could mean them.

If you want own his heart forever, instead of turning your back to him, wait for the boy to calm down, stay silently by his side, until the scorching pain of his missing eye and the effects of the milk of the poppy both wear off;

Even so, Aemond would never be the same, and you would have to develop yet another crucial quality: perseverence.

The following year of accomodation promises a very difficult path to thread with Aemond: too much taken interest in his new hobbies, and he'll think of you a nuisance. Too much detachment from him, and you'll stray away from each other in the blink of an eye;

If you find that perfect balance, in both asking him what else he read while also doing your own thing, Aemond would be smitten with you - even more so after you both grow into your teenage years.

He notices, even if he doesn't tell you, how all the other ladies at court scurry away when they see him, scrunching up their noses in disgust at the sight of his eyepatch.

'He could be handsome, if it weren't for that scar.'

'The boy could be the heir to the Iron Throne for all I care. I could never lay with such a beast.'

He is so grateful for you;

He becomes insecure, and very posessive over your bond in return. It gets to the point where he wants to seek out your company during every hour of every day; it's you who keeps him sane, who understands him and doesn't look at him in pure disgust;

He knows it's not proper, for a lady and a prince to always be seen together, and he doesn't want to embarrass or overburden you;

Because he's afraid you'll get bored of him, he keeps half a distance when he can muster;

Still, make no mistake: he's always nearby, lurking, watching you through the comfort of the shadows. And when the Red Keep hosts for either ball or name day, you're the only one with whom he ever dances.

He relishes in the knowledge that you too, only dance with him - no matter how many Baratheons or Tyrells come your way;

He realises he truly loves you when one day, while walking down a hallway, he spots you talking to your handmaid, Arwen.

He quickly picks up the situation from the loose dialogue he can hear: you, expressing your worry for a very pregnant Arwen, commanding her sternly to let you help her carry the heavy wine barrels to the cellar;

Your kindness is pure. Not a front shown by many other ladies, who only ever mourn the losses of the lesser when other noble men of the court are around;

He wants to marry you. To crown you the love of his life, to make you his Princess and the mother of his child;

But his insecurity pushes him down once more;

How could he selfishly keep you, you bright, wonderous and beautiful thing? He could go to his mother and beg her to betroth you, finally making you his - but how could he steal any hope of happiness you may have, by cursing you to marry not only a second son, but a cripple and a thief?

So he doesn't. He lays low. Starts avoiding balls and any other grand event. When he is forced to attend, he doesn't dance with you anymore. He doesn't dance with anyone.

He simply stays put, hammered in his seat;

Your walks through the garden and chats of deep philosphies happen less and less;

The tens of suitors you managed to stir at such occasions take his place by your left side;

Soon enough, the news of your betrothal reach his ears. You, to be wed by the end of spring, with a Stark lord of Winterfell;

That night, he cannot sleep.

He needs to take Vhagar to the skies, in an attempt to clear his head.

Or he needs to see you immediately, and confront you himself on the subject of your hasty marriage;

He almost reaches to your door, but stops again.

Pain shoots like an arrow through his heart - he feels entitled to an explanation, but how could he be?

It was he who encouraged you to talk to other men. It was he who was too much of a coward to court you as well;

For a moment, he rests his head upon the oak doors of your chambers, before turning his back to walk towards Vhagar's lair;

That night, you feel it too - the sadness and dissatisfaction that enveloped both your hearts;

Only you are more pragmatic;

You get up from your bed, making haste to get dressed;

Before you know it, you crush with him on the way to his chambers - his hands are now on you, protectively around your waist, keeping you from crashing onto the cold floor;

He smells of dragon and of old parchments;

"What are you doing here at this hour, my lady?"

"Aemond."

You drop all formalities, all the while hurt by his usage of them, and shrug your shoulders; you ask him what the matter with him is, why he's been avoiding you for all those weeks, why he refuses to look you in the eyes;

He replies that you're not children anymore, that you both have duties that lay outside of your friendship and other fickle desires;

You snap - you tell him how you cannot believe he's become so short sighted, so blind to your pain. You scowl, and insist that you've always been by his side when he needed you the most. Where did he disappear when your turn to beg for solace came?

"I never expected you to love me. But I never thought you'd stop being my friend."

The two of you share your first kiss that night;

He grabs you tightly - one hand on the nape of your neck, the other on your heaving shoulder;

Aemond kisses you with wild abandon, grazing your bottom lip with his teeth, swallowing your tiny moans;

His forehead comes to rest with yours, both of you breathing heavily, and you chase his lips again with your own;

Eventually, you get around to actually talk - he swears to you that he will talk with his mother and your father when the first ray of sunlight brightens the horizon;

"You're right, you know." He whimpered into your mouth, seering your lips with another hot kiss. "You were always by my side, fighting for me";

The passion burning through his gaze made your knees weak, and you were glad that in that moment, your weight was fully supported by his strong arms;

"It is now my turn to fight for you, issa jorrāelagon."

Translations:

"Issa jorrāelagon" = My love;