#they haven't fallen but they fear they might | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bunnyreaper · 1 year

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𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 2 — 𝖕𝖙 1 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 5.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, smut, phone sex, wee bit of angst, brief mention of the word 'daddy'

notes - vibrating with both excitement and fear, but hoping y'all love this like you loved the last one!! also on ao3! ♥

Johnny was right to send you to bed when he did because you're already struggling to get through the day, and on any less sleep, you might have fallen asleep at your desk. Clearly, you're terrible at making decisions for yourself, if that wasn't already evidenced by the nearly empty fridge accompanied by the pile of empty takeout containers.

It's not even the end of the workday yet, and you're beat—except staying up with Johnny was so worth it, getting to hear his voice and everything he said was complete bliss. You only wish he was here now, whispering in your ear and making your day go by quicker. Unfortunately, the sad reality is that beyond your good morning text, you haven't heard from him since, and you hate that you already feel like you're suffering from withdrawals.

Again, that could be the lack of sleep, or adequate nutrition, or the fact that lately you haven't exactly been the most social person, and you've definitely been missing social contact. All of that missing need you just want to be filled by Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—his name like a chanted prayer in your mind.

You at least have the sense of mind to focus when you need to, but at any idle moment, Johnny crawls back into your brain. Your mind drifts to wondering what he's up to, wondering where in the world they've shipped him off to this time—what timezone is he even in? What hemisphere?

5 p.m. comes round sooner than you expect, and you find yourself logging off from your work laptop with a relieved sigh. You might be exhausted from lack of sleep, but Johnny's arrival in your life left you energised in a way you hadn't felt in so long. Every part of you hums with excitement, thinking about what the future might hold.

You have to keep snapping yourself out of getting lost in the fantasy, even as you find yourself rereading through texts and committing Johnny's words to memory. The last time you did this still sticks in the back of your mind, still stings—someone who came into your life and was everything until they were nothing. Someone who said they could be trusted as they broke down your barriers.

The aching loneliness was too much, so you'd run from it straight into something worse, not even realising how easily you fell into the trap.

Your thoughts were spiraling, and you needed a distraction, so you put on the TV in the hopes of getting lost in the shitty reality dating show you've been watching lately.

A few hours later, the buzz of your phone pulls you from the drama of the screen—your spirits soaring as you see the little icon you're rapidly growing attached to.

Evening bonnie, hope you're not napping too close to bed time.

hi!! no... for once, lol. how was your day?

Long, but thoughts of you got me through ;) how was yours?

The rapid responses mean your smile never has time to waver, as your eyes are glued to the screen watching as the messages are read, the app tells you he is typing and then another one of his messages appears.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you eagerly respond.

somehow managed to not fall asleep at my desk, i would've napped but...

But?

didn't want to risk missing any messages from you.

Johnny heart reacts to the message immediately.

Call?

please!!!

Mere seconds later, his face fills the screen once more, and your sheer excitement overtakes your nerves by far.

"Hi." You say shyly, as soon as you accept the call.

"Hi bonnie, gotcha on loudspeaker by the way." He greets you, his voice immediately sending warmth through you.

You were rapidly growing obsessed with his terms of endearment, too.

"Oh." You pause, suddenly self-conscious and hesitant. "Are you not alone?" Does anyone in his life even know you exist? You know you haven't really mentioned to your friends that you're 'dating' again.

"Definitely am, don't worry. Jus' need ma hands free."

At that, your brow furrows, your voice filling with both mischief and disbelief. "What are you doing, Johnny?"

He chuckles, before rustling some papers around. "Paperwork, nothing fun."

Even hearing the word paperwork right now drains you, and can hear that Johnny isn't exactly pleased with the idea either.

"Wishing I was under the desk again?" You ask, hoping your playful tone will make him smile.

"Dinnae start." He groans. "What are you doing? Have you eaten?"

"Not yet, I need to check my milk is still in date." You throw yourself off the sofa and make your way through to the kitchen—it's a good job Johnny actually poked you to eat.

"Milk?" His voice is filled with confusion.

"For cereal."

"Ach."

"I can feel your disapproval from here." You can practically sense him shaking his head disapprovingly too.

"Good, I see how this gonae be." He sighs, the disappointment evident, along with that sense of control, guidance.

It just makes you tingle.

"Yes, daddy?" You giggle audaciously like you know exactly what you're doing, and hope it has the effect you want it to.

Johnny chokes, and then growls... and then sighs. "Away n bile yer heid." He whispers, yet he sounds anything but angry, his voice thick with arousal as he undoubtedly fights all kinds of urges.

You want to take that step with Johnny, to dirty talk with him now that you feel comfortable, but you suppose now isn't the time—after all, he is still working.

"I'm being mean now, sorry."

"A right brat." He growls playfully. "Do something for me, lass?"

The shift in his tone and the previous conversation topic gives you a good guess at what's coming next. "Is it cooking a real meal?" You groan playing into the role.

Well, admittedly committing to self-care tasks like cooking isn't the easiest thing in the world, and having someone to guide you in that is... a turn-on.

"Knew you were a smart girl." He purrs, and those words turn your brain and your body to mush.

You have to stifle a whine from leaving you, as your face flushes furiously. Oh, how you wish you could hear that over and over again—in that voice, with that accent, whispered right in your ear as he—

"What you gonna cook?" He asks, interrupting your rapidly spiraling thoughts.

Staring into the fridge is a depressing experience—the shelves are mostly bare and there's a faint smell of something off. "Ugh, I don't have a lot in, to be honest."

"Logging onto the Tesco website now, or maybe meal delivery service..." He muses, and you can imagine the smirk on his lips.

"Johnny!" Your protest is weak, as the coddling and infantalisation make you feel something you probably shouldn't.

He snickers at your tone, but he knows now that if things are to continue, he won't listen to your objections. "Jokin'... for now. Talk me through yer fridge, lass."

"Do you cook?" You ask, wondering if he's going to magically talk you through a recipe with the condiments in your fridge and the dried pasta in the pantry.

There's a beat of silence. "Not often."

You're overcome with a fit of giggles and a wave of faux offense. "Then who are you to lecture me?"

Johnny meets your exclamation with a series of tuts, which already quiet your discontent, but you find yourself ruined when his voice drops and he delivers his next few words. "What happened to 'Johnny knows best'?"

Fuck him, using his powers for good—and you can already tell he's getting off on it too. Today, you won't indulge him by submissively repeating it back, since he's making you face the horror that is cooking.

"Fine." You sigh, looking for what items in the fridge that are actually still in date. You pull open a cupboard or two as well. "I have... hummus and celery and uh, supernoodles in the cupboard."

"Better than cereal." He waits for your response that doesn't come, as you pout on the end of the phone, and then he plays his next move flawlessly. "For me, bonnie girl?"

The plea in his voice makes you melt, makes you want to do just about anything for him.

"For you." You say with a smile, grabbing the packets of noodles and a saucepan. "Have you eaten?"

"A have, chicken tikka masala."

You sigh, knowing that if not for Johnny you could've ordered a nice Indian for yourself—you get to work on the noodles anyway. "Kinda jealous now, if I'm honest."

His laugh is short but earnest. "Same, haven't had beefy supernoodles in an age."

"Yeah, I would hope they're feeding you actually decent, nutritious food over there."

He huffs. "I would hope you're feeding yerself decent food, but here we are." That playful judgement is back, lacing his words and making you crave his approval.

It's a startling thought, that here you are, only a few days in and needing his praise, his encouragement—you suppose it comes easy as it plays into both of your natural instincts—his to lead, yours to follow.

"Less sass, more... paperwork." You grumble playfully, trying to cover up the fact that, maybe, you like being teased by him.

"Aye." He laughs, and you can briefly hear him scribbling in the silence.

For a few moments, it's just the sound of him writing and you cooking, but the quiet feels comfortable rather than awkward—strangely routine and domestic after such a short space of time.

Your mind wanders back to what the two of you had discussed last night, about his day later in the week. "Have you thought more about Friday?"

There's a brief shuffle and the sound of the call changes as Johnny seems to take you off the loudspeaker and moves around. "Meetin' you?"

"Yeah." There's a sense of nervousness within you, a fear he's going to suddenly decide that he doesn't want to see you after all, that he doesn't see this going anywhere. It's so soon, and yet the thought seems crushing.

"Haven't thought of much else." His confession seems to settle your rapidly beating heart just a little, the sincerity in his voice making your stomach twist and turn.

Maybe you shouldn't push it, but you want to meet him more than anything, so you can make the first step toward all of this becoming real. "Would you be up for coffee? I can come to you!"

"About that..." His sigh is weary, and panic overtakes you as the silence stretches on. "Am leaving for a week or so."

It's not a total rejection at least, but somehow it still stings, still settles heavy and unpleasant in your gut. "When?"

"Tomorrow." He falls silent, waiting for you to say something, yet you don't know what words to even summon right now. "'m sorry, lass."

You take a deep breath for a moment, collecting your thoughts as you stir your noodles and try to put everything you feel into some sort of coherent order.

There's no logical reason to feel rejected, as it's not that he doesn't want the date, but that he can't. Perhaps it's that lingering thought that this kind of thing will be a frequent occurrence—it's just a small taste of what's to come. But wanting Johnny means handling this, like he deserves.

You push through the discomfort and force yourself into a more positive mindset.

"But... after that? Or is this just because you hate coffee so much you're fleeing the country?" You laugh softly, hoping the joke will lighten the thick atmosphere.

"Now, if you'd asked me out for tea..." He laughs in return, before turning serious. "But... when I'm back, I'd love to see you. Have ta, really. "

"I'm glad." The beaming smile on your face is ridiculous, and you're so thankful he can't see you grinning like an idiot at his words. He has to meet you.

With your cooking complete, you take the saucepan off the stove and pour the noodles into a bowl, grabbing it before returning to the comfort of the couch. "Okay, noodles done."

"Wanna call me back once yer done, or?"

Fuck, he's so considerate.

You hum negatively as you start to blow on the noodles to cool them. "I'll eat on the phone if you don't mind the sound of me slurping."

Johnny chuckles, before making a suggestive noise.

"The noodles, Johnny."

He coughs, covering more juvenile laughter. "Aye, the noodles, of course."

"So... going anywhere fun?" You ask, referencing his upcoming deployment.

"Classified, I'm afraid." He answers curtly, but you know it's nothing more than his duty.

No questions about that, then, you suppose. It's going to be a strange thing to adjust to, but it's another thing that comes along with accepting Johnny into your life. You change your line of questioning, hopefully to something he can answer. "Are you... scared?"

"No." He answers quickly and firmly, in a manner that suggests certainty rather than bravado. "Don't worry about me, hen." He rushes to add.

"Kinda hard not to, even if we only just met..." You sigh, but you suppose you have to trust Johnny's skills and training. "I imagine it only gets more intense from here."

The admission feels like a swift kick to the stomach.

"Yeah..." You hear a knock on the door from Johnny's end, and he swears colourfully under his breath. "Ach, can I call yer back?"

It's almost cruel the way such timing drives the point home.

"Sure, things to attend to?" You ask absentmindedly, not really expecting an answer.

He sighs, before trying to turn his tone more positive. "Aye, but I'll catch you before bed, yeah?"

"Yeah. Bye, Johnny."

"Bye, lass."

He ends the call, leaving you with your meal and your thoughts.

Maybe you aren't strong enough to deal with this after all, you think, trying to settle the ugly, gnawing feeling inside you. It already hurts, but maybe that's because you're trying to hold so tight onto something intangible. Maybe if you and Johnny become something, mean something to each other, it'll all be easier to deal with.

It's an hour or so later when you're tucked up in bed that Johnny's call lights up your phone. You pick it up instantly.

"Hey, glad you haven't fallen asleep already." He chuckles, his voice softer than before.

"Mmm, still hanging on." You mumble, cheek pressed into plushness and tiredness lingering at the back of your mind, as well as the mess of feelings that still simmers within you.

"Cuddled up with the big B?" He asks, voice cheeky and charming.

You can't help the soft giggle at the ridiculous nickname. "The big B?!"

"Barnaby!" He clarifies with a hearty laugh, not ashamed at all of his goofiness.

"The big B! That's so silly"

The laughs quiet, and another silence falls, but this time you feel the discomfort that comes with it.

Johnny is the first to breach it, his tone tinged with worry. "How are yer?"

"I'm fine." You sigh, not wanting to elaborate and get yourself upset again. It's not far from the truth. Nothing has changed, but this is something you have to learn to sit with, have to make peace with for both of your sake.

Johnny cuts right through the noise. "Yer seemed a little upset earlier. Wanna talk about it?"

Communication—the key to any good relationship, an essential to any kinky one, and one thing you think you really kind of suck at.

It's a simple sentence with a simple answer, and nothing about Johnny suggests that his reaction will be anything other than supportive—but it's not Johnny's voice that whispers cruel things in the back of your head. And for now, Johnny's influence is not enough to quiet the storm.

The fear grips at your heart, stops your words right in your throat, but your mind wars between the ghosts of your past and the duty of your present and future.

Johnny waits quietly, not pushing you for an answer or assuming how you feel, and that small act helps pull you out of the fog and helps you force yourself to speak.

"Reality setting in, I guess." The words don't come easy at first, your throat tight—but once you start, the rest just seems to flow, taking the weight of your burdens with them. "Like, it's not too bad right now, it's just... knowing what's in store? Assuming we keep talking."

The opportunity to really put your thoughts in order and get them out actually does help, surprisingly.

Johnny goes silent for a moment, considering your words before he speaks. "If you wanna stop—"

"I don't." You feel bad for interrupting him, but you already know that's not what you want, even if he sees it as a kindness. "Like I said yesterday, I'm not faint-hearted... the intensity just took me by surprise. All of this has, really."

"I'm with you there. Sat here thinking about how I'm gonna be thinking of anything else when I'm on the mission." He laughs softly, the sound laden with emotion. "Lt's gonna have my head."

The gravity of his job sinks in now, with the realisation that he will be busy and focused, and rightfully so.

"Will you be able to get in touch while you're gone?" You ask, more for informational purposes, rather than being unable to last a week without hearing his voice.

"Not a whole lot, no. Sometimes no' at all, but I'll let you know when I can." He states plainly, and the honesty is so refreshing.

"I'll try not to bother you too much then." You giggle, though you don't really mean your words. He has his mission, and you have yours—stay strong while he's gone.

He scoffs instantly. "You? A bother? Never."

You hum, continuing with your playful statements. "You haven't seen me when I'm clingy."

"A like clingy, am clingy too."

Ugh, just when you think he can't be more perfect, he comes out with that. The sweet smile on your face is relentless, and you just know the same is true for him too. "Oh yeah? So you won't be complaining when we meet, and I just take a hold of your hand and don't let go."

His barked laugh is so genuine that it makes your heart sing. "Bold of yer to assume I'd be letting you go, lass."

The thought of even his hand in yours is enough to send you into a frenzy—a simple, delicate, and chaste act, yet you crave it like nothing else. When your date finally does come around, you'll be able to touch him and see him up close. You'll be able to hear that voice and those words up close and unrestrained by the slightly shitty quality of the phone call—and that is a little terrifying.

"I guess waiting isn't a bad thing after all, maybe I'll be less nervous by then." Because right now you know you'd hesitate to reach out and touch him, would struggle looking him in the eye for too long. Maybe if you wait, the radiance that is Johnny's warmth will wear off, but somehow you doubt it.

"Why ya nervous?"

You almost snort at such an oblivious question from such a seemingly smart man. "Have you seen you?" Have you talked to you? Been on the end of your affections? Your mind pleads.

"See this ugly mug every day." He grumbles, though you can still hear the smile.

"You can't see, but I'm rolling my eyes." You giggle. "But what if I just... can't resist you? Jump you right then and there?" Your voice takes on a more teasing tone.

"In public?" He tuts, slow and sexy, his voice dropping low. "Naughty girl."

You straight up whimper. "Needy girl, for you."

A growl leaves his throat, along with a whispered "Fuck."

Arousal floods through you, overtakes you, as you feel your mind slipping to a space of deep-seated need, all for him. You feel on fire, your skin hypersensitive to the brush of the sheets, as your lower body hums and begs for attention. No longer can you hold yourself back from falling under his sexy spell. "Your groans, your voice, it all drives me crazy."

The laugh that leaves him is weaker, choked with arousal. "All wet fer me, bonnie?" His voice, now a touched graveled, wraps so wonderfully around every word.

"Soaked." You squirm in place, not even needing to feel to know just how dripping you are—every time he teases you, you practically gush. Your spare hand dives below the sheets, tracing ever so slightly over your stomach as it crawls lower. "Johnny?"

"Yes, bonnie?" It sounds like his control is wavering too.

"Please can I touch? I need it so bad." You whine and plead, surrendering yourself to Johnny's command.

"You don't—" Another growl leaves his throat, you hear him shuffle and when his voice returns, he sounds even more aroused than before—sweet, gentle domination drips from his tone. "Touch yerself, go on."

You comply immediately, your hand diving under your waistband and zeroing in on your swollen clit—relief floods you the second you make contact, your fingers rubbing delicate swirls on your soaked nub as gentle moans force themselves free.

"Oh fuck." Johnny's breathing is ragged between his groans. "Gonna have tae join ya."

"Fuckfuckfuck." Your eyes slip shut as you imagine him reaching down to free his aching cock, all for you. Your thoughts center on conjuring up an image of how long and thick you imagine him to be. "Is... is your cock as big as the rest of you?"

You squeak out your words while you still have command over the English language.

"Guess you'll find out soon enough." He chuckles breathlessly, some of the words catching in his throat as he clearly works himself. "But I don't think you'll be disappointed. I know how tae take care of yer, know you're already desperate for me."

Your circles quicken, his words sending pleasure coursing through you in a way that almost feels better than your touch. You fill the air with breathy moans. "Need you, Johnny."

"Need you too, pet." He growls his words over the building slick sound.

"Oh fuck." Your reaction is instant, the word sending everything in your brain into overdrive. Pet. Pet. You almost cum right then and there, but his assault on your senses and sensibilities continues.

"God, thinking about you on the end of a leash for me? So fuckin' hard thinking about it." His voice modulates between and whine and a growl, his need growing furiously. "I'd be so fuckin' lucky."

You imagine the collar slipping around your neck, imagine Johnny clicking shut a lock and attaching a leash—pulling you to him just as he is now with every word.

"I'd be the most loyal pet ever, I swear." You start to babble, unable to hold back any longer on the wave of submission that overtakes you. "I'll Wait for you to come home, naked and kneeling with my leash ready."

"Jesus, fuck." Each grunt that leaves him makes you shiver. Each word like its own bolt of electricity straight from his body to yours. "Yeah, my good girl would be so lost without me." He says it with such certainty, speaking the truth to life.

"I get separation anxiety like mad. I'll miss your touch, miss your smell, miss your taste—" You cut yourself off with a high-pitched whine, your fingers working you so fucking close to the edge.

"Don't worry, I'd fuck you so good before I go bonnie, fill yer up and leave you dripping with me." His groans are accompanied by more of those slick sounds. "Mark that pretty neck o' yours, too."

"I'm... I'm not gonna last." You admit, holding back even now from cumming—you crave his permission.

"Me either. Go on, moan for me, let me hear you." He urges you gently, even if his voice is filled with need.

You let all your noises flow freely as you teeter toward the edge and desperately try to please him with the sounds you make. It's all too good, too much, too overwhelming.

"Johnny, can I—"

His demand is out of his mouth before you can even finish your sentence. "Cum fer me, bonnie. Go on."

You cum with a strangled cry, flying over the edge right as Johnny demands it. The build-up of the past few days along with Johnny's noises has you shaking in ecstasy—ecstasy that's only prolonged when he cums too with a long, drawn-out groan.

After a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, as you come down from your high.

"Oh my god." You sigh, a silly, blissed-out grin overtaking your features.

"You okay, sweet girl?" His voice returns to that sweetness you're coming to know and love.

You nod mindlessly, even though he can't see you. "Better than okay, are you?"

He hums in affirmation, before his voice turns a touch serious. "You did so good. Just want tae make sure you're good, and a didn't go too far."

"Hah, I mean, nowhere near too far." You admit shakily.

"Am glad, it's only early days, though. That trust..." He hesitates.

"... It takes a while, yeah." The post-orgasmic bliss coupled with the feeling of that trust taking root and growing. "I'm glad you understand."

And he understands perfectly, as you never feel pushed or rushed, only pampered and adored.

"Of course... it's special, for both of us." He admits, and you know you're on the same wavelength when it comes to the bond and relationship between dominant and submissive.

"Mhmm." You hum dreamily, wholeheartedly agreeing and yet not able to summon up something profound.

"Already sleepy?" His laughter is soft and sincere.

"I'd get so much rest if every night was like this."

"Even more so when I finally get to fuck ya, bonnie." He whispers so casually, yet even after your orgasm your clit still thrums with interest—God, he has such a hold on you.

"Yeah?" You sigh, dreaming of the day you'll get to experience it.

"Yeah."

The line falls silent, and you feel yourself fading.

"I'm sorry, I'm so... sleepy." You whisper while you still have the chance.

"It's okay, sweet girl, close yer eyes. Am right here." Johnny's sweet voice lulls you closer and closer, and your phone falls free from your hand to your pillow, resting there with Johnny just on the end of the line.

"Goodnight Johnny." You mumble, before sleep finally takes you.

"Goodnight, Bonnie." His reply is soft, carrying you off to unconsciousness as he drifts off too.

-//-

Johnny practically vibrates where he stands—wired beyond belief. Part of it is his usual pre-mission adrenaline, but the events of the past few days especially almost have him climbing the walls. His energy is frenetic as usual but with so much more—lust, yearning, withdrawal.

It's only been a few hours since he ended the call after waking up before you, and yet he finds his thoughts unable to leave you, even as he finishes gearing up. You'd love to see him like this, and an idea strikes him.

He pulls out his phone, turns to the man beside him, and hopes he doesn't regret asking. Then again, some ribbing from the masked man would be nothing compared to the floored reaction he'd get from you.

"Ghost?" He asks, piercing the comfortable silence between the two of them.

"What?" Ghost turns, eyeing Johnny and his hand holding his outstretched phone.

Johnny doesn't waver, sure in his request, and eager to see your response. "Take a picture of me, yeah?"

"Girl back home?" Ghost asks, cutting straight to the point as he takes the phone. "Is this the first time she's seeing you? Cause you look fuckin' rough."

"No." Johnny frowns, and worry washes over him. Surely Lt. is just messing him around—he knows she'll be happy to see him either way.

Ghost pulls off a glove and navigates to the camera before stepping back and holding up the phone in Johnny's direction. He might be giving Johnny shit, but he at least takes the time to angle and position the frame in a way that compliments Johnny's stature. "She like the tac gear?"

Johnny sighs, wishing this was over already. "Just take the picture, Ghost."

"Say cheese." Ghost deadpans, and the softest of smiles graces Johnny's features—for her, not for him.

Johnny practically snatches the phone back from Ghost's hands, checking out the photo immediately. "Thanks."

He pulls up their messages immediately, firing off the picture with a kissing face and a teasing message just for her.

When he locks the phone and throws it in his bag, Ghost's eyes are fixed on him, his blackened eyes narrowed.

"Mind on the mission, yeah, Johnny?"

Johnny nods, doing his best to push thoughts of her away for now, and letting his inner soldier take over. He'll be back to her before he knows it. "Aye, Lt."

Days later, and after a successful first phase of the mission, Johnny stares down at his phone. The signal is nonexistent and won't return for a while, but he misses you, his mind is itching with his need for you. In this shitty safe house in the middle of nowhere, while someone else is on watch, there's very little to do, and truly nothing else he'd rather think about.

He scrolls to the top of your messages, rereading each message and reliving each conversation, experiencing all over again how each message made him feel.

Your sweet texts, your copious use of emojis, and your cute little selfies—it was all so intoxicating to him. For a man who was so used to maintaining focus, you were a fucking curveball. Something about you just sends his protective instincts into overdrive, makes unearned possessive tendrils curl up through him and around his heart—calls out to his guiding, dominant, caring side.

He has to constantly stamp down the thoughts inside that called out to him to find you, scoop you up, and take you home with him. Luckily for you both, Johnny is a patient man. He spends time out in the field waiting days for anything interesting to happen, he's spent years waiting for his pet, his girl to come along—and you're right there. He can wait a little longer.

He holds down the record button, intent on recording a message for you, and begins whispering into the phone.

"Hi, been sat on my arse for far too long with nothing to do but think of you. Dinnae think I'll get signal anytime soon, but I 'spose it'll send at some point." He feels himself relax just a little as he falls into Johnny, the man—rather than Soap, the soldier.

"Been thinking about our first date, since you mentioned coffee. Kinda had a crazy idea actually, but I need your input. What about a cat café? Has to be one in that city o' yours, and I figure you must like kitties."

"Won't be long until you might be one for me... or a bunny... or a puppy." He interrupts himself with a sigh.

"Need tae stop those thoughts and quit while I'm ahead. Let me know, yeah? As soon as I get my leave, we'll set it up."

"Talk soon, bonnie."

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #soap mw2 #i swear i should get a beta reader for this series #i feel bad bcs im posting ch2 so soon with NO idea when 3 is coming #eventually???#love you all so much #collars and cages

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rafesapologist · 10 months

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the set up — rafe cameron; part twelve

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst, swearing, SMUT

author's note: i hope you guys are enjoying the longer chapters! it feels really nice to be back and have everyone already showing just as much support for this series as you guys did prior to my hiatus. i was struggling with a huge case of writer's block (that i feared i was not going to overcome lol), so i'm really excited to be back writing on here. i do plan to keep updating this series more frequently as well, if you haven't already noticed, sort of to pay my dues for being away for so long. love you mwah

"I do love you."

Your words spilled out abruptly, escaping before you could rein them in. Heat surged through your body, a swift rush of warmth brought on by the sudden and unintended admission. The truth, though genuine, caught you off guard, leaving you reeling in the aftermath of your own confession.

As the reality of what you'd uttered sank in, a wave of regret washed over you, the weight of the moment pressing down with force. Shock etched across your features, a mask of surprise mirrored in your eyes as you grappled with the gravity of your admission.

The air hung heavy with anticipation as silence enveloped the room, your words lingering unspoken, a testament to the vulnerability of the moment. You stared up at Rafe, a mix of emotions swirling within you, uncertain and apprehensive about what his response might entail. In that suspended moment, you grappled with a swirl of emotions, still processing the weight of your confession and unsure of what lay ahead.

"You... what?" Rafe's voice carried a tone of disbelief, his features contorted in confusion, eyebrows knit tightly together. His expression mirrored the astonishment that had engulfed you moments before, leaving both of you seemingly dumbfounded by the unexpected admission that hung in the air.

The aura of disbelief seemed to permeate the room, an unspoken tension weaving between you, each moment stretching as you both grappled with the weight of the statement that had just been uttered, hanging in the air, unaddressed.

"I know I didn't say it before, but Rafe, I was just trying to protect you," you confessed, urgency lacing your words. "I didn't not say it because I didn't feel it or mean it. I just... I don't want you caught up with someone like me." Your voice carried a mix of sincerity and vulnerability, each word spoken with a weight that mirrored the depth of your emotions. The confession hung between you, a delicate yet heartfelt attempt to explain the unspoken, a raw honesty seeping through your words.

"I've fallen in love with you each day I'm with you, Rafe," your voice carried a poignant honesty, baring the depth of your emotions. "I couldn't stop myself from loving you even if I tried."

Rafe stood there, a myriad of emotions flickering across his features—surprise, contemplation, and a hint of something deeper, his gaze fixed on you. His mouth slightly agape, he seemed caught in a moment of contemplation, as though searching for a trace of truth in your eyes.

His searching gaze lingered, probing as if trying to unravel the sincerity behind your words. There was a palpable tension in the air, a pregnant pause, as Rafe grappled with the weight of your confession, silently contemplating his next words or actions.

"How could you possibly hurt me, Y/n?" Rafe's voice carried a mix of hurt and vulnerability, his eyes revealing the turmoil within. "Don't you think it hurts more, feeling like the person you love doesn't love you back?" His words echoed with a deep sense of emotional pain, revealing the ache that had been concealed beneath the surface. There was a rawness in his tone, a poignant vulnerability that laid bare the wounds of unreciprocated emotions.

"It's more complicated than you know, Rafe," you replied, a tinge of sadness seeping into your voice. The weight of unspoken truths and complexities lingered heavily in the air, underscoring the intricate layers of emotions that intertwined between you.

"Stop saying that, Y/n! Whatever it is, we could've worked through it! We could've— we could've made it work regardless of whatever the fuck it is, or was," Rafe's voice trembled with a mix of frustration and desperation. His plea carried an earnest longing, a fervent desire to transcend whatever barriers stood between you, a wish to salvage what seemed irreparably fractured.

Your expression sank into sorrow, mirroring the weight of the moment. "Could've?" you echoed softly, the word lingering in the air, heavy with a sense of missed opportunities and regret. The question hung there, laden with a tinge of realization, an acknowledgment of a potential future that now seemed distant and unattainable.

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "All last night and today, I just kept replaying in my head what you said to me. When I told you I loved you, and you basically pushed me away? I mean, is it really that easy for you to just throw me away, Y/n?" Rafe paused, a mix of hurt and confusion etched on his face.

Before he could continue, you interjected with a resolute tone. "No, it's not like that, Rafe." Your voice carried an earnestness, a plea to convey the complexity of the situation. Yet, words seemed to evade you as the weight of the moment settled heavily upon your shoulders.

"Then why? Why was it seemingly so easy for you to shut me out like that?

"It wasn't easy," you responded softly, your voice tinged with a mix of regret and sorrow. "There's just... so much more to it than I can explain right now." The weight of unspoken complexities lingered in your tone, a hint of remorse underscoring your words.

Rafe shook his head in frustration, his movements agitated as he paced back and forth across the room. "You can't even be honest with me?" His voice cracked with exasperation, each step he took emphasizing the intensity of his emotions.

"I am trying to be honest, Rafe," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the conversation. "But some things... they're just not easy to explain, especially when it's this complicated." You gestured vaguely, trying to articulate the tangled mess of emotions and circumstances that seemed impossible to unravel.

"Trying? You're trying to be honest? Do you hear yourself right now?" Rafe's words came out as a snap, causing you to startle, his tone sharp and cutting. The sting of his words pricked at your emotions, tears welling up in your eyes, a manifestation of the overwhelming frustration and hurt that filled the room.

"I-I'm sorry, Rafe. I didn't mean to hurt you; I was just trying to do what I thought was right," your voice faltered, cracking with emotion. The apology carried a weight of remorse, a desperate attempt to convey your intentions despite the unintended pain caused.

Rafe halted his pacing, his gaze softening as he noticed the tears streaming down your rosy cheeks. "Y/n... don't cry, please," he pleaded, a note of concern lacing his words. His frustration ebbed, replaced by a sense of empathy, as he reached a hand out, almost instinctively, aching to wipe away the tears that marred your face.

"I care about you, Rafe, regardless of if you think I don't," you confessed, your voice tinged with earnestness. "Truly, the only reason I didn't say it back was because I was scared. Because once we both admit that, this becomes serious, and that just opens more doors and ways for one of us to get hurt. I know that doesn't scare you, but it does me. So, I'm sorry."

"Y/n, you think I'm not scared too?" Rafe chuckled softly, a hint of vulnerability in his laughter. "I worry every single day that you're gonna get up and leave, that you'll change your mind and go. The closer I get to you, the more my feelings grow for you. It's terrifying, Y/n. My heart is right in your hands." He looked down, reaching for your hands, rubbing them gently with the pads of his thumbs, a silent plea for understanding and reassurance.

"You never show it," you observed, looking up at him with a hint of confusion. Rafe chuckled quietly, shaking his head in response. "Doesn't make it any less true," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a blend of sincerity and a touch of vulnerability.

"Rafe?"

"Yes?" Rafe turned to face you fully, his eyes fixed on yours with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The room felt charged with emotion as he waited for your next words, a blend of hope and apprehension evident in his expression.

"I really do love you," you spoke quietly, the weight of your words hanging in the air. There was a fragility in your voice, a fear that your declaration might go unheard or misunderstood in the tense atmosphere of the moment.

Rafe's previously unreadable expression softened into a small, tender smile. His eyes glimmered with a quiet warmth, reflecting the sincerity of his feelings. "I love you too, Y/n," he confessed softly, the words carrying an unmistakable honesty and depth of emotion.

As the admission of love hung in the air, an unspoken understanding passed between you and Rafe. The room seemed to soften, the atmosphere charged with an indescribable warmth. Rafe gently cupped your face with his hands, his touch both tender and reassuring.

His lips met yours in a lingering kiss, a soft and sweet connection that spoke volumes in the silence. It wasn't just a meeting of lips; it was an exchange of emotions, a promise sealed with the gentle press of each kiss. Time seemed to slow as you shared this intimate moment, lost in the sensation of being close, of feeling the heartbeat that echoed the depth of your emotions.

The kiss held a tenderness that transcended words, conveying a shared vulnerability and a newfound closeness. When you finally pulled away, the air between you felt charged with a newfound understanding, a connection that went beyond spoken confessions. The small smile that lingered on both your faces spoke of a silent agreement, a promise to navigate the complexities ahead together.

Without a word, Rafe's lips crash against yours in a desperate, intoxicating kiss. Your mouths meld together, tongues entwined in a passionate dance. The taste of him fills your senses, fueling your desire for more.

As the intensity of the kiss deepens, Rafe's hands begin to explore, gliding over the curves of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Piece by piece, fabric falls away, revealing your vulnerability and beauty. Every touch, every stroke, heightens the ache of longing.

With a gentle yet commanding touch, Rafe guides you towards the bed, a haven of pleasure awaiting your arrival. You surrender to the soft sheets, your bodies entangled in a symphony of desire. The room fills with the sound of your shared moans and whispers.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your collarbone. Your breath hitches as he moves lower, his hands caressing your breasts, his tongue flicking against your hardened nipples. Pleasure courses through you, urging you to arch your back and moan his name.

Rafe's hands continue to explore, his fingers teasingly tracing the sensitive spots of your body. A gasp escapes your lips as he dips lower, his mouth finding its way to your most intimate area. His tongue dances expertly, flicking and swirling, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The intensity builds, and you find yourself craving more. You guide Rafe's body on top of yours, feeling the weight of his desire pressing against you. As he enters you, a moan escapes your lips, merging with his own sounds of pleasure.

Your bodies move in synchrony, a dance of passion and ecstasy. Each thrust brings you closer to the edge, your senses heightened by the intoxicating pleasure. The room fills with the sounds of your moans, mingling with the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh.

Rafe's thrusts become more urgent, each one pushing you closer to the edge. He watches you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of raw passion and adoration. With each movement, you can feel the heat building within you, a coil of desire ready to explode.

Your fingers find their way to Rafe's back, digging into his flesh as you draw him closer, craving a deeper connection. The rhythm of your bodies becomes frenzied, the friction between you intensifying the sensations that ripple through your core.

Every nerve ending in your body feels alive, on the brink of complete surrender. The pleasure becomes almost overwhelming, a delicious ache that demands release. Your moans blend together, a symphony of ecstasy that fills the room.

As Rafe's hand finds its way between your bodies, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. His fingers expertly explore the most sensitive part of your being, pushing you closer to the edge with each skilled stroke.

With your bodies intertwined, the sensation builds to an exquisite crescendo. It's as if time slows down, each moment stretching with anticipation. You can feel the wave of climax crashing over you, ready to engulf you in its blissful embrace.

As you reach the precipice, your bodies tense with anticipation. Your breath catches in your throat as you lock eyes with Rafe, a silent understanding passing between you. And then, with one final thrust, the dam breaks.

A surge of pleasure engulfs you, radiating from the depths of your being. The world around you fades away as you ride the wave of ecstasy, your bodies trembling in unison. You cry out in pure bliss, your voice mingling with Rafe's as you both reach the pinnacle of pleasure.

In that moment of release, time stands still. Your bodies continue to quiver with aftershocks, basking in the euphoria that washes over you. You lie intertwined, breathless and spent, knowing that you have shared an intimate connection unlike any other.

As the intense waves of pleasure subside, you and Rafe lie intertwined, your bodies still tingling with the aftermath of your passionate encounter. The room is filled with a sense of intimacy and contentment, your connection deepened by the shared experience. Rafe's arm wraps protectively around you, pulling you closer to his warm and comforting embrace. His touch is gentle, his fingertips tracing soothing patterns along your skin. You feel a sense of peace wash over you as you rest against his chest, your heartbeats gradually returning to normal.

Your breathing gradually steadies, matching the rhythm of each other's as you bask in the aftermath of your shared climax. A comfortable silence envelops you both, punctuated only by soft whispers and the occasional tender kiss.

As you look into Rafe's eyes, you see a mixture of love and adoration reflected back at you. It's a silent affirmation of the connection you share, a bond that goes beyond the physical realm. In this moment, there is no doubt that your love for each other is real and profound. Words become unnecessary as you communicate through simple touches and gentle caresses. Your fingers trace the contours of his face, committing every detail to memory. It's an unspoken promise to cherish this moment, this connection, forever.

"You're so perfect," Rafe whispered softly, his warm breath caressing your skin as his gentle fingers traced delicate patterns through your silken strands of hair. The tenderness in his touch sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his presence.

In the tranquility of Rafe's words, you responded with a tender hum, feeling the weariness gradually seep into your bones. The comforting warmth of his bare arms drew you closer, and in the safety of his embrace, you surrendered to the embrace of sleep, your breathing steadying as consciousness gently slipped away.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You stirred from slumber hours later, the faint glow of the room revealing Rafe's silhouette. He sat beside you, immersed in the soft illumination of the TV, his attention captured by the flickering screen. As you awakened, he glanced over, a gentle smile gracing his lips at the sight of your awakening.

As your eyelids fluttered open, the room's soft ambiance greeted you. With a gentle stretch, you shifted, your voice carrying a hint of sleepiness as you asked, "Mm, what time is it?" Rubbing away the remnants of slumber from your eyes, you sought to orient yourself in the space around you.

"Midnight," chuckled Rafe, the soft glow of the room emphasizing the amusement in his voice. Your eyes widened as the realization hit that you had dozed through most of the day. "You were pretty much knocked out after we did it," he teased, prompting you to playfully nudge him away with a feignedly annoyed expression dancing across your face.

"Haha, very funny," you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully. "Has anyone come back yet?" Curiosity lingered in your inquiry, contemplating if the two of you were the only occupants in the house.

"Uh, no, no they haven't yet," Rafe responded, a casual shrug accompanying his words. "Dad said things got delayed, and he has some shit he has to do before he comes home, I guess." His attention remained fixed on the TV screen, his relaxed demeanor indicating a sense of ease and obliviousness in the moment.

"Got it," you murmured, settling back onto the bed. Thoughts raced through your mind, pondering if Ward had discovered anything about the gold and its disappearance. An undercurrent of concern mingled with curiosity, creating a sense of unease that lingered beneath the surface.

"Something wrong?" Rafe's voice was gentle as he turned his head towards you, concern etched in his expression.

You shook your head, a faint smile touching your lips. "No, no! I just... figured they'd been gone a while," you reassured, attempting to downplay the anxious thoughts that had surfaced.

"They usually are," Rafe shrugged casually, his tone holding a hint of familiarity with the situation. "Dad gets his mind set on doing something and doesn't stop 'til it's done, especially when it comes to the gold." His words held a mixture of nonchalance and understanding, reflecting a familiarity with his father's determined nature when it came to matters concerning the gold.

"Right..." You echoed softly, acknowledging Rafe's insight with a hint of uncertainty lingering in your response.

Suddenly, Rafe hit pause on the TV, shifting to sit on his side, facing you directly. "I want to talk to you about something," he started, prompting an immediate increase in your heart rate. You sat up slightly, anticipation coursing through you. "Okay, go on," you encouraged, your voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.

"Well, we haven't talked about it much, and it's coming up, so I thought it would be important to mention it now," Rafe began, his tone measured. "Midsummers."

"Oh." Your body relaxed, a wave of relief washing over you as your worst fears weren't materializing in that moment. "What about it?"

Rafe's expression softened into a gentle smile. "Well, I know dresses can be pretty... pricey, especially for an event like that. So, I'm gonna give you the money to buy whatever you need for it. I want my girl to feel and look like the princess she is," he beamed.

You sat there, stunned by his unexpected gesture, feeling a mixture of disbelief and gratitude coursing through you. "Rafe, this is too much, you don't have to do that," you insisted softly, your eyes meeting his in genuine surprise.

"I want to," he repeated, his voice steady and resolute. There was a sincerity in his eyes that struck you, a genuine desire to make this occasion special for you. The warmth in his gaze was undeniable, and his unwavering determination to see this through made your heart flutter with a mix of emotions.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between the overwhelming gratitude for Rafe's gesture and your own sense of independence. His unwavering determination was evident, and you knew him well enough to recognize that once he set his mind on something, it was nearly impossible to dissuade him.

"Rafe..." You sighed, looking at him with a mixture of emotions, trying to find the right words to express both appreciation and reservation. "I really appreciate it, but it's just... I don't want to impose," you trailed off, fiddling with your fingers, uncertain of how to gracefully accept his generosity.

Rafe's expression softened as he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "Y/n, it's not an imposition. It's something I want to do for you." His eyes held a sincerity that resonated deeply, his gaze unwavering.

You met his gaze, seeing the earnestness in his eyes, and with a small smile, you relented. "Okay, Rafe. Thank you," you finally acquiesced, knowing that he wouldn't take no for an answer, a mix of appreciation and a hint of amusement playing on your lips as you gave in to his stubborn yet endearing nature.

"Thank you," you whispered again, touched by his genuine effort to make you feel special. Rafe's smile widened at your acceptance, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, a soft and reassuring gesture that warmed your heart. "That's my girl," he murmured, his voice filled with affection and pride, his hand tenderly resting on yours.

As you sat there, basking in Rafe's warmth and his kind gesture, your phone vibrated on the night stand. Curiosity piqued, you furtively glanced at the screen, seeing a message from Kiara. The text's urgency was unmistakable, your friends possibly caught in some trouble.

Your expression shifted involuntarily, a blend of concern and worry crossing your features. However, even in your attempt to hide it, Rafe, perceptive as always, noticed the change in your demeanor. His brows furrowed inquisitively. "Is everything okay?"

You swiftly pocketed your phone, trying to compose yourself. "Yeah, it's just... something Kiara mentioned," you replied vaguely, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

Rafe's concern mirrored in his eyes as he reached out, gently placing his hand on your arm. "What happened? Is it serious?"

You debated whether to tell him or not, but the concern in his eyes made you reconsider. "I'm not sure yet," you said, attempting to keep the situation vague as you grappled with the balance of keeping him informed and not alarming him unnecessarily.

The shrill ring of your phone broke the tense air. With a glance at the caller ID flashing Kiara's name, you swiftly picked up. "Kiara? What is it?" Your voice held a tinge of urgency and concern.

Rafe watched you closely, sensing the gravity of the situation from your anxious tone. He remained silent, giving you space to handle the call, but his eyes spoke volumes, questioning and concerned about the sudden change in atmosphere.

"JJ's missing."

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years

Text

and what of your love?

Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader (nsfw / 18+)

part two of the prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: 'don't you love me?' , part three: the flames that divide , part four: the aftermath

themes: angst (obvi), smut, mention of violence/death, language, dragonrider!reader (her house is not stated)

word count: 4.6k ▪︎ masterlist

Aemond Targaryen is to be married, but his heart is not in it. In fact, he feels as if he hasn't had a heart ever since you left.

The message sits on your desk, the words all too vivid and clear, as if mocking you.

"You are cordially requested to bear witness to the union of Prince Aemond Targaryen and his future consort, Lady Alys Rivers..."

You had rushed through the words, in utter disbelief, your heart breaking all the while. Towards the end, it also stated, “His Royal Highness, King Aegon II, wishes to extend a truce, only to the Lady y/n, for the entire duration of the royal festivities, at the behest of Prince Aemond."

Oh please.

It has been over a year since you last saw him in your field, and ever since that night, you've tried your hardest to erase him from your heart. When he played a hand in the death of Lucerys, you were sure that would be the nail in the coffin of whatever love you may have had for him. Sweet, brave Luke who grew to become a brother to you. He was too young. The pain was crippling, the rage it unravelled was immeasurable.

You tell yourself, every day, every hour, that Aemond is lost. The man you once loved, the Prince who relentlessly pursued you, the lover who promised you the world - was no more.

But even you can't fool yourself.

Every time word reaches you of his latest crime, you don't feel hate. You want to only be angry, you should be. But you just can't.

He will always be your Aemond. You may condemn his actions, but you could never cut yourself free of him. He will always have a part of you, which is why you haven't taken any other lover.

But, apparently, he has.

The Lady Alys Rivers was rumoured to be beautiful, and enchanting. The perfect match for the equally alluring young prince.

Oh, seven hells. This must be a joke. Surely, he doesn't think I would actually deign to attend this union.

When you gave word to Daemon and Rhaenyra, they were sure that Aemond is merely toying with you. They knew all too well about your past affair, and seemed assured that this invitation was just a way for Aemond to get under your skin. To get you to lower your defenses.

There was no way you would cross over into enemy territory, given the heightened scale of the ongoing war.

Besides, why the fuck would you want to?

If he truly has forgotten me, if he has truly fallen for another, then I must move on. He no longer is my Aemond. He is hers.

Resolute, you take the parchment, the confirmation of what you have lost, and throw it into the hearth.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The revelry is in full swing, and the lords and ladies of the court are jovially partaking in the week-long festivities, customary before a grand wedding of a prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Albeit now there is an atmosphere of gloom. A sense of unease due to the war is felt by most, and tonight, ale and dancing and fucking are the thoughtless remedies.

The groom, Prince Aemond, sits stoically at the High Table. His inebriated King brother sits to his left, and his bride, Lady Alys, to his right.

She keeps one hand on him, as she does every time, as if she fears that he might run away.

He has half a mind to do just that, plotting as he sips his wine. You had not showed up. You had not even given any notice of having received the invitation.

Does she know I am to be married? Does she not care?

Aemond downs his cup of wine in one long swig, to which his brother cheers, and pats him on the back.

His soon-to-be wife, glances at him chastisingly, and says, "Slowly, my love, the feast has only just begun."

My love. Aemond whips his head to her in a flash, "I told you not to call me that. Call me whatever you wish, just not that."

Lady Alys flinches at his tone, "Careful with how you address me, Aemond. I am your wife."

Aemond takes another swig after his cup has been filled, "Not yet."

"It makes no difference. I will be, soon," his consort smiles, clearly satisfied with herself, "Dance with me, husband?"

"Hmm," he tries to remain polite, although it's taking much resolve, "you go ahead. I'll remain here for now."

She plants a heavy kiss on his cheek, giggling, and joins the dance, getting lost in the crowd.

Aemond muses about his consort, how provocative and sly she is. The reason why he chose her, after the incessant nagging from his mother Alicent that he should be married, is because she's just about the least likely prospect.

Alicent immediately wanted to marry him off to some other highborn lady, someone more proper. Not the bastard daughter of House Strong, but he disagreed. He had no personal desire to be married, anyway, and is merely performing his duty. Marrying for love was clearly out of the cards, since you...

You. Aemond takes another gulp of wine.

He chose Alys on a whim, but also because she was the most amusing out of his options. She is beautiful, brazen with her words, and didn't care much for pomp and nobility. And, well, she was the one who is the most similar to you. Although, she can never hold a candle to your hold on Aemond's heart.

Aemond didn't love her, no, but he is able to tolerate her at least. He once thought that, perhaps, if you had never been in the picture, maybe Alys might have been able to steal his heart instead.

But you are. And you had.

He wonders if you still feel longing, if you also possess that incessant emptiness in your chest. If you still... love...

Fuck. I need her. He takes another drink.

"Brother," Aegon claps him on the shoulder loudly, jeering, "I've never seen you swig ale that quickly. Don't worry about losing your bachelorhood. You're the fucking Prince! You can have any bedmate you want, and your wife can't say a single thing."

There is it again. Wife. Aemond begins to think it vile. A pang of pity also befalls him for his dear sister Helaena, that she should be saddled with an imbecile of a spouse such as Aegon.

Fortunately, in a twisted way, it may even be beneficial for Helaena that her husband sleeps around, so that she may constantly not be on the receiving end of his nightly drunken stupors.

He wonders, dread and jealousy enveloping him, if you had taken anyone to wed. If he is anything like Aegon is as a husband, then war be damned. He would take Vhagar, reach wherever you and that mongrel may be, and end him.

In truth, even if your chosen consort would be the kindest lord in all of the Seven Kingdoms, Aemond would still crush him. He would burn him to the ground.

Doesn’t she care the same? Why isn’t she here now, putting a halt to this farce of a marriage?

Perhaps, she doesn’t trust me. Of course, why would she? Given what I’ve done…

“I know why your face is so sour,” his drunken brother addresses him again, “It’s because of Lady y/n’s absence, is it not? Well, she may still be present at the actual wedding ceremony.”

“You reek of ale, brother. Drinking like a fucking Braavosi sea horse, as always.” Aemond snaps back, getting tense at the subject of you being brought up.

“Why must you be so into that bitch, Aemond?,” Aegon continues his tirade, “You have a lusty wife now, and you can have a thousand whores besides.”

In an instant, Aemond slams his fist on the table and gets off his seat, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Aegon, the King, shirks away from his brother, knowing it was unwise to get on his nerve. Despite jesting with him so often, he may have forgotten that he shouldn’t have mentioned you in that way.

The Kingsguard draw close, prepared to defend their king. Ser Criston Cole rushes over to Aemond, “Stand down, my prince. Not here.”

Aemond glares at his brother, and if looks could kill…

Until he mumbles that sinister, “Hmm.” He composes himself, and raises a hand up to the guards, and to the crowd, “Carry on.”

The feast reluctantly restarts at first, but moments after, the whole exchange was forgotten.

But Aemond can no longer just sit there. If you weren’t going to come to the feast, or to the wedding, then there may be another way to get you to him.

He stands, ignoring the questioning looks coming his way, and he stalks out of the great hall.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It has been a long evening, mostly spent in the Black Council, analysing the current trajectory of the war. Everyone was in agreement that the Greens have not made any significant measures due to the ongoing wedding festivities of one Prince Aemond.

Half of the council wanted to strike then, while they were occupied with all that pompous nonsense, while the other half favoured a temporary truce, at least until the nuptials have been finalized, for the sake of upholding and respecting Westerosi tradition.

Daemon, being Daemon, had only this to say, “Oh, who cares if my one-eyed nephew will be wed? All our eggs will be there, drowned in booze, in one basket. We should ride and just burn everything down.”

But that was the problem. Everyone would indeed be there. Even the lords and ladies, the maesters, the children, who were simply forced to side with the Greens, out of fear for their lives. Rhaenyra didn’t want any more unnecessary bloodshed, to which you agree.

You return to your chambers, exhausted, mostly due to the sore subject of Aemond’s wedding having been mentioned often. You were grateful to Rhaenyra, who was quick to change the matter of discussion, when she noticed you were growing uncomfortable.

Walking over to your table, you notice a plain black box, one that was not there when you left. You trace your fingers over it, feeling the smooth wooden exterior, and carefully lift the lid.

Your heart stops.

Gillyflower.

A cluster of fresh gillyflower lay inside, in a bright burst of red and violet. The flower that grew so wildly in that field. Yours and Aemond’s.

This used to be your tradition. If either of you wished to meet the other there, all you had to do was surreptitiously send some gillyflower. Like your own shared secret message.

Normally, there would be have been a bit of parchment, with sweet words imprinted.

My love.

My flower.

Come to me.

Each day without you is one I cannot bear.

Now, there was none. But you are sure, this can only be from Aemond.

Should I…? What if it’s a trap?

You mind races, heart beating wildly. You want nothing more than to take the risk, but what of your allegiance? Would you be betraying them? You should be concerned for your safety, but you also knew, he would never hurt you.

You need answers. You need revenge. You need Ae…

Oh, seven hells. Grabbing your sword, and putting on your cloak, you make your way out the door.

“Going somewhere?”, Daemon stands, leaning against the wall, as if expecting you to come out at any moment.

“Daemon,” you say, surprised. The cloak and the sheathed sword surely gave you away.

“It’s my nephew, isn’t it?”

“What-“

“I intercepted the messenger who brought over that box. I wondered about the contents, but then, who else could it be from?”

“Hmm,” you whisper, knowing it futile to hide anything from Daemon, “he wishes to meet me. I know not what for.”

“And you’re going.” He replies, as if stating a fact.

You nod, thinking of the right thing to say next. About how you will never betray Rhaenyra, how you only need to see him even if you’re not sure why, how you will be able to fend for yourself.

But your worries are quelled when Daemon says, “You better hurry then.”

“Daemon,” you say, not expecting him to just let this slide so easily.

“Listen, y/n, I trust you. I trust that you know what you’re doing,” he moves closer to you, “As for my nephew, he may be a bloody monster, and I may never forgive him, but I’m sure he thinks himself lucky to have someone like you to love him truly.”

You stare at him in admiration. There was a reason why Daemon drew so many people to him. He was cunning and highly dangerous, yes. But he was also intelligent and fair.

“I myself think the same way in that I have Rhaenyra to love me, as wretched as I am,” he smiles, and nudges your shoulder, “Go.”

You start to walk away, but you turn back once more, “Thank you, Daemon.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The field is more or less the same, although the growth of gillyflower has become more relentless, pockets of red and violet and white spread all throughout.

You dismount from your dragon, close to Vhagar, and the great and terrifying beast only grunts in recognition. You were one of the only two people whom she was comfortable around, after your many trysts spent riding with Aemond.

“Hello again, you beauty,” you call out to her, “Where is your master, hmm?”

The field itself was empty, but there was a new fixture in the distance, close to the hills. A small, stone cabin, with faint candlelight burning inside.

Steeling yourself, you make your way over, knowing that nothing can truly prepare you for what’s to come.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“My love.”

You hear him the moment you walk inside, and you have to stop yourself from running straight into his arms. You raise your head, and finally meet his gaze.

Aemond looks rougher, more rugged. As if the war has taken its toll. All the fighting must have strained him, as his figure is still lean and lithe but more muscular.

“Aemond,” you finally say, taking a quick glance around the room. It’s a humble space, with a large bed pushed up against the wall, candles haphazardly placed around the room. You see a bunch of gillyflower on a round table, weapons hung neatly above the fireplace, as well as…

Aemond follows your eyeline, and takes the framed image from the wall.

“Do you wish to see it?” he says, but he’s already handing it to you.

Taking it in your hands, you study the image containing a likeness of you. Every detail of your face, to your neck, down to your shoulders, portrayed by an artist’s skilled hand.

You try to comprehend what the fuck exactly it is you’re looking at, and you also can’t seem to grasp how cordial Aemond is acting about everything.

As if he hadn’t played a hand in the demise of some people you truly cared for.

You slowly hand the painting back to him, the words stuck in your throat.

He hangs it back up, “Beautiful, isn’t it, my love? I had it made not too long ago. As for this place, well, I needed somewhere where I can still have you. One way or another.”

“What are you talking about?” you manage to say.

“I haven’t been able to see you in far too long, my love. Too. Long.”

“There’s a clear reason for that, Aemond,” you say firmly, growing uneasy at the unhinged look in his eye, unblinking, devouring the sight of you.

He reaches for your hands, and you instinctively flinch backwards.

“Don’t, Aemond.”

“Why not, hmm?” he circles you, pacing ever so slowly, stopping just behind you, “You came here on your own volition, pet. You wanted to come, to see me.”

“I came to talk.”

“Hmm,” he makes the low noise that he always does, and it makes you want to just capture that sound from his lips with your own. He lowers the hood of your cloak, and you just stand there, letting the situation unfold.

Aemond’s fingers brush purposefully against the back of your neck as he takes your cloak off, and leaves in it a pile by your feet.

He steps closer, and you feel his breath against your neck. Using one hand, he pulls you to his chest. You don’t want to turn around and face him, afraid you might lose control, but you also can’t find it in you to move away.

“You built this place,” you state, your voice flat.

“This is our secret place, y/n,” he whispers close to your ear, “Every corner is a tribute to you. There is your picture, your favourite flowers, the sheets are of your favourite colour, the volumes on the mantel are the stories you like the most. Through this, I have some way of being with you.”

“Aemond,” you force yourself to pull away from him, “my love.”

“You finally said it,” he smiles.

“What?” you lean against a wall.

“My love,” he says, and moves to sit on a chair opposite you, “you’ve called me by name since you arrived, until then. Even though I don’t mind the way my name rolls off of your sweet tongue.”

“Stop,” you remind yourself that you came here for answers, “why did you call me here? Aren’t you about to wed?”

“Only for the sake of my duty, to further the Targaryen line.”

“Really? Why Alys Rivers then? Why not some highborn, legitimate lady?” your voice grows cold, and Aemond smirks at your jealousy.

“Because I simply don’t care. It pisses mother off, and you as well, it seems.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re free to wed whomever you wish, Aemond.”

“No,” he says, “I am not. Otherwise, I would have wed you a long time ago.”

“Well, your actions have forever buried that possibility,” you say too quickly, ire reflected in your words.

He flinches at your words, his lips pursing, “I only do what I have to do.”

“You didn’t have to kill Luke!” you lunge forward, your hand flying to the hilt of your sword by your waist.

Aemond notices your movement, but does nothing, “Hmm, Luke was merely a casualty in this war.”

“He was your family, Aemond. He was just a child. Why?”

He says nothing, and looks at you up and down, assessing your growing distress.

“Do you even regret it?” you ask.

A long pause passes, until he says, “I only regret that it has caused you pain.”

“Wrong answer, Aemond.” You unsheathe your sword, holding it out straight it front of you, “Fight me.”

This is the only right thing you can think of doing. The other things that have crossed your mind were completely unsavoury, unthinkable acts to do with the murderer who caused the death of your friend. You shouldn’t reach for him, you shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t admire him, you shouldn’t run your fingers down his scar with reverence. Never again.

So, perhaps, you should bring him to justice.

“My love,” his tone is amused, and you grow even more frustrated.

“Get your sword.”

He stands, a sly curve on his prominent bowed lips.

My brave girl, he thinks.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

For fuck’s sake, Aemond. No. “Your sword, Aemond.”

He backs away slowly to where his sword hangs above the fireplace, takes it, and diligently twirls it in one hand.

Your nerve starts to fail. Aemond was surely a better swordsman; he has been furiously training all his life. But, well, so have you.

Long ago, you and him even trained together. You may stand a chance.

“Your move, pet,” he says, tauntingly.

You cross the distance between the two of you, and deal the first parry, your blades connecting loudly in the air. An electric pause occurs, and Aemond smirks at you.

You dodge to the side, and lunge at him again. He easily deflects the blow.

You circle each other, and it’s unclear as to who is the predator and who is the prey.

Aemond deals a wide overhead arch, and you’re quick to block it halfway. This brings his face dangerously close to yours, and he whispers, nearly against your lips, “Surrender, my love.”

“Never,” you lunge backwards again, and Aemond twirls his sword smoothly, once, twice, and another final time.

Then, he spins in a circle, his sword a mere blur in the air, before delivering his final stroke, pushing you against the wall, the edge of his blade an inch away from your neck.

But, you were able to anticipate this, at the last second, as your sword slipped from your grasp.

“I win, pet. You’re mine.”

“Think again.” you whisper, and when he looks down, he finally notices the sharp edge of your knife poking at his ribs.

He looks at you in awe, “Well, I suppose we both have each other then, my love.”

He lunges forward, and claims your lips in a searing kiss. Wild, and passionate, as if to make up for lost time. Your respective blades remain where they are, and he muses, “Hmm, you know, we could just kill each other here. A glorious lovers’ death.”

“Aemond,” you say, out of breath from the kiss, and let your knife clatter to the floor.

He does the same with his sword, and pushes you against the wall once more, using his whole body to keep you in place.

“Tell me what you came for, my love. The truth.”

“I…” you say, deciding to let everything go, “I came for you.”

That is all he needed. And, for you, it feels freeing to allow yourself to just want Aemond. To love him. Despite what’s he has done, and how wrong this may be.

Your Aemond.

You run your fingers down the side of his face, and he shuts his eye in ecstasy. Your fingers stop at his eyepatch, asking permission, and he nods once, immediately.

His sapphire eye never fails to take your breath away. If anything, it only made him look otherworldly. Ethereal.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, and his heart swells.

He takes your face in his hand, admiration raw in his expression. Then he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your lips battle each other, as he strides over to the bed. He gently lowers you, and your arms naturally reach for his neck, bringing him down with you.

He chuckles deeply, flattered by your eagerness, “Patience, my love.”

“I have been patient,” you respond, as he nips at your neck, “but now I just want to take.”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’ve missed your fire.”

“I’ve missed my dragon.”

“And,” he says, softly, pausing to kiss you, “a dragon…” another kiss, “is nothing…”, and another, “without its fire.”

“Oh, Aemond.”

He presses his forehead to yours, “I am lost without you.”

He makes swift work of untying your dress, only pausing to leave kisses down your body, until you’re left in a sheer white shift. You sit up, helping him remove his tunic, admiring every ripple of muscle, every new scar, every stretch of his glowing skin. His hair had come loose, the signature Targaryen silver like an aura surrounding him.

When he’s undressed, he takes the final piece of clothing off of you, the white shift that leaves nothing to the imagination, and throws that to the floor with the rest.

You begin a sort of dance, one that you both know so well, repeated over many sleepless nights filled with passion.

He always starts with you, lowering himself down to your heat. You almost come undone every time you see him, lips close to your entrance, before he makes the first taste. His eye gleams up at you, and then he begins.

Tongue swirling at your entrance, while his thumb masterfully plays with your folds. He keeps at it for a long moment, before he takes a second to look you right in the eye while he brings his fingers to his lips.

“Mmm,” he breathes, then he lowers his lips to your wet cunt once more.

“Aemond,” your fist bunch up at the sheets, your back arches, your toes curl.

He makes you tremble, your breath hitching at intervals.

He feels you getting close, so he licks one last strip upward, “Not yet, my love.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Hmm, say that again,” he gets up, positioning his knees on either side of your thighs.

“My Prince Aemond,” you say, “Mine.”

“Yours,” he purrs.

He takes your lips again, an action you will never grow tired of, his fingers gripping your hair. He kisses down your cheek, your jaw, then your neck. He sucks at the flesh, marking his territory, making you press your pelvis onto his, feeling the length of his hardened shaft.

“Hmm,” he shivers, “fuck.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to position himself, and he does.

His pushes his tip to your cunt. Torturously, but only just.

“Oh, for gods’ sake,” you moan, “come inside me, Aemond.”

He laughs, “As you wish, my love.”

He stretches you wide, pushing inch by inch, and you have to grow accustomed to his size once more.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“Does it hurt badly, my love?” he is quick to ask, watching your face intently.

“It’s okay,” you grip the back of his neck, “keep going.”

With one deep grunt, he fills you completely, thrusting deep.

He moans, music to your ears, and whispers your name. He rolls his hips backward, then forward again, the motion more rough this time, moving your entire body upward.

“Aemond,” you whisper, “my Aemond.”

“My love,” he looks at you in wonder, sprawled beneath him, “it’s only been you. It will only ever be you.”

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him passionately. His hips resume movement. Slow, deep thrusts at first.

Then he turns wild. He ruts into you, quicker, more frantic, the smacking sounds of flesh and sweat, and unhinged animalistic moans echoing throughout the room.

He does a surprising move, his fingers first drifting around your neck, then applying pressure, and he looks like a vengeful, hot-blooded god above you. His face hovers just inches above yours, and his grip on your neck unexpectedly excites you, the danger of Aemond only serving to make things more erotic, and reckless. Your dark prince.

You dig your nails into his wrist, returning the pressure.

“You should have married me,” he breathes, “why didn’t you run away with me?”

“Aemond,” everything throbs, the fire in your abdomen reaching its climax, from his frenzied thrusts, to his hand on your neck, to his crazed expression.

“You’re mine. They can’t have you. No one else can.” His words are punctuated with hard thrust, after hard thrust.

Almost simultaneously, gloriously, you both come apart. Aemond spasms inside you, filling you with his seed. Your hips continue to jerk against him, as you writhe uncontrollably, riding down your high.

He places one more soft kiss upon your lips, then collapses beside you.

You close your eyes in satisfaction, letting the feeling wash over you.

You feel his fingertips on your neck, and you open your eyes, finding him lying on his side, studying you.

“Was that okay?" he asks, referring to his grip on your neck.

“Mhmm,” you reassure him, turning to your side as well.

He hums in return, before smirking, “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

You laugh at his forwardness, and he looks at you lovingly.

He leans forward to kiss you, “My heart has returned.”

You feel a pang of guilt at how you left him, all that time ago, even if it may have been the right thing to do. It will never be simple between you and Aemond.

“I missed you,” you say wholeheartedly.

“And what of your love?” he says, taking your hand.

“My Aemond,” you press your forehead to his, “It will never be gone.”

taglist: @dazecrea @ladystardvsts @afro-hispwriter @dudfahsn @poohkie90 @literishdegree99 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @lilostif16 @deeeeexx @nephitis @ladymoon666 @minicikasworld @livimulati @the-orions-belt @blueskies4everxo @stillinracooncity @julieeba @lawlerek @missusnora @wickedbutlovely @camspnt @umavvitch @claudie-080102 @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @puredicks @crazylokonugget @lj127 @amethystwonders11 @icarusignite @mandyki @darylandbethfanforever9 @highexpectationsgurl @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

I've decided to save most of the sadness & regret for the next part, and yes, there will be a part 3. Our boy Aemond is still to be married after all. And he is still a "bloody monster" with majestic hair.

I hope I've tagged all those who asked - I'll keep yous tagged for any upcoming Aemond fic as well.

Taglist open - just comment.

PS. Alys Rivers is apparently Aemond's lover in the books, and I fear the feral jealous monster I will become if they decide to show that old hag in the upcoming seasons of HOTD. Sorry, not sorry.

#house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic

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wordsinhaled · 3 months

Text

i'm thinking about "my smile is pretty convincing" some more, and about the way charles flirts with edwin, and...

my thought process: okay, it probably isn't actually heartbreaking - or at least it doesn't have to be, it's cute, it can just be cute, so i should just leave it alone and not read too much into it (and i also haven't finished my coffee this morning, so this might not be very coherent), but.

but—

this need charles has to convince others with his manner... convince them that he's okay no matter what's going on inside. convince them they're going to be okay because he's there to help and keep them safe. convince them to like him ("everyone likes me in the end"). like, without that convincing smile to sway them, to take them in, to seal the deal, so to speak, underneath there's this roiling pit of ugly things that will push people away: fear; hurt; anger; violence.

he's got a history of anger and violence that runs so deep he still hasn't figured out which parts of what he carries inside were his father's emotions aimed to wound him and which are his own; still hasn't sorted what he's allowed to feel and what he absolutely positively isn't allowed to feel because it just isn't safe - he isn't safe, for himself or others. especially for others.

it hasn't sunk in for charles yet that he is already breaking the cycle he's so afraid of; that his own anger comes from helplessness, not hatred, and that the only violence he does is in defense of those he loves or those weaker than himself. he's terrified deep down that if his smile isn't enough, there's nothing else to him. no other power he has to affect anything. and he could hurt people he loves, if he doesn't focus on that smile. the only kind of love charles knows is the whistle of a belt through the air, the warning before the sting. he could hurt people anyway, but at least the smile lets everyone pretend it isn't inevitable.

his smile is pretty convincing. it convinced edwin for thirty years that he had nothing horrible going on hurting him under the surface. (but, and i digress, it does have degrees - he's completely out of it after the devlin house, staring off into space, and his smile and bravado are shadows of their usual. but even then, he still manages to pacify his friends that he's fine - he's fine, he's brills. he was convincing enough for them not to look deeper.)

but thinking about it in the context of his flirting with edwin? edwin, who's just admitted he's fallen in love with charles? charles doesn't say something silly, or awkward, or trivial, like "your face is pretty mint." he says something that reveals him.

"my smile is pretty convincing," he says, and he leans into edwin's space because he knows now that he can, that edwin loves him, that edwin is in love with him. and isn't that the thing? somehow, somehow his smile was too good. he played his part too well. it was so convincing that it took edwin all the way in, in too far, and now edwin's in love; he's caught; he's fooled that charles has got substance, that charles has got something worth loving, underneath.

charles wants to believe so badly that it isn't just his smile. that it's him edwin loves, is in love with - all of him, even the ugly parts. edwin says with such confidence that charles is the best person he knows. but edwin doesn't know many people. he'd wanted to say that, then - but he'd caved, and hugged edwin instead. because he'd wanted, for once, not to deflect, to just let himself feel the comfort edwin was offering.

and it was so nice - it is so nice. it's too nice for him, he's going to break it but he almost doesn't care. edwin's love, his care? it's everything. he fucking loves it. he could drown in it and it wouldn't be like the lake at all. peace and kindness and calm - essence of edwin, of what he offers freely to charles. charles wants it all the time. and now he knows he could have it, it's his. edwin thinks he deserves it.

he wants to believe he can convince edwin to think he's worthy of it forever.

and maybe he can.

after all - his smile is pretty convincing.

#breaking my own heart here with sad charles hours so y'all have to suffer too #dbda #dead boy detective agency #charles rowland #payneland #'CHARLES FELL FIRST' AGENDA #child abuse tw

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2millu2 · 5 months

Text

Dirty Cop || Sukuna Ryomen

✵ ft. Policeman Sukuna x f.reader

✰༄ wc: 3k

༻ warning: smut, p in v, porn with plot, Dirty Cop (Sukuna), (slight) cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Sukuna mean is mean (obviously) , missionary, swearing, etc.

✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰

Sukuna is a corrupt cop, known for his ruthlessness and disregard for the law. He had taken many lives, and his name was whispered in fear among the citizens. As a prisoner, you had fallen afoul of his twisted sense of justice.

The cell was cold, stark, and barren, with little more than a cot and a bucket for a toilet. The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, growing louder as they approached your cell. The door swung open, revealing Sukuna, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here." He snarled, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was cold and cruel, devoid of any remorse or pity. "You've been causing trouble, haven't you?"

Sukuna stepped closer to the bars, his eyes raking over your body. He was dressed in a police uniform, the badge glinting ominously in the dim light. His ego was evident in his stance, his superiority clear in his demeanor.

"Perhaps we can come to an arrangement? Perhaps you can serve me instead of rotting in this cell." He suggested, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "What do you say, prisoner?"

"Arrangement?" You snorted, trying to mask the fear that gripped your chest. You knew what he meant, and you weren't interested in becoming his pawn. But fear coursed through your veins, making you doubt your choice. "What kind of arrangement are we talking about here, Officer?"

Sukuna's grin widened, his eyes flashing with dark delight at your hesitation. He leaned closer, his voice low and seductive.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm offering. You see, I have a particular taste for those who dare to defy me. And I find you most...intriguing." He purred, reaching through the bars to trace a finger along the edge of your jaw. His touch sent shivers down your spine.

"Now, you can either accept my offer and perhaps find yourself a bit more comfortable in this hellhole, or you can continue to defy me and suffer the consequences." His eyes locked onto yours, daring you to resist. "The choice is yours, prisoner."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing as you considered your options. Sukuna's touch sent a wave of revulsion and fear coursing through you, but you couldn't deny the power he held over you.

"What do you want from me?" You asked, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. His power was undeniable, and you were acutely aware of the danger you were in. "What do you want me to do?"

Sukuna's smile widened, his eyes darkening with pleasure at your submission. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered:

"I want you to serve me, little prisoner. I want you to do my bidding, to be my toy when I desire. And if you please me, I might just release you from this cell." His fingers trailed down your neck, sending chills down your spine.

"But if you displease me...well, let's just say your stay here will be much less comfortable." His voice was a low growl, his eyes gleaming with malice.

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for even considering his offer. But the thought of enduring more torture and torment in this cell was almost worse than submitting to him. Your mind raced as you considered your options.

"Fine...I'll do as you say. Just get me out of here" You whispered.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed in appraisal, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. He straightened, pushing away from the bars with a flick of his wrist. The sound of keys jingle in the empty hallway and he open the door to your cell.

As you stepped out of the cell, the sudden freedom was almost overwhelming. But the relief was short-lived as Sukuna's hand clasped around your arm, pulling you close. His touch was cold and unyielding, a reminder of his power over you.

"Good choice, prisoner." He purred, his lips brushing against your ear. "Now, let's see what you're made of."

He led you down the hallway, past other cells filled with screaming prisoners. The sound of their torment was a constant reminder of what awaited you if you failed to please him. Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

Sukuna stopped in front of a door, the symbol of a badge embossed on it. He opened it, gesturing for you to enter with a smirk.

Step into the office, and you'll find yourself in a room filled with the stench of decay and corruption. Papers and files are scattered across the desk, a testament to Sukuna's disorganized lifestyle. The walls are adorned with pictures of his previous victims, their lifeless eyes staring back at you accusingly.

Sukuna closes the door behind you, locking it with a satisfying click. He turns to face you, his eyes gleaming with danger. "Now, little prisoner, let's see what you can do for me."

You stood frozen, your heart pounding in your chest as Sukuna's gaze bore into you. The room was suffocating, the stench of decay and corrupt

ning overwhelming. You could feel the accusing eyes of his previous victims upon you, and the weight of your situation pressed down on your shoulders. Your mind raced with fear and uncertainty, but you forced yourself to stand tall, meeting Sukuna's gaze with as much defiance as you could muster.

"What do you want me to do?" You asked, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. You knew that submission was the only way to survive in this hellish place, but you couldn't bring yourself to show weakness.

he didn’t say anything and he walked in a secret room behind his paper wall and you followed him knowing he was going to kill you if you don’t. The room was a dungeon/room the walls was black and there was a bed with red sheets and blankets

As you entered the room, your heart pounded in your chest. The walls were painted a dark, ominous black, and the bed was covered in red sheets and blankets, creating a disturbing contrast. You couldn't shake the feeling that this was where your fate would be decided.

Sukuna turned to face you, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Strip," he commanded, his voice low and seductive. There was no room for negotiation in his tone.

You hesitated, your mind racing with uncertainty and a tinge of desire because it was no surprise that Sukuna was fucking hot. But you knew that disobeying him would only lead to more pain and suffering. you began to undress, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Good. Now get on the bed." He ordered, his eyes raking over your body with obvious pleasure.

You climbed onto the bed, your body shaking at the things that was going to happened. Sukuna circled around you, his eyes lingering on every inch of your naked form. His gaze was predatory, his touch cold and unyielding as he examined you like a piece of meat.

"I'm going to teach you who's in charge here, little prisoner." He growled, his voice low and menacing. You could feel his eyes on you, assessing and judging. The anticipation was almost unbearable, and you couldn't help but wonder what he had in store for you.

"Spread your legs." Sukuna commanded, his voice a low growl. Without waiting for a response, he pushed your thighs apart, exposing your most intimate parts to his gaze, he started at your cunt watching it glistening with arousal.

You felt a blush creeping up your neck as he inspected you, his eyes gleaming with darkness and lust. His rough his fingers begin prying your wet folds apart his finger slowly trails up your cunt harshly flicking your clit in ways that left you feeling more needy and desperate.

You moaned softly, your body arching involuntarily at his touch. This wasn't what you expected, but the sensation was undeniable. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement mixed with fear. He pulled away, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"You're going to learn to serve me well, little prisoner." His voice was low and seductive, his eyes gleaming with malice. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. With a flick of his wrist, he secured them around your wrists, pulling them above your head and securing them to the bedpost.

You gasped at the sudden movement, your heart pounding in your chest as he moved closer. His eyes were cold and calculating, his touch rough and unyielding as he prepared to take what he wanted.

he then reached his hands his the drawer pulling out two nipple clamps

As he approached you, you couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and excitement. His eyes were dark and hungry, and you knew that he was going to take what he wanted, regardless of your feelings. You tried to steel yourself for what was coming, but your body was already reacting to his presence.

he attached the nipple clamps, causing you to yelp in surprise.

The sudden pain was intense, but it was quickly overshadowed by the surge of arousal that coursed through you. You couldn't help but moan at the sensation, your body betraying your fear and submission.

Sukuna smiled, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good, little prisoner." He purred, his voice low and seductive.

his rough hands begin to pinch and pull at the nipple clamps making you moan and whimper at the pain and pleasure you pull at the cuffs already feeling overwhelmed pleasure.

Look at you, already drunk off the pleasure like a bitch in heat” he says with a dark smirk on his face, you tried to pull your thighs together but he quickly pressed his knee against your cunt, you moan at the friction unintentionally bucking your hips against his knees as he continues to grope and pull at your breast and nipple clamps

"You're a filthy little slut," Sukuna growled, his eyes gleaming with lust. He released your nipples, and stood up, leaving you panting and whimpering for more, he begin to take off his police uniform

As he stripped off his uniform, your eyes widened at the sight of his toned body. He was a beast of a man, his muscles rippling with power and authority.

When he finally took off his pants his cock springs out his was think and his pink tip glistening with pre cum, your cunt throbs with need

"So, you like what you see?" Sukuna purred, his eyes gleaming with malice. He ran a hand down his cock, smirking at the sight of your arousal. He knew he had you right where he wanted you.

"Beg for it, little prisoner. Beg for my cock." He commanded, his voice low and seductive. He knew you wanted it, knew you needed it. And he intended to use that to his advantage.

"Please..." you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't deny what you were feeling, the need for him consuming you.

"Please what?" He demanded, his eyes gleaming with dark delight. He wanted to hear you say it, to hear you beg for his cock.

"Please fuck me, sir..." You begged, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't deny the need any longer, the desire for him overwhelming your fear and submission.

Sukuna smiled, his eyes gleaming with victory. "That's what I like to hear." He growled, his eyes raking over your body. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, throbbing and ready for action.

he rubs his cock in between your folds teasing your clit and getting his cock wet from your arousal

Please hurry, sir” *you cried with need, your cunt clenching around nothing, he suddenly slapped your cunt making you yelp “don’t fucking rush me” he said with a dark smirk, he continued to tease you for a few more seconds before pushing his cock into your tight cunt, you moaning at feeling the delicious stretch of his thick cock.

he grunts at feeling your tight wet cunt he continued to push into you until he bottoms in you he grips your hips tightly then he pushes out all the way until his tip is at your entrance then he slammed back into you making you moan out and tug at the cuffs, he slams back into you one more time before creating a rough pace.

your body had no time to adjust to his size, the sudden invasion causing you to gasp and moan. The sensation was intense, your body protesting and welcoming him at the same time. His cock was thick and hard, stretching you in ways you never thought possible.

"You like that, little prisoner?" Sukuna growled, his eyes gleaming with malice. He knew you needed this, needed him. He began to pump into you, his rhythm rough and demanding. You couldn't help but moan and buck your hips against him, your body begging for more.

"Yes, sir...please don't stop." You begged, your voice barely above a whisper. His cock was filling you, his movements rough and unyielding. You couldn't help but clench your cunt around his thick cock making him groan and grip your waist harder.

"Good girl." Sukuna purred, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He increased his pace, his thrusts harder. You could feel his cock hitting your g-spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His hands goes up and pull on your nipples clamps making you moan louder and your hands grip the cuffs, he continues to slam into you making sure you feel his thick cock. You could feel his cock stretching you, his movements rough and dominating. The pleasure was intense, making your legs shake from how overwhelming the pleasure was.

"Fuck, you're tight." He growled, his eyes gleaming with hunger . He reached down, and begin rubbing your clit and rubbing it in circles. The sensation was too much.

Fuck…I’m cummming” You screamed, your hips bucking against him as you came. The orgasm was intense, your body trembling with the force of it. But it wasn't enough, the need still gnawing at you, demanding more.

"Again." Sukuna commanded, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He didn't let up, his thrusts relentless. You could feel him hitting your g-spot again, you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him deeper inside you.

"Please...please, sir..." You begged, your voice hoarse from your earlier scream. You couldn't deny the need, the desire for more consuming you.

"You like being used like this, don't you?" He growled, his eyes gleaming with malice. He increased his pace, his thrusts harder. You could feel him hitting your sweet spot again, the intensity building once more.

He lifts your hips up at a new angle he begin groaning indicating he was coming close.

“I’m gonna fill you pretty cunt, so full of my cum be grateful I’m giving a lowlife like you my cum” he groan wrapping his hand around your neck his thrusts turn erratic and his begin to bite into your neck muffling his groans.

you moan as well and he grips your hips and he fills you to the brim with his cum he slowly thrust into you riding out his high a few seconds later he pulls out of you his cum dripping out of and you whimpered as his pushed his fingers inside of your cunt making sure his cum stays.

Making sure you get all of my cum don’t you waste a drop” he says before pulling out of you and putting his fingers in your mouth

“Clean them” he say darkly and you flip your tongue around his finger making sure you get a taste of all his cum he then pull his finger out of your mouth and took off your cuff you pant and try to catch your breath you watch as he gets dressed putting back on your uniform.

“I’ll let you stay your useful for something” he says before walking out leaving you as a mess on the bed you decide to stay in the bed and go to sleep since I know once he gets off work there plenty of more rounds.

★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★✰★

Credits to the artist for the picture

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk x fem!reader #sukuna x female reader #millu works

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edenesth · 1 month

Text

Dearest gentle readers,

Did you miss me? I return with news, though not the kind I'd hoped to share. It seems the second part of Yeosang's TWTHH spinoff, Until I Found You, may take a bit longer to reach your eager eyes than expected.

Perhaps some of you might recall the mention of an injury. Unfortunately, this author has fallen victim to the whims of fate—stricken by a herniated disc, no less. My mood has, shall we say, not been the best, and sadly, I haven't yet written a single word (if you can't already tell, I've been busy watching Bridgerton instead). But fear not—I will work on the story bit by bit.

I truly appreciate your patience, your understanding, and your continued support. I love you all so much!❤️

Yours sincerely,

Lady Edenesth

#twthh spinoff #until i found you

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sunny44 · 11 months

Text

All these years (Part 9)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ex girlfriend Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Separated by a disagreement, Charles and Y/n meet again after years apart and all the feelings they had repressed come flooding back.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ten months after the last chapter

This was the first night I managed to sleep properly.

Today, our baby turns 1 month old.

Matilda Leclerc was as smiley as Charles, and the dimples were identical.

I carried her for 9 months, felt every pain for her to be born, just like him.

And speaking of Charles, I could hear his baby voice speaking softly to her as I lay in bed with my eyes closed.

"Do you know you're daddy's love? And that I'll take care of you forever?" she made some noises with her mouth. "Your mom is jealous that you look like me, but I honestly love that. I love you, you know, love your little eyes, chubby feet, and your baby smell. I love you even when you're all messy."

"Good to know." I say, looking at him. "You'll be in charge of the messy diapers now."

"I can do that." we hear a little fart, and he laughs.

"I think you'll have to start now."

"Well then." he gets up and leaves the room, and I brush my teeth and decide to go to her room. "Babe, come here."

"Problems?"

"I don't know if I'm doing it right." I see that the diaper is all crooked, making me laugh. "Don't laugh at me."

"Sorry, love. But you're doing a great job. Don't worry."

"Guide me."

"Okay, she's already clean, and the diaper is already positioned on her bum, so now you grab the front flap and pull it up." he does. "Now, open the tabs and fasten them in the front."

He does it slowly and fastens the last tab, then strokes her little tummy, and she giggles, making Charles's eyes fill with tears.

"Did you see that she laughed at me?"

"I saw, love." I hugged him from the side.

He finished putting on the onesie that said "I'm daddy's baby," which Charles had bought the day after we found out I was pregnant.

"Okay, I'll finish packing their bags so we can go to Arthur's."

Arthur and Megan are living in Milan for a few months to help us with the baby and we were going to visit them. It would be the first time everyone would meet her. Our parents followed the pregnancy, but during the delivery, there was a snowstorm here, so they couldn't catch the flights to come. And since today is her first month, we're all going to meet to celebrate.

In the first month, we didn't go out much with her. I think the fear that something might happen was greater, and I think all first-time parents have that fear.

"I'll take a shower, and then we can go."

I took a shower, did a quick makeup, and put on warm clothes since it was winter in Monaco.

"Look at this." he appears excited with Matilda dressed in a mini Ferrari uniform. "Look at how my baby is."

"She looks just like you on race weekends." he laughs. "Can we go?"

"We can." he hands her to me and takes the bags.

I locked the apartment door, and we went to the car, and obviously, Charles went straight to the Ferrari, a track that I started to hate since we had it.

"Let's not go in this death machine." he looks at me offended.

"My baby is not a death machine."

"Your baby is here on my lap, and I'm not going to put her in that car, which besides not having a back seat, is not safe."

"Okay." he gives up, and we go to my Range Rover."

My car and his two cars have a car seat for her since it was good for emergencies, and in fact, I haven't bought any since my parents, his parents, and Arthur and Carla gave them.

Matilda was the most spoiled child in the world, I think.

"Well strapped." he kisses her forehead and sits in the driver's seat. "Let's go."

The journey was composed of Matilda's cries and children's songs on the playlist that Charles had made for her on his Spotify account.

We arrived at Arthur's apartment and took all the luggage and went to the door. Charles had put her securely in the baby carrier on his chest so we could carry everything. She had fallen asleep and was covered with a blanket, her little face leaning against his chest.

When I tried to put her to sleep, it only worked when Charles wasn't home, but when he was, she only slept in his arms.

"We're here, family." he says somewhat loudly, and everyone comes running. "We know this rush is not for us."

"Yeah." I laughed, and we greeted everyone who went straight to Charles and Matilda.

"She's so beautiful." says stroking her thin hair. "She looks just like Charles."

"Don't say that near Y/n, or she'll ask for a divorce." I rolled my eyes, and they laughed.

Speaking of which, we got married. A few months after I found out I was pregnant.

We decided we didn't want a very big party, so we got married at the courthouse and had a little party for the family later, where we announced that we would be parents.

"She's a copy of Charles, literally." they look at me. "From the noises when they're sleeping to the stubbornness."

"I'm not stubborn, you liar."

"Yes, you are."

Soon, she started crying, and Charles took her out of the carrier and handed her to me. She hadn't breastfed before leaving home, so she woke up because of that.

"Someone is hungry." my mom says, and I sat on the couch.

The boys went to the kitchen to get something to drink, and I started breastfeeding Matilda while the girls sat around.

"How's it been? I mean, being a mother."

"It's great, to be honest. It's tiring at first, especially since none of us had experience with this, but we're doing well. She's very calm."

"That's great. Charles was the calmest of the three."

"Y/n was calm too and hardly caused any trouble."

"The only trouble she gives is when it's time to sleep. When Charles is away, she even sleeps with me, but as soon as she senses when he gets home, she wakes up. And when we're together, she only sleeps in his arms." they look, dying of love. "She'll finish here, and even though she's sleepy, Charles will have to take her."

"She's very attached to him, apparently."

"Yes, a clingy one." Matilda finishes, and I hand her over to Pescale, who said she wanted to fix her.

This was another funny topic. She always vomited on Charles, who surprisingly started laughing, and Matilda giggled along with him.

"Is she done already?"

"She's with your mom." I point, and Charles goes to his mom and takes her.

"Charles." she scolds him when he takes her.

"She's my baby, not yours." he says and leaves, making me laugh.

"Is he always like this?"

"Yes, even with me, but then I say that I carried and gave birth, and then he pouts and hands her over to me." they laugh. "He's very attached to her and doesn't leave her side. She grumbles to cry, and he runs to wherever she is."

"He's adorable."

We talked a little more, and I decided to go to the guest room, where I saw Charles passing with her a few minutes ago. I stopped at the door and watched them.

Charles swayed her slowly and murmured something. I approached him, and he smiled, then gently put her in the middle of several pillows, gave her a little kiss on the head, and hugged me from behind as we watched her sleep.

"I love you. And thank you for giving me her." he whispers in my ear, and I smile, snuggling more into his embrace.

"And thank you for not giving up on me."

He kissed my forehead, and we stayed there, watching our baby sleep.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram post

Liked by @charlesleclerc, @leclercpescale, @scuderiaferrari and others 84479

@yourusername this past year has been the best of my life.

I’ve married the love of my life, gave birth to our beautiful baby girl and I feel like I’ve never been happier.

Thank you @carlesleclerc for being the best hubby for me and the best daddy for our daughter.

@charlesleclerc I’m the lucky one to have you in my life and thank you for giving me our baby girl

@yourusername we love you 😘

@lorenzotl baby M is so cute

@fan753 her names starts with an M guys 🥲

@yourusername we love you uncle L

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Note: thank you guys so much for liking this story and also a big thank you to all the 1.004 followers ❤️

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jamil-s-wifey · 1 year

Note

Howdy~! Loved your writing! Can I request a fluff/angst scenario in which Jamil Viper suddenly had a nightmare of hurting his fem! s/o during his Overblot and when he wakes up, he quickly rushes over to Ramshackle to check on her, make sure she’s okay? Please and thank you!

Hi, hello hun! Thank you very much, I'm glad my writing brings a smile to people's faces! I love writing comfort fics, so this is right up my alley! Every comfort twst fic has been consumed by yours truly! I hope you enjoy!

WARNING: Dead bodies and mildly gruesome imagery. I kind of went overboard with the nightmare portion-

Drip drip drip

The only sound which could reach his ears was the incessant dripping of ink, covering the ground beneath his feet.

Slithering snakes obscured his peripheral vision, red hot rage filled his veins. The school was in shambles, in every corner there were bodies littering the ground - weakened and malnourished students, who lost their lives under his fanatic dictatorship.

He was the master, but the master of what? Of ruins, of a rotting building, of a dying student body, controlled against their will, of darkened cold nothingness hidden behind lavish feasts and glittering gold. And then there was you - his jewel in the rough, his biggest treasure, kneeling before him, eyes filled with hatred, fear... and exhaustion. You dared not look him in the eyes, but your downward gaze spoke volumes - the love of his life who refused to succumb to her master's wishes.

"Pitiful. You keep disobeying your master. Haven't I taught you manners?"

You refused to answer him, gaze never leaving the ground.

"My treasure, have I not given you everything?" His voice lowered threateningly. "Or perhaps you'd choose to follow in your classmate's footsteps. Perhaps it was foolish of me to believe you'd be anything different than those mindless slaves."

You didn't answer.

"Or perhaps they've contaminated your brain. That must be it, why else would you refuse so adamantly the life of a goddess. Oh, my love, we must cure you."

He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up. On instinct, you closed your eyes, refusing to catch his gaze.

"Smart little girl." He whispered in your ear. His snakes left painful bitemarks on your skin - covering older ones who'd begun to fade.

That's how it had been for a while - you'd lost track of time. He'd call upon you, lavish you in expensive jewellery, feeding you feasts made by the bloodied hands of your classmates, whisper sweet nothing in your ears. Then he'd get angry at your lack of response and throw you away, leaving you alone in your chambers.

Only this time, it was different.

"Perhaps I should turn to a more radical form of treatment?" His strong hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing.

Your breath became ragged, strained.

"You chose this. I am merely delivering."

You grasped his hand, trying to wiggle away, but it was useless. You felt the ink on his hand seep into your skin and clothes, contaminating your very being.

Your gaze slowly faltered, eyes closing, before he threw you on the ground.

_____________________________________________

As the heavy thud reached his ears he opened his eyes, frantically looking around. He was in his room, it was the middle of the night. He was sweaty, breath ragged. He'd fallen off his bed and that's what woke him up. He searched around for any indication that indeed it was all just a nightmare. With trembling hands he pushed himself up to sit on his bed. His hair was a mess, his heart was beating so loud he felt it might burst through his chest. He felt sick to the stomach, a twisted feeling of guilt, despair and disgust eating at his very core.

His gaze turned to the framed picture on his bedside table. It was you two, on your visit to the Scalding Sands, your arms are wrapped around him and a cheerful smile graced your features.

Was that smile...even real? Or were you being controlled?

Without thinking, he grabbed his shoes and sprinted out of his room, dead set on seeing you, rules be damned.

_____________________________________________

You were woken up by a hurried, frantic knocking on Ramshackle's front door. You slowly got up, cautiously making your way to the entrance. Even though you knew it couldn't be anybody threatening, besides you had the ghosts and Grim as back up, a little caution never hurt anybody.

What you didn't expect to see is your frazzled boyfriend, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug the moment you opened the door.

"Whoah, Jamil. Are....are you okay?" You gently hugged him back, fingers gliding through his hair, untangling any knots he might have.

He didn't respond, instead pulling back to look you in the eyes. You looked at him dead in the eyes, no fear or disgust in your gaze whatsoever. All he saw was worry and perhaps curiosity. His eyes were glassy with untold emotions, gaze heavy with guilt.

"M-may I come in?" He inwardly cursed himself for stuttering.

"Of course, you can. Come in, come in." You grabbed his hand, leading him to your couch. "What happened? Here. I'll get you some water, did you sprint here?"

Before you could get up, he pulled you to him, hands gently cradling your face.

"Jamil, my love." You breathed out, reaching out to cup his face, "Did you perhaps have a nightmare?"

His guilt-ridden gaze moved to the floor. Somehow, only from you, he couldn't hide a single thing.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He wasn't sure what to answer. Now that he was with you and his head had cleared up, he realised how bizarre the situation was. Of course it was a nightmare.

But that didn't get rid of the weight on his heart.

"I... dreamed of my overblot. I saw... destruction everywhere. And I was hurting you. Constantly. And the fear in your eyes, it looked so real. I -" he sighed deeply. "You died... By my hands." He felt a lump forming in his throat.

"Oh, Jamil."

"And I know it's just a dream, I know but-" he couldn't keep talking. It all overwhelmed him so much.

"Jamil."

"S/O, I-"

"Jamil!"

He snapped out, turning to you.

"Jamil, I have never, ever, for a single moment, felt afraid or disgusted around you. Your overblot happened, we can't change that, but you didn't hurt me. You didn't then. And you haven't since. And I know very well, that you'd never intentionally hurt me in any way. I trust you and I feel safe around you."

He let out a shaky breath. "How do you know you're not being controlled even right now?" It was stupid of him to ask, but his mind wasn't letting him rest.

"Jamil, both you and I know you can't keep using your unique magic indefinitely. So far, every single thing I've done, I've done on my own accord."

"And you don't fear me..?"

You looked at him dead in the eyes, with the most unwavering, serious gaze you could muster.

"How could I fear the man I love?"

He pulled you in for a gentle kiss, which he poured all of his emotions into.

"I promise you, I won't let any harm come your way, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and content, and free." He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Love, you sound like you're about to propose." You teased, trying to lighten the mood.

A small smile graced his features. "Perhaps in the future.", He thought to himself.

"How about we go back to bed, you are most certainly staying the night here, mister. I'll be right next to you when you wake up."

"I'm sorry for barging in at such an ungodly hour."

"Oh, shut up~. You know you're always welcome here, and besides, I'd always prefer to have you next to me when I sleep."

He didn't really understand what he did to deserve you, but you were his beacon of light and he swore to treasure you and keep you safe for as long as you let him.

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nellielsss · 2 months

Text

ɬɧɛ ცơყ ıʂ ɱıŋɛ… ℘ɬ ıı

Summary: A part two to The Boy Is Mine! Due to its massive success (over 400 likes!!), I decided to add two more chars who I thought could fit this trope w/ a yandere reader. I was also inspired to add more because of a lovely commenter on my pt. 1! (@ahoeindeedinneed) Note: I've been seeing sm heian era Sukuna fics and they're all so yummy... still hate Sukuna tho 💋 I also didn't proofread this so it might have a fewwwww grammatical errors Incl: cult leader!Suguru Geto & heian era!Ryomen Sukuna x fem!reader CW: death, reader is a highly flawed person, mentions of sex, stockholm syndrome (esp. with Sukuna)

Sυɠυɾυ Gҽƚσ

╰┈➤ There comes a part in every parent's life when they must let their dear daughter spread their wings and fly out of the nest, so naturally your parents had some fears when they let you fly into the future. To make their fears even worse, you were rather naïve to the intentions of others, and your beauty made you all the more susceptible to the manipulations of other, dangerous people. One of those fears, although quite bizarre, is that their dearest daughter would somehow get wrapped up in a deadly & dangerous cult and end up beyond all salvation.

What they couldn't have predicted, though, was that their daughter would end up enamored with the leader of a cult who went by the name of Suguru Geto.

You still remember the first time you walked into the monk's temple.

You, much like him, were a Jujutsu sorcerer, only you were pretty weak, barely a 3rd-grade sorcerer. Your parents also never allowed you to explore the world of Jujutsu, saying that it only led to pain and suffering. Even the strongest of sorcerers were susceptible to falling victim to these curses. As a 3rd-grade sorcerer, you had enough power to defend yourself from curses that you could potentially encounter in your daily life, so, in their minds, that was all you needed to get by with.

That poor cat--if only it was able to withstand curiosity and go on to live a happy life... some would consider you a cat in this case, and they weren't wrong.

You had heard of a monk by the name of Suguru Geto who had a vast knowledge of curses and all things Jujutsu. So, when your friend had fallen victim to a pretty serious curse that left them in bad shape, and you weren't able to heal her, you set out for the monk's temple that was located just outside of Tokyo, hoping that this mysterious and enigmatic man would be able to help you somehow.

He also remembers the day in which you and him first met. He remembers the door opening and the sight of your frantic, borderline hysterical state of duress, as well as the woman who you were holding up.

"Are you Suguru Geto?!" your honeyed voice asked the moment you were able to catch your breath. He remembers catching a glimpse of your beautiful face for the very first time, and he also remembers the intensity of his heartbeat when he fully took in your appearance.

You were wearing a pink sweater on that day, and a few drops of blood that came from your friend's injuries had stained part of your sleeve.

You were in dire need of some assistance, and who was he to deny a beautiful woman such as yourself what you needed?

"Why yes, I am Suguru Geto," he said, sitting up from where he lounged. "Your friend looks to be in bad shape. Might I ask why you came to me instead of a hospital?"

"I went to a hospital yesterday, but all they could do was patch up her wounds on the outside--she won't stop bleeding!" You said, the panic evident in your normally sweet voice. Tears had already stained your face, and your relaxed eyes were shot open in worry. "A curse attacked her the day before yesterday, but I haven't been able to find anyone who could properly treat her, and I don't know how to treat her wounds with my own power! Please, sir, please just help her! I was told that you could do amazing things to those who were affected by curses, and I'm worried she's not gonna make it!!"

Oh? So you knew about & could see curses? This was perfect for him. A pretty lady who wasn't a filthy monkey... even though you were weak in terms of ability, it was better than nothing.

"Those bastards in jujutsu society were never good for anything, were they?" Geto muttered under his breath. He beckoned you closer with a hand and asked you to come closer. "Please, let me take a look, miss."

With a shaky, weak grip, you brought your friend over to where he laid, and he took a closer look at her. "I haven't eaten much since she was injured, so it took me a while to get up here."

"All that matters is that she's here, no?" he asked, still looking at your friend. "Hm... she is in pretty bad shape. Looks like the doing of a first grade curse... She was lucky to have survived this attack in her current condition."

With shaky hands clasped together, you looked up at him again. "So can you help her?"

"Of course I can, Miss...?"

"(L/N)."

"Of course I can, Miss (L/N). It's nothing a quick technique can't patch up," he said, offering you a reassuring smile. If you weren't in such a panicked state, you would've thought that he was flirting with you. "I can keep her here for a couple of days while she heals. Rest assured that she'll be good as new by the time you return."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, sir!" you exclaimed, a smile returning to your gorgeous features. "I can't thank you enough!"

He gave you a humble smile and nodded. "It's my duty to help those in need."

"So, is there gonna be some kind of payment required or...?"

"Hm?" he hummed. "What kind of a sorcerer would I be if I charged for my services? No, miss, this is free-of-charge."

"Really?!" you asked again, getting excited. "Oh my god, thank you so much! You really are a blessing, Mr. Geto!"

"Well, as a jujutsu sorcerer, it's my duty to ensure that our society is free of pain, and that includes curses." He stood up again, and so did you. While you were wearing heels in that moment, he was quite tall in comparison to you. His long, bountiful hair and the monk robes that he wore only added to his presence, and you couldn't help but feel a little small next to him. "She'll be able to go home within only 3 days time at the latest. You're welcome to stop by and check in on how she's doing in the meanwhile."

You nodded and continued to smile at Geto. "Okay, sounds good. Thank you so much again--she probably would've died without your help."

Because she's a monkey.

"Again, it's no problem," he reassured you kindly. "Have a good afternoon, Miss (L/N)."

"You too," you said, beginning to walk away from the monk.

He didn't know what possessed him to ask you this next question, but he thanks whoever's watching him for making him do so. "Miss (L/N)," he called out to you. "If you don't mind, there is something you could do in return for me."

You stopped in your tracks and looked behind at him. "What can I do for you?"

"You said you didn't have much power in you, correct?" he asked, making your happy expression turn into one of puzzle.

"Um... yeah. Why do you ask?"

He thought about how he could word this without coming across as weird. "How would you like to raise that power of yours?"

"What do you mean?"

"Become my protégé, (L/N)," he said, now extending his arms towards you. "With my help, I can make sure you're equipped to handle any future battles or curses with confidence. I'm told I'm a miracle worker, and I'm sure I could make something strong out of you, miss."

You were both starstruck and confused at the same time. Here you were, asking this man to heal your friend, and now he wanted you to become a student of his? "You wanna... mentor me?"

"Is that not what I asked?" he opened his eyes this time, his dark brown pupils staring right at you. "You have the capacity to do amazing things in the future, Miss (L/N). Although you may not think you do, there's a great power inside of you, and I think that I could help you unlock it. Would you do me the honor of letting me mentor you?"

Words couldn't describe how you were feeling in this very moment. All you've ever wanted was to be a strong, capable woman without the help of others, and your parents never let you do so growing up. In came a strong, handsome, capable & humble man who was asking to help better you? Although every part of you was telling you to leave and to forget about it, the pull you felt towards this charismatic man was trumping the logical part of you, and your feet began to move towards him.

His smile grew once he saw you coming towards you, and he said: "that's it, there we go." Once he had you in arm's reach, he pulled you into his arms and gave you a reassuring embrace.

"You won't regret this, Miss (L/N)."

You didn't expect that choice to make you the lover and right-hand woman of a cult leader, but you were glad you did--the new you was, anyway.

Honestly, you didn't even see the cult part coming. Sure, Geto was a monk who healed people with spiritual abilities (and taught you how to better yours), but by then you didn't even flinch when he told you he was a cult leader. He didn't outright say it until it was time for your initiation, anyway--he said that joining his "group" would only better your abilities.

It's not like you were some low-ranking member; you were actually Suguru's right-hand woman. Well, more like his pet, but he made you believe that you were his equal (even when you were a measly grade 2 & he was a special grade). Suguru made you believe that you were stronger, that you were better than everyone else in this filthy, disgusting, monkey-ridden world.

Like when you had your head in his lap & he was playing with your silky soft hair (one of the perks of being Suguru's girlfriend was you getting access to his incredible hair!). "You have such nice hair, y'know, (Y/N)?" he murmured, running his long fingers through your tresses. "It's so soft, so shiny--probably better than mine, if we're being honest."

"Now you know that that's a lie, Sugu," you prodded him, making him chuckle deeply in his chest.

"It's not a lie--at least, not a lie to me, and we both know that my opinion reigns supreme." Even when the two of you were just playing around, he always managed to slip in some of his ego every now and then. "Better than all those monkeys out there... such dirty, disgusting creatures, most of them probably have the greasiest and filthiest hair imaginable."

"Sugu..." you trailed off. Part of you wanted to defend those monkeys, but the other part of you agreed with him. Maybe it was all the sermons that he preached to his Jujutsu sorcerer followers, or maybe it was the conditioning that he'd put you through all these months, but you couldn't exactly refute his sentiment. While yes, there were some people with nice hair, the majority of the people out there had shitty, unwashed hair. Bleached, dead-ends, greasy strands, all kinds of hair existed in the "regular" world, the one that you were kept safe from by Suguru. What more could you need when you lived in his forest temple & had servants doing all your errands for you? What more could you need when you had the most loving, attentive & handsome boyfriend in the entire world?

"You're such a treat, (Y/N)," he remarked, now scratching your scalp. "I don't know what I'd do without you, not when I have to deal with all these disgusting monkeys praying at my feet & begging me for help. Can't they just learn how to get by on their own? The world would be-"

"Suguru," you said a bit firmly, planting your finger on his lips. "You're rambling again."

His slightly irritated expression softened up a bit & he smiled at you again. "My apologies, sweetheart," he said, reaching down to kiss your forehead. "You know how I get."

He was so grateful to have you there by his side, keeping him calm & grounding him. When he has to deal with so many monkeys, it's no wonder he can get ticked off by the slightest issue.

And those monkeys were no slight issue.

Which is why you deemed it alright to kill so many of his followers.

It's not like you wanted to kill those people... actually, no, you did. It's no secret that Suguru was one of the handsomest, most charismatic people out there. Not only did he possess formidable strength & intellect, but he also blessed with a kind of male beauty & a silver tongue to go along with it. Many of his followers joined his cult just so they could catch a glimpse of the infamous monk's graceful, elegant features and the shiny, silky, midnight hair that seemed to reflect the light of the lamps in his temple.

Not only that, but he was also quite good in bed. He made you feel so seen, so loved, so adored & worshipped like you were the cult leader that he couldn't get enough of. His strong, muscled form contrasted against your soft, squishy one was delicious, and it had you squirming all night long. Everything about him was just incredible!

Except for those stupidly horny followers.

Did they really think that they had a chance with him? That the very same man who called them trash (behind their backs) would tear his eyes from you & look their way?

If only they could all hear just how vile he speaks of them... well, if they did, then he wouldn't have a cult following.

Which is why you, the ever-loyal and ever-present girlfriend, had to do the dirty work for him. Did he ask you to kill them off? No, but it sure felt good to do something for him without needing to be asked.

None of them were memorable enough anyway. If they died or were maimed in a terrible accident, then he wouldn't bat an eyelash; he'd probably crack a smile and say "one less monkey in this world."

But, ugh, even the monkeys had their own beauty... sometimes.

Like the monkey whose beauty was so captivating that the other monkeys looked at her for a second before looking back at Suguru. How dare she disrupt his sermons like that; how dare she be such an annoying nuisance! Did she not know that she was in the presence of the great Suguru Geto?! The monk who they sought out in the first place?!

Monkeys really could be tainted by the most stupid of things. So what if she had red hair and a nice chest? Suguru was infinitely times more beautiful than her--that cretin was lucky to even be here when she should really be in a body bag off a shady highway!

It's not like Suguru even cared about the woman. If she had any cursed energy--which she didn't, then maybe he'd acknowledge her as one of his own, one of the chosen ones. But as long as she was a lowly monkey, none of that shit mattered. No amount of beauty or boobs could change what she was.

A monkey.

A monkey who needed to be disposed of.

As long as Suguru stood by your side, you'd do anything for him. Even if he didn't ask you to, you'd still do what was best for you both. How else was he supposed to recruit people to his great cause?

"Master Geto, that was truly a wonderful service," that redheaded monkey said once she finally had an opening. "I can't express how grateful I am to have become a member of your sect... you truly are a wonderful man--everything you stand for is just amazing!"

"You're just too kind," Geto replied in a fake-sincere tone. You could see the repulsion in his face & his body language, the way he stood slightly off to the side from her like he'd get a disease if he came too close. You were busy polishing a bowl that he used for his ceremonies, and you swore that if it wasn't fine china, you would've broken it into shards minutes ago.

'How dare that cunt come close to the great Suguru Geto--how dare she overstep her boundaries! Doesn't she know her place as a follower of his? A minion? She should speak when spoken to-'

"And you, miss, were also quite nice," the monkey said to you, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your grip on the bowl tightened, and a crack could be seen from where your thumb & index finger gripped it.

"Oh... well, thank you!" You replied in an equally fake tone. You were probably more disgusted at this moment than Geto, and that sure was a remarkable feat.

It was hard not to be disgusted when an ill-natured monkey made obvious advances towards your man.

"She sure is great, isn't she?" Geto said suddenly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "She volunteered to help me with my ceremonies, and who was I to say no? Things couldn't run so smoothly if not for her!"

"What a remarkable act of kindness!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Perhaps one day I'll be so lucky."

No she won't.

"Perhaps..." Geto trailed off, clearly trying to get out of this conversation quicker. The sooner you and him could get to his girls and take them out for crepes, the better--but monkeys like her have the audacity to ruin your planned days.

Maybe... maybe it'd be best to get rid of her today. That way, she wouldn't even have the chance to disrupt your outing.

"Come now, beloved," Geto said to you. "Mimiko and Nanako have been dying to try them out, even more so with their beloved surrogate mother."

"Suguru, don't call me that! We've only been together for a year, I couldn't possibly be their mother!"

"It's much too late for that, sweetheart. Mimi and Nana already view you as such--they're just begging me to make things official already. Would you be so cruel as to deny them what they want?"

You shook your head and leaned into his shoulder, letting him plant a kiss on the top of your head. "Well, they sure are well-behaved girls. Anyone would be lucky to be their mother."

Geto moved his hand to the small of your back and started guiding you out of the room. "Come now, dear, let's change out of these robes and into something more comfortable, hm?"

"Actually, I think I need to do something first. Don't wait up for me, though; I'll catch up with the three of you later."

"Hm? What do you-" for some reason, Geto stopped talking and instead let a knowing look pass over his face. "Alright, then. Don't be too long--the crepes will be eaten up before you know it."

"Okay, I won't! I promise," you giggled, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. You patted his chest and he let you go, walking out of the room while smiling to himself.

Now, it was your turn to smile.

"Oh, miss!" You called out to the monkey before she left the room. "You said you wanted to become a ceremony helper one day, correct?"

Her face lit up with a big smile and she nodded enthusiastically. "I would love to!" You didn't even have to do any convincing, she was just that stupid. Your smiled grew in malice and you waved her over.

"Well, your training starts today," you said, guiding her over to where the bowl was. "Today, you're going to learn how to properly wash a ceremony bowl. Now, these things are quite delicate, and the things we put in them are difficult to wash out, but we must do so in order for the ceremony to be properly carried out."

You grabbed a thing of soap (it was some cheap shit you bought at the Konbini), poured some out into the fine china, and you washed it. It really wasn't difficult--there was nothing to pray for here--but it gave you an opening.

"Do you know what we worship here at this temple, miss?" You asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Of course I do! I.... uh, we worship..."

You sighed, shaking your head and tch-ing your tongue. "Bad little monkey," you said, your voice just dripping with mock sincerity.

"... what did you just call me?"

"Did your monkey ears fail you? I called you a bad little monkey," you spat, no longer feeling the need to put up a front. "I'll tell you what we believe in since we're so stupid: we believe in the eradication of monkeys like YOU!!"

Suddenly, you grabbed the bowl with both hands & smashed it over her head with enough force to make her fall to the floor. "P-Please, someone-" you had already made her cough up blood when she fell to the floor, the red liquid splashing and staining the paper walls.

"Nobody's gonna help you, you stupid chimp," you spat, grabbing her hair and throwing her around the room. "All the other monkeys have gone home, and you're the only one who stayed! Just your luck, huh? Well, this only makes it easier for me to do--less monkeys to kill!!"

She attempted to crawl away, only for you to kick her with your sandal, effectively breaking her nose. "I simply don't get it--why are you so stupid? Master Geto would never let you be in his ceremonies, you're much too disgusting and tainted to be in them. All you monkeys do is slaughter, taint, and ruin everything! At least, that's what Master Geto taught me." You shook your head and watched her crawl away with a sinister smile on her face. She was holding her broken nose with one hand and crawling with the other, the fear etched into her face like a scripture.

"Aren't monkeys supposed to swing and jump around? Why aren't you swinging--are you so weak that you can't even do what you were born to do?" You grabbed her arm and twisted it, making her screech in pain. You could already see the bone sticking out, and that delighted you to no end. You forcefully turned her over and got a good look at her face, the unbridled fear and terror in her gaze like a delicious dessert.

"I'm going to show you what happens when monkeys fly too close to the sun," you said ominously, bending down to her level. "You may be pretty for a monkey, but you're still nothing but an animal, a primitive thing that needs to be eradicated and put in its place. We already have enough of you running around and destroying shit; Master Geto certainly doesn't need you destroying his place."

"Please... I'll..."

"What, do anything?" You let out a cackle, throwing your head back and laughing. "Whatever you're offering, we're not interested. You got that? You got that through your silly little pea brain?" You then grabbed her hair and bent her head back, allowing you access to her neck and chest.

"It's too bad, you couldn't just do as you were told and stay away from him... the only way you'll learn is by an example, so this better be exemplary enough."

You grabbed the bowl shards from the floor and held it up in the air, a sadistic smile the last thing she saw before the porcelain struck her neck. You dug a deep gash into her neck & trailed it all the way down to her neck, the blood spewing everywhere and ruining your kimono. You didn't care, though; you were just having so much fun killing this stupid monkey!

With each stab, each thrust of your makeshift weapon, your smile grew in size & your laughs became more deranged. "Die... die... die, die, die, die, DIE, YOU STUPID MONKEY!!!" You screamed, leaving her body nothing but a bloodied, gash-ridden corpse. She was practically unrecognizable now, and if you continued, her entrails probably would've come out. Once you were sure she was bloodied enough, you stepped back, letting out a relieved sigh.

"One less annoying monkey in this world..."

"My apologies, I seem to have interrupted something," Geto's voice suddenly said from the hallway.

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you realized that he'd just watched you tear apart one of his followers. You were sure that he wouldn't care, that he'd reward you with a kiss and a hug...

... but right now, you were afraid that he'd toss you out as well.

After all, she was his follower, so he should've been the one to kill her. And... and you--you were supposed to be the untainted, pure-hearted girlfriend;

You were supposed to be the loving and motherly mother to his daughters;

You weren't supposed to be the one shedding blood for that was his job, not yours;

You were supposed to know where you stood.

"No... just ignore her, just-" your voice suddenly caught in your throat & you crawled away, a part of you fearing that he'd cast you out once again & leave you to the wolves.

You curled up into a ball and hid your bloodied hands & face from his eyes to see. After all, a man like him shouldn't bear witness to such carnage.

"(Y/N), you really can be quite silly sometimes... although, now you smell a bit." He reached into his pocket and took out monkey repellent, spraying you a little bit.

You looked at him in confusion as he sprayed you, your brow furrowed in how taken aback you were instead of how scared you were.

"Eh?"

"Did you not hear me? I said you smell like a monkey--you have its blood on you, after all." He took off your outer robe and threw it to the side of the room, covering her mangled corpse, further shielding the both of you from the sight of her. "And now we have to burn it... Couldn't you have at least worn something disposable?" the entire time, he was walking you over to the sink in order to rinse you of monkey blood.

You just stood there in silence, looking at him like he had now turned into a gorilla.

"What's with the look, darling?" he asked, "isn't it obvious?"

"... no, not really."

"Oh, my precious angel," he said, cradling you to his chest suddenly. "Don't you know that a being as precious as you shouldn't be so close to monkeys like her, much less touching her? I wouldn't want you to get infected with monkey-disease!" He exclaimed, acting like you had stage 4 brain cancer.

"But... aren't you mad at me for killing one of your followers?"

"Mad?" he scoffed, shaking his head at the notion of getting mad at you over getting rid of a monkey. "The only thing I'm mad about, dearest, is the fact that you felt the need to kill her with your own bare hands. You could've asked me to do it; I could've just killed her with a curse and went on my way."

"So, you're upset at me for touching her when you could've done it yourself."

"Bingo! My, you're such a smart girl," he exclaimed, a smiling returning to his features. "You're a sacred treasure, dear, a gift from whatever being sent you to me." He leaned down, nuzzling his nose against your neck in a display of affection. "I'll be damned if any of those monkeys taint you. From now on, if you ever feel the need to kill a monkey, I want you to come directly to me. No stalling or dilly-dallying; if anyone's going to be infected with monkey disease, I'd want it to be me."

"Suguru..." you burst out into laughter, shaking your head in amusement. "You really are something else!"

"I can't help it that I hate those monkeys."

Rყσɱҽɳ Sυƙυɳα

╰┈➤ Your entire life was filled with pity from the moment you were born, and probably to the moment you'd take your last breath, too. From the older courtesans of the pleasure house that you stayed in since your toddlerhood, to the moment you were taken away from them, everyone looked at you with nothing but pity. Even if people looked at you with disgust, they'd still somehow find a way to pity you.

'It's a pity that she has to resort to being such trash; she doesn't belong in a place like this,' one of the pedestrians of the Shibata Pleasure District said when she saw you posing for the pleasure house in which you resided in.

It truly was a pity how beautiful you looked, all dolled up with pins in your hair... only for some disgusting, wretched man to tear them out of your head & force you to do his bidding in one of the many rooms that the house had to offer. And what's worse is that you'd be forced to do the same task over & over again until you were deemed too old or sold off to some Samurai who'd no doubt make you do more disgusting, vile acts for his pleasure.

Every single day was the same. Every single day you'd wake up, get ready for your work (with one of your "sisters" helping you out), pose for the passersby, let them spend a couple hours making you do whatever lewd activities they were in the mood for, then rinse & repeat.

Every day was like dreaded clockwork. The only thing worse than this was homelessness & starvation which was your future if you ran away from the pleasure house.

Every night was spent dreaming over a handsome, noble Samurai who would swoop in and save you from this hellish nightmare. You knew that honorable noblemen were few and far in between--you'd heard the horrid tales of so-called "sorcerers" who did nothing but kill and maim each other--but was a girl not allowed to dream? Was a girl supposed to repeat this cycle without something to hold onto?

Who you didn't expect to be your savior, though, was the most horrid one of them all.

You still remember the look of pity your fellow courtesans gave you when you were taken, by carriage, to the most notorious warlord's compound for his own entertainment.

You still remember the fear in the eyes of the other girls who were chosen to attend this event.

You still remember the impending sense of doom you felt when you arrived at Ryomen Sukuna's estate.

You didn't remember the names of most of the warlords of your time, but the one that stuck out to you was the man who now had the ability to buy you off. Ryomen Sukuna was especially famous for his unabashed, unadulterated methods of killing. According to legend, the four-eyed, four-armed man would tear the heads of his enemies off their bodies & drink their blood like it was green tea. He had a throne of bones, and he was proud of who he was.

According to your sisters, if a concubine upset or made Sukuna mad, he'd kill them & drink their blood, much like how he treated his opponents on the battlefield. He wasn't a forgiving man, and he didn't pity those who showed signs of weakness.

But he'd be damned if he'd ever change his ways. He was Ryomen Sukuna, after all--who did he take orders from? The Emperor? That man should be lucky that he was even allowed to live.

You remembered the way you shook in fear when you saw the warlord for the very first time. He was as terrifying & menacing as the legends described him, but, you weren't allowed to leave or go home; no, you were expected to sing, dance & entertain the people at his party.

Unfortunately for you, when all four of Sukuna's eyes landed on you, you were now expected to directly entertain him.

He remembered the sense of intrigue he felt when he laid his eyes on you. You weren't one of the Oiran that usually served him--you were a mid-ranking courtesan, but to him, you might as well have been the madame herself.

The way you stood so composed despite the overwhelming sense of fear & nervousness that made you slightly tremble with each step you took; the way your kimono so perfectly complimented your appearance; that deliciously naïve and innocent demeanor of yours...

You were like a flower waiting to be plucked and thrown into a pit of debauchery. He'd be damned if any of his ignorant fellows got to do it first--he had to be the one to savor each drop of you.

It was a pity that you were only a mid-ranking courtesan, where had you been all this time? You should've already been made one of his personal concubines.

"That one," Sukuna's deep, rumbling voice said to Uraume, his right-hand person.

"The one in the red and pink kimono?"

"Yes, her. Bring her over to me at once, Uraume." Uraume was probably the only person he ever addressed by name.

"As you wish, Master Sukuna," they said with a bow. They got up from their seat and walked over to you, and now you could feel the dull feeling of fear expanding into a panicked alarm. The other courtesans there knew that Uraume did whatever Sukuna bid of them, so for them to approach you could only mean one thing: Sukuna had requested you.

Again, they all looked at you in pity as Uraume guided you to where the warlord sat.

The next morning, they watched in pity as the madame delivered the news that Sukuna had purchased you and was requesting you at once. Even the Oirans, the unfeeling, unforgiving bunch that they were, couldn't help but pity you in that moment.

"Please.... no, please--you can't let him take me!!" You screeched inside of your room, already in complete fear of what could potentially happen to you.

"It's too late. Lord Sukuna has already bought off your contract, and he's even paid handsomely so--he paid as much as he would've for an Oiran! I'm sorry, (L/N), but you need to go. The deal is already done."

All the fight left your body once she turned to walk away from you, and you felt the hot, silent tears stream down your face. There was no point in fighting when the deal was finalized, right?

The next morning, all of your sisters helped you pack up your belongings. Out of all 20 courtesans who had gone to the estate, you were the only one personally chosen by him. You were the only one who he felt was captivating enough to become one of his concubines, and you felt like the unluckiest girl in the entire world.

You sobbed the entire time you packed your belongings; you sobbed the entire carriage ride there; and you sobbed when his servants unloaded your things.

You had always dreamed of being rescued from this place, so why did it feel like you were being transferred to maximum security?

It might've been your need to please everyone around you and act as a doormat, and it also might've been the fact that you'd been trapped here for so long that you couldn't remember what life was like, but you were actually starting to like being one of Sukuna's concubines.

No... it wasn't either of the aforementioned reasons; it was the fact that when he looked at you, he didn't see pity. For the first time in your life, you weren't pitied for stuff that was beyond your control. All the other estate workers, the generals, and even Sukuna's righthand person, Uraume, they had all looked upon you in pity, pity that this bloodthirsty barbarian of a warlord had chosen you to be his concubine.

Make no mistake--Sukuna wasn't a nice person at all, nor did he treat you with a normal sense of decency, but he didn't look at you as some pitiful creature that needed saving. No; he looked at you and saw what he could turn your pretty face into: his own personal plaything.

Little by little, Sukuna started breaking you in. He had you dressed in the finest of kimonos, had you and the other girls attend Kabuki theatre shows, and put on the grandest of parties just for the fun of it. Though he only had 5 concubines at a time, you 5 were spoiled and fed more than enough to keep yourselves satisfied.

But there was something about you that made him personally notice you. The other 4 concubines were just toys that were kept around because they were able to take what he dished out, girls that he could just interchange with other girls. He made no effort to remember their names, only calling them by different types of flowers. To him, they were literally property, ornaments to be displayed whenever he had guests. Truth be told, that very same treatment and classification was why he was so feared, especially considering the fact that he didn't care about getting rid of property that didn't suit his needs anymore.

For instance, one of the girls, Suzuran, had been caught sleeping with one of his generals. His solution? Cutting off their heads and feeding them to the wolves, and making sure that the four remaining girls watched the entire spectacle so as to remind you that you were all just as disposable as she was. By next week, he had a replacement already lined up to take her place.

You lived those first few months in his grand estate in nothing but fear, making extra sure that you didn't piss him off enough to end up like Suzuran. Sukuna's estate might've been hell, but you didn't actually wanna go to Hell itself.

But when Sukuna started showing you special treatment, that was when you lived your life with less fear.

"(Y/N)," Uraume, Sukuna's righthand person, called out to you when you were in the garden. You were watching the koi fish when you heard the white-haired person say your name, and you immediately stood up. "Master Sukuna requests your presence at once."

This was bad, you thought. Uraume was only ever sent out when things were important, so for them to do this? It could only spell trouble.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded. "Lead me to Master Sukuna."

With you following close behind, Uraume led you all the way to his living quarters on the other side of his palatial estate, your wooden sandals clicking on the floor. The entire time, you were going through the motions of what could possibly happen to you. Maybe you'd slipped up when you dropped your bowl of soup the other day & embarrassed yourself, or maybe he was just tired of your presence and wanted to get rid of you.

It wouldn't be the first time or the last time.

Finally, Uraume knocked on the grand doors of Sukuna's room, and he ordered for the two of you to enter. Funnily enough, you've never actually been inside of his room, due to the fact that he's never once had sex with you or touched you in any sexual manner. He's never personally called for you like this, either--you didn't know why he chose you to be his concubine if you never made any sort of contact with the man.

"Leave," he said simply, telling whichever concubine was in his lap to go, along with Uraume. His four eyes watched the two of them leave, and as the door shut behind you, you felt as though your fate was sealed.

Sukuna's room was nothing short of grand. There was a huge set of armor set up against one of the paper walls, and there were lanterns all over his room. His silk bedsheets were red and pink, and that color scheme was spread throughout the room as well. There was also a huge painting depicting a rather brutal scene of a town being dragged to hell, one that you had to tear your eyes from.

"Come closer, (Y/N)." Now this was an odd request. He only ever referred to the others by their respective flowers, not by their first names (he didn't see any reason for attaching names to his property).

With a few, shaky steps, you made your way towards him. Even on the huge bed that was personally made for him, he still filled up half the mattress, his immense size commanding authority.

"Sit on the bed," he added to which you did. You felt his four eyes take in the sight of your beautiful form in that pink kimono. You were supposed to be the Chrysanthemum of Sukuna's collection, and as such you and your handmaidens dressed in shades of pink and yellow. "Must you avoid looking at me?"

Your eyes shot up when he asked that, and you, again, swallowed the lump in your throat. "A-Apologies, Master Sukuna," you said nervously, the sweat beading down your face.

He didn't say anything, instead reaching out to caress your hair, the long, silky locks like butter to his calloused hands. "All this time spent in my estate, and you still act as though you're a little fawn," he bemused, his finger now moving to your face. He ran one sharp, black fingernail across your cheek, now taking in your face. After some more silence, he asked: "do you know why I chose you to be my Chrysanthemum, (Y/N)?"

"N-No, Master Sukuna, but I assume it was for a wonderful reason," you replied shakily.

"Indeed it was," he hummed, not saying anything else. "Your performance skills. I took a liking to them," he said, now touching your chin with his fingernails.

"You did?"

"None of those other sad sacks of meat can play the Biwa nor dance as well as you do," he replied with a grin. "To me, they're just flowers I can put on display in pretty little vases until they wither and die. Now, answer me this: do you know why I chose you to be my Chrysanthemum?"

You looked at him in confusion, wondering why he put emphasis on the flower, and you furrowed your brow. "Unfortunately, I do not, Master Sukuna."

"It's because..." his finger trailed down to your neck, "chrysanthemums last the longest." His eyes suddenly flickered up to yours. "And I plan on keeping you here for a very, very long time."

The rest of that encounter was spent with you playing the Biwa for a couple hours before he ordered you to go to dinner. Not once did he ask you for a sexual favor, not once did he defile you; he simply wanted to listen to your playing the Biwa.

Perhaps Sukuna wasn't as bad as the stories made him out to be... perhaps, perhaps he was more than just a bloodthirsty barbarian.

He certainly looked at you as more than a mere flower for display.

As the months flew by and the seasons changed, and the girls were replaced as they withered and died, you remained the only constant thing in the estate outside of its employees. Even then, some of the servants were executed and disposed of. When one of the chefs cooked your fish incorrectly, Sukuna had him gutted like one.

Speaking of, the special treatment that Sukuna gave you increased in frequency. He was always giving you the best kimonos out of all the other girls, the hairpins that you received were made out of the shiniest jewels and silver, and the way he looked at you made you feel like the brightest flower in all the garden.

In exchange for his treatment, you were expected to play the Biwa for him whenever he was bored. Sometimes it'd be several hours during the day, other times it'd be for merely an hour. Usually, those were the days he spent planning attacks or wartime efforts.

In all these months of special treatment, he never once had sex or demanded that you perform any favors for him. It was merely the playing of the Biwa that he wanted. Sometimes, he'd even have you dance for him and a few of his generals.

"Lord Sukuna, I hear that you've never once had her in your bed," one of his drunken generals said to the warlord. "If it's not too much to ask, would you mind if I?-"

"Uraume, dispose of this man at once," Sukuna commanded of them, and they did as they were told. They hauled the man out of there and chopped off his arms before feeding him to the wolves.

A small smile cracked on your features when he performed that little act of kindness for you.

The other girls, the jealous flowers that they were, took note of your special treatment as well. They knew their places, and they knew that all they were good for was for decoration and getting him off, and the fact that you were Sukuna's precious little chrysanthemum pissed them off to no end.

It was never more than petty little squabbles or snide comments behind your back, and as a result you never paid them any mind.

Why would you when you're the only one who hasn't been executed in all the months you've spent time at the estate?

Whenever you walked by them beside Sukuna, you couldn't help the sly little smirk that etched itself onto your normally calm face. It felt so good to be envied after being pitied for so much time.

The downside of this inflated ego of yours was the resentment that the other girls harbored towards you. If they were to be executed so quickly and disposed of within mere months of their arrival, then they might as well act on their anger, right?

It was after the arrival of the newest concubine that things took a turn for the worse. The latest addition to his floral collection, the Orchid was a girl who hailed from the very city of Tokyo itself. She was dubbed the Queen of Pleasure, rumored to have serviced the Emperor himself on numerous occasions.

Rumor also had it that Sukuna was highly interested in her and her ways of pleasure. The other girls were also quite irritated by all the time he spent fucking her brains out in his quarters, meaning that not only did they have to compete with your skills of entertaining and playing the Biwa, but they also had to compete with her bedroom skills.

But, when it came down to picking someone to hate on, they still picked you.

"Well, at least it's not her getting every ounce of his attention. I mean, all we'd really have to do is play some kind of instrument, and then we'd be able to one-up her."

It seemed as though any concubine who set foot in Sukuna's estate was destined to hate you, and this Orchid girl was no different. She knew that nobody else derived the same sexual satisfaction from your beloved warlord that she did, and she made sure to rub it in your face. She didn't even refer to you by your flower name; she called you Biwa for the instrument that you played for Sukuna!

Still, you never let it get to you. Just because she was good in bed doesn't mean that she'd become his prized flower that easily; if he found a girl who was better at pleasuring him than she was, she'd no doubt be cast aside and executed.

Being seen as the flower you were and not a piece of meat was more important anyway, right?

But you couldn't help but worry when the staff, themselves, began to gossip amongst one another. Rumors fluttered about that she was going to become the heir to Sukuna's children, the one who would help carry on his bloodline.

When you heard that, you almost snapped the neck of your Biwa off. You had to get a replacement ordered ASAP.

But all hope wasn't lost, for the next time you ran into the Orchid was the last time you'd ever see her.

It was when you were delivering a bowl of soup to Uraume's room that you ran into her. Uraume had fallen ill, and you personally took it upon yourself to look after them in exchange for all the things they'd done for you in the past. She was with her servant, and the smirk on her face when she saw you meant trouble.

"Oh? What is this: the pure and chaste Chrysanthemum carrying a tray of food? Don't tell me you've been demoted to maidservant that quickly," she sneered, blocking your path.

"I'm no maidservant, you barbaric whore; I'm merely delivering some food to Uraume. They've fallen ill recently, and I wanted to show my gratitude by bringing this soup to them," you replied, turning your nose to her. "A brainless wonder like you wouldn't know the meaning of gratitude, anyway."

"How dare you speak so nastily towards me! I should have your head on a platter," she sneered, pointing a finger at you. Her servant also sneered in similar fashion, but the glare you gave her was enough to put her in her place. "My, if I didn't know any better, I'd assumed you were some sort of harlot meant to entertain one of the generals just by the way you speak."

"It's because I can't stand you, you village slut. Everyone knows that the only reason you're here is because you had oral sex with the Emperor, and everyone also knows that you did so by slipping sleeping medication into his tea."

She didn't know how to talk back to that, so she merely scrunched her nose in anger and seethed where she stood.

"Now, if you don't mind me, this soup's getting cold, and Uraume doesn't like their food cold."

Just as you were about to walk away from her, you felt a harsh push from behind, sending you toppling onto the ground, the soup flying out of the bowl and getting all over your kimono.

"Awww, oopsie! You must've slipped and fallen, how terrible!" the Orchid said with a sneer.

The look on your face was nothing short of diabolical and full of vitriol. How dare you be pushed around by sad sacks of meat, whores that got by using their bodies as forms of payment. Come to think of it... maybe this could be some sort of present for Sukuna, like a favor. Sure, she was pretty, but there were plenty of pretty girls who were only good for having sex; you were willing to bet that you could go into a pleasure district and find girls prettier than her. All she was known for was fucking the emperor, and if anyone could find their way into his estate, then it would've been easy for them to take advantage of him as well. It's not like she'd last in this damned estate anyway--the Emperor certainly wasn't Sukuna in any likeness.

Sad sacks of meat didn't have brains, nor did they have talent. They were just fresh meat that would turn rotten and wither away while the bugs and the maggots infested it.

"Maybe I should speed up the execution process," you muttered, grabbing the metal tray with enough force to turn your knuckles white. Just as the girl turned around to face you, you lunged at her with the bowl of soup in your hand, hitting her square in the jaw with the harsh porcelain. She was stunned for a second, allowing you to grab a nearby katana from the wall and unsheathe it. You then reached for the girl and grabbed her by the hair & threw her to the ground, your vision going red as you raised the blade above your head.

"All that meat's good for is cutting, isn't it?" You asked before sinking the blade into her chest. Her eyes widened, the blade falling right into the valley of her bosom. You raised it again & again, stabbing her with the katana as if you were a samurai on the battlefield. Again & again & again, you slashed the living shit out of that bitch, her face fading from your vision as you destroyed her body. By the time you were done with her, her jugular had been torn out & her breasts were hanging on by a thread. You could see the broken ribs protruding from how intensely you splintered them with the cold silver.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the girl's servant who was standing there frozen in fear from the whole ordeal. When your serpentine gaze landed on her, she broke into a run, trying to go get help, so you grabbed the katana and drove it back into her skull. You didn't know what possessed you, but you lifted her up by the head, ramming her face into the walls repeatedly until her skull was fractured and her face was demolished beyond all recognition. You then grabbed the katana again and sunk it bck into her spine, paralyzing her, and she coughed up blood the entire time you stabbed her.

"Sacks of meat... like you... don't deserve to be in Lord Sukuna's presence!!" you shouted, stabbing her until her spinal cord severed. Once you were sure that the two were dead, you stepped back, looking at the dead bodies of the two girls. The servant was slaughtered beyond all recognition, the only giveaway being the color of her kimono, and the tarnished appearance of the Orchid was like a scene painted straight from the battlefield. You made a huge mess in the middle of the hallway, but the murderous side of you didn't give a shit.

You wouldn't let anyone, much less worthless meat be around your Sukuna for as long as you stayed in this estate.

But just as quickly as you'd killed the two girls, you heard a chuckle from behind you. You whipped your head around, seeing none other than Sukuna himself standing there with his arms crossed over his bulky chest. He studied the scene for a few seconds, taking in the red stains on your pink kimono, and he found the color rather fitting of you.

Even though he was a man of carnage, you couldn't help but feel the tiniest hint of fear coursing through your veins. You knew the consequences of acting out of line, and a beheading was probably the best course of action. You had just destroyed his property, and the ramifications of this act of hatred and malice would be devastating to you. You might as well have sunk the katana into your chest and bled out onto the floor right about now.

Getting onto your knees and bowing before his feet, you pleaded with him to show mercy. "Forgive me, master, for I have made a huge mess. Allow me to... allow me to fix it. I humbly beg of you."

Sukuna stood there silently for a few seconds, his red eyes studying your bowing form still.

"Why would you fix it when you have servants at your disposal?"

Now this question made your head perk up in shock and confusion. Was he seriously not about to kill you? Why wasn't he yelling, why wasn't he dragging you out by the hair to end your life himself?

"Master, I... I don't understand. I laid a hand on your property, and that's unacceptable-"

"Would you be quiet already?" he asked, making you bow your head again in fear. "I must say, (Y/N), I didn't know you had such an act within that pretty head of yours," he remarked, still looking at the dead bodies. "Perhaps you're not so innocent after all. Rise, (Y/N)."

You did as you were told, raising your head to see him. He crouched down to your level, one of his big hands caressing your blood soaked face and your hair as well.

"Just look at you, a little pink Chrysanthemum stained red by the blood of her foes. Quite a fearsome look, (Y/N)," he hummed, still looking at you. Suddenly, a wide grin spread on his face, one that could only spell both trouble and excitement for you.

He had broken you at long last. After so many months of waiting for you to show your true side, to show that you could stand alongside Sukuna, you had finally shown your true potential. Your innocent, pitiful self had been cracked, and in its place stood a dark, evil thing that he couldn't get enough of.

Maybe now he could finally make you his bride, his queen of the dead & the future matriarch of the Sukuna clan.

"How would you like to be my Spider Lily? It's been a while since I've had one."

I suck at writing Sukuna omfg (I hate his ass regardless) also it's not proofread 🤞 I MIGHTTT do a Choso special but IDK how to write him either

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