Tumgik
#unforgiving servant
capnpen · 2 years
Text
Quick Thought – Saturday, May 14, 2022
Quick Thought – Saturday, May 14, 2022
Read Matthew 18:21-35 Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.” Matthew 18:21-22 Reflect Forgiveness is a very big deal to God because He has a forgiving nature. And because He has forgiven us so much, He expects us to do the same…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
0 notes
Tumblr media
The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant
23 “Therefore the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his servants. 24 When he began the reckoning, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents; 25 and as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had, and payment to be made. 26 So the servant fell on his knees, imploring him, ‘Lord, have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ 27 And out of pity for him the lord of that servant released him and forgave him the debt. 28 But that same servant, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ 29 So his fellow servant fell down and besought him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ 30 He refused and went and put him in prison till he should pay the debt. 31 When his fellow servants saw what had taken place, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. 32 Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you besought me; 33 and should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?’ 34 And in anger his lord delivered him to the jailers, till he should pay all his debt. 35 So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.” — Matthew 18:23-35 | Revised Standard Version (RSV) Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright © 1946, 1952, and 1971 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. All rights reserved. Cross References: Genesis 4:24; Exodus 21:2-3; Leviticus 25:39; 1 Chronicles 29:7; Proverbs 21:13; Proverbs 28:3; Matthew 2:11; Matthew 5:7; Matthew 6:14-15; Matthew 7:24; Matthew 8:2; Matthew 13:24; Matthew 14:9; Matthew 18:15; Matthew 25:15-16; Mark 6:37; Mark 11:26; Luke 7:42-43; Luke 17:4; Colossians 1:7; Colossians 4:7; James 2:13
11 notes · View notes
theshoesofatiredman · 2 years
Text
One of the most absurd hypocrisies on display right now is how Christians are responding to Joe Biden's student debt forgiveness plan. They've got Dave Ramsey out here saying he is supporting the people who are angry, as if being angry about the forgiveness of debts isn't antithetical to the gospel itself. There's so much about the evangelical faith that to me now seems to clearly worship at the alter of conservative politics rather than the feet of Jesus, but this one is so vicious frankly it's taking Jesus out at the knees. If you are an evangelical Christian and you don't believe that radical debt forgiveness (Jesus on the cross) is the most powerful force for good in the world, I think you have sorely misunderstood the most important part of your faith.
10 notes · View notes
friendrat · 1 year
Text
Our church is talking about gratitude and generosity right now, and it suddenly occurs to me that the story of the unforgiving servant is not just a lesson in forgiveness, but could also apply to generosity.
The servant was given a blessing by the king, and if he had a generous heart, he would have paid it forward to the other servant.
When we are blessed by God, we should bless others out of that blessing.
6 notes · View notes
graceintorah · 1 year
Text
The Unforgiving Servant
The vast mercy, grace, and abounding chesed (lovingkindness) of our Father and King culminates in His willingness to forgive. So, as recipients of His lavish love, why do we often prefer vengeance, pay back, and punishment when wrongs have been committed against us? The parable of the unforgiving servant demonstrates this truth perfectly; and yet, I wonder if we really can see just how much we…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
1 note · View note
marthawrites · 4 days
Note
Could you write smut for Aemond targaryen with the prompts 17,40,44,47,53 and 54 maybe with a targaryen reader? Just something gentle, sweet and soft <3 btw I’m talking abt this prompt list
I absolutely can! Apologies for making you wait since January for this. I hope you're still around to see (and, fingers crossed) enjoy it!
"Vok" (Perfect)
Tumblr media
Aemond Targaryen x sister reader
Word count: 2.6k+
About: You and Aemond pledged to each other long ago. Tonight, beneath the blanket of darkness, you revel in each other's adoration.
Includes: SMUT. Featuring brother x sister incest, Aemond is soft but only to his little sister, dirty talk, female masturbation, guided masturbation, praise, unprotected vaginal sex, and a splash of breeding kink
Note: Hello lovely reader! It's been a hot minute since I've wrote Aemond - the posters and trailers have me going (affectionately) insane! Triple warning: this fic is brother x sister targcest. If you do not like that KEEP ON SCROLLING. This is my first time writing this dynamic. Reader is implied to have silver hair, pale skin, and purple eyes. Everything else is up to you! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic! ❤️
-
To the realm, Aemond Targaryen was the cruel prince. Aloof, stoic, unforgiving.
To the realm, he was an ambitious and willful young man who rode Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in the world–the same dragon who helped Queen Visenya conquer Westeros.
To the realm, he was the second son of King Viserys. And, as such, would play the game of nobility by putting duty above love–marrying outside of his Targaryen lineage to seed dragons further into the world.
To you, his little sister and second daughter of King Viserys, he was your protector. 
Your secret.
A poorly kept secret in some corners of the castle; nosy servants and their obnoxious fucking tendencies. But, with Aemond’s less than idle threats about cutting the tongue out of anyone’s throat who would speak about it, it ended up being a well-kept secret.
The second son and second daughter of the Dragon King; who better to love, and cherish, and pledge to, than each other?
Aemond would sooner die than see you marry off to some lowly lord of a “great” House. You were the blood of Old Valyria. Everyone–no matter their feats–was lowly in comparison to you. And you, his sweet sister, deserved only the best.
Barely a year separated your ages. Neither of you remembered a life without the other.
Long before you gave your maidenhead to your brother you gave him your heart. And your heart he held.
-
The night was late. These dark hours were some of the only unadulterated times you had together. Aemond kissed you slowly, passionately, gently stroking along your cheeks with his thumbs as he did. You were tangled in his bed together. You, stripped down to only your shift, and him, stripped down to only his sleep trousers. One of your shift’s thin straps kept sliding down your shoulder, and each time it did Aemond’s warm mouth kissed over the smooth lovely skin. You panted soft sounds–each feminine simper jolting right to his cock–as he lavished you in affection. 
“You’re kissing me silly, lēkia (brother). My head feels full of bees and I’m hot. So, so hot,” you whispered against his kiss-swollen mouth. “Will you not feel for yourself?” He hadn’t yet made a move to touch you where you really, truly, wanted him; something that had you whining and pouting. While his hands alternated between stroking your face and groping your body–waist, hips, thighs–yours were buried in his hair. It was all down and free. The silken sheet of it spilled over his shoulders, spilled over you, and you relished the feel of it inside your hands. Against your bare skin. “Please?”
“Please what, hāedar? (little sister)” He asked, voice mellow with just the right amount of rumble from his chest.
“Please touch me,” you answered, back naturally arching to press your soft body against the hard planes of his own.
Another low sound came from him. He pressed a warm, wide palm up the perfect curve of your back until he squeezed into the nape of your hair. “Such a pretty word from a pretty mouth. Have my kisses made you ache with need, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon)?”
“Yes.” The single word, its single syllable, rolled off your tongue before your brain even fully registered his question. You stared at him desperately. One eye was so beautiful; so ancient in its color and proclamation, just like your own. The other reflected faceted edges of the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. You didn’t know which was more enchanting.
“How long can you go, hm? Without me touching you?”
“W-what?”
He laughed. A rumble beneath his pale, taut chest. “How long before you succumb to madness by me not touching your perfect cunny?”
“Aemond…,” you whined. Pitiful. “Not much longer! Please, lēkia, I need you, please.”
A serpent’s grin curved his mouth and darkened his eye as he shifted positions with you. Now, he sat upright with his back against his headboard and pulled you to sit in front of him. 
You nestled between his legs, your back flush with his chest, and his stiff cock rested against the small of your back. A blush bloomed beneath your cheeks. You knew lust ran as wild in his veins as it did in yours.
“Tell me, sweet sister…,” he started, whispering by your ear. Both his hands cupped and squeezed over your breasts. Their softness melted against his palms and he groaned at the sensation. Perfect. You were so fucking perfect. “Have you touched yourself to peak before?”
A stammer replaced the little mewl in your throat. “H-how do you mean?”
He laughed again, pinching your nipples. “Mm… are you sure?”
Lust and need and fire roared in your blood to the point of almost drowning everything else out. “I d-don’t understand,” you admitted. But, it was a lie. You knew what he meant. You could only hope he’d go easy on you so you wouldn't have to admit, prove, or say you knew what he spoke of.
“Why are you playing shy with me, hāedar? I think you know exactly what I mean. There is no shame in it,” he spoke sly, hands pushing the hem of your shift up until he held the material in a fist upon your abdomen. With his other hand he tugged your smallclothes down your bare legs, tossing them off. The flats of all his fingers ghosted over your exposed cunt. Testing you. Feeling you. He hissed an inward breath. “Fuck–”, he growled. “‘Tis a good thing I was born a prince. Gods know if I had this wet little cunt between my thighs I wouldn’t get anything done. Ever. For how often I’d fuck myself silly on my own fingers.”
Aemond’s vulgarity sent a coil of tension wringing in your belly. Slick arousal pooled hotter beneath his touch. Your clit throbbed–the little pearl silently screaming for attention. “Yes,” you breathed, shuddering.
“Yes, what?”
Your older brother wasn’t going easy on you. “Yes. I… I know what you speak of. And.. yes, I do. Sometimes…,” you admitted with a wave of embarrassment.
Somehow he grew harder against the small of your back. He throbbed. “Show me,” he demanded.
“What! Aemond, no. Please, please, please no. Don’t make me show you.” Mortification replaced your previous embarrassment. Yet, your spine quivered with another rush of liquid arousal.
“I would love nothing more than to see how you bring yourself pleasure. Do you think of me when you do, byka zaldrīzes?”
You nodded. Dizziness warbled your brain. 
“Such a sweet perfect thing,” he cooed. He'd felt that nervous energy tense you. He also saw the exquisite thrum of your pulsepoint beneath your neck, too. Two sides of the same coin: carnal desire. When he spoke again it dripped with wicked passion. “Don’t be nervous, I'll guide you through it.”
It had been quite some time since you last brought yourself to climax all on your own. Aemond was always more than eager to give you pleasure. Tonight, however, something was different. Idly you wondered what it could be. Before you thought about it too much, Aemond guided your dominant hand to that delicate space between your thighs. You gasped at the sensation of your own touch. Torture never felt so divine. Your little bud sang as you circled it, rubbed over it. You sighed sweetly. “How did you make me so wet?”
It took controlled effort to not spill himself across your back at that very moment. “Spread your legs for me, princess. Let me see and hear what you’re doing.”
You obeyed. With your legs spread wider, now, it was all the easier to resume your previous motions. Flicking and rubbing over your bud felt divine–excited little sounds already spilled from your mouth. You ached inside, too, wanting–needing–to be stretched around something. The memory of Aemond's long fingers pumping into you while his thumb claimed your clit had your face hot. You couldn't reach those same spots he could. You bit your bottom lip, whimpering.
Aemond watched from above with a hungry lecherous eye. Beneath your shift he could see your breasts, slope of belly… and then further below, your creamy thighs spilled wide open. Fuck–he was so hard his back hurt. Your girlish sounds sent his desire blazing. “Your little clit is so achy, isn’t it? I know how much you like it played with,” he said by your ear. “Do you ever go inside?”
You nodded, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder. You stayed on your pearl, still, legs tensing with bliss as it warmed and tingled your blood.
“Show me,” he growled again. “Be a good girl. And afterward? Don’t worry, I'll take care of you. Promise.” 
Without hesitation you pushed two of your fingers into your warmth. Your body squeezed around the intrusion, inner walls flexing, trying to pull them in deeper. A gasped moan left your parted lips. “I-I’ve never done this before.” You’ve never shown anyone this before is what you meant. Aemond knew what you meant.
“I know. Shh… it’s okay, I'll guide you through it.” He gently touched the top of your hand and relished your little tendons flexing with the effort of your self pleasure. He pushed–coaxing your fingers deeper, silently urging you along. More. 
Soon the wet sounds of your hand against pink swollen flesh mingled with your moans. Lewd. Dirty. You tried to stay quiet. You really did. But it felt too good, and Aemond’s hand on yours guiding you along had your toes curling. Of course he would help you. Of course he wouldn’t let you do it all on your own. “Aem..!,” you whimpered, hips rocking with your movements. “‘M close.”
“I got you,” he whispered, voice heavy.
As soon as your fingers found that little patch of hidden nerves along your walls, you weren’t able to hold on much longer. The bliss, all at once, became too much. Tension snapped in your belly as colors flashed behind your closed eyelids. Your legs trembled at the tip of your peak, and as you crested downwards Aemond held you tighter against him.
“Vok (perfect),” he said as he watched you. How perfect you were with your silver hair framing your face. How perfect you looked when ecstasy became too much. How fucking perfect your eyes were as they opened and locked on his, bright and glassy with excitement. 
You carefully pulled your fingers free and began to turn around to face him. Before you could, however, he held you tighter against him. Confusion furrowed your brow and whatever you were about to say was cut off by his impatience.
“I’m greedy, byka zaldrīzes. Go on, one more time. I know you can do it. Show me again how you peak.”
Without arguing you again settled back against him. You planted your feet along the outside of his legs, spilling your thighs open wider than they were before. You angled your hips to the perfect position and this time a third finger joined your previous two. This time you fucked yourself without shame–not that you held on to it long in the first place.
Aemond all but snarled behind you, absolutely ravenous at the sight of three of your little fingers pumping and curling up into your body. He moved a hand downward, too, and the pads of those fingers worked over your clit in time with your pumps.
“Gods! Aem–!” You quivered against him. The addition of his lascivious attention had your hips squirming. Wanton moans, no longer trying to stay quiet, had your mind blanking. Nothing existed outside of you and Aemond. Nowhere existed outside of the spaces in which your bodies touched. Climax found you faster this time. Your second orgasm had you crumbling against him. Sweat sheened your brow. Your face bloomed. Sated. You were wholly sated.
“Good girl,” he praised. “Such a good girl. Giving me exactly what I wanted,” he kissed you, stealing your lips in a kiss that had you floating all over again. You could have fallen asleep right there in his arms and been the happiest thing in the realm. Breaking away, he added, “now I’ve a promise to make up to you, hm?”
Honestly, you’d forgotten about it. But, now that he mentioned it, your belly did a silly little flop.
With great care, Aemond moved from behind you and stood. Offering a hand to you, he said, “take your clothes off and lay on your back.”
And with that, you both finally shed the last pieces of your clothing. 
Laying like he said, you leaned back on your elbows to prop yourself up to still see your brother. Spilled messy hair, tall lean body littered with nicked scars, sapphire eye on full display…hard cock blushed angry red with need. They say Targaryen’s are closer to Gods than men, and with the hearth’s orange light reflecting on his ivory form, you believed him to be a God.
Aemond thought the same about you as you laid there bathed in the moonlight and hearthlight. 
“Spread your legs for your lēkia, I want to see you.”
As soon as you did–proudly showing off the slick mess of two climaxes, Aemond pumped along his rigid length. Despite butterflies twirling in your belly, your smile up at him was purely feline.
To Aemond’s credit, his voice only broke slightly when he said, “get on your hands and knees.”
You did. You dipped your spine as low as it could comfortably go, propping your ass up for him. As much as he loved fucking you with your legs wrapped around his waist, you knew he loved this position, too. “Māzigon va, lēkia (come on, brother),” you purred. “Keep to your promise.”
In an instant one of his hands squeezed harshly into the fat of your hip while the other spread the meat of your ass apart. He planted one foot firmly on the bed, and the other stayed rooted on the ground. The position gave him more leverage, and power, and control as he loomed above you. With a flex of his entire abdomen he pushed forward; the hot stretch of your body around him had both of you gasping. “I plan on leaving a babe in your belly tonight, hāedar. That way mother will have no other choice than to wed us,” he groaned, pulling backwards only to snap his hips against the smooth underside of your cheeks once again. And again.
You fisted the sheets as Aemond fucked you. You moaned your delight at his words, nodding. “Yes, please,” you panted. “Faster,” you begged.
His thrusts were precise and brutal. The slap of your smacking skin was utterly depraved and you hated–no, loved–how it made you impossibly wetter. Aemond did too. “Already squeezing around me? Fuck–I’m not going to last much longer,” he said, strained.
You began to push back against him, meeting his thrusts halfway with a frenzied need to make him release. “Fill me. Fill me up, Aem,” you still begged, breathing heavily. 
He rutted against you with the same need–a primal haze taking over as his stones began to tighten. His fingers dented firmly into your flesh as he continued plunging in and out of you. Instinct to spill his seed built by the moment and soon he became sloppy. He grunted and growled, and with a final shove–cock buried as deep as it could be inside your walls–he spent against your body’s end. Pulse after mighty pulse emptied his spend into you. Stray strands of hair stuck to a sheen of sweat upon his forehead.
You joined him in peak; left boneless and exhausted after three orgasms. Even at the top of your bliss, and his, he never eased until you were both done.
Aemond pulled his softening length out from you and urged you to fall forward upon his bed. You followed his motion and happily laid there. Naked, glowing, and full. You reached a hand out to pull him to you. “Avy jorrāelan (i love you).”
Aemond easily settled next to you, scooping you into him. “Avy jorrāelan tolī (i love you too),” he said between slow, satisfied kisses.
-
Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥
To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!
Masterlist
Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel
Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @rafeism @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui
467 notes · View notes
saintartemis · 7 months
Text
"The British Museum curators I have encountered in the course of my work – who do not include the man who has been named in connection with the alleged thefts – have been among the most diligent, generous and committed public servants I have ever met. They are also paid shockingly little given the qualifications and skills required for the work at the country’s most celebrated museum. (A highly specialised job as a curator focused on Roman-period Egypt, for example, is currently advertised at £32,000.) The case of alleged thefts is a terrible blow for those working on the ground in the museum, and the cause of fury and disbelief. And yet, no one seems to care very much for the curators, as the media become ever more frenzied, and the culture warriors sharpen their swords."
"The ultimate irony, the elephant in the room? The chair of this foundering museum is George Osborne, the ex-chancellor of the exchequer, now multimillionaire fund manager. When he took a job at BlackRock in 2017, he was paid a day-rate of £13,000 – yes, earning in three days more than that new British Museum curator will make in a year. As chancellor he was behind the “austerity” cuts to public services and cultural organisations of 2010 onwards. That was not a theft. What it was was a withholding – on a grand and unforgivable scale – of care."
726 notes · View notes
sukunastoy · 4 months
Text
NSFW ABCs (A-M) (Heian Era Ryoumen Sukuna)
Tumblr media
An anon asked for this, and I'm not certain WHICH Sukuna they're hoping for, but I'll start with Heian Era True Form Sukuna! <3
CW/TW: Its true form Sukuna, thats the warning. Masterlist (N-Z Here!)
A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex) Bold of you to assume that Sukuna is going to stick around after he's done making you go dumb from his dick(s). But if he did stick around, he's pushing you away from him (out of his bed, off of his throne), so he can have the space to himself. You can sleep on the floor where pets belong. No cuddles, no pillow talk, (maybe some degrading praise.) You're lucky if he even offers a rag to clean yourself up with. Cause lets be honest, he's going to make a mess out of you.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's) Definitely for him, its his chest. His big pecs (beefy man tiddies) are definitely something he's proud of. He either isn't wearing a top, or has it opened/rolled down. For his fuck toy, he loves your neck. Loves kissing it, biting it, licking it, squeezing it. Loves to mark your skin with his teeth, so you know who you belong to. And he enjoys leaving bruises where he's gripped so harshly.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) For one, prepare for the most cum you've ever had or will ever have in your life from this guy. If you're giving him oral, you will be required to take every last drop, can't let any of the King's seed be wasted. Swallow it up like a good pet. He loves to stuff you full of his cum in other places too, and he'll hold your legs and hips up in a way that nothing can spill out of you. (Consider it a form of the King's blessings. Don't waste it.) He's not going to cum onto your body, because he wants to be inside of you when he reaches his climax and wants to see your face when he fills your insides with his unforgiving amount.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) This man is pretty openly dirty, I mean, he's the King of Curses, who is going to say anything about one of his kinks? But, a secret in general, he really enjoys back/shoulder massages, doesn't even have to get sexual, it just feels amazing to him to work the knots out of his large muscles. Since he's so large anyway, you could walk on his back or even use your knees to massage in certain areas if your hands aren't strong enough. It's the only time you notice he's truly relaxed and not terrifying.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?) Forget everything you thought you knew about sex, because he's about to show you what you've been missing out on. Through taking advantage of villagers, receiving sacrifices/offerings in the form of humans for his pleasure, bringing maids/servants into his chambers because he's simply bored... he's had quite a lot of practice to perfect his skill. Though he generally takes care of his own pleasures, he's keen to what others enjoy, even if they deny it. And if you aren't even aware of something you might like, he'll gladly introduce it to you and get you addicted to it. (Loves to see your eyes roll to the back of your head when he's found the thing that makes you lose all control of yourself.)
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) He will keep you pinned in the mating press, so he can fill you as much as possible, and to hit every sweet and sensitive part of your insides without mercy. Watching you hopelessly struggle beneath him as he's taking you in a very primal way, it really gets him off. (Plus his tummy mouth is in a wonderful position to provide extra unbearable pleasure.)
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) He's definitely serious in the moment. When the king is ready to fuck you, you better be prepared. He won't be in the mood for playing around or being silly.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Since it's the heian era, there aren't exactly many reasons to stay well groomed, nor is it probably practiced at all. You're going to get an au natural bush that definitely matches the drapes. Don't worry, his dick(s) are so large, they're not going to get lost in it.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He's not romantic. You're there simply to be used by him. He enjoys watching you struggle and cry from how rough he is. You could be asleep, in the middle of a task or even eating, and he's going to take what he wants, when he wants it. The only reason he offers the slightest prep and foreplay is so he can push inside of you easier.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Sukuna isn't the type to jack off. That's what his fuck toys are for. If he's feeling particularly lazy, you'll use your body as a fleshlight and bounce on him while he lounges back. He's either enjoying a fine drink or smoking his kiseru while watching you work.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He's definitely into BDSM. In fact, the more terror you appear to be in, the hornier this man gets. He's going to hurt you, no doubt about it. You're going to get bit, choked, tied up and even whipped because he loves to hear you cry out in pain. Don't worry, even if he gets out of control and nearly takes your life, he can heal you right up so he can continue to enjoy himself with your body.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do) In his throne, or on his bed. When Sukuna wants everyone to see how he treats his toy, he's going to be forcing you to ride his dick(s) while he's lounging in his throne. He might even hold conversation with some of his servants or village subordinates, but you're going to be falling apart as he uses his arms to keep moving you. When he wants you all for himself, he'll take you to his room and own your body again and again on his bed. A perfect place to tie you up if he wants. It's also easier for when he wants to go to sleep after, he's already in bed. All he has to do is push you out of it when he's finished with you.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Anything can get this man going. If you've angered him or appear scared by him, he's going to take advantage of you in a sinister way. If you accidentally bend over in his presence, he's going to keep you bent over while he proceeds to fuck your brains out. When he goes to lay waste to villages, you're his prize when he returns. A personal little gift to himself after ending innocent lives.
|| Hope you enjoyed! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! ||
484 notes · View notes
tenkomura · 8 months
Text
Is It Really Peace? (True Form!Sukuna x F!Reader) (Part 1)
Part O here
Words: 6.2k // Minors DNI
Arranged Marriage AU (My Happy Marriage inspired in particular. Go watch it!!)
Tw: fluff? A little at least, first date, awkwardness, a misunderstanding, reader has low self worth, Sukuna walks in on reader bathing, tension?, angsty toward the end, more Yuji heartbreak I am sorry, again this is before Sukuna turned evil and he doesn't have the merged up part of his face yet, slight age gap implied ig, also kinda rushed??? Idk, I did not do a lot of world building so the setting is olden times but they have some technology (kinda like legend of korra)
Teaser: Sukuna swallows hard. When was the last time someone told him that? He is the strongest… why would anyone tell the strongest sorcerer to be careful? And there is nobody who cares. He feels a warmth pool in his chest he has not felt, well, ever. Certainly not with the women that came before you. You are gentle, too kind… Sukuna feels unworthy.
Note: Hi... a lot of ageless blogs followed me bc of this story and my bio clearly says ageless blogs DNI. So please change it or unfollow. Thanks for respecting my boundaries.
Some visuals of how I imagine Sukuna in this [×] [x] [x]
Tumblr media
Your sleep was light these past few days. It was like you listened for creaks in the floorboards all night, hearing if Sukuna would come to your room to eat you alive like the rumors said.
You have just been existing in each other's space and shared small conversations about nothing important. Uraume has shown you around the house, told you what chores you can do, you have gotten familiar to Sukuna's routine.
You know it is irrational to be scared. He has given you no reason to think ill of him. He has given you a nice space. Your room is quite luxurious to what you are used to. He has given you a roof over your head and safety. Nothing to suspect danger but you cannot help yourself. You always suspect the worst with how your family treated you.
You put away the futon and get dressed for the day. The sun is just peeking over the mountain ridge and coloring everything in a soft gold. You would like to see the sublime scenery in all its glory.
You miss the pond and the cherry blossoms at home. All the memories connected to it lay heavy in your stomach. Your mother who always made sure the cherry blossoms had all they needed, you and Yuji feeding the coy together. Maybe this place is equally as beautiful, maybe it can hold pleasant memories like this too.
You have learned to be stealthy in your years as a servant, in your years of trying to avoid Kaya and her mother. Of course you will have to map out which floorboard creaks first in your new home but you still manage to make it to the back door quietly.
You think it would be unforgivable if you would wake up Lord Sukuna at this hour. He would surely hate you.
You slowly pry the door open and get it to a point that fits your frame when suddenly a huge hand slides it shut again. The bang is so loud, reverberating in the quiet of the early morning.
"Are you already trying to run from me?!" Sukuna growls.
Your eyes bulge. "I… n-no–" you are in utter shock and your words don't work.
He laughs sharply. "If you want to escape this arrangement you have to try better than haphazardly seaking off!"
"Master–" Uraume tries to calm the situation but they are hardly awake.
"You can get started on breakfast. Let's see if you're worth anything at all," he dismisses you.
You feel like the house crashes in on you. It tumbles down over your head, crushes you entirely. "O-of course," you press over your lips and hurry away. You don't understand what just happened. Or maybe you don't want to, it's too much. He hates you now. You are sure of it. You are so useless.
You turn to Uraume as they walk into the kitchen, your eyes filled with horror. "I just wanted to see the garden and the sunrise."
Uraume smiles sadly. "Let's prepare breakfast. If you want to win over Master Sukuna it is with food. He did not mean it."
"Uraume!"
"You can handle it?" They ask
You nod, face pale. You know how to cook but you are convinced you can't do anything right. You are useless. Yet, despite your hopelessness and what you thought before, your survival instincts kick in. You don't want to be eaten. You start to wash the rice with the determination to make him the best breakfast he has ever had.
"What is on my agenda today?" Sukuna asks.
"Master, that was uncalled for. Miss (Y/N) just wanted to watch the sunrise. It is beautiful this morning, you can't blame her for that," Uraume scolds. "You need to apologize immediately."
Sukuna rolls his eyes. "She wanted to run."
"You let your insecurities get the better of you now? That is new, Master," Uraume crosses their arms. "I see how it is. Miss (Y/N) is beautiful and it makes you nervous."
"You are not wise to test my patience this early in the day, servant," Sukuna groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
He knows how women like you react to him. He is aware that they'd rather be anywhere but with him… that you would rather be anywhere but with him. But you have a duty to him now in this arrangement. Sukuna thinks on the day you arrived. You looked so fragile and tired; but your warmth filled the halls instantly. You did not even flinch seeing him. Others have shrieked even but your reaction was calm.
"You meet with–"
"I cannot get a read on her. Her hands are rugged like a servants— no offence," he grins teasingly.
"None taken, Master," Uraume smiles tightly.
"Her kimono practically falls apart. She is just so gullible, scared of doing something wrong and showing herself. She tiptoes around even you, apologizes for everything. Eldest daughters usually have some fire, don't they? Can it be she wasn't raised normally?"
"It very well could," Uraume nods and tries to not smile. Sukuna has never before taken such an interest.
"I doubt she will tell me if I ask."
"Not after this just now."
"Know your place," he scolds.
Uraume smiles, "I do. It is at your feet, of course."
Sukuna huffs. What if you didn't think ill of him but now you do? He did overreact, didn't he? He could hardly sleep. One ear alert to listen if you try to run away, expecting the creaks in the floorboards. He hoped he would not hear it, your reaction to him was different… you did not seem to reject him instantly. But then he heard the door pry open and maybe he just assumed.
Sukuna has never apologized for anything. Why would he? He doesn't make mistakes. He is the strongest after all. But when it comes to potential partners… he is an oaf.
"I will take a walk," he says and gets up.
"Good, that gives you time to think."
Sukuna leaves. He has been 'taking walks' every morning just that their real reason was to make sure no curse lingered around that could hurt you.
He comes back an hour later and sits in the drawing room, still pondering on everything. On you.
You bring in the food and get on the floor before him, bowing as low as you possibly can. Sukuna can't get himself to say anything, watching with panic in his eyes.
"I need to apologize for this morning, Lord Sukuna. It was careless of me to assume I was allowed to leave the house without your permis–"
"I will show you the garden after breakfast," he says, his voice is nearly quiet. "Now sit and eat."
Uraume crooks an eyebrow, a small grin spreading on their lips.
It takes you a moment to move, you had prepared a whole speech that now did not matter. "Thank you, Lord Sukuna."
You eat in silence and it terrifies you. If he would like the food you cooked wouldn't he say so? Just something? No. He would let you know if he did not like it. He would just eat you instead probably.
Uraume takes care of the cleaning once you are finished and Sukuna holds out his lower right hand to guide you to the door he slammed into your face just earlier.
You meet his eyes for a moment then walk ahead, slowly pushing the door open to reveal the breathtaking view of the mountain peak.
The sun is by now sitting at an angle in the blue sky, shining down with hot intensity already. It may be the first truly hot day of the year.
You take a deep breath, letting the crisp mountain air fill your lungs. It feels good. It feels almost freeing.
Sukuna folds his upper arms in the sleeve of his kimono while the lower ones rest on his hip. He watches how your eyes wander coyly, like you are scared to even look around now.
"What is it?" He asks.
"I am sorry!" You shriek and lower your gaze.
"Whatever for? For crying out loud, I have only heard you apologize," he rolls his eyes but it is the lower set and it fascinates you. "You wanted to see the garden… so look at it."
"H-has your family always lived here, Lord Sukuna?" You ask timidly.
"No. I wanted the quiet," he says lowly and leads you down a path. "The garden is not kept very neatly. I apologize."
It isn't. It is wild. Weeds grow where they can and you can imagine how the place is sprawled with wildflowers once the weather beckons them out. "You don't have to apologize!" You say. "I like it," it comes out quieter.
Sukuna let's out a grunt and now steps behind an overgrown bush. His lower arm holds back the branches so you can slip through. You move past him, close, and it's like he overwhelms you again. He is so tall and strong.
You did not linger on Sukuna for long because the view ahead makes your heart swell. A little creek flows along that turns into a small pond before moving onwards. There is so much life all around it already and spring has not even awakened yet.
"Cherries," you whisper, seeing the three strong trees by the riverbank. "My mother loved them."
"Hm," he nods. He is not looking at any of this. He is focused on you and yet he feels it. That awe and gratitude, the sublimity of nature. All through you; in you. He sees it in your eyes, in the way your lips part but turns not quite into a smile.
You could have looked at all of this for hours. How the sunlight touches the water, how the birds dance around. But Sukuna walks on so you follow. A little bridge leads over the creek and into the forest. You look back and realize that the garden is not entirely fenced in by the walls but instead opens up to the creek and garden.
"There is a new rule," Sukuna says, gaining your attention again.
"Of course!"
"You are of course allowed to go into the garden whenever you please," his hand reaches for his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I… apologize… for earlier."
"Lord Sukuna?" You stammer, eyes as big as the moon. You cannot believe he would apologize to you? Would care enough to do so? Who are you to deserve an apology? "You do not have to apologize."
He dismisses that because of course he does. "The garden is yours to use and enjoy but you will not go past this marker when you are alone."
You don't know where he suddenly gathered the spear from, but he rams it into the earth, making a set point.
"I will install a post, or maybe even a fence, but for now this will do. Understood?"
"Of course, sir," you nod and lower your head. "I will not disobey."
"The curses stay away from the house. But sometimes they become bold. I cannot risk that you run into them, now can I?" He smiles a little and you can feel your face heat up.
You thought this is about him making sure you won't run away, or just not trusting you, but Lord Sukuna is concerned for your well being. "It is very kind of you to look out for me, Lord Sukuna."
He scoffs and mumbles something inaudible under his breath then the two of you walk on.
He leads you all the way to a little cliff. "In a few weeks we will come back. Then I am sure you will smile," he says.
And you don't realize what he means at first, too focused on him to see that there is a forest of cherry blossoms at your feet. He is majestic. The way his features are sharp, how his muscles dip and curve, how neatly his hair is combed back, the markings that sit on his skin.
"Won't you?" He looks at you, surprised to catch you staring. He watches how your eyes widen a little at the scene before you.
"I am sure I will," you nod. You can't wait for spring to fully arrive. "Lord Sukuna? Can I request something?"
His head turns and his heart skips a beat. "Please."
"Can we sit a little by the pond? I know you are awfully bus–"
"Of course." He thought you would finally ask for something tangible, for new clothes even but it is something as simple as this. He doesn't understand.
You walk back and sit in the grass. You don't talk. The silence that reigns between the two of you is not awkward or tense, it is the exact opposite actually; soft and comfortable. It is relaxing and while it feels wrong to you to trust the peace, you try to drag out the moment.
"Lord Sukuna?"
The lower pair of eyes open to peer at you. Your eyes are fixed on the canopy, soft rays of sunlight hit your skin like tender kisses.
"Thank you."
Sukuna's body tenses and he doesn't understand why heat pools in his face. He feels warm from the inside out, fuzzy even. It makes no sense.
"Of course," he husks. What did he even do?
You stay like that for quite some time but you are too cold. Eventually the two of you amble back to the house. He is so late for work already.
"I am thinking of going to the city tomorrow," he announces.
"O-oh. Of course. Will you be gone the whole day? Do you want me to still prepare dinner?"
He chuckles, "no. You will accompany me, we will go together."
Your eyes widen, "w-what?"
"Don't you want to go? You haven't left the house at all since you arrived," he asks, straightening his haori before folding his arms again.
"I just– I don't have a reason to go," your voice becomes quiet again. "I would only be an inconvenience to you."
"You don't need a reason and you won't be an inconvenience," he reassures.
"A-are you sure I won't be a nuisance to you?" You look at him, confused eyes hoping to find the catch in all this. Sukuna feels sorry.
"I am sure," he sighs softly. "Your kimono. It almost falls apart. Does it have sentimental value?" He asks.
Your face heats up in embarrassment. "N-no."
"Did your father not clothe you appropriately?"
Sukuna eyes you meticulously. You tense, your jaw forces shut as your hands ball to fists. You don't answer. It is answer enough.
You should have an array of good clothing, silky kimonos and kanzashi that go with each and fit every season, coming from a family like yours. It makes no sense.
"I apologize for my–"
"Stop apologizing already," Sukuna rolls his eyes. "We will go to the city tomorrow and clothe you. As my wife to be you should not wear clothes I would not even let my servants wear."
"I—" you can feel his eyes shoot daggers. If you apologize now he will surely gobble you up right on the spot. "I am grateful, Lord Sukuna." You bow to him.
He grins and leans down. You hold your breath seeing him this close for the first time. Your fascination of him only deepens.
"She's learning," he pats you on the head and walks ahead a few steps only to stop. "I enjoyed your food this morning. It was delicious. If you do not mind, please cook dinner too."
Your heart skips a few beats. You don't know what it feels like, getting acknowledged, being praised and complimented. "That makes me happy, Lord Sukuna," your voice shakes as tears threaten to spill from your eyes. Your heart tugs together and screams. It is a good scream.
"How did you usually spend your days? At your family home?" Sukuna tries to ask unassuming. "I can't imagine chores took up all your time?"
"I–" you need to think. They always had something for you to do, and if not then they made something up. You have no possessions, no hobbies, there was no leisure time besides taking a breath by the pond once in awhile.
"I took on a lot of chores," you say quietly, hoping he won't question it. "I can help Uraume–"
"What would you like to do?" He asks and you swear it is a trap. Your face turns downward, your body shrinks even more. He will ridicule you for anything you could possibly say… not that you could think of anything at all?
"Maybe you could take care of the garden?" Sukuna taps his chin. You seem to like nature, maybe that is a start.
"If you want me to–"
"No. I mean, if you would like to," he frowns and it looks so endearing. His face is ruggedly handsome but so intimidating with his additional set of eyes and markings, seeing him frown is cute. You catch yourself staring a little.
"I would like to, Lord Sukuna," you answer.
"Good. I will have to go now."
"Lord Sukuna?"
He turns and looks at you. You seem to always cower, it is just your natural way of existing and it makes him mad. He is not mad at you, just mad that it is that way.
"Be careful, please," you say and bow to him.
Sukuna swallows hard. When was the last time someone told him that? He is the strongest… why would anyone tell the strongest sorcerer to be careful? And there is nobody who cares. He feels a warmth pool in his chest he has not felt, well, ever. Certainly not with the women that came before you. You are gentle, too kind… Sukuna feels unworthy.
You look up when he does not answer, seeing his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed a soft pink.
》》》》
It is late when Sukuna returns home. Not as late as it usually is. He was getting antsy to leave you for so long and he knows Uraume must have already gone home. He just did not want to leave you alone.
He figured he would bathe first as he is all grimey from training wannabe sorcerers all day and he doesn't want to scare you more than he already does. Sukuna steps into the bath and begins untying his kimono when the water ripples.
You are covering your naked body, looking up at him with horror struck eyes. Oh no. He made a mistake.
Sukuna immediately turns around, all four of his hands balling to fists. "I apologize, my lady. I was not thinking to check."
"U-uraume said I should get in first because you would come home much later. I- I–" he hears the water splash as you get out.
"I usually do," he looks over his shoulder for the slither of a moment, seeing your exposed back before your rope slides on. Sukuna curses himself. He is just a man. "I did not want to leave you alone for too long."
"That is kind of you," you say. "Was work pleasant?"
He turns to you and his eyes drop to your collar bones that you then immediately cover with the rough rope. But he already saw the burns. He knows they have not happened under his care. He did not touch you and Uraume wouldn't.
"I-I will get started on dinner," you bow to him and turn around, ready to hurry away.
"Stop."
You freeze instantly at the stern tone.
He walks to you and you keep your head down when he stands in front of you. One of his fingers pushes the hem of the rope loser until he can see your collarbones fully. The burn extends along your shoulder.
"What is this?" He asks.
"I– uh– I… My sister spilled tea– It w-was an accident."
"Was it now?"
You swallow hard and nod. You don't want him to know. What would it do? You take a step back when you suddenly feel an unfamiliar sensation but one of Sukuna's lower arms wraps around you and prevents you from stepping further away. You watch the soft glow hug you and when you touch your neck and shoulder the burn wounds are gone.
"Reversed cursed technique?" You say.
"Hm. There," he says huskily and closes your rope again. You are standing so close to each other there is no reason to speak with volume. "I have no interest in hurting you… well, unless it's for mutual fun of course," he grins and you see his fangs for the first time. Sukuna realizes this is not a joke to make with you and his face drops into seriousness again. He clears his throat, "(Y/N), I want you to know that you are safe here. This morning… I was wrong for accusing you. I apologize again."
You hold your breath. He apologized once more? He healed you. He has been so kind. If he was a monster like people say then… you must have met a different man. "I… I appreciate all the patience you have with me, Lord Sukuna," you say.
He frowns. Patience. What have you done to test his patience? You both are adjusting to this… it was all normal hiccups. You try to be mindful of everything, you try to make yourself invisible, small at best. He has not been patient with you because there was just no reason.
He just nods. He doesn't understand you well enough yet. But he has to make a call tomorrow he would rather not make, to figure out what is going on.
He pushes his kimono off his shoulders before starting to untie his hakama. He turns away then. Your face heats up still as you look back at him seeing his exposed chest.
"I– I will get dinner ready for y-you," you whisper and hurry away.
》》》》
"It is me, Miss (Y/N)," Uraume announces themselves then slides the door open. "I wondered if you may want to style yourself for the occasion. I brought some hair pieces and makeup."
Your lips curl and you look panicked. "I… I never… I don't know how."
"I will help you, Miss," Uraume says reassuringly. "Will you allow me?"
You nod timidly and Uraume opens the box getting started immediately. They help you look super pretty, put blush on your cheeks and a soft color on your lips, and desecrate your hair with cute pins.
"Beautiful," they smile. "The master will be… nervous."
"Nervous?" You frown.
"He is shy," Uraume winks. "He hides it well."
"Are you done? Can we leave?" Sukuna shouts through the house.
You immediately tense and nod at Uraume, hurrying to the entrance where Sukuna is putting on his sandals.
"I apologize–"
"Stop apologizing. How many– (Y/N)," his face falls flat as he sees you. Eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
You feel his gaze peel away layers you did not know you had. Your heart beats faster. Pleasantly.
Uraume is grinning.
It is not that you weren't beautiful before. You always are pretty, but now you are breathtaking, just that extra sparkle. Sukuna can't wait to dress you in the finest garments and buy you all the cute things. You deserve it.
"You look," he clears his throat and folds his arms. "Very… lively– I mean– can we leave then?"
"Yes," you put your sandals on and follow him outside.
He opens the door for you and you get into the motor mobile. You are not surprised that he owns one, Sukuna has a lot of wealth being the highest rank sorcerer in the country. He starts the motor and the vehicle shifts as he gets in himself. It barely fits him.
You watch the scenery change, more and more houses appear, the train station you arrived at and then the cityscape begins.
"I meant to say," he speaks out of the blue. "You look amazing, my lady." He says it like it needed clarification, like he has been thinking about it the whole way when to you his mess up was nothing significant other than endearing.
Your stomach churns as you look up at him. "T-thank you?"
Sukuna parks and offers you his hand to get out. It is a considerate gesture and seeing your hand in his makes your heart skip yet another beat. His hands are rough, drawn by exorcism and using his cursed technique, bathed in blood and worse things but he holds your hand so gently.
"Is there anything you need," he asks as you amble down the street. "Anything you want to buy? Or see?"
"I–uh. No?" You don't know if it is the right answer, or what he wants to hear, but you can't think of a single thing you could need.
"Hm. Then would you like to just accompany me while I run errands?" Sukuna leans down a little as he says it, so you hear him well enough in the busy road.
"I would love to… if you don't mind," you say.
You do all the things that Sukuna has to get done. You shadow him, watching how people react to him and how he treats others. It is interesting to see their fear vanish with how polite and honourable he is. People stare at him and change the side of the street but he is unbothered. If they only knew how kind he is.
You are looking at the window display of a department store when he calls your name but you don't hear him too fascinated by the trinkets.
"(Y/N)?" He says suddenly standing beside you.
"I am sorry! I was distracted," you bow.
"Huh? What are you on about? Enjoy yourself."
"B-but–"
"No but. You won't be scolded by me for enjoying things. Okay?"
"Okay," you look at him and nod. It is hard to accept this. You have always been scolded for everything… especially enjoying yourself. But Sukuna is not them… you need to remind yourself of that.
"Just do not get lost," he tries to smile and shows his fangs again. "I do not want to lose you."
"I will not," you feel your lips twist. His smile is contagious.
You now walk into the tailor's studio. It is a beautiful place with so many breathtaking fabrics laying around.
"My family has been getting dressed here for hundreds of years," he explains and you nod with awe in your eyes.
"Lord Sukuna!" A lady walks out of the backroom. "I am as always happy to see you," her eyes now register you and her expression lights up. "And who is accompanying you today?"
"This is (Y/L) (Y/N). My… fiance. She is in need of new clothing," Sukuna introduces and you bow.
"Hello," you say softly.
"How lovely to meet you, dear," the lady says. "You can look around while I get everything ready. Lord Sukuna, will you come this way?"
He nods at you then follows her to the back.
"Oh, I am so happy for you, Lord Sukuna! You will let me dress you for the wedding, I hope?"
"I think it is a bit too early for that," he says.
"Ah, don't be coy, now. You have never brought a young lady here and she is lovely. Like a flower about to bloom. You have to nurture her well!"
He ponders on it for a moment. He has been doing not the best job, has he? "Yes, of course."
"Well, I think this color will look amazing on her and this one as well."
"Will you make her a more practical attire too?"
"Of course. Do you want to take her hunting?" She peers up at him.
"If she wants to join," he nods.
"Well, do not scare her, young lord."
"No– I mean, I will not. I will try? This one," he points to a pink colored silk. "Make one out of this one too."
"Very well. I will take the young lady's measures then."
"Well, about that," he thinks about how to best phrase his request. "I don't think she has been properly cared for in her old home… she will be in mine."
"I understand," she bows. "I will have some range in the size."
"Good. Thank you."
"Young miss, this way, please. I will take your measures now," she leads you into a separate room and you are attentive to what she wants from you.
"How are you doing at Lord Sukuna's place?" She asks as she unties your obi and helps you out of your kimono.
"He is very good to me," you nod.
"He is a good man," she smiles. "But he has difficulty showing it sometimes."
"I understand," you nod. Maybe you haven't been mindful enough to realize it is hard for him too.
She takes your measures and dresses you again then you and Sukuna leave the shop, trotting in the streets again.
"She is nice," you say.
"Very. Do you want to stop for tea?"
"Yes… we can? Do you?"
"I do," Sukuna nods. One of his hands touches your upper back as he leads you across the street and you feel your cheeks heat up at the innocent touch. His hand is just so big, it makes you feel strange. You have never felt this sensation before.
He chooses a quiet tea shop and you sit in silence for a moment. "Do you like the tea?"
"Yes, it is nice," you look up, meeting his eyes. "Do you like it?"
"I do," he replies. "Well, I guess, with how things are going, marriage is what's next for us."
Your eyes widen and your cheeks heat up. He catches your bewildered face.
"Or is that not in your favor?" He doesn't know why but that would hurt. He has grown fond of you.
"No! No! I would feel honored to become your wife, Lord Sukuna. I just–"
"I did not mean to say our wedding ceremony will happen tomorrow!" He realizes and waves with his lower set of hands. "I just– I meant to say that I can see us– I mean, you are–"
"I understand," you reach for the hand that is sitting on the table. He looks at your fingers on his knuckles then at your face and you immediately pull away.
No woman has ever touched him like that.
"I want you to be honest. We will not go forth with it if you do not want it," he tells you and raises his cup to his mouth. "No consequences will await you on my end and I will make sure neither on your family's."
Your gaze lowers to your lap. He does not know. But if this marriage doesn't go forth you will be living on the streets. Your family will not take you in again.
"That is terribly kind," you whisper. "But you have given me no reason to reject you," you look up at him and it takes every last ounce of courage. "Of course you know of your reputation as do I, but you have been gentle and kind and patient to me. You even apologized to me. This arrangement is what I want too."
You even apologized to me. Sukuna looks at you like you are an artwork that needs to be understood. He needs to find all the little details that don't make sense yet. What you said touches him, his chest expands and he sucks in a soft breath.
"Thank you, my (Y/N)-- I mean, my lady!" He wants to get up and run away. How stupid.
You look at him and a smile grows on your lips, a genuine one. You cover it with your hands. Sukuna reaches over and gently tugs your hands away. "Don't hide your smile. It is beautiful," he says, his index finger brushes against your cheek.
You nod, eyes wide, ogling at him. He must be able to hear your heartbeat.
You have to leave then because Sukuna is expecting a guest. You are a bit sad, it is nice spending time with him outside of the house like this. It is nice spending time with him…
"Do you want me to serve tea?" You ask when you arrive back home.
"No. My guest won't stay long. You can enjoy the garden while he is here, okay?" He says.
"Okay," you nod and bow to him. "I won't be in your way. Thank you for today. I had so much fun, my lord."
Sukuna watches how you bow and leave to your room. My Lord. He swallows hard. My. Lord. His blood is rushing.
"Aaand?" Uraume appears out of nowhere. "Did you mess up by being so damn awkward, Master?"
"What? No! I was cool… I was so cool. Totally charming and all," he uses his lower hand to grab Uraume's head and guide them aside. "Yuji will be here soon."
"Yuji?!"
"Yes," Sukuna breathes deeply. He is still confused that Yuji agreed to come at all. "Our talk will be brief. You don't have to prepare anything."
"Alright," they nod. "How long has it been?"
"Too long," Sukuna sighs and watches how you walk to the bench under the chestnut tree right by the house.
He then hears the galloping and fills his lungs with air. He is not fond of how things are between Yuji and him these days but he has no say in it.
"Hello, Uraume. Nice to see you," Yuji says and bows to them but they can tell that Yuji would rather be anywhere but here.
"You grew tall," they smile. "This way, Young Master."
"You don't have to call me that, you know."
Uraume taps their head then walks Yuji to Sukuna's study and sits in the corner of the room.
"Brother," Sukuna smiles softly.
"We are not brothers," Yuji shoots. "Not by blood."
"But by the soul," Sukuna sighs. "I did not ask you here to fight."
"Right. You ask me here to make me suffer!"
Sukuna's brows twitched together. "Why would you think that? I had no ill intentions."
Yuji runs a hand through his hair and scoffs. "What is it?"
"You know of my fiance?"
Sukuna watches how Yuji's hands formed fists. "Y-yes."
"What was her upbringing like?"
Yuji chuckles sharply, "they treated her worse than a servant. Bullied her, hurt her in every way possible. Especially her step mother and sister. (Y/N) could not do right… no matter how much she tried."
"They treated her like a servant?"
"Worse than a servant. Her father abandoned her completely."
"So that is why she is so… fragile?"
"She is not fragile! She is the strongest person I know!" Yuji shouts.
Sukuna looks at the boy for a long moment and it's like he breaks, tears forming in his eyes that leave rivers on his cheeks.
"It's not fair," he hisses. "Why did you do it?! Why her? It's not fair. I was supposed to save her from that place."
Sukuna doesn't understand. There was no intention behind his request for you other than your reputable family which he now learns is just a hoax.
"Sukuna, why?! It is to spite me, it has to be! She doesn't even have cursed–" Yuji's eyes widen at his loose tongue and he sees the surprise in Sukuna's face. He didn't know. "No--n-no! Sukuna, if you annul this– I didn't– she will be on the streets. Please."
"Stop!" Sukuna's voice shook the earth and Yuji falters. "I do not understand a single thing you are saying."
"I have loved her for so long," Yuji sobs and wipes his eyes. "I wanted to marry her but now– you will."
Sukuna swallows hard and he feels like the world crashes down on him. "I did not know that."
Yuji scoffs. He was so sure all of this was just a ploy but he knows when Sukuna is lying and he is not.
"And I did not request her for any cursed technique. She is from a good family, or so I thought. Socially, it made sense. I did not know you have history," Sukuna sighs. He runs a pair of hands over his face and through his hair then turns to the window and looks at you. "She will never be forced to live on the street."
Yuji would be a good match for you. And Yuji deserves happiness in more ways than Sukuna does. He believes that in his bones.
"Ask her."
"What?" Yuji narrows his eyes at Sukuna's back.
"Ask her what she wants. If she wants to go with you… she is free to do so. I will talk to your father and you will be able to marry her with my full support."
Uraume tries to find Sukuna's eyes but he is wise to ignore them.
"W-what?" Yuji whispers. "W-why?"
"It is her decision. She is in the garden. Don't tell her this is my idea."
Yuji looks at the sorcerer for a moment then turns and runs.
"Master, why? You have grown so fond of her… it was going so well," Uraume's tone is quiet.
And they are right. Sukuna's heart aches a little at the thought of you gone. But if you could never love him because your heart belongs to Yuji of all people already, he couldn't take it. "Maybe I just am a coward."
A coward who runs away from his heart.
721 notes · View notes
colourstreakgryffin · 7 months
Note
Can we get Muzan and Kokushibo discussing Muzan's very menacing bratty spoiled, daughter's behavior towards other demons with Muzan defending her every action and seeing nothing wrong with her behavior (while she torment's Douma and Hantengu in the background?)
I think it would be hilarious, thank you for considering my ask<3~
Aaaa! That’s actually really cute in a weird way! I like this idea a lot, thank you, love!
Kibutsuji Muzan- True Angel
Tumblr media
“Lord Muzan…” Kokushibo asked softly, sat on his knees in a respectful manner as Muzan turned to his top Upper Moon and frowned slightly, annoyed as he had another duty to finish. What does he want? Muzan raises his hand without so much as a word, as a non-verbal sign that the six-eyed man can speak freely. “Lord Muzan… you need to… talk to the… young Lady” Kokushibo was planning to explain to his rather unforgiving Master about his concerns over his very menacing, spoiled, bratty daughter’s behaviours towards all the other Upper Moons
“What about my daughter, Kokushibo? I dare you to try tell me my daughter isn’t perfect” Muzan barked coldly, the second his servant mentioned his beloved daughter. How dare he think he could try tell him how to parent his daughter! Those harsh words he spat out couldn’t cut down Kokushibo’s confidence as the demon samurai muscled out a response in very little time, he was barely intimidated by his own Master. He needed to get his point across, the Upper Moons are continuously tortured by you, Muzan’s precious daughter
“I’m not… suggesting that… I just… need you to know… about what she… does to us” Muzan titled his head, displeased and annoyed but since he favoured the brother of his worst enemy severely, he was willing to hear him out. But whatever he may say will be such bullshit, he can already tell. “Okay. What is the problem, Kokushibo. Tell me” The blood reds glared, unreasonable traces of anger already rising. To him, anybody merely mentioning his daughter in a negative light is insulting her and he wouldn’t let any breathing being insult his precious love
“Have you seen… how she… treats us?” Muzan’s stroked eyebrow rose in confusion as he shakes his head no, arms crossed over his chest. What could you possibly do to the five demons coursing with his blood, a lone Hashira could not stand a chance against them. “She attacks us constantly…” Kokushibo remarked in his signature low voice, causing Muzan to be thrown back internally. Shock overflowing him, that claim is just ridiculous
“Attacks you? That’s nonsense” Muzan answered firmly and still deep in disbelief, sitting down before Kokushibo after a few seconds of thought, to meet with his hexa-eyes. Kokushibo shakes his head slowly in response without a word, his hands still curled up and laid in his lap, Muzan simply didn’t believe that his perfect princess pulls mischief and causes chaos behind his back. “She does… she treats Hantengu like… a scratching… post and treats Akaza… like a punching bag” As the two built men spoke in a rather passive-aggressive and firm aura
You laughed mischievously under her breath, your blood red eyes glaring hatefully at the whimpering, whining Upper Moon 4 laying on the floor beneath you as you raised your claws up to be seen by him. Hantengu cried out as you swiped at his face with a delighted grunt each time, blood staining your claws. The surrounding Upper Moons all reacted differently to you targeting one of their fellow Moons, most wanted to get away
Gyokko immediately dropped into the safety of his ceramic pot at the mere sight of you, as Akaza flinched in horror at you, shuffling to the edge of the many block-like building’s roof whilst Douma chuckled at you and your mericless attacking on the poor Hantengu, slowly faning his face with his golden fan. None of the Upper Moons knew Kokushibo was trying to convince their Master that his daughter is unnecessarily attacking them, since she can totally get away with doing whatever she wants
“Are you sure she isn’t playing with them? Dokusha has different ways to play, then most kids” Muzan barked in a meaningful, honest response as he didn’t bother to move, completely interested in hearing all his Upper Moon 1’s arguments over you and your supposedly despicable behaviour to anybody, other than him. But he truly couldn’t seen what the problem is, you are harmless. None of the Upper Moons should be cowering at you, this concept sounds like delusion to him
“No… playing isn’t striking until… we bleed…” “It sounds more like you’re all too weak to handle playing with a child who has claws” “Master… She doesn’t play with… us, she hurts us” “What is the problem with her being able to hone her skills? I don’t get the problem, Kokushibo”
As the argument grew up and the voices rose, you leaped at Douma once you were done with the bleeding and pathetically sobbing Hantengu. Snatching his luxurious fan from his hand whilst you pinned him down as he chuckles at you, not even flinching at you stabbing it right though his eye. Your malicious grin spread as you purposefully twisted the impaled item in the Upper Moon 2’s socket, hoping he’d respond in any form. Their torment was your pleasure, but you hissed annoyed when Douma laughed louder and lifted a hand to pat your hair
He isn’t in pain?! How dare he mock you! You always get what you want and you want him to fear you! You hissed outloud, stamping on the fan as you kneed his stomach firmly. The closed fan dug deeper into his skill and spit out more of his disgusting red blood onto the cloor. Hantengu whimpered, shying into the nearby corner as his wounds healed whilst Akaza avoided watching the scene only a few metres besides him, trying his best to not intervene
If he were to try stop you, Muzan would have his head in a instant…
Muzan, on the other end of the gigantic marvellous open arena, didn’t even notice the way you attacked his Upper Moons as he continued to push back on every piece of evidence of your cruel bratty behaviour towards his loyal soldiers, presented by the most trustworthy man he has. Kokushibo didn’t want to give up, believing he had the most chance to convince his Master into trusting his every word he spoke about you. Muzan truly didn’t want to take his top’s remarks and he was tempted to ignore the concerns. Since his precious baby is a angel…
Why would she hurt anybody?
565 notes · View notes
catfern · 10 days
Text
rockstar!mizu headcanons
Tumblr media
w.c; 700
a.n; this is gonna flop but love my bae mizu
michael green & zionism . palestine m.post . daily click
Tumblr media
rockstar!mizu who is the absolutely fawned over guitarist for a heavy rock band, new to the scene but rising fast. patchwork tattoos cascading down her arms, the ink teasing her fingers. she’s cool and collected on stage, her hands steady and oh so poetic in their work, a stark contrast to her bandmates, so swept up in drugs, sex and rock’n’roll.
rockstar!mizu with her baby, a hand painted, azure blue guitar, graffitied lovingly with a tally of how many shows played and how many bras thrown in her direction while performing.
rockstar!mizu who, despite her jaded disposition, secretly adores the attention. sure, some of her dm’s still make her blush, but the girls throwing themselves at her feet fill her with this syrupy, superior high. she scrolls through the #mizu tag on just about every platform, as casually as one checks the morning news when they wake up. a low, rough chuckle falling from her lips as she glazes over the edits, the fanart, the absolute whores on tumblr. she’ll punt her phone across the room when a bandmate peeks at what she’s having so much fun with.
rockstar!mizu who likes to send little nods to her obsessed fans, to give them just enough to keep a tight hold on her curtails. spending a good thirty minutes before the show painting her nails a certain colour because some obscure fan account tweeted that it was their favourite. pulling up her shirt to wipe the light sweat on her brow from the heat of the spotlight, the contour of her stomach a haunting image in the electric darkness of the small theatre. rockstar!mizu who gives a rare, light laugh with an deliriously lopsided smile when she sees the rush in the crowd.
rockstar!mizu who likes to act above the glitz and glamour appeal of fame, but singles out sweet, shy girls at bars, who gives them just enough attention, just the slightest taste of her effortless charm, and watches them fumble under her soft, firm touch. rockstar!mizu who listens as these girls test, a quiet, unsure mumble, “you’re mizu,” and god, that validation is an echo in her blood, an addictive buzz. 
“you wanna get outta here?”
rockstar!mizu who’s sweet, in a way. a guiding hand finds its home in the small of your back, a soft push of heat in your stomach as a whispered breath curls around your throat, her perfume, something fresh but overbearing, leading you as you make your way to her car. her hand settles on the bare of your thigh as she takes her place in the driver’s seat, the stolen glances in traffic enough to keep the burn of your timid disposition firm under your skin, in your bones. she knows she scares you, intimidates you, but for her, that’s exactly the appeal.
rockstar!mizu who loses those small kindnesses as soon as you cross the threshold to her apartment. who doesn’t even bother, or rather, doesn’t want you in her bedroom. the press of her kitchen counter against your back hurts, but its so perfectly detached. she didn’t bring you here to have you in her space, to have you learn about her. she wants worship, she wants the absolutely frenetic ichor of her fame to pull you to her feet, eager to please.
rockstar!mizu who is the type to really praise, but only if you earn it. an unforgiving grip on your hair, her voice is breathy, controlled sycophancy as she pushes you down, your tongue servant to her strings. she has to fight the triumphant smile that teases her lips as she looks down at you, oh so pliant, her meek admirer with lips glossy with her taste, eyes wide, forgiving and all-consumed.
rockstar!mizu who adores hearing her name roll off your lips, a mixture of ecstasy and reverence. who teases you with praise offered from the mizu, the idol. you, who should be lucky to be touched by a star, begging for a pleasure only she can give you. it’s all she ever wanted from you anyway, all she brought you home for. to hear you beg.
Tumblr media
inspired by this tiktok
taglist; @whore4abby @endureher @beemillss @afraidofheightss @sentimentalyellow
dm to join!
187 notes · View notes
Text
And all the pieces fall, right into place // Part One
Tumblr media
So Feyd Rautha is still on my mind and that’s my second try of writing about him and an Artreides!Reader.
This will get smutty later on, but not in this chapter.
Summary: As the Princess of House Atreides, you don’t shy away from what ever must be done for your family. Your impending union with a Harkonnen, though anticipated, doesn't unsettle you. However, the events take an unforeseen twist, placing your fate on a precarious edge. This sudden shift brings about consequences far beyond what you could have ever envisioned.
English is not my first language.
All feedback is welcome <3
Part two // Part Three
----------------------
There are so many songs that make me think of our favorite psychotic Harkonnen, but I stick with „Found“ by ††† (Crosses) for now.
_____________
Na Baron Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader
FxM
1.349 words
___________________
The dim light wandered through the corridor, veiling most of the space into a velvety dark. The earthy brown and green tapestry on the wall illumined ever so slightly by the flowing arms along the wall. But even if there would be no light, you know the way by heart, having followed it more times than you can remember. Your feet shuffled along the floor, finally stopping at a closed door almost hidden at the end of the passage. Before your knuckles can touch the polished wood, a slight gap appears.
„You are late“ Paul says, and pulls you in, closing the door behind you at once.
„Well, you can take it up with our Father. I love him with all my heart, but with him being in the library for so long there was no chance of getting past him earlier“ 
„He seems to spend an awful amount of time there nowadays“ Paul muses and lets himself fall on a cushion on the floor. 
„That’s true. I believe he hides from Mother.“
Both of you cannot suppress a laugh. Since Lady Jessica is with child she seems quite easily irritated with everyone, especially with the Duke. 
„Well, at least she will have a new baby to take care of when we are gone“ 
„Let's drink to that“ Paul says, and produces a bottle of wine and two glasses from a cupboard. 
The liquid is the perfect ruby color, reflecting the light on the walls. It feels like all of your home planet has been distilled into the glass in your hand: the sweetness of the sunshine rays, the vibrancy of the hills covered in forests, the deepness of mountain lakes you wandered with Paul & Duncan, the acidity of the soreness after training with Gurney and the light twinge of bitterness of the goodbyes Paul and you were to say so soon. 
„We have about a fortnight still“ he says, as if reading your mind. 
„How about you stay out of my thoughts, “ you reply, but there is no sharpness to it. He is right, your future is about to unfold, but now you are here still, far away from the harsh and unforgiving Giedi Prime where the man you were promised to awaits.
„I really should go there and tell them off“ Your father sighs, his eyes still resting on the book he has had for half an hour without reading a single word. 
„And what good would it do? Let them, they will need the memories to sustain them through what’s to come“ Lady Jessica says with a benevolent smile. 
Her hand rests on her belly, instantly protective of the new life. But she feels the same unease as the Duke, with hints of trouble in the air being almost tangible to her. 
_______
You regret the last cup when you wake up the next morning. Your mouth feels dry and ashy, your head throbbing. Your handmaidens say nothing, but a vial with medicine is placed wordlessly on your nightstand. You gulp it down and rush to the private dining room, where your mother and Paul are already there. 
A servant plates some bread on your plate but is dismissed by Lady Jessica with a stern look. 
„No, please. Not now“ you whine „ We practised for so much already“ 
Lady Jessicas looks at you sternly „And yet there is a need for more“.
Your eyes wander to your brother 
„Don’t look at me for help. I had earned my breakfast already“
With a sigh, you sit upright and focus on your mother
„Give me the plate“
Like in a trance, her hands move as she grabs the plate from the servants' hands and puts it next to you. 
„Good, now what else do you want?“ 
_______
Days pass by in training, between the library and the combat space, with afternoons free for you and Paul to do as you please. To sit at the cliff just outside your ancestral fortress, with seagulls rushing over your head, while you look at the waves crashing at the shore is something you cannot believe to be able to leave without. The hours spent in comfortable silence are so precious to you that you almost can’t find back the tears prickling in your eyes. A servant comes running to you one of those afternoons, visibly distressed. 
„My Lord, my Lady“ he finally gets out between snapping for air „You are requested at the guest hall at once. Please come“ Paul and you get up, exchanging a glance. In the hall, the fireplace is lit and everything is a buzz with servants carrying silver plates, candles and chairs. Your father stands next to the fire, his hands clasped behind his back with the message scroll he holds so tightly his knuckles are almost white. He turns around, and his expression is carefully neutral.
„There has been news for you today, my children. Paul, you are to leave for Arraki with me in a week. We will meet the Fremen delegation there and your wedding is to take place in Arrakeen. You, my daughter, however, will be gathered by Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and Na Baron Feyd Rautha here. Baron Vladimir and his nephews will arrive the day after tomorrow. They will take you to Giedi Prime after the wedding“ 
Paul seems as confused as you are. You were to travel as a family to Giedi Prime so that your wedding could commence after Na Baron's Birthday celebrations. But now he and his family make the effort and spice to travel to your home. This news leaves you puzzled and unsettled. „Now go to Lady Jessica at once“ he says and with a bow of your head, you rush to her chambers. 
Lady Jessica seems calm, compared to you. But she has years of Bene Desserts training that you are yet to acquire. She holds out her hands to both of you. „Something is not right“ she admits, „but there is nothing to gain in worrying now. We have too much to do“ 
And with this, your packing begins.
_____
Metal plate touches the ground with a soft thud, revealing a row of Harkonnens soldiers, all in their full combat gear, looking out of place in the middle of the green field their vessel landed on. „Quite a show“ Paul signs to you and gets a „Behave now“ as a reaction from your mother. 
They march in unison and behind them a grotesque floating figure is revealed, followed by multiple tubes, connected to dark glass orbs. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen floats, with his drape touching the ground and collecting the morning dew on the edges of it. His face is soft and plump but also full of hardness, small eyes beading at you with a hostility you cannot understand. Glossu Rabban, a mountain of muscle, follows slightly behind him, glancing between your family and the surroundings. Light breeze reaches you, carrying the smell of the sea foam and shells and raising the banners of your House behind you even higher. You lift your chin a bit, trying to mirror it and your gaze falls on the man next to Glossu. His skin is so fair that it looks like snow on a mountaintop, unblemished and almost sparkling. His uniform is tight, with black leather at his shoulders, knees and boots, which only makes his skin more striking. You are aware of his reputation, so his calm pace doesn’t fool you. Behind this facade of tranquillity is a person who is rumored to be the most ruthless soldier in the known universe. His eyes seem to look straight at your parents when suddenly his head turns to you and his dark blue eyes meet yours. For a split second, the corner of your mouth twitches nervously and he catches that, causing a hint of a smile on his face. He doesn’t look away as if to test you, so you try to withhold his gaze with the same amount of pride. His lips form a proper smile now, with the promise of a story yet to begin.
________
to be continued ...
248 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
The Challenge of Forgiveness
21 Then Peter came to Jesus.
‘Master,’ he said, ‘how many times must I forgive my brother when he sins against me? As many as seven times?’
22 ‘I wouldn’t say seven times,’ replied Jesus. ‘Why not – seventy times seven?’
23 ‘So, you see,’ he went on, ‘the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle up accounts with his servants. 24 As he was beginning to sort it all out, one man was brought before him who owed ten thousand talents. 25 He had no means of paying it back, so the master ordered him to be sold, with his wife and children and everything he possessed, and payment to be made.
26 ‘So the servant fell down and prostrated himself before the master.
‘ “Be patient with me,” he said, “and I’ll pay you everything!”
27 ‘The master was very sorry for the servant, and let him off. He forgave him the loan.
28 ‘But that servant went out and found one of his fellow-servants, who owed him a hundred dinars. He seized him and began to throttle him. “Pay me back what you owe me!” he said.
29 ‘The colleague fell down and begged him, “Be patient with me, and I’ll pay you!”
30 ‘But he refused, and went and threw him into prison until he could pay the debt.
31 ‘So when his fellow-servants saw what had happened, they were very upset. They went and informed their master about the whole affair. 32 Then his master summoned him.
‘ “You’re a scoundrel of a servant!” he said to him. “I let you off the whole debt, because you begged me to. 33 Shouldn’t you have taken pity on your colleague, like I took pity on you?”
34 ‘His master was angry, and handed him over to the torturers, until he had paid the whole debt. 35 And that’s what my heavenly father will do to you, unless each of you forgives your brother or sister from your heart.’ — Matthew 18:21-35 | New Testament for Everyone (NTE) The New Testament for Everyone copyright © Nicholas Thomas Wright 2011. Cross References: Genesis 4:24; Exodus 21:2-3; Leviticus 25:39; 1 Chronicles 29:7; Proverbs 21:13; Proverbs 28:3; Matthew 2:11; Matthew 5:7; Matthew 6:14-15; Matthew 7:24; Matthew 8:2; Matthew 13:24; Matthew 14:9; Matthew 18:15; Matthew 25:15; Mark 6:37; Mark 11:26; Luke 7:42-43; Luke 17:4; Ephesians 4:32; Colossians 1:7; Colossians 4:7; James 2:13
8 notes · View notes
luminetti · 1 month
Text
Baldur’s Gate Regency AU HCs
Tumblr media
༘⋆Notes: had the sudden desire to write blurbs for the rest of the companions that won’t appear in my gale x tav regency au series. If you'd like to read the series, go here! I was only able to fit four companions so if people enjoy it I’d happily do the rest! Also note that these allude to companion x Tav/the reader, so if anyone likes it enough to warrant its own one shot or series, I’d love to know.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Gale:
Couldn’t help but add my favorite boy even though I’m giving him a whole ass series.
Without a doubt, Gale is a Viscount of Waterdeep. Trained in the arcane by the Dowager Duchess Mystra herself, he happily tends to her requests in good faith.
Gale rarely partakes in the social gatherings of the Ton, much rather preferring the quiet atmosphere of his estate.
Despite his reclusiveness, Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess always seems to have space for Gale to visit the palace and frequently calls upon him for banquets and events.
Due to his lack of social attending, Gale often forgets ballroom and courting etiquette. From leaving ballroom dances midway through the set to unchaperoned meetings with suitresses, it’s a miracle Gale has been omitted from the daily papers.
The Ton is known for being quite unforgiving, and disregarding transgressions is usually a privilege reserved for royalty.
Reserved for royalty, like a Duchess, perhaps.
Gale may be socially obtuse, but he’s certainly not unmindful. Recently he has begun to suspect royal interference when it comes to the press.
As the Dowager Duchess calls upon him more and more frequently, Gale has to decide whether her intentions are benign, or if he needs to reconsider his faith in an act of apostasy.
(wink wink)
Tumblr media
Astarion:
A Baron of Baldur’s Gate, obviously.
Or at least, that’s what he claims to be.
King Cazador Szarr is a man of high expectations and an even higher reputation. Despite rumors of being merely the Prince Regent of Baldur’s Gate, his highness insists on being titled as King. With a coronation every few years, King Szarr has five deceased wives and is on the hunt for a sixth.
As luck would have it, King Szarr has Astarion, his favorite servant to dress up and send into unassuming balls.
Only appearing at masquerades, Astarion takes on the role of a lovesick Baron seeking out equally yearning suitresses.
After a month of courting, Astarion reports his findings about the women he has encountered, describing their appearance and preferences in great detail.
As the King desires, the poor woman is swept from her estate and brought to the palace, because who can deny a direct request from the King?
Haunted by the beheadings of the last two late Queens, Astarion has vowed to end the line of ex-wives by finding the perfect suitress to be the King’s sixth, and final wife.
It’s a flawless plan. All Astarion has to do is not fall in love with the suitress.
Tumblr media
Karlach:
From birth, Karlach was destined to become a Knight.
Trained with the intent to become a personal Knight of the Duke of Baldur's Gate, Enver Gortash, Karlach had come to terms and found solace in her duties.
However, once news of war within the Queendom of Avernus reached Baldur’s Gate, Duke Gortash swiftly sold Karlach to Queen Zariel for a pretty penny.
Karlach served in the war for many years until finally breaking free and fleeing to the Kingdom of Sword Coast where she lived as a fugitive and stole rations from street vendors to survive.
Empathizing with the struggles of the poor and mistreated, Karlach vowed to steal from the wealthy and redistribute to the needy, making her the silent hero of the lower class and the bane of the Ton.
Due to unfortunate timing and pure misfortune, Karlach was spotted stealing several loaves of bread from a bakery by the Marquess of Sword Coast, Wyll Ravengard.
Thus began the long game of cat and mouse, or rather cat, cat, and mouse.
Despite the hoards of Avernus soldiers plus Wyll Ravengard on her tail, Karlach has managed to fend them off with a smile on her face.
Eventually hearing word of Karlach’s hidden base, Avernus soldiers force her to relocate.
Out of time and options, Karlach finds herself on a noble’s doorstep hoping a kind stranger will harbor a fugitive.
Tumblr media
Wyll:
Son of the Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, Wyll grew up as a proud Marquess, astounded by everything his father had accomplished.
As he grew older he enthusiastically learned everything Duke Ravengard would teach, learning swordsmanship and attending important gatherings.
Feeling a sense of responsibility for the Sword Coast and Baldur’s Gate, Wyll began to crave more.
Despite his father’s warnings, Wyll began to observe mages and the arcane in awe of its vast potential and power.
Against his own better judgment, Wyll became fascinated with the world of mages, researching the intricacies of the weave and seeking out mages to show him what it was like.
One mage in particular caught Wyll’s eye, enticing him to investigate further. Perhaps if he had powers of his own he could court them instead of admiring from afar.
Worried that Wyll was straying too far from his duties to the Kingdom, Duke Ravengard forbade him from ever making contact with magic or mages again.
Devastated, Wyll ran to the outskirts of the city to clear his mind. To his surprise, a dark mage was waiting for him.
The mage Mizora offered him the ideal solution: servitude to Mizora to assist in protecting Sword Coast from evil doers in exchange for the powers he so desperately desired.
Without question Wyll accepts the powers, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to use them, nor does it mean his courting will be reciprocated.
Tumblr media
167 notes · View notes
bunny-yan · 10 months
Note
Can we get a glimpse inside the yandere kings head while he vehemently tries to convince himself he’s still sane
yan!king x gn!reader TW: victim blaming, general yandere themes, violence, mentions of death, threats, implied non-con, abs no minors :)
It was love at first sight. 
From the minute you bowed in front of him, introducing yourself as one of the servants that would be taking care of him, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. 
His eyes would watch you as you did simple tasks, following you closely.
Dusting every nook and cranny of his room, serving him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, even preparing baths after helping him undress and redressing him after. Those were his favorite moments. 
The feel of your skin against his. He would lean and shift in order for another chance to feel you touching him. But it wasn’t enough. 
He suspected it was just passing interest initially. 
Servants bringing their children in to train them to eventually take their jobs was common and the head butler was no different. He reasoned that maybe it was just interesting to see how different you were from his father’s cold, uptight butler. The more he watched you, the more he realized that you were nothing like your father. You were quiet, sure, but you held a gentleness your father lacked. Whenever he called your name to get your attention, you smiled at him with a warmth he’d never seen before, melting the frozen barriers around his confusion. 
His heart would beat whenever you walked in the room, he’d find his eyes watching you wherever you went, he wanted to spend more time in your presence as each day passed by. This was more than just a passing fancy. 
He was in love. 
It had to be love. It encompassed everything he felt when he laid eyes on you. Swirling emotions begging to erupt anytime you can near, he finally began to understand the four letter word that the world seemed to be obsessed with. 
Gone where the dreary days he lived for the sake of the kingdom, you’d given him purpose. A reason to be alive. He lived to see the light dancing in your eyes, but gone was the warmth he didn’t realize he’d begun to crave. It was replaced with wary, nervous glances, eyes hidden with a bowed head that pierced the floor. You made yourself small, perhaps to hide from the heavy gaze that began to feel like an unforgiving burden. 
He had gotten ahead of himself. 
He had expectations of overflowing warmth at his heartfelt confession, but surprised eyes that looked away from his happy ones with uncertainty caused cold unrest to rage inside of him. He didn’t want to give you the chance to say something you didn’t mean. Each time he imagined telling you his feelings, you gave him a wide smile before throwing your arms around him and accepting him gratefully. 
It didn’t happen like that. 
Why didn’t it happen like that?
Why did you avoid his gaze, refusing to look at him‽ 
His hands grabbed your face, kissing you feverishly before you could finish the damning sentence you began. 
In shock, you took a step back, but the arm he snaked around your waist dragged the both of you down as you lost your balance. 
It was the first time someone asked him to come to his senses. 
All he could do was laugh as he kissed your skin, hands creeping underneath your shirt as he told you that he was perfectly sane. If anything, he said as began to unbutton the shirt you were wearing, ripping it in his impatience, it felt like it was a dream for him to be flooded with so much happiness. He whispered against your skin that he could only imagine how you would feel underneath him or how your skin would taste as he brushed his lips across every surface he could see and now that he was finally getting to experience it first hand it felt surreal. It was a dream come true. 
But from the way you looked at him, he would’ve mistakenly believed that you were in a nightmare. After pulling on what little clothes you had left when he was done, you fled from his room before he could say a word. 
He understood that he was at fault for ruining your clothes, but you had to have known that he was going to replace them. They were easily replaceable, nothing that should’ve warranted you getting as upset as you did. Remembering the tears in your eyes, he brushed a hand through his hair as he pushed down the urge to chase after you. He didn’t want to stop until he memorized the taste of you, but he could admit when things got a little out of hand. 
He hadn’t expected to lose control of himself. He initially planned to confess and court you with intentions of making you his queen, but not everything went according to plan. 
He didn’t plan to confess that day, but after seeing how friendly you were with the other servants in the palace, he thought it urgent to make his feelings clear. 
He didn’t plan on you hesitating after his confession, brushing it off as shock from the happiness you felt at finally getting a chance to be with the person you loved. You’d rise above your station and others would gaze upon you with envy for gaining this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 
He didn’t plan for your to ask you father to be relieved as his companion. 
It was then that he realized that you had a wicked sense of humor. It wasn’t that you wanted to get away from him, no. 
You must’ve known that it was never going to happen, otherwise those words wouldn’t have dared to come out of your mouth. Not when the two of you shared such intense feelings, no. You were just playing hard to get. He convinced himself that you just wanted to be sure of his affections for you, and he had no problem with assauging your fears. He would show you just how faithful he intended on being. You just liked telling silly little jokes. 
And you told them often. 
You didn’t want to serve him anymore, the way he watched you made you feel uncomfortable, you didn’t like it when he touched you. It was all ridiculously hilarious. So he decided to tell a silly little joke of his own. 
For every “no” that came out of that pretty little mouth of yours, you could kiss one of your family members goodbye. 
It still made him smile to this day thinking of the stupefied expression you wore. The look of panic in your eyes was thrilling to see as he backed you against the wall. Hands landed on your waist and he was more than happy to indulge in the little game you wanted to play. 
“Stop, your highness.”
“That’s one.”
His thumb swept underneath the shirt you wore, stroking your skin slowly.
“Your highness, I don’t-”
“Two.”
Leaning closer he used one his hands to push at the collar of your shirt as he nipped at your collarbone. You were restless, attempting to shift your body away from his touch, but he followed you. You were caged between the wall and his body and he had no intention of letting you escape. 
“Your highness, please.”
You sounded exasperated, worry beginning to creep in your tone and your fear only got worse when he backed away to give you a smug smirk. 
“That’s more like it. I was beginning to think I would have to ask you who you wanted to go first.”
He didn’t expect that he would have to go through with his threa- with his joke. It was supposed to be funny. Something to look back on and laugh about. Instead he discovered your disappearance when you weren’t there to serve him the next morning. 
After asking the maids it was clear that no one had seen you and although he felt he was overreacting because there was no way you do something so incredibly foolish, the fear in his gut told him to order the guards to look for you. 
He couldn’t describe the pit that formed in his gut when you were found and dragged in front of him. 
Instead of a soft smile, he had to witness the look of tears streaking down your face after he slapped you in a fit of rage. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. He didn’t think he’d ever been as angry as he was that day.  
It served to remind him of your first betrayal and it became an anniversary that made you increasingly cagey the closer it came. 
It was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous.
Lovers didn’t deny each other anything. If you loved him, you should’ve been happy to receive his affection. Grateful that he showered you in gifts and gold, attempting to please you with all that money could buy. Instead you completely changed. You tried to escape from the palace you’d been blessed to work in and it became clear when he had to drag you back that you morphed into a stranger he couldn’t recognize. 
You no longer smiled as you regarded him. You became cold and distant, reminding him more and more of your late father with each passing day. He didn’t want to put his hands on you, but you brought it out of him. Sure, he was expecting you to be upset with him after letting his anger get the best of him, but bruises healed. If scars remained from the cuts he inflicted, they would only be a testament to the strength of your enduring love, but your childish antics made it hard to this day. 
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen warmth in your gaze. Your eyes were lifeless, reflecting only the biting desperation in his own. Couldn’t remember the last time your voice called his name with what he knew was affection and care. 
He remembered when you would nag at him for trying to skip his lessons. The two of you were young then, but in all these years you were no stranger to putting up with the endless incessant demands to please him so why was he left trying to understand where he went wrong?
Why did you avoid him? Skulking about the palace, finding refuge in the garden or library when you belonged at his side. Why did you change? Your job was to make him happy. Why was he being punished for making it so there would no end of opportunities for you to do so?
Why couldn’t you understand that the longer you chose to act like this, the less control he would have over his temper?
Pain wasn’t a good teacher.
Even now, as you clung to him and pressed your bruised, tear-stained face to his leg to beg for forgiveness for your second failed escape attempt, he knew this version of you wouldn’t last for long. He would show his benevolent nature and you’d get complacent when your body forgot the pain it endured under his touch. 
“I’m sorry.” you repeated over and over again. Your body trembleded, wracked with pain from his incessant blows and fear that he wouldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry.”
He looked at the bruises, familiar marks that seemed to increase each time he saw you. He never intended to put marks on your body, but you were stubborn. 
Annoying so. 
“How do you plan on making it up to me?”
You looked up into his narrowed eyes, hopeful that he was finally communicating with you, but your heart dropped when his hand came up to rest on your face, thumb sweeping across your bottom lip before pushing it down. It wasn’t hard to figure out what emotion was hidden underneath that cold gaze of his. 
“You’re going to apologize properly and then you’re going to make it up to me.”
“I’m, I’m sorry.” you said, choking down the spite in your voice as he momentarily pushed his thumb into your mouth, using it to press against your tongue. 
“You’ve said that. What are you sorry for?”
“For trying to leave.” you bit out, looking to the ground, but he deemed that wasn’t good enough. Yanking your head up, you winced from the sharp pain that erupted in your neck as you looked him in the eye. 
“And what else?”
You wracked your brain to try and understand what it was he was referring to.
“For-for running away and leaving you.”
“Apologize for forcing me to take time out of my busy schedule to teach you a lesson.”
The words were caught in your throat as you stared into his audacious eyes. 
“Do you think I want to hit you? That I wanted the guards to have to track you down? You need to show remorse for your little outburst or the next gift you receive is going to be a golden collar to show others that you don’t know how to behave.”
Biting back a harsh retort, you struggled not to look away from his as shame flooded through your body. 
“I’m sorry for making you teach me a lesson.”
“And?”
“...For making you hit me.”
“And?”
“For making the guards track me down.”
His expression softened as a small smile crept on his face. “Good.” he began softly, making you dread what you knew was coming next. “Now you get to make it up to me.”
He never intended to treat you with anything but love and affection, but if that meant he’d get more and more opportunities to teach you what it really meant to belong to him, he would put up with your antics. But only if he had to.  
1K notes · View notes
princessanonymous · 2 months
Text
When Night Comes
Platonic Yandere Vampire
Previous Part | Next Part
First Chapter
19. 𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻’𝓼 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰
Tumblr media
"Where is she?!" Dorian's frantic voice echoed through the estate, his worry palpable.
As servants scurried in a hurried search, their footsteps resonating in sync with the ominous silence that enveloped the estate, Dorian's desperation escalated. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, and the once serene atmosphere now crackled with tension. Meanwhile, Killian leaned lazily against a wall, a stark contrast to the frantic pacing of the distressed father. His nonchalant demeanor, seemingly unaffected by the unfolding drama. He appeared to be more an observer of chaos than a participant in the search.
In a corner of the room, the coffin manufacturer sat in a plush chair, bewildered by the sudden panic that had gripped the once serene household. His eyes darted nervously from one end of the room to the other, as if expecting answers to manifest in the luxurious surroundings. The elegance of the room juxtaposed with the disarray of emotions, creating an atmosphere that seemed almost surreal for the mortal.
"She couldn't have left without anyone noticing," Dorian reasoned, his brow furrowed with concern. The frantic search continued, but the mansion offered no clues to the disappearance of his daughter. The air was thick with uncertainty, and the urgency of the situation hung palpably in the atmosphere. The blonde, casting a penetrating gaze at Killian, turned to the other vampire with an accusatory tone. "Why don't you do anything?"
"What is there to do?" Killian retorted haughtily. "She left. Accept it."
Anger flared within Dorian. "Accept it!?" he repeated with outrage. "My daughter is out there somewhere, alone with nobody to protect her !”
As the words lingered in his mind, Dorian's panic escalated. The memory of (Y/n)'s previous escape, when she had been attacked by a sanguini, intensified his resolve. He wouldn't let this happen once again. She was mortal, completely defenseless and weak. 
"Walking around aimlessly will not help," Killian answered with a sigh. "You may live."
Dorion looked at him, bewildered by the command before realizing the second part had been aimed at the coffin-maker who was still in the room. He turned his gaze toward the mortal, a bewildered look in his eyes as he processed Killian's command. The man, caught off guard, hesitated for a moment before nodding in acknowledgment. Slowly, he made his way towards the exit, leaving the room as instructed by the enigmatic vampire. He had forgotten about him, his mind having focused on the girl. 
Dorian's focus, however, quickly returned to the pressing matter at hand – the whereabouts of his daughter. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't shake the fear that gripped his heart. The thought of his daughter being out there, alone in an unforgiving world, sent shivers down his spine. The once grandiose room now seemed suffocating, its walls closing in as Dorian's mind raced with worry. He couldn't fathom what his daughter might be experiencing, and the very idea that she could be subjected to unforgivable things gnawed at him. His protective instincts kicked in, overshadowing everything else.
Some people would not think twice about taking advantage of young, impressionable minds like his weak, fragile (Y/n). She was so frail; she wouldn't survive on her own. She was utterly, completely, truly alone. The child was so naive thinking that any mortal would simply take her in hearing her plight, but they wouldn't.
He felt Killian's hand on his shoulder. "Sit," he advised him while leading him to an armrest. "Your power is affecting the room; calm down."
He looked around, noticing the ice covering the place where he had been standing just moments before. "She's out there," he protested, clenching his fists, "I just can't..."
"You must stay calm," his partner said with conviction, "servants are already looking for her."
Dorian's eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and fear. Despite the efforts of the servants scouring the estate, the absence of tangible information only fueled his worry. Useless. They were all utterly useless. It was preposterous. She had left once, and now once again they managed to let her slip through them. They would pay. He would deal with them after after finding his child. He could feel the seconds ticking away, each one adding to the uncertainty surrounding his daughter's disappearance.
He shook his head and stood once again, resuming his pacing, "There are three paths she could have taken," he mused out loud." The first is the one she took during her first escapade which I doubt she would take again. She can be quite clever. The second is one more remote that leads to a nunnery, but I doubt she even knows of the existence of this path. She would have had to walk through the nearby forest for at least an out by foot to even notice it. She doesn't leave home. She knows she isn't allowed to... and yet here we are. The third one however... while long, leads to a village and if this foolish daughter of mine—"
"The carpet; you're freezing the carpet," Killian admonished while pinching the bridge of his nose. "(Y/n) is a resourceful young girl, Dorian."
He tried laughing, but it sounded wet and slightly hysterical. "Don't be ridiculous. She can't survive on her own! She's so—fragile, and helpless and she could break at any second and— and she's out there!" He gestured out the window. He collapsed on the couch, shaking his head. "And if something happens to her... if something happens to my poor child..."
Each day, she mattered so much more to him. More than she had when he had first met her on that clearing. She had made him care for her. He cared so much for her. He couldn’t just let her go. He wouldn’t forgive himself. 
If something happened to (Y/n), Dorian knew it would completely shatter him.
Dorian looked up, his eyes teary and filled with a mix of frustration, fear, and desperation. Killian, sensing the need for comfort, passed an arm around Dorian's shoulders. The touch, though subtle, carried a warmth that overcame their cold exterior. The blond vampire reacted by resting his head on his lover's shoulder, finding solace in the physical closeness. Killian's presence, like an anchor in the storm of emotions, had a way of grounding Dorian back to the present when he felt himself spiraling into the abyss of worry and uncertainty.
"Dorian," Killian whispered, "calm down, just for a second. Breathe."
He nodded, chuckling slightly at the suggestion. He didn't need to breathe. "Such a human thing to do," he commented, feeling himself calm down slightly, slowly but surely.
Killian nodded, agreeing, "You know me." He sighed softly. "Why don't we focus on something else while the servants search?"
"Like what ?' He questioned reluctantly.
"Forget the girl for now, Dorian," he suggested calmly. The words were said with a soft, yet confident voice. "I'm sure she is fine."
The bland looked up in anger at the remark. His anger grew once his icy blue eyes met Dorian's bright red ones. A cold feeling washed over him, realizing the other had tried to use a moment of emotional vulnerability against him. Leaning forward and clenching his fists, he demanded, "What did you try to do?"
Killian looked away, giving him no answer. The blond gripped his lover's arm, his nails digging in his skin. The other only flinched slightly, almost imperceptibly, "What did you try to do?" He winced, but Dorian did not care. Fury roared through his mind.
He knew his partner's power very well. Knew that he hardly used it, but knew nonetheless the signs of it. "Did you try to make me forget about her?"
His silence was enough of an answer on its own. He felt betrayed and furious at the mere idea that Killian of all people would dare to use his mind control powers on him. He was about to explode with rage, unable to understand why he would try to use them for this. Dorian had seen Killian and (Y/n) interact together, he had witnessed the bond they shared grow. He couldn't understand why the man would simply decide to let it go. One shouldn't let go of the people they cared about so easily.
Wheels turned inside his head, and realization dawned upon him. He stood up and Killian followed suit. "It is you," he accused, pointing a finger. "You let her leave.” 
While Killian neither confirmed nor denied it verbally, Dorian already knew the answer. In a surge of fury, he lunged at Killian, gripping the other's shirt threateningly as his mind spun. "Killian, you—"
"Sir," a servant entered the room, breaking the tension. "It appears she has left on horseback; one is missing."
Flashes of worst-case scenarios flooded Dorian's mind. (Y/n) could have had an accident, been attacked. The horse might have rebelled. (Y/n) didn’t know how to ride a horse; he had never taught her for that reason. So that she wouldn’t attempt anything stupid. She could be dead by now. Dead, alone, and rotting in the wilderness.
He clutched Killian's shirt with a vice-like grip, feeling wetness in his eyes and his throat tightening. "You can't—" he glowered. "You can't do this to me, Killian."
The other offered no response. His eyes were cold and held no regret. He might have left the poor child to die and he did not care. Dorian’s weak pleas were met with indifference. This was his child, his daughter. He couldn't let her be taken away from him. How dare he do this ? How could he ? "Tell me!" Dorian pleaded desperately. "Tell me where you told her to go !"
No answer. 
No reaction. 
Dorian's face fell, and he began to tremble. "You can't do this to me, Killian," he whispered weakly. "You can't..."
129 notes · View notes