#reason as the servant of faith

[jefferisp7]

Abandoning Reason to Find God

Abandoning Reason to Find God

I have given up reason in order to see with the eyes of faith, for only through faith does the world make sense. Reason reaches its limit with what it can see and hold and measure, but it cannot see what is yet to come. Faith, it says, is the substance of things hoped for and the conviction of things unseen. These things are not accessible in the natural realm of reason or the senses.  Reason…

[nohr-selphias]

growth is moving on from having a people-pleasing, “everyone is my friend” inquisitor to a “I bring a sort of insufferable personality vibe to the inquisition that my companions don’t really like” inquisitor

[fideidefenswhore]

[Henry] had asked Lady Shelton whether Mary [was] persisting in her obstinancy. Hearing that she was, Henry became certain that she was being encouraged by secret communication from Katharine. Lady Shelton thought the only possible messenger was Mary's chamber woman. In this she was correct. The maid had been smuggling letters in and out. She was dismissed, as was Mary's confessor, to be replaced by one whom Chapuys characterised as 'Lutheran'.

The King’s Pearl: Henry VIII & His Daughter Mary, Melita Thomas

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

anyway i think claw and hoarder could have been really good if they had rick literally fuck the dragon

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹 & 𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒮𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓃𝓉

haha, another fic I wanted to finish...I'm team Black, I swear...but Alicent is just too pretty I don't know what to say

Summary: Alicent struggles to deal with the feelings she harbors for you, her chambermaid and ally.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), religious guilt, infidelity, slight dubcon, oral, fingering, some angst

word count | 3.2k🤙🏻

Alicent sighs heavily as you inform her of yet another servant that has been chased away by her son, Prince Aegon. She didn’t know why she was surprised anymore, it happened so frequently. Even worse, she expected it to happen more often as he aged. She just couldn’t catch a break…

It was hard enough being married to an old, rotting man at such a young age, but to raise all of her children alone? Alicent often wondered how they aren’t turning out worse than they already are. She had no support from anyone, not her husband nor her own father, him banished from the Red Keep and Lord Strong only helping her for his own gain and power. She couldn’t even rely on her childhood friend anymore, now her stepdaughter. It was almost laughable the hand Alicent was dealt. The Gods were cruel. But they did give her one good thing though; you.

You had been Alicent’s personal servant ever since her last child was born, helping raise them the best you could whenever Alicent had to rule in the king’s name, meaning she was often busy. You clicked instantly, though you had a sort of talent for always getting on someone’s good side. You could see the light in her eyes that was slowly dying out the older she got and the more time she had to spend in the Red Keep. You could tell she missed her home and her father, so you often comforted her whenever those feelings seem to cloud her thoughts. She warmed up to you pretty quickly, longing for a companion other than her favorite child. And when she needed information, you’d get that for her too. Unlike Lord Strong, you didn’t ask for anything in return.

The first time you made her laugh was when you accidentally voiced your thoughts about fantasizing about kicking his cane out from underneath him. You thought she’d scold you for thinking such a horrible thing, but the prettiest sound you ever heard escaped from her lips. Bashful giggles filled her chambers which caused your face to heat but filled you with a sense of pride. Even so, Alicent looked more ashamed of herself for finding what you said funny. But from then on, you were determined to make your queen laugh whenever appropriate.

She confided in you a lot, about everything, even things she never admitted to herself before you came along. You never judged her, ever. You may have been biased but in your eyes, your queen could do no wrong. For Alicent, ever since getting close to you, she started to feel things she thought she never would again. She hadn’t felt this happy being around someone since Rhaenyra was her best friend all those years ago. But therein lied another problem; Alicent wasn’t just friends with the Targaryen princess, she wanted to be more than that. Now that she was feeling that same way about you, her feelings of guilt came back even stronger than before. 

Alicent always struggled with accepting herself. All her life, she was told how to behave and how she should be. Following the Faith of the Seven, being attracted to the same sex was strictly forbidden. It was just another reason to pick at her cuticles until they bled. She hadn’t done it in a long time (mostly thanks to you), but every time she had…sinful thoughts about you, she didn’t even notice she was hurting herself again until you called her out on it.

You were concerned and had asked what had been causing her to hurt herself again, but Alicent very well couldn’t tell you the truth, could she? So, she blamed it on Aegon’s behavior and that seemed to quell your curiosity, but you still kept a more watchful eye on her to keep herself from picking at her skin. You just didn’t know that you were the cause and kind of made it worse, though it meant you spent even more time with her, so she couldn’t really complain. But after this incident with the servant girl that Aegon harassed, you could tell Alicent needed time to herself, so you quietly dismissed yourself.

You felt horrible for thinking such things at a time like this, but you also felt you needed some special time to yourself. Unbeknownst to Alicent, you were having some of the same issues she had. Although, you were ashamed of yourself about it. Even though she was upset, Alicent looked absolutely stunning in her green dressing gown and the urge to relieve yourself was almost overbearing. Now, you weren’t the most lecherous individual, but to say you weren’t a prude would’ve been an understatement.

You had some distant relatives from Dorne and went to visit them for a couple months, your parents saying something about you needing to experience the world before being tied down to King’s Landing. You weren’t going to complain, in all your life you never thought you’d ever even travel past the Stormlands. You were somewhat sheltered, but just a few weeks in Dorne and you learned more than most highborn ladies ever did. You learned much about yourself with the help of the Dornish, especially learning about your sexuality which everyone was open about there. Even just a kiss in public between lovers always seemed to be looked down upon north of Dorne. You came back to King’s Landing changed, but for the better.

You found pleasure whenever you could and without shame, but you also knew you had a reputation to uphold, not just for yourself but for the family you worked for. Not many people get the opportunity to serve the royal family, so you knew acting out on your feelings for the Queen  was the quickest way to getting your head impaled on a pike for all the Red Keep to see. You would be labeled a heathen, whore, and a dishonor to your family and those statements would follow you all the way to the Seven Hells. So, you always found your release in the privacy of your own chambers, not having to fear wandering eyes or ears. If you were ever to go to a brothel on the Streets of Silk, word would travel before you could even blink. But you couldn’t think of that now. As you laid back in your bed with your hand in between your thighs, all you wanted to think of was your Queen Alicent.

You ran your delicate fingertips over your hardened nub hastily, grabbing at your breasts, desperation painting your features as you thought of Alicent’s soft lips. You imagined how they’d feel pressed against your own, on your neck, chest, and even further south. Just the image threatened to oversensitize you, but you needed the thought to find release. “Alicent…” You breathed a whimpery whisper, your peak building steadily, that burn in your belly spreading over you like waves. But just as you were about to finish, you heard a loud gasp. “My Queen-!” 

The Queen Alicent stood wide eyed in shock, mouth agape, unable to stop herself from looking where your fingers were coated in your arousal, your cunt glistening in the sunlight seeping through the curtains into your chambers. “My apologies.” Alicent spoke curtly, quickly turning and exiting your chambers without another word.

In quite a blunt manner, you expressed your embarrassment as soon as she was out of your sight: “Fuck.” You prayed to the Seven that she hadn’t heard you moan her name.

In truth, you had nothing to worry about. Queen Alicent was too flustered to even register that she was the object of your desire, blood thrummed loudly in her ears as her face reddened at the sight of you in the throws of near ecstasy. She didn’t know how to react, and she certainly didn’t know what to do about the ache in between her legs as she made it back to the sanctuary of her solar.

Alicent sat in her chair with a shaky exhale, closing her eyes to try and calm herself, only to see the image of your fingers inside yourself. She could still hear the faint sound of the moist suction from your fingers moving in and out, sending a shiver down her spine. She didn’t realize she was picking at her cuticles until she felt a droplet of blood running down her hand. It wasn’t enough that she had these sinful feelings and desires, the gods kept tempting her, but that went too far. How is she supposed to resist temptation when she has to be around someone so intoxicating as you? It wasn’t fair. Why were the gods consistent in handing her the short straws in life? What had she done to deserve such divine punishment?

The ache in Alicent’s core hadn’t faded, the image of you still burning through her mind. She gazed around, there was no one but her in her chambers and there was no one likely to barge in without knocking first. Perhaps this one time, she could try to quell that desire that’s begun to feel so familiar every time she’s around you. But she didn’t know where to start.

Of course Alicent knew of her clit, but she never dared to touch it lest she gets sent straight to one of the Seven Hells. But that spot of throbbing so badly, it would hurt to leave it untouched. So cautiously, she lifted her skirts past her knees, experimentally running her fingers up her inner thighs. The closer she got to that aching spot, the more her breath quickened. And just as she was about to reach closer, she stopped abruptly. No, as soon as she gives in to herself it's more likely she’s to give in to you. That couldn’t happen. That will not happen, or so she believed.

The next couple weeks were awkward, to say the least. The Queen could rarely make eye contact with you, let alone sit with you in private as you used to do. You knew it wasn’t really your fault, but you still felt guilty Alicent caught you like that. You knew she wasn’t used to pleasure, her marriage to an old man being proof enough. You felt bad for her, but you didn’t know how to help her if you even could. You tried easing into a discussion about it, but she never took the bait. You would’ve given up entirely if it weren’t for you catching her staring at you on multiple occasions. And besides, if she was offended or heard you moaning her name, you’d be a headless body right now. But the way you caught her looking at your fingers with an almost glazed over expression, you figured she wasn’t offended and uncomfortable with you, but herself. The poor woman, she didn't understand it at all, did she?

You decided to confront her later in the evening, when her other maids rested for the night and the children were asleep. Your heart thumped in your chest rapidly, scared but excited for how this conversation might turn out. You watched as she sat in her plush chair in exhaustion, looking at the window in thought. She was beautiful.

“Your Grace?” Your soft whisper almost startled Alicent if it wasn’t for the fact she was acutely aware of your presence at all times. “May I speak with you?”

Alicent shut her eyes, already knowing what you must’ve wanted to talk about. She did not want to have this conversation at all, but there was no escaping it any longer. “You may…” She spoke quietly, tensing up when you took steps closer to her, sitting on the footrest of her chair, entirely too close for comfort. It wouldn’t have bothered her before, your closeness, but all she could think about was you pleasuring yourself.

“If I can be quite blunt, your Grace…you’ve been distant these past couple weeks and it’s quite obvious why.” Alicent’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest. “I hadn’t meant you to see me like that, my Queen. I thought I was alone…”

Alicent sighed, shaking her head. “I’m the one at fault. I never should’ve barged into your chambers like that, especially without knocking. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“And I’ve also noticed…how you can’t keep your eyes off me since.” 

Alicent breathed in a sharp breath, her lips dipping into a frown. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I believe you’re forgetting your place.”

With a shaky exhale, you placed a trembling hand on the Queen’s clothed knee, feeling her tense immediately. “I think you do, your Grace. I may be disrespectful right now, but I can’t help but see how everyone else treats you, including the King. I can see how he doesn’t even care to make you feel loved. You deserve to be with someone who makes you feel like the only woman in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Alicent blushed brightly, whispering your name in disbelief.

“Please, let me serve you, my lady. Properly. That’s what I’m here for. I can’t see you like this any longer.” And without another word from either you nor Alicent, you delicately lifted her skirts up past her knees, smelling her obvious arousal from where you sat. She wanted this, whether she admitted it or not.

Alicent looked down at you with a conflicted expression, the soft tips of your fingers gently spreading her legs apart and tracing them up her inner thighs. Her core throbbed achingly, the guilt of sinning threatening to overwhelm her, but the feeling of you finally coming into contact with her dripping cunt making those feelings retreat to the back of her mind. So wet, you thought, bringing her face closer and licking a stripe up her slick folds. Alicent gasped at the sensation, the feeling of your tongue running up and down her sensitive flesh, making her wonder why she’d never had this done to her before.

Alicent’s moan as you circled the tip of your tongue around her clit was music to your ears, you would die a happy woman if you were able to hear her moans again and again. You needed to hear more. You used your middle finger to gently push inside her, feeling her tight walls clenching at the intrusion. She moaned your name as you thrusted your finger against her sweet spot as you lapped at her engorged clit. You could tell she was already so close, her moans raising an octave, her walls trying to push your finger out, and her hips bucking against your face. That fool of a King never made her feel this way, that much you were sure of. Could it be you’d be the first person to make her feel such pleasure?

You moaned as the Queen Alicent released on your finger and tongue, your mouth eager to taste and lap up all her sweet juices until she was licked clean. You were grinning as you pulled away, looking up at her like she was the one to put the moon and stars into the night sky. The Queen herself looked quite satisfied, a thin sheet of sweat coating her hairline, her natural curly auburn waves cascading down her body and framing her like a golden halo. Her eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated in the aftermath of her pleasure. “May I kiss you, your Grace?” But those words seemed to snap her out of whatever haze she was in, her eyes blinking rapidly, the fondness in them disappearing altogether and replaced with shame and rage.

“Leave. Now.” Alicent snapped, hastily smoothing out her skirts and pushing you away to stand. The feeling of rejection overtook the feeling of pride when you saw her legs tremble as she walked to her chamber doors, opening one and giving you a look that almost scared you. You left without another word, wondering if you should write to your family one last time before you were surely beheaded for overstepping.

You awaited death, but it never came.

Queen Alicent couldn’t stop thinking about you, no matter how much she tried to distance herself from you, you were her every waking thought. She hated feeling this way, wracked with such guilt. She couldn’t even look at her husband anymore, for fear that somehow he’d be able to sense her debaucherous acts with a servant. Her thoughts never drifted far from how amazing you made her feel, the memory of your tongue on her never failing to make her shiver. She had never desired someone so much after Rhaenyra, she never wanted to, but you invaded her mind and made a home there.

More weeks passed, you and Alicent together but never more apart. She only talked to you when she needed to, which she tried talking to other servants in your stead. It was infuriating, and it hurt. You almost regretted making your desires known, but it was done. You couldn’t change what you did. The Queen would have to decide for herself whether she wanted to continue what relationship you had on her own.

But for Alicent, it couldn’t have been further from simple. She wanted you, truly, but she’d be putting you and herself in danger if she pursued more. There were spies everywhere, and she couldn’t have any harm come to you. But every day, seeing you, it got harder to hold herself back. She needed you, and she knew you needed her just as much. At the end of the day, it wasn’t a difficult decision. She couldn’t keep herself away from you. You were shocked when she came barging into your chambers one day, without knocking once again. But she was the Queen, she didn’t have to knock.

“Your Grace.” You stood up from your bed with a startle, your heartbeat picking up at the sight of Alicent’s beautiful frame. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Alicent sighed breathily. “I didn’t know I’d be coming here.”

You raised a brow. “Why are you here, your Grace?”

Without another word, the Queen rushed to you, taking you in her arms and colliding her lips with yours in a passionate embrace. You moaned in surprise, her soft lips felt like pillowy clouds as she moved against you, bringing your body close to hers desperately. You never thought a pair of lips could feel so heavenly. “Your Grace-”

“Alicent. Call me Alicent.” She interrupted, keeping her lips close to yours, never taking her eyes off you.

“Alicent…” You whispered, “are you sure you want this? Want me?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” She spoke clearly, her big, brown, doe eyes boring into yours, making you feel like she could see into your soul. You believed her, and that was enough for you. Damn the consequences.

You surged forward, capturing her lips once again. “I’ve wanted this for an age.” You confessed against her lips, not having the will to pull away, even to tell her what you’ve wanted to say for what felt like a lifetime. “I’ve always wanted you, Alicent.”

“And I you…it took me a bit of time to figure that out. I apologize. I did not wish to be rude to you, but I was scared. I still am.”

You cupped her jaw, encouraging her to look into your eyes. “I’m scared too. But whatever happens will be worth being with you, my beautiful Queen.”

i'm team black, i swear😰

[histrionics-and-haloperidol]

My hottest hot take is that George R R Martin has no obligation to finish the Song of Ice and Fire series.

Bro let his whole adult life be consumed by SEVEN thousand-page semi-historical-fiction books with a cast of near thirty well-developed, well set-up, well-characterized characters, and a complex and realistic geopolitical enviroment just because he thought a specific historical event should be better known. He deserves to enjoy the money he made in peace, and a lot of people (hell, a lot of WRITERS) whose only knowledge of writing is barely thought-out fanfiction populated by characters whose whole personality is to be horny for the character the author thirsts over, will jump at his throat and scream about how selfish he is just because he is taking time to develop HIS OWN GODDAMN NOVEL????????????

I know its frustrating. Believe me, I have no life, my only reason to wake up in the morning is that George MIGHT finish the series. But it's HIS intellectual property. HIS book. HIS characters. It came from HIS mind. If he wants to chill and just maladaptive daydream about it for the next decade than that is his right and he doesn't deserve the hate he gets just because ya'll can't accept the fact your favorite fictional war criminal who already has seven novels worth of content isn't getting an end? Well, welcome the plights of fiction fandoms. Sometimes, it's good enough just to not fix what isn't broken.

I'm sure plenty of writers here in tumblr can sympathise with the hope to not be harassed over when the next chapter for your story is coming. Sometimes we don't know. People have lives. Struggles. Health issues. Other interests. THEY ARE NOT YOUR FAITHFUL AI SERVANT. THEY DON’T PULL STORIES OUT OF THEIR ARSES. THEY HAVE TO THINK IT, THEN MAKE IT, THE EDIT IT, THEN SEE IF THEY LIKE IT. ITS A WHOLE PROCESS.

We are so used to immediate consuption that we cannot concieve of people taking time to perfect a craft that's meant to be enjoyable to them. And if we're honest, Martin has weathered a lot of fucking bullshit in silence. From fans, to editors, to bosses, to showmakers, he has had his fair share. Much more than its ok to take in silence. Please realize that just because something is out for the public to consume it doesn’t mean that it belongs to you.

[kuwanxs]

jjk 271 has convinced me that no famous piece of media can ever have a tolerable fanbase.

To start off, Gojo’s death was actually very beautifully done and not once have i believed that he should’ve come back. One thing that Gojo strived for after Geto’s defection was to create a Jujutsu society that wouldn’t corner their sorcerers as mere weapons and take away their youth. He was a firm believer of the fact that honing strong students would reshape and shake the very foundation of jujutsu society.

We know of Gojo’s inherent weaponisation. But it is not only Gojo who undergoes this objectification and weaponisation, it is actually every sorcerer in the jujutsu society. We don’t see Nanami, Yuki, Gojo or even Yaga get a funeral. It is because of two prominent reasons. One being the fact that the jujutsu society was built upon such shallow beliefs that the death of these sorcerers was simply brushed aside as a common occurrence. They are not offered a “funeral” or a memorial simply because these sorcerers are mere weapons to the jujutsu society and the death of a weapon simply concludes its existence and its period of serving. It is to be discarded, not mourned over, for it is simply a weapon. But another, surprisingly kinder reason, is offered to us by the narrative. As Todo Aoi says, “Grieving over the departed can tarnish their memories. Instead we must carry their will forward.” Through this we are allowed to finally understand the reason for the innumerable Gojo flashbacks during these last few chapters.

Gojo is a character who suffered from loneliness and isolation in his own unique way. It was never something that held him back yet he expresses his want to not be forgotten in the last conversation he had with Yuji. He also expresses his firm belief in his students rather than himself because he is aware that even if HE loses his students won’t. This completely changes the meaning of the infamous “Nah I’d win” panel because he wasn’t talking about his solo victory, but rather his victory as a teacher who raised sorcerers to be stronger than him and of the victory his students would achieve for him.

For a character like Gojo who wants not to be forgotten, Sukuna offers him the much needed solace of remembrance. “I’ll never forget you.” Sukuna ensures that Satoru and the very narrative make note of his choice to remember the sorcerer for the rest of his life. The two strongest sorcerers who exist as complete anti parallels to each other in both ideals and beliefs find a common ground in their shared loneliness that comes with being the strongest.

Satoru’s death was a very deserving and beautiful end for his character. He died while being acknowledged and remembered. He passed on to go south, back to his old self where his happiest memories lay, no other ending would be greater for Satoru Gojo than this.

Secondly, the interpretation of Sukuna and Uraume’s relationship. There was no context given as to who they used to be or where their uncanny companionship stemmed from, throughout the story we only see them as entities of the present, not getting a look into their dynamic during the heian era. The only few panels we get during Yorozu’s part just reestablish Uraume as a dutiful and faithful servant to their lord. So to see Sukuna display such tenderness towards them in the last chapter kind of dismantles our idea of their relationship. Mahito says Sukuna sought revenge for the execution of “that wench.” Then further, Sukuna explains how he had two paths, one with a black haired woman and one with Uraume, he chooses the one with Uraume to begin their lives anew.

In the conclusion of their story, Gege’s choice to keep Sukuna and Uraume’s joint past unexplained was a clever choice to not tarnish the sanctity of their relationship. It allows the reader to interpret their dynamics in whatever way they wish to. Because what is more important than the nature of their relationship, is Sukuna’s openness to understanding and partaking in the act of “love.” You may see it as parental, familial or romantic, it is not the nature that holds significance, it is the act itself.

Personally I like to picture Sukuna as a guardian or authoritative figure who took in Uraume with a guardian like intent to raise them and in this new life, will be able to nurture them with love. But again, the ending is quiet open for everyone’s own interpretation. Its just that i feel for Sukuna, a character who refused to believe in the very concept of love, a guardian-like role would be truly grounding as it wouldn’t impose conditionality on them, like a romantic relationship does. However, as i said, the nature matters less than the act itself.

To argue over the nature of their relationship is simply stupid. People are allowed to have their own interpretations of unspecified relationships, and creating unnecessary arguments over the validity of your own interpretation of their relationship takes away from the very essence of Sukuna and Uraume’s ending.

[redtsundere-writes]

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 16: Before Night Falls

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 8415 words.

A/N: So... I have been rereading the fic, and it needs a lot of upgrading when it comes to correcting, so I'll take next week to edit the English version of this fic and then continue uploading of Friday, September 20th. Sorry for the inconveniences.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

“My almighty king, I bow before you to beg you to let me leave the castle,” you asked between tears.

“What?” Sukuna, Uraume and Kenjaku answered in unison out of shock.

Sukuna heard you, but he didn't understand what the hell you were trying to tell him. You had dedicated a year of your life to serve him, just killed someone for him, and now you wanted to leave the castle? After he had given you everything to keep you happy and prevent this exact situation. 3 substantial meals a day, a giant room with a comfortable bed, beautiful dresses, fine jewelry, a broad education and a life safe from curses. You must be out of your mind. Besides the fact that you were about to become one of the most powerful women in the world, why did you want to leave now after all? The king had never been so offended in his life.

“I have two more sisters. Nanako and Mimiko. They are barely 11 years old and they are completely alone because Yorozu killed our mother,” you explained to the king with your face hidden between the curtains of your hair and his bleeding hands. “I just want to go home to make sure they are okay. You can ask Kenjaku, Uraume or some curse to escort me. I promise to return before the sun sets,” you whimpered for mercy once again.

That sharp pain kept sprouting from his chest. That strange pang was different from the others he had experienced before. His throat was closing, so he couldn't answer you immediately. He twisted his face in an attempt to regain control of his own body. He clenched his hand in frustration at not being able to correct himself to deny any request you had out of anger, but he couldn't. “What the hell is happening to me?” he thought, annoyed.

In the absence of an answer, you crawled to his feet in the most desperate attempt to convince him at all costs. The mere thought of your little sisters being there alone was eating you alive with helplessness. You were about to play any card you had available to try to convince him. The king was going to accept, whether he liked it or not. After all, it wasn’t going to be an easy task after challenging him in front of everyone, so you would do anything for an opportunity. Unable to hold his feet because of the dirt on his hands, you kissed them delicately to show him that you were still faithful to him. You closed your eyes so as not to think too much about the shame you were going through. You transported yourself to that passionate night you shared in order to relieve your strong repulsion.

The king's face went from an angry red to a deeper, shy red. His body tensed with each gentle kiss you gave him on the back of his head. Little pricks of love that erased his anger. No one had reached that level of voluntary idolatry before. He never thought he'd see you embarrass yourself like that in front of everyone just to fulfill a relatively reasonable request. 

“I'll kill as many as it takes to give me that chance, please. They're all I have left,” you whimpered, placing your forehead between his feet.

“Get up,” he ordered, annoyed.

You quickly complied as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand to avoid getting more blood on your face. You didn't look him in the eyes for fear that he would reject your request immediately, it was the last thing you wanted to hear, even though he had every right to do so after threatening him with an arrow that he himself had given you. Still, you couldn't allow yourself to lose the little hope you had. You didn't deserve him to do you that favor, much less to be alive, but you had to try.

"Let me see your hands," he asked you.

You gave them to him trembling for fear of what he would do to you next, expecting a clear punishment. Sukuna turned them over to see the state of your palms. They were completely split in half, blood gushing out every time you squeezed the surrounding skin, and you began to lose feeling. They were practically ruined, it would take months to return to normal. You wouldn't be surprised in the least if he cut them off for your terrible behavior. You looked away, not wanting to see what terrible thing he had planned for you.

“You are very brave to do something stupid like that,” Sukuna said before taking your hands to examine them, being as gentle as possible so as not to hurt you more.

You were going to answer, but something in your hand moved. The parallel wounds began to close slowly in front of your incredulous eyes. The skin folds joined with their equal as if by magic. In less than a minute, your hands had returned to normal. You opened and closed your fist in front of you to make sure you weren't hallucinating from the intense pain. “Since when can he do that?” you thought, confused.

“You did that?” You wondered, still in shock, upon learning that the killing machine was also capable of healing as well.

“It's a simple reverse curse technique,” ​​he explained. “It processes cursed energy, which is negative by nature, into positive energy. As a result, the energy that destroys, becomes the energy that creates and heals.”

“Wow…” You sighed, amazed. You didn't know that he was capable of healing people the same way he hurts them.

“Go change, you look terrible,” Sukuna ordered you before taking Yorozu's head from the ground, handing it to Uraume to take care of it and the rest of his body that continued to stain the grass of the courtyard while you talked.

“What about my request? I really need…” You asked, begging for permission to leave the castle.

“And you're going to go see your sisters in your underwear, with smeared makeup and bathed in their other sister's blood? You're going to traumatize them,” Sukuna interrupted to scold you. “I'm going to escort you. You have 20 minutes to be at the entrance before I change my mind.” He turned around to continue along the bridge towards the entrance.

“Yes, my king. I won’t take long.” You smiled widely.

Sukuna turned around to let you return to the castle, but stopped when he felt your arms around his waist. His body subtly melted as soon as you pressed him against your warmth. Your hands on his stomach caressed his second mouth softly, while your forehead connected with the middle of his spine. A brief gesture that calmed the pain in his chest, undid the lump in his throat, and relaxed his face finally. The king's mind short-circuited as he didn't know what to do in that situation. Take your hands, caress them, push you away so you would leave, kill you? There were many options, but none seemed to be the right one.

"Thank you, my king," you whispered before letting go.

Your hands moved away from him, and he returned to the cold he had already grown accustomed to after hundreds of years in solitude. Sukuna slowly turned his gaze towards you to see you running towards the castle again, lifting your bottom to avoid tripping over the fabric. That contagious emotion placed a small smile on his face. It seemed that everything had returned to normal.

"Uraume, you already know what to do with the body," Sukuna ordered them to leave with the head of his ex-sister-in-law. Seeing her finally dead also brought him great relief.

"Yes, my king," Uraume nodded before disappearing from his sight. Sukuna was about to continue on his way, but he saw Kenjaku smiling from ear to ear with no intention of hiding it.

"What?" He asked him, somewhat annoyed by his strange expression.

“It seems like you are going on a date,” Kenjaku told him as he followed the king towards the entrance.

“It is not a date,” Sukuna scolded him. “We will go check and return before sunset.”

“But do you really have to go? You have a lot of paperwork to do. You could have easily ordered me to accompany her,” Kenjaku argued.

“It will take twice as long if you escort her. Besides, I don’t trust you enough to let her leave the castle with you,” the king answered honestly.

After Kenjaku betrayed King Jogo to serve him, he didn’t trust him enough to leave his future queen in his hands without any means of survival. He had yet to figure out what Kenjaku wanted from him specifically, and it was certainly not anything good.

“So, you won’t take this opportunity to propose to her?” Kenjaku inquired curiously. Sukuna didn't even bother to answer him. "You two alone, in the middle of the open field, the sunset behind you... You would be a real fool if you didn't." Sukuna stopped in the middle of the road and glared at him. "I was just saying it would be a good idea." Kenjaku excused himself.

"Mind your damn business!" The king exploded, continuing on his way, not paying him any more attention.

Kenjaku stepped back, raising his arms in surrender when he saw that he had disturbed him. Sukuna growled under his breath before heading to their meeting point. Your tutor stepped back, covering his face with the sleeve of his long wardrobe, pretending to be terrified of the king to satisfy his intention. "Oh, young lady, you'll need all the luck in the world with a husband like this," he thought.

Your legs moved on their own to get to the castle as soon as possible, you entered to go to your room, but stopped when you saw a large obstacle in your way. Your eyes widened as you took in the small crowd that had formed to greet you. All the servants applauded you proudly for the brave battle you had fought against the common enemy. Your feelings were mixed at receiving such warmth for such a cold act. Mrs. Inoue appeared among the servants to tearfully embrace you.

“You scared me to death, miss!” Mrs. Inoue scolded you, pressing you against her body roughly, as if she didn't want to let you go.

A small smile of happiness for having survived your sister's attack appeared on your face before you returned the hug with the same intensity. Even though you were in mourning, you were pleased that you hadn't involved any innocents in your dealings with the king. Even though all the old people had less time to live, that didn't mean you could deprive them of enjoying them. You gently pushed Mrs. Inoue away. You couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

“I must change. The king is waiting for me,” You tried to excuse yourself, but one of the servants took your arm so you wouldn't leave.

“Then put this on,” she offered you one of Yorozu's dresses.

The fabric was smooth and stretchy, it had a large ribbon at the waist for easy closure, and best of all, it had pockets. You were seriously starting to consider starting to wear those instead of the dresses that were too formal for everyday wear. You agreed without a second thought, it would save you a lot of time. The maid called for the others to hurry up and help you. With everyone's help, they quickly dressed you, fixed your battle-messed hairstyle, and cleaned your face with a slightly wet sponge.

"Oops, I ruined your makeup." Mrs. Inoue covered her face in embarrassment.

"Don't worry, it was already ruined." You replied with a friendly smile before another maid showed you the result with a hand mirror. It wasn't ideal to have the dark circles under your eyes from the terrible night before, but since there was no time for a touch-up. "Thank you all for your support. I’ll be back soon,” you thanked them with a bow before running out to the entrance as the servants waved goodbye to you.

Sukuna sighed as he finally saw you running towards him to begin the journey. You stopped in front of your king, your breath coming in short gasps from crossing the long courtyard and the drawbridge to him. With a different dress, not a drop of makeup and without all the blood, you went from looking like a warrior queen to a decent woman in a matter of minutes. Sukuna quickly noticed your purple dark circles from not sleeping well due to worry. It was a small reminder that despite looking different from everyone else, you were still just like everyone else.

“Where are we headed?” Sukuna asked you.

“To the human commune,” you replied. “Passing the hill, there are several cabins. Just follow the paths.” You pointed towards the horizon.

Passing the scary land taken over by the curses, the large green valley that belonged to the humans began. The human commune was something that Sukuna and all the curses know exists, but it is usually an area well protected by men, a difficult area to hunt. Even though Sukuna could easily invade the area to kill them all, it didn’t suit him at all. Even though the curses follow him faithfully because of his immense power, it is also because he keeps them well-fed. If he killed the commune in one blow, the curses would look for food in other lands and probably start a war against the sorcerers without being ready yet. The commune was like his personal chicken coop, why kill the chicken when it can lay eggs?

“Let’s go there then.” Sukuna crouched down in front of you, arms back, ready to carry you.

“What are you doing?” You analyzed his stance, curious as to why he was almost leaning towards you.

“It’ll be faster if I carry you on my back,” he explained. “So get on, now,” he commanded, losing patience from the embarrassment of being in that position.

You nodded obediently. You didn’t know how you were supposed to get on his big back. You were the one who always carried the others, so you had no idea what to do when someone else had to carry you. You jumped onto his back clumsily to reach out to hug him around the neck. Sukuna stood up suddenly, leaving your feet skidding in the air. With the help of his lower back, he pulled you up a little higher to better support you by the thighs. Your cheeks flushed as you felt his thumb caress your skin.

“Hold on tight and close your eyes, we’ll be there in no time,” Sukuna smiled confidently at his great speed.

You held onto his shoulders tightly and closed your eyes, hiding your face in the back of his neck as you got drunk on his strong cologne. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt your warm breath against his exposed skin. He shook his head to focus on the road. He didn’t want to waste too much time searching for your sisters, it was preferable if they returned before dinner. He pressed your thighs tightly against his body, leaving a light mark on you, before running off to the commune.

You screamed at the sky when you felt the huge difference in speed. Sukuna laughed at your adorable reaction as he ran like a bullet without brakes between the cobblestone streets, secret alleys and the occasional roof between the abundant buildings. Your heart accelerated at the same time as the large feet of your carriage did. The fabrics of their clothes fluttered against the wind as they reached the commune as soon as possible. Sukuna jumped over the wall that separated the town from the commune and finally fell on the green grass that separated the two worlds, without the slightest concern for scaring any poor human who was around. Sukuna continued running until he reached the center of the commune.

The owner of the cabin closest to the wall panicked when he saw the king running towards the commune. He ran terrified to the control tower to ring the bells that announced the possible attack of a curse. The neighbors, hearing the frightening warning, suddenly became agitated and ran to their homes to safeguard their lives in the best way they knew how, hiding. Sukuna reached the epicenter of the commune, watching as everyone greeted him with cries for help as they fled from him like cockroaches from the light.

“We have arrived,” Sukuna announced before letting you get off his back.

You staggered against your weight due to dizziness, falling to the ground in a sit-down. You held your head to make sure you were clear about where you were. You looked at the surrounding cabins, the stunned gazes of those who were your neighbors peeking out from between the curtains. You were sure they were wondering why you had brought the king of curses himself to his safe place, but there was no time to explain anything. You had to find your sisters.

You got up again to run towards your home. “Where are they?” You wondered in panic as your legs moved as fast as they could towards the furthest cabin of all. Your father had built it for your mother when they got married, far away from everyone, because your mother hated the neighbors but loved your father, so she moved with him to his hometown. “Where are they?” You looked around, anxious, searching for your sisters in any possible place they could be. “Where are they?!” Your mind roared in search of answers, praying that your little sisters were okay. A nostalgic smile crept onto your face as you reached the entrance of your old home.

“Nanako! Mimiko!” You burst through the door, breaking it because of the worn nails.

You called out to them over and over as you inspected the cabin, your heart in your hand in worry. Where there used to be a large table for everyone to eat together, a large kitchen with cooking utensils, and an armchair to hang out on, now there wasn't even a shabby rug. It was like looking at a dark, dirty blank canvas. The humidity was breathable, cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and field rats squeaked from their hiding places in the few pieces of wooden furniture that remained.

You ran to what used to be the room you shared with your sisters. The closet was empty, the curtains were full of dust, and the bed was bare. Not even the blanket their grandmother had given them was there anymore. All there was a small white envelope. You opened it carefully so as not to accidentally tear it between the trembling of your clumsy hands. Seeing who had written the letter, a tear escaped from your eyes.

“Dear sisters,

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, but if you do, it means we’re not here to welcome you. We hate living here, we always had, so we made the decision to leave since we didn’t have anyone else with us. I don’t know where we’ll go, but it will be far from the curses. I hope you don’t get mad at us for leaving, and we can meet again soon.

Lots of love, Nanako and Mimiko”

You held the letter to your chest as you sobbed softly, as this was the only physical reminder of your dear little sisters. They might appear strong in their words, but you knew they were surely terrified. They were facing a completely unknown world, far from the only terrible nation they knew. You knew the journey to human lands was long, but not impossible.

You weren't sure you could bear all the pain you had felt in one day. Carrying the mourning of your mother, the guilt of having murdered your own sister and the helplessness of not being able to do anything for your little sisters would lead to your end. Family was what mattered most, but all of that had been destroyed in less than a day. The house of your memories had burned completely, impregnating you with the smell of smoke for the rest of your life.

“I knew you were joking,” Sukuna mentioned behind you, examining the cabin’s filth with curiosity.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, confused, wiping away the hundredth tear of the day.

“What you said to Yorozu. ‘If I could go back to my quiet country life, I would in a heartbeat.’” Sukuna quoted what you said to your sister moments before killing her, entering the room. “Who in their right mind would trade a life of luxury for a filthy pigsty like this?”

The king scoffed at your stupidity. He walked around the room like it belonged to him completely, even though he had never slept on the hard bed, felt the cold floor with his bare feet, or eaten on the floor due to the lack of chairs. This place was so ugly that he wouldn’t even let his servants sleep there.

“It's not about the cabin, but what was in it,” you explained, fiddling with the envelope. “I was talking about my family, or at least, the one I used to have.”

The bed creaked as it supported the king's weight when he sat on it to take a little break after the tour. Being the same height now, he noticed your sad eyes and the small envelope you were holding tightly. Quickly, he deduced that your sisters had run away from home.

“I can order a search to find them,” Sukuna proposed, but you immediately rejected the offer.

“It's pointless. If they left on the day of the harvest, they must already be in some other kingdom,” you explained your hypothesis as you put the letter in one of the pockets in your dress. “It will sound selfish, but I prefer to think that they are fine than to look for them only to be told that some curse trapped them,” you said guiltily.

“Live happily in ignorance?” Sukuna asked you with disdain.

“I can’t deal with two more deaths, I just… it’s too much,” you said before cowardly leaving the room to drop the topic.

Sukuna looked at you confused, but that inexplicable feeling in his chest came back. He was starting to get frustrated, not knowing exactly what it was. He shouldn’t have heart problems when using his reverse curse technique, Kenjaku thought nothing was happening to him, and it didn’t happen regularly. That discomfort was driving him crazy, as if it were an occasional migraine.

The soft wind greeted you as soon as you stepped out into the yard. You passed the sink and the clothesline to slowly approach the small family cemetery. Your father's small grave was neglected but intact, while your mother's had the earth turned upside down after someone dug there. “They didn't bury her well” you thought, disappointed to see that your mother's corpse had been stolen, it was probably some curse to eat her as a midnight snack.

“Hi…” You greeted your father timidly. “The family split up, and I wasn't there to stop it,” you said as your lower lip trembled.

You hugged yourself to stop yourself from crying again. Your eyes were already fed up, they didn't want to regret the whole situation for the tenth time that day. Biting your lower lip hard, you tried to take your sensitivity by the horns. You were about to give up when Sukuna's hands took possession of your shoulders.

“Your parents?” Sukuna inquired when he saw what he was looking at.

“Yes.” Your throat cleared before answering. “My little sisters didn't build a coffin, so a curse must have eaten our mother,” you added, holding your breath to keep yourself out of the way.

“I don't understand why they cling so much to keeping bodies,” Sukuna said with annoyance. “They're just a nuisance.”

“Because humans are selfish,” you answered with some annoyance. Sukuna raised his eyebrow when he noticed your change of attitude. “Even though we know they're no longer with us, we want to have them close. The soul leaves, but the body is the only thing that stays with us,” you explained.

“Anyway, it's stupid. The body doesn't stay either. It ends up rotting when it could have been the food for a curse,” Sukuna argued. You sighed heavily.

This was really the last thing you needed in your time of mourning. Your sadness turned to anger in an instant. You weren't surprised at all that he acted so indifferent to the situation, but you wished he would at least shut up so you could go through your mourning in peace. You tried to keep your anger to yourself, but it didn't stop you from blurting out,

“Of course you wouldn't understand, you don't have a family.”

Silence invaded the moment. A chill ran down your spine, reminding you of who you were talking to. Your eyes widened as you realized the horrible comment that had escaped your lips. You looked up, thinking he would be looking at you with contempt, but you were met with his monotonous face. That scared you even more.

“I had a family,” he answered before walking away from you to leave you alone for a while.

That answer left you stunned in your place. Curses had been a true mystery for much of your life until Kenjaku came to explain everything you needed to know. These strange creatures are a race of spiritual beings invisible to most humans, incarnated from the cursed energy that escapes from humans over time due to their negative emotions. How can a curse have a family?

A new guilt began to torture your chest. After watching him walk away from you to climb the next hill, you decided to follow him to apologize, it was the least you could do. You apologized and gave your father a final bow of respect for the last time to reach the king.

"I'm sorry, I…" You tried to tell him when you reached him.

"I still remember the face of the one who used to be my mother." Sukuna completely interrupted you as he continued walking the path to the top. "She was a beautiful woman."

Sukuna, before waking up in the nightmare he had transformed into, remembered his past life almost perfectly. He had a mother who was ashamed of him, a violent father, and a twin brother he never met because he ate him in the womb. He had been born with the blessing of having power worthy of a god but with the curse of being a complete disgrace. An evil being that had no way to be fixed. A lonely child who became a sorcerer with black blood. A man thirsty to destroy everything that stood in his way. He may have disappointed many people, but never himself.

“I didn't know that…” You stuttered upon hearing about his sad past.

“Not even Uraume knows,” you confessed.

“Really?” You asked, stupefied.

“You're the only one who knows now,” Sukuna looked at you. “You've earned it after what you did for me today.”

“I didn't kill my sister for you. I did it for myself,” you answered honestly. Sukuna stopped in the middle of the road, shocked by the direct confession. “My sister not only betrayed me, but also the family I had left.”

“Why do you care so much about your family?” Sukuna held his forehead, exasperated by hearing you repeat that word. “Your father was weak, your mother sold you, Yorozu betrayed you and your other sisters abandoned you,” Sukuna asked you.

“Because I love them anyway.”

The king's lips parted slightly upon hearing that. There was no logic behind that answer. There was not a gram of reason. He had no legs or head, but he still managed to surprise him. How could you love such a broken family?

“That doesn't make sense,” Sukuna replied incredulously.

“Love doesn't need to make sense.”

The pain in his chest turned into a flutter of thousands of butterflies. A simple phrase made his cheeks feel hot, his hands sweaty, and he felt the need to cover his shame. A simple phrase made him feel an inexplicable hope that he didn't think he needed.

You looked up, you were almost at the top. You had climbed so high that it would be a shame to have to go down when you were so close. Since your sisters weren't there to run with you to see the sunset for one last time, maybe you could do it with someone new.

“Follow me, just this once,” you asked before taking one of Sukuna's arms.

He let himself be led by your guide to continue walking the path they still had to travel. They reached the top of the slope, where there was a large rock positioned perfectly to admire the rest of the valley and the human commune. The rainbow sunset, the small cabins, the leafy trees and the distant night worked in harmony like a beautiful piece of art. It was a simple sight but beautiful in its own splendor. They sat on the rock as if they were waiting for something. Maybe they were just wasting time until the sun set to return to the castle, as you had promised.

“My sisters and I used to come here every day. There isn’t much to do in the commune, so having this view is a small blessing,” you commented to the king as you watched the humans emerge from their huts, wondering if the threat had left. “What did you like to do when you were younger?” you asked.

“I didn’t have a good childhood,” the king answered honestly.

“But at least there must be something nice that you remember,” you answered curiously. Sukuna thought for a moment.

In fact, there was something he remembered. On the outskirts of the poor village where he used to live, there was a large forest that hid the most beautiful flowers he had ever seen. He didn’t know their names or what they meant, but he didn’t need to know to admire their delicacy. Their different bright colors, soft fragrance, and unique designs caught his attention. He caressed their petals, afraid of cutting them if he didn’t do it properly. A simple but welcoming and delicate touch brought him peace. Sometimes he came across a bee or two that brightened his view with their plump and fluffy bodies. The flowers were the only thing he didn't want to destroy in gratitude for never judging him.

"When I had access to all the books, I learned that if you arrange certain flowers with others they can have different meanings," Sukuna explained as he put his hand in his pants pocket, squeezing the box he had saved for that moment.

He hated to admit it, but Kenjaku was right. This was the perfect opportunity to propose to you. The great view of your homeland that merges with the land he leads, was a beautiful symbolism. They were completely alone, without any humans or curses lurking in their affairs. The golden hour was almost over, so it was now or never.

"You know? You remind me of daisies. They usually symbolize innocence, joy and purity, and you are all of those things," he explained as he looked at the horizon while he gathered courage to look you in the eyes after saying that with his cheeks flushed. “Sometimes they are hard to read because they come in many colors and the real meaning depends on this, but that's not important…” He was so nervous that he was starting to get off-topic. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

Wait, why was he so nervous? Sukuna never got nervous, he was always ready for whatever he was faced with. A battle against a powerful sorcerer? A piece of cake. Ordering his troops in complicated strategies? An everyday occurrence. Declaring war against humanity? The dream. Proposing? It made his hair stand on end. He couldn't believe he felt his heart beating at the possible response of his prospective wife. He was sure she would accept him, she had already done it once, he had to do it... Right?

“What really matters about daisies is knowing how many there are in a bouquet. If there are less than 3, it means friendship. If there are more than 6, it means pure love.” Sukuna stopped at that word.

He had read about it in endless poems, and it was a concept he knew existed, but he didn't fully understand it. He didn't know how it began or how it ended. It was complicated, unknown and could become problematic. For some reason, humans are fascinated with the wonderful idea that love knows no bounds. They lived for it, endured for it, and would even die for it. Sukuna was sure you would too, but him?

“What I mean is that I would give you all the daisies in the world.”

Your head rested on his arm, startling him a little. Finally, he worked up the courage to look at you and couldn’t believe it. You were completely asleep. Your softly closed eyes, your slow breathing, and your lack of posture were a clear sign that you had been sleeping while he was giving the corniest speech of his life. He wanted to be mad at you. He wanted to shake you awake. He wanted to throw the box with the ring in your face, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even frown.

He covered you from the little sun that was left of the day with one hand, while the other caressed your peach fuzzy skin with all the care in the world so as not to wake you up. He was mesmerized by the way you breathed, the length of your eyelashes, your hair swinging against the soft wind, your hands resting on your lap and your lips slightly parted by gravity. You had had a long day, and you hadn't slept the night before, it was understandable that you were tired and just wanted to sleep to forget about the tragedies. Maybe this wasn't the time to propose.

The sun finally set behind the distant mountains, turning off the light completely. It was time to go home, but Sukuna wanted to stay there for the rest of his life. Chatting during the day, admiring you at night, and dreaming in his free time. Sukuna sighed as he realized why his chest had been acting so weird lately.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered, low enough to not wake you up. “You’re driving me crazy.”

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[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Episode 6

The first reason I loved this episode was the fact that this episode began with the girls not only switching patterns (floral vs. lines) but also switching positions.

The second reason I loved this episode was Prik being extra by making noises and motions just to let Pin know that she knew what the lesbians were doing, and it wasn't sleeping.

And the third reason I loved this episode was THE SEX!

Pin and Anin kissing each other wherever and whenever is the kind of romantic storytelling I want to see!

And Pin and Anin having sex wherever and whenever is the kind of historical GL storytelling I want to see.

But as happy as I am that Pink Person Pin wore purple to combine her and Blue Beauty Anin's color,

And that they went on a a little date that paralleled the date that they had before Anin left for England the first time,

There are still color-coded forces (unintentionally) standing between them.

So even though these color-coded girls are in love

And having great sex about it,

Other people will continue to be whole ass problems for them!

(Not Pranot though. He sits at the same table with Prik since they are the only two people who seem to already support queer rights and wrongs!)

Because Anin's color-coded brother is being a big problem!

Anon has been consistently red color-coded, but Anin's oldest brother, Anantawut, who was once blue like her, stayed entirely brown this episode.

Which could be an issue if it means he'll become more traditional, conservative, and predictable.

And although I don't think Pin's mom ever means any harm, she is the epitome of femininity and womanhood.

She can cook. She can clean. She can manage an entire compound of servants all while looking docile, so as much as I love that Pin received the ruby set from Anin's mom for her birthday,

It feels like the jewelry is the first real step into chaining down Pin into a traditional role of womanhood like her mother since this came after the conversation about Pin and Anin needing to get married sooner rather than later.

Normally, red would be passion and heart, which is nice that Anin decided to put red berries on Pin's cake to show her she loved Pin.

But Pin lost her color a bit this episode when she became depressed that Anin was leaving again. Only the tiniest bit of pink lingered at the edge of her dress.

So I think her mother will be even more adamant that Pin get married so she will be too preoccupied with her husband and (new color) to dwell on her best friend being gone, but I think there is an ally in our royal midst!

Anantawut's new wife also seems like the epitome of femininity and womanhood because she can cook, clean, and take care of her prince.

But when I look closer, she is wearing pink AND blue.

And at the lunch where marriage is discussed, she is, once again, wearing pink and blue with a purple skirt (pictured above)

So even though Blue Beauty Anin doesn't have control of her circumstances now.

And neither does Pink Person Pin (who did not deserve to be left without a goodbye!)

I have faith that someone in this family will be able to support the girls when the times come because Prik can't be the only person in this house I respect.

Right?

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Ascent Astarion referring to female Tav/Reader as „Lady Ancunín“ and insists that everyone else (staff, visitors etc) does so as well, even though they‘re not married (yet 😏) but she‘s his.

I'm back baby~

Yas let's romanticize this evil man I'm ready. But don't worry, he's still a terrible person <3 And so are you in this <3

TW: I'm so sorry I don't know how I got here. Murder, violence, a tiny bit of torture. And wtf tav has no last name? Uh, it starts with a c now I guess. Sex is alluded to but it isn't graphic.

~

"I just don't know why I have to be there," You sighed as the servants opened the doors for the both of you, your arm hooked with Astarion's while you complained, "You know you'll work better if you're not worrying about me all night."

"And how would letting you out of my sight help with my concentration?" Astarion shot back, a frown curling on his lips, "With strangers in our home? Absolutely not."

You barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. Gods, he could be so dramatic. Did he forget who you were?

"Don't you trust me to handle myself?" You asked with a pout, "I didn't always need your protecting, you know."

"Of course I trust you," Astarion sighed as he gave your hand a tight squeeze, "It's the rest of the world I have no faith in."

How on earth were you supposed to argue against that? You weren't quite sure, but you were going to try, "But-"

"No buts," Astarion interrupted curtly, "You're going and that's final. Besides, it's just one night. And we can have as many quiet evenings as you'd like for the rest of the week."

You sighed as you nodded your head, accepting the compromise, "Whatever you say my love."

Astarion smirked down at you, "That's my good girl."

Oh gods, why did he have to go and say that? He was well aware of what that did to you. And now was not the time to have to squeeze your thighs together. You could feel a flush crawl up your neck as you hissed, "I told you not to call me that in public!"

"Did you?" Astarion smirked as he came to a stop in front of a speaking squire, "I don't recall."

He turned his attention to the young man in front of you before you had a chance to respond, "Speak. Did anything happen while we were gone?"

The man shook his head, "No, Master Ancunin."

"Good," Astarion said curtly with a wave of the hand, "You're dismissed."

He nodded, "Thank you Master Ancunin, Misstress C-"

The consonant was barely out of the boy's mouth before Astarion was on him, moving so quickly that it was enough to startle even you. Before you blinked he had him pinned against the wall, a strong arm to his throat as he hissed, "I'm sorry, what did you just call her?"

The servant looked panicked, but at least he had the brains to catch on to his own mistake, "I-Apologies my lord. But since you are not wed I-"

"What we have is higher than the mundanities of marriage," Astarion growled, "You'll address her as Lady Ancunin from now on, if you wish to keep your tongue.

You couldn't help but laugh a bit behind him, more than a bit endeared at the display, "I thought you were saving the dramatics for this evening?"

Astarion ignored you briefly, opting to drop him back to the ground with a cold order, "Get out of my sight."

"Aw poor thing," You cooed as you watched him scramble away. You saddled back up to Astarion's side, linking your arms together with a smile, "Darling you didn't have to terrify him. It was a reasonable mistake."

"I beg to differ," Astarion said lowly, still glaring in the young man's direction, "I should have killed him for that. You're making me too soft."

"Or maybe we should just consider having a wedding?" You said as you leaned your head against his shoulder, "It would save a lot of confusion."

Astarion rolled his eyes, "Obviously we'll be having a wedding darling. But that's not the point. You are mine. With or without a ring. It's best that others learn to respect that now."

"No arguments here," You happily sighed as he led you to your chambers, "Just don't stain anything if you slit someone's throat, okay my love? Blood isn't easy to clean."

Astarion grinned as he pushed you through the door, a familiar glint in his eye as he shut it behind him, "No promises. Though I suppose there are other things we can do to keep my bloodthirst in check. Any ideas?"

You really were such a good girl, especially when the question was more than enough to have you untying the corset back of your dress. A shy smile was already on your lips as you laid back on the bed, your thighs spilling open enticingly, "I think I may have a few."

Astarion grinned as he crawled over you, his fangs already extending in anticipation. This was exactly what he needed. To drink from his precious future bride and have his merry way with her before entertaining a bunch of dullards for the evening.

But he needed to secure these alliances. There weren't many open-and-out vampires operating within the city walls. And the few that remained were valuable enough for him to take interest in, either to work with or to get rid of. Tonight would help him fully realize the distinctions.

And with you by his side, it would be tolerable. Though Astarion had quickly realized after his own turn that vampires had a bad habit of thinking that they were much, much, more interesting than they were.

A fact that he was quickly being reminded of as the night went on. Everything was going according to plan, the guests had arrived, you looked gorgeous and perfect on his arm, and he had a meticulous mask on to seem interested in all the inane conversations he needed to have.

Though this one was especially tedious. A newly risen vampire lord, weeks fresh off of killing his own master. Despite the achievement, he was as dry as a brick wall. But she was interesting. Well... perhaps not him, but certainly the master he had killed was of interest. And he was the only one left living who could possibly know of the woman's secrets.

"It's been an interesting few weeks, to say the least," The man said again, still lost in reliving the death of his own slave master, "I never thought it was possible, but here I am."

You were nodding along, taking the time to do the conversational work Astarion was growing tired of, "It is quite thrilling isn't it? To be free. I'm sure she had many perks of immortality that were lost to you. Hopefully, you're adjusting well."

"I am, and she did. In fact, I found these books, can't read a lick of them but-"

"Perhaps a translator could be of use?" You casually interrupted, "I can always take a look for you."

"That would be lovely-"

"Master Ancunin!" A feminine voice interrupted from behind, "I've been looking everywhere for you."

He turned, his annoyance shifting to interest when he realized who was speaking. Lady Imelel, a high-ranking spawn turned master after the murder of her sister, nearly three-hundred years ago. Done by Cazador's own hand. She had been a consistent thorn in his side since that day, only relenting to meet when she was certain of his murder.

She was beautiful, as expected. With an air of confidence that nearly made Astarion bristle. She was a bit... too comfortable in his presence. Especially when she decided that linking her arm to his was appropriate.

He could feel you stiffen at his side at the display, a fact she remained oblivious to as she spoke, "Gods, there is so much I'd like to discuss with you. Privately if you wouldn't mind."

For anyone else, the obvious display of disrespect towards you would have been an automatic death sentence. But Astarion was conflicted. If anyone was going to be aware of the identities of other unknown vampires in the realm, it would be her. He'd be forced to let it slide for the moment.

Though just because he was agreeing, didn't mean he couldn't make things more clear.

He plastered a tight smile on his face before nodding, "Certainly, just one moment."

He turned to you, his voice dropping a few octaves, "Will you be okay alone for a moment darling? I won't be long."

You nodded, always so, so good at picking up on what he needed, "I'll be fine my love. I'm sure Erwen will keep me plenty entertained."

"Good," He murmured before pressing a deep kiss to your mouth, taking the time to lick inside, just to feel you shudder. Perhaps it was a bit much. It certainly was if the flush to Erwen's face was anything to go by when he pulled away. But Astarion was trying to be fair here. And if Imelel didn't understand the picture after that, he couldn't be held responsible for what could happen to her.

He grinned down at you before pressing one last lingering kiss to your mouth, "I'll be right back."

And then he was off, reluctantly being dragged away by Imelel; who looked particularly offended at the display of affection. It didn't take long for her to make her offense known either.

She took him to the first quiet corner she could find, a frown on her lips as she leaned in, "My dear, I know you're quite new to this but... I would refrain from chaining yourself to one soul so quickly. It truly is a waste.

Ah. It was unfortunate that she was continuing that line of thought. Astarion only had so much patience.

He cocked his head at her, thoroughly amused at the audacity, "Oh? Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that plaything that you take everywhere with you," She said easily, blissfully unaware of how close he was to ripping out her tongue. She was running a delicate hand down his chest, "You're limiting yourself for no reason. She's a mortal who was lucky enough to catch your eye. And she knows it. She won't be going anywhere if you explore your other options. And even if she did... who cares?"

That sealed it. She would be dying tonight. And if Astarion had any less patience she would have been slain the second she forgot your title. But he had more decorum than that. Or maybe he just wanted to make things personally horrifying, just for her.

He grinned back at her, leaning into her touch despite the way it made his skin crawl, "It sounds like there is an offer buried in your words. Am I right?"

"It could be," She purred, "If you'd be willing to sneak away."

Well wasn't that nice? For her to do the hard work for him. He took her hand in his, giving it a little squeeze before saying, "Go out and mingle my dear, then meet me upstairs in an hour. The second room to the left. And then you can show me exactly what I've been missing."

She smiled, one with too much teeth before sauntering away.

It was almost disgusting, how foolish she was. Astarion could scarcely believe she had survived this long. Though in her meager defense, this was probably going to be the first time that she was rebuffed for her advances. But otherworldly beauty could only take you so far, a harsh lesson that she was about to learn.

Astarion wasted no time in finding you again, politely dragging you away from the conversation. You didn't miss a beat, immediately updating him on everything that was said, "He'll bring the books by for translation. If there's any magic to them I'll be able to extract it and he'll get a.... redacted version. The poor thing really doesn't know what he's doing. But he's far from a threat-"

"That's wonderful my sweet, thank you," Astarion interrupted, his voice lowered, "But I need you to do something else for me. Do you remember those fun little ropes we found a few months back?"

You nodded, "The Cord of Constriction? Or the Lariat of Lethargy?"

"Let's say both. Now go and put them in the guest room for me will you? And then wait in the closet. And don't move a muscle until I say, no matter what you see or hear. Understood?"

"Why on Earth-"

"Darling," Astarion interrupted, an edge coloring his voice, "Don't question me. Just be a good girl and listen. Can you do that?"

Those were the magic words. He licked his lip as he watched a flush crawl up your neck, an adorable pout on your lips, "I-Gods. Fine! Just don't keep me waiting long."

"I won't," Astarion promised with a smile, "I'll see you soon."

He watched you go, excitement brewing in the back of his mind. And he thought tonight was going to be boring. He waited until he saw Imelel start her way up the stairs before following, a slight pep in his step. It was all so easy to manipulate her onto the bed, easier still to convince her of a "fun" little game to tie her to the bed posts.

He leaned back when he was done, a smirk forming as he watched her test her bindings, "I should have known that this would be your type of fun Astarion."

"Yes," Astarion laughed, low and mean, "You should have. Darling, you can come out now. I have a surprise for you."

Right on cue you were popping out of the closet, your eyes widening when you saw the woman tied to the bed. The woman who was slowly panicking as she realized just how strong the ropes she was tied with were.

"This is my surprise?" You asked as you saddled up to him, easily stepping into his open arms, "I assume this is the part where you explain why?"

"Astarion? What on earth are you doing?" Imelel asked quietly, her voice slightly shaking, "I am not someone to be trifled with-"

"I'll be the judge of that," Astarion said quickly before turning his attention back to you, "Darling, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but this creature spoke of you in one of the most disrespectful manners you can imagine. And for that a punishment is due, don't you think?"

"Are you insane?" Imelel screeched, "You won't get away with this!"

But Astarion wasn't listening. He was too busy watching the ways your eyes softened at him. You smiled, "So a powerful vampire mildly insults me, and your solution is murder?"

Astarion grinned, "Naturally."

"Gods, I love you," You sighed before leaning in to peck his lips, "But you'll help me, won't you?"

"Of course darling," Astarion cooed, his hand already reaching for the dagger in his belt, "I'm here to help."

Imelel was still struggling, hard enough to make the Cord of Constriction bite against her skin. Her hand was slowly turning purple from the loss of circulation. She was still screeching too, bellowing about her own importance. Right up until Astarion had the knife to her throat.

"Oh, not so brave now are you?" Astarion chuckled as she finally shut up, "To be clear, you will be dying tonight. For every offense that came out of your mouth in regards to my love. Your body will be used for a display to warn the next audacious shrew. Sound good?"

She was crying now. Good. It was her own fault that she was there to begin with, all because she couldn't keep her big mouth shut.

He turned back to you, "What do you say, darling? Do you want me to do the honors?"

You shook your head before gently taking the knife, taking the time to kiss him on the cheek, "No, I'll do the first cut, and the rest can be yours."

"Whatever you say darling," Astarion sighed, happy to step back and watch you get to work. You really were good with daggers, a skill he admired as he watched you slit her throat. There you were, the light of his life, the master of his heart, the one and only Lady Ancunin. And it was long time the world started to see you as such.

The two of you enjoyed yourselves for as long as you could before there was nothing left of the woman who once was. And Astarion kept to his word.

As a nice end to the evening he dropped her body down the stairs, chuckling at all of the shocked gasps it tore from his audience before he gave his speech, "This, ladies and gentlemen, is what happens when you disrespect myself or Lady Ancunin in any shape or form. Do with the information as you will. Now please, enjoy your evening."

[yanderes-galore]

Hello. Can you write yandere Maegor Targaryen headcanon ? Please

Sure! Sorry I made it Female Obsession... The thoughts I had for him were very gendered so I apologize :( Idk what gender you wanted... but Female worked best for his nature.

Yandere! Maegor Targaryen Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Violence, Murder, Blood, Manipulation, Marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriages, Marking, Biting, Branding, Imprisonment, Forced relationship.

Maegor is, straight up, one of the most intimidating Targaryens to have obsessing over you.

He's a man too proud for his own good with dragon blood so strong he can't properly sire a child.

He's killed his nephew to take the throne and kills any who oppose him.

Maegor has even taken many wives, making him despised by the faith for his polygamy.

Maegor is a man who takes what he wants.

If something is not given to him... He'll spill blood to get it.

I can only imagine being courted by such a man would be terrifying.

He's the son of Aegon I and Visenya.

After his father died, he took claim of Balerion.

So imagine you being a lady, your father getting a raven that the king has taken... interest in you.

The very same king who has killed those who opposed him, who has taken many wives, and now owns one of the largest dragons in Westeros.

You want your father to refuse.

You don't wish to go to such a man, to bed him and be forced to his side.

Yet you know your father can't.

Refusing such a request when Maegor demanded it would cost him his head.

Maegor is a man who wants to have heirs as king.

All kings do and must.

However, every kid his wives give him... They all become stillborn with misshapen features.

All demonic with draconic features, not meant for this world.

Maegor chose you as his next wife to try with.

Which leads to your father helping to set up a betrothal, much to your chagrin.

When you arrive at King's Landing and are escorted to the Red Keep, you immediately feel intimidated.

Seeing Maegor, on the Iron Throne or not, sends a shiver down your spine.

Despite Maegor's attitude, you are given your own chambers and there's time to interact with your betrothed.

Maegor is a very stern man, stoic and often glaring at his men and servants.

There isn't much courting with him, within the month of meeting you, you're married.

Maegor is usually distant, you never see him interact with his other wives all that often.

But, you appear to be not only his newest... but his favorite.

Towards his other wives, Maegor is... well... cruel.

It's like he's given up on his other wives, them not being able to give him the children he wants.

That... worries you, as you fear he'll be the same towards you when you can't give him an heir.

There's plenty of reasons to be scared of Maegor.

He even killed his second wife, wiping out her entire bloodline since his third wife claimed her as unfaithful....

But even that wife couldn't give him any heirs.

You know better.

You know that the wives aren't the reason Maegor can't sire.

He's the reason he can't sire.

His increased aggression is no doubt due to the dragon blood in his veins.

Compared to his brother Aenys, he was the strongest of the two.

But Maegor envied the fact Aenys was beyond successful with making heirs.

While Maegor suffered to sire a child of his own, Aenys had no trouble.

Maegor is glad his brother is long dead now, giving him the throne in the process.

The only good news about being the favorite is Maegor tending to you with more care than his other wives.

Yet you fear it's short-lived.

However, you do notice factors of his attachment to you.

For example, when his other wives try to accuse you of something... or intimidate you... Maegor threatens them.

Or he forgoes threats altogether... slaughtering them when he has the chance.

He had no use for them anymore.

Murder is something you end up seeing often with Maegor.

He is possessive due to his dragon blood, not many come near you.

After all, no one wants the wrath of Maegor.

As his favorite wife, you are often called to be with Maegor in private.

He is a man older than you, yet is oddly... caring with you.

There's times he doesn't wish to be around his other wives, calling you into his chambers so he can hold you.

The cruel king likes to feel his favorite wife in his lap as he kisses her.

In fact, Maegor likes to show you're his.

I can see Maegor biting you to show you're his.

I can also see him ordering you to be branded with the Targaryen sigil to show you belong to him.

The final way to show you're his is when he puts a babe in your womb.

The babe most likely will be deformed like the rest of his attempts... but who knows... maybe you'll be lucky and give him the healthy babe he's always wanted.

When you're pregnant, Maegor is possessive.

He always likes to touch your belly, very protective of you and his new potential heir.

Any rumors about you are quickly quashed.

It isn't new to see your husband and king stick someone's head on a pike for making comments about you.

You've seen him clean the blood off his blade after putting another rebel down like a rabid hound.

Then afterwards he approaches you, affectionately trailing patterns on your skin as he tells you to go lay down.

If you also miscarry like the others for whatever reason, Maegor may not believe it and try again.

He's in denial of his inability to have children, he's willing to try over and over with you until he has a successful one.

You are the one wife many would say he loved.

The only woman he truly loved as his wife.

Many pity you for going through what you do, Maegor constantly trying to give you a babe he cannot give.

But imagine if you produced a successful child?

Male or female, Maegor will make it work.

He'll cling to them and you, relieved he finally created a babe.

You, on the other hand, are exhausted.

Maegor no doubt senses this.

He keeps a keen eye on you and his babe, not trusting even his kingsguard to protect you like he can.

Rebelling against Maegor at any point is nearly impossible.

If you do, he'll threaten your family.

In fact... before you know it, He'll march to your hometown and hunt down any who share your maiden name.

If you ran, he'd lock you in the dungeon.

You are Maegor's favorite wife, the one he truly loves.

No one else has such a title.

That can be a blessing... or a curse.

Maegor isn't going to let you go for anything.

He picked you, regardless of if you gave him a babe or not.

The cruel king will get what he wants...

Even if it means he has to keep you with him by force.

[jefferisp7]

Abandoning Reason to See With the Eyes of Faith

I have given up reason in order to see with the eyes of faith, for only through faith does the world make sense. Reason reaches its limit with what it can see and hold and measure, but it cannot see what is yet to come. Faith, it says, is the substance of things hoped for and the conviction of things unseen. These things are not accessible in the natural realm of reason or the senses.  Reason…

[writingfromasgard]

Father MacTavish isn't sure how he ended up here - he resisted so much temptation, bottling up his lust so well.

Yet now he has a beautiful congregate gripping the headboard in his small room while he slams his hips against their ass. Their moans sound more holy to his ears than the hymns on Sunday service. He's treating their body with enough reverence for it to be considered worship.

He prays for God to forgive him as he commits this sin - feeling all too welcomed into his tempter's body as his head grows heady with pleasure.

He reasons he can't possibly stop. God must have commanded his body to commune with theirs. The way it grips him, moves back against him, pleading for more.

Spilling his seed on the blankets or outside of this gorgeous would be another sin - to waste instead of sowing.

He locks them tight against his body, pumping his godly seed inside them while they shudder and moan, coming undone like he is.

God must have sent them to reward his most faithful servant.

[klausysworld]

Hey! Can I request some mean dom klaus with teasing and cockwarming?

She knew better

Klaus let out a low chuckle as he felt his girls face pressed between his thighs, nuzzling at his crotch like a desperate little slut. He could feel his cock pressing against his jeans, the warmth of her breath going through the material until it heated the tip of his eagerly awaiting dick. But still Klaus only stroked her hair knowingly, his fingers scratching at her scalp every now and then as he watched her drool on his lap.

“Poor baby” he mocked with a pout “so needy” he murmured, stroking her cheek and encouraging her to lick at the rough fabric so that his cock could just about feel the delicate sensation. Her whines only pleased him more as he felt her desperation rise, fuelling his ego and pride even more.

Klaus loved how she would beg, how she would submit and behave for him. So easy to control and command.

He had been listening to her sweet lips plead for his cock for what he could only assume to be hours as the day grew older. Her arousal was beyond obvious, he could smell it with his senses and hear the wetness when she would move as her pretty pussy wept for him.

Her face had been nudging at his pants for ages, desperate whimpers for him to let her at least see it, touch and taste. And yet for some reason which she could never understand, he denied her. Purely for his own cruel fantasies, watching her suffer and beg. Of course Klaus knew that eventually he’d let her have it, he’d probably fuck her until she couldn’t stay conscious and even then she wouldn’t want him to stop. He was obsessed with how desperate she was for him all the time, loved him like to other and let him treat her like a fuck doll? What was she a love-struck demon? Certainly no angel with a needy cunt like hers.

“Please” she cried, pressing her open mouth to his crotch, her teeth grazing along his thigh, along his cock causing a sharp shiver through his body. Her eyes looked up at him, begging him silently. His fingers gripped her hair tightly, pulling her face out from between his legs making her whine.

“Shut up, love” he mumbled, pushing her back down onto her knees as he tore the button off his jeans and finally pushed them down. As expected her hands quickly helped drag them down his legs to his ankles so she could get between them. The action made him chuckle and his hand grabbed her face when she went to nuzzle it against his boxers. “Easy sweetheart” he teased as he pulled himself out of his briefs.

“Bloody hell” he breathed, stroking his pulsing, dripping cock. He let go of her face, watching her moan immediately and shove her face forward, her mouth straight onto his shaft. He breathed in heavily as her saliva coated him effectively, her tongue lapping and lips sucking as much as she could all at once. Klaus let his head lean back against his chair, much like a King in his throne. A faithful servant between his legs.

His hands gripped her hair and the arm of his chair for dear life as she tried to suck his soul through his dick. The sound of her hot little throat struggling to keep him in only turned him on more as she forced her head up and down him. His fingers twisted in her hair, tangling in it and pulling it painfully but she just couldn’t care less.

Within minutes his hips were moving, fast and harsh as he shoved himself down her throat over and over. He could feel the warm tears fall down her face and onto him while her hands caressed at his balls and her mouth made a mixture of blurry noises between her chokes and gags.

A mixture of his hips snapping up and her head being shoved down resulted in thick spurts of warmth spilling down her welcoming throat as she swallowed over and over. Klaus groaned loudly, still bobbing her head back and forward with his hands caging her face. His eyes closed for a second as he listened to her gulp his cum down as though it were her first drink in days.

Once she had licked up every last drop he pulled her off of him. An instant whine left her and he patted her cheek with a hum. “Let me see” he whispered lowly. She spread her thighs at the command, lifting her dress up so he could see her bare pussy. Her thighs were slick in her arousal and he smirked at the sight. “Oh dear” he murmured, a soft chuckle leaving his lips making her whimper.

He moved his hands under her arms and lifted her with ease into his lap, her open thighs allowed her to easily straddle him. Her soaked cunt pressed against his solid cock which was still wet from her mouth. His hands slid round to her back and found the zip at the top of her dress. It was a sweet dress she had purposefully put on to tease him, a seemingly innocent dress but by now they both knew better.

Regardless of what it was supposed to represent, he pulled it from her frame and tossed it to the floor with a sigh. She let out a breathy “yes” as her skin rose with goosebumps and his warm hands slid down her arms as he vibrated with a hum.

Her eyes stayed on his hooded ones as he looked down at her. His hands moved to her breasts, giving them a firm squeeze to hear her little moan of slight satisfaction. Klaus could feel her cunt pulse against his cock and slid his hands back round to her back. His lips began to upturn into a small smile as he let his hand smack her ass harshly. He felt his body jolt and a short cry left her as she knocked forward. He slapped her again making her press her knees against the edges of the seat either side of his thighs.

He smiled when she lifted herself and grabbed her hips tightly, her hands moved on instinct to grab his shoulders as he shoved her back down but this time onto his cock. A loud moan left her and she immediately went to bounce on top of him but he didn’t let go of her hips and kept her down.

Her eyes lifted to meet his in confusion, he only looked back at her with an amused twinkle. “Klaus” she whimpered and he hummed knowingly “please” she begged.

“Please what?” He teased

“Fuck me” she whined and he chuckled

“Later” he promised but she only looked offended making him resist the urge to laugh

“Now” she complained

“No” he answered simply and her brows furrowed

“Why not?”

“Because what I say goes” he answered without hesitation and she fell quiet. He raised a brow “doesn’t it?” He pressed and after a beat she nodded with a sigh.

“Yes” she whispered and he smirked.

“Good girl” he praised. “Now come here” he gestured her close and she obediently leaned against his chest. Her naked front pressed to his clothed one and his hands stroked her back with a hum. Her face moved to hide in his neck, breathing his scent which only made her wetter.

He could feel her trying to subtly grind herself against him, he made sure to put a stop to that as his hand bet her ass in another abrupt slap. A yelp left her and her nails dug into his shoulders through his henley. “What did I say?” He growled and she whimpered submissively.

“Mm sorry” she mumbled, pressing her nose to his skin. He gave another smack but a little lighter, enjoyed how her body would flinch and her pussy would tighten. She sniffled softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. She tried her best to settle herself and just appreciated the fullness of his cock inside her. Her ass stung and her body was trembling in desperation but she didn’t move this time. She knew better.

He rubbed his hand up and down her spine slowly, spreading a trail of warmth across her skin. Both hands moved down to her thighs, caressing them tenderly and feeling her tight little pussy squeeze him needily in response as his fingers brushed closer to her core.

Her teeth sunk into her lip when she felt one of his fingers stroke at her clit. Her tummy twisted pleasantly and her awareness of his dick inside her seemed to heighten. His throat vibrated with a hum against her cheek as he circled her sensitive little button. Her breathing staggered as he began to rub her slowly.

“Don’t make a sound” he whispered, a smirk on his face. She nodded obediently, her hands curled into his henley and held on tightly. Meanwhile his fingers played between her legs, flicking, stroking, rubbing relentlessly. Her breathing was a mess, tears slipped down her face and onto his shoulder whilst she struggled. Both her tongue and lip were bleeding from how harshly she bit into it to keep her desperate noises at bay like he said to and he could feel her nails imprinting his skin.

It took every ounce of will to not grind against him as he used a second finger to play with her little bud of nerves. She could feel his cock leak inside her as he began to move his fingers against her at an inhuman speed. He knew she wouldn’t be able to handle the friction and a pleased, amused grin spread across his face at the loud cry she let out, her hands clinging to him for near life as her his jumped to get away from the harsh touch.

“I thought you wanted to play” he whispered gravelly and she whimpered, her eyes watery with desperation.

“Play nice” she whined and he let out a laugh

“I don’t play nice sweetheart, and I don’t play fair” he told her as his hand moved to grab her chin, pulling her face away from his neck to look at her. He wiped away the little tear under her eye and looked to the blood that pooled on her lips. Without hesitation he leaned down and slid his tongue across it, letting out a groan as her blood tickled his taste buds. Her mouth opened and he wrapped his tongue around hers like he knew she needed.

The soft moan she released at the way her cunt squeezed him was enough conformation. He wrapped his hand round her throat as his mouth dominated hers. His other moved down to her waist, wrapping his whole arm around it and pulling her as close as he could. He could feel her walls grip his cock tightly as he did so, he knew she’d lose it soon.

And he was right.

Once his fingers were toying with her poor clit while his lips moved from her mouth to her throat and his cock twitched inside her, she was fully crying. Sniffles and gasps sounding from her as little tears scattered down her cheeks so matter how much she tried to wipe them. His fingers moved to their own rhythm, sometimes painfully fast and other times it was torturously slow. His hips always still. No matter how many pleas she sobbed for him to fuck her, he wouldn’t give her even one thrust.

She mumbled and moaned into his chest, her hands trembling as she held onto his shirt so tightly that her nails went through it and into her own palms. Her lower belly felt like it was ready to explode but Klaus wouldn’t let it.

“Nik please” she gasped and he hummed

“But I’m having fun” he murmured, kissing her neck before pulling away and resting his chin on top her head. “Are you having fun my love?” He asked and she nodded her head, then shook her head and making him chuckle. “Sweet girl” he purred and she cried.

He leaned forward, squishing her against him and grabbed his jeans from the ground and pulled them up. She frowned and wiped her eyes “what…” she whispered as he put them on but didn’t do them up, keeping her on his cock.

“Everyone’s getting home sweetheart, I don’t want them all knowing how you’ve soaked my thighs now do I?” He muttered, kissing her forehead “Now don’t move, be good and I’ll fuck you silly before bed” he whispered, pulling her dress over her head and adjusting the skirt so nobody could tell she didn’t have any panties on or, more importantly, that he was inside her. She let out a disappointed and frustrated huff and he smirked.

“Good girl” he uttered with a wet kiss to her cheek as his family began to filter in and he told them that she was tired and had a headache. He could feel her angry glare on his face when he stroked her hair but it didn’t stop the smile on his face from growing. His hand had to cover his face to stop himself from laughing when her pussy clenched and she would give a muffled “I hate you”

It was a long day and at the end of it, he gave her a cruel smile, kissed her cheek and told her he was too tired.

She slept with him still inside her, just waiting for morning to arise so she could finally have her reward. After all she knew better than to rush it.

[adarkrainbow]

Names in fairytales: Prince Charming

Prince Charming has become the iconic, “canon” name of the stock character of the brave, handsome prince who delivers the princess and marries her at the end of every tale.

But... where does this name comes from? You can’t find it in any of Perrault’s tales, nor in any of the Grimms’, nor in Andersen - in none of the big, famous fairytales of today. Sure, princes are often described as “charming”, as an adjective in those tales, but is it enough to suddenly create a stock name on its own?

No, of course it is not. The name “Prince Charming” has a history, and it comes, as many things in fairy tales, from the French literary fairytales. But not from Perrault, no, Perrault kept his princes unnamed: it comes from madame d’Aulnoy.

You see, madame d’Aulnoy, due to literaly helping create the fairytale genre in French literature, created a trend that would be followed by all after her: unlike Perrault who kept a lot of his characters unnamed, madame d’Aulnoy named almost each and every of her characters. But she didn’t just randomly name them: she named them after significant words. Either they were given actual words and adjectives as name, such as “Duchess Grumpy”, “Princess Shining”, “Princess Graceful”, “Prince Angry”, “King Cute”, “Prince Small-Sun”, etc etc... Either they were given names with a hidden meaning in them (such as “Carabosse”, the name of a wicked fairy which is actually a pun on Greek words, or “Galifron”, the name of a giant which also contains puns of old French verbs). So she started this all habit of having fairytale characters named after specific qualities, flaws or traits - and among her characters you find, in the fairytale “L’oiseau bleu”, “The blue bird”, “King Charming” (Roi Charmant). Not prince, here king, though he still acts as a typical prince charming would act - and “Charming” is indeed his name. 

And this character of “King Charming” actually went on to create the name we know today as “Prince Charming”. It should be noted that, while a lot of d’Aulnoy’s fairytales ended up forgotten by popular culture, some of her stories stayed MASSIVELY famous throughout the centuries and reached almost ever-lasting fame in countries other than France: The doe in the woods, The white cat, Cunning Cinders... and the Blue Bird, which stays probably the most famous fairytale of madame d’Aulnoy ever. It even was included in Andrew Lang’s Green Fairy Book.

And speaking of Andrew Lang, he is actually the next step in the history of “Prince Charming”. He translated another fairytale of madame d’Aulnoy prior to Blue Bird. In Lang’s “Blue Fairy Book”, you will find a tale called “The story of pretty Goldilocks”. This is a VERY bad title-translation of madame d’Aulnoy “La Belle aux Cheveux d’Or”, “The Beauty with Golden Hair”. And in it the main hero - who isn’t a prince, merely the faithful servant to a king - is named “Avenant”, which is a now old-fashioned word meaning “a pleasing, gracious, lovely person - someone who charms with their good looks and their grace”. When Andrew Lang translated the name in English, he decided to use “Charming”. At the end of the tale, the hero ends up marrying the Beauty with Golden Hair, who is a queen, so he also becomes “King Charming” - but the fact Avenant is a courtly hero who does several great deeds and monster-slaying for the Beauty with Golden Hair, a single beautiful queen, all for wedding reasons, ended up having him be assimilated with a “prince” in people’s mind.

And all in all, this “doubling” of a fairytale tale hero named “Charming” in Andrew Lang’s fairytales led to the colloquial term “Prince Charming” slowly appearing...

Though what is quite funny is the difference between the English language and the French one. Because in the English language, “Prince Charming” is bound to be a proper, first name - due to the position of the words. It isn’t “a charming prince”, but “prince Charming” - and again, it is an heritage of madame d’Aulnoy’s habit of naming her characters after adjectives. But in French, “Prince Charming” and “a charming prince” are basically one and the same, since adjectives are placed after the names, and not the reverse. So sometimes we write “Prince Charmant” as a name, but other times we just write “prince charmant”, as “charming prince” - and this allows for a wordplay on the double meaning of the stock name. 

[slutforalastor]

Confessional

Human Priest Alastor has a particularly committed parishioner with an unholy request. NOT APPROPRIATE FOR THOSE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Tags: SO MANY CHURCH REFERENCES, light voyeurism, temptation, bloodletting, church AU I guess if you wanna get technical, way too many big words for plotless smut

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

You kneel before a shadow, crossing yourself. You know the shadow's face, having spent countless Sundays smiling from your lips and weeping from between your legs during his service. You know that he can see you, perhaps even recognizes you. You're aware of the purpose of confessional, the supposed tenants guiding the practice, but you are not here to absolve yourself. You seek indulgence, not purification.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been eleven months since my last confession. These are my sins. I harbor impure thoughts, thoughts that I know have been given to me by the Lord. He is guiding us towards a union, perhaps to conceive, but for some holy purpose, regardless. There can be no other reason why you'd occupy my every waking thought, why my maiden's bed feels so cold and empty, as though incomplete without your body next to mine. Each and every night, I sin in that bed, allowing my own hand to guide me to an incomplete release. It never gives me any feeling of blessing, only of deeper desire to blaspheme. My soul is forever lost without your faithful shepherding, Father."

The shadow moves, clears its throat, no trace of emotion to be gleaned from his intonation.

"My dear child, you seem lost, confused. As a man I am flattered, perhaps even humbled, by this confession. But you must hold steady against these impure delusions, for God has placed me on a different path."

His rebuke only serves to hasten your desire. You feel yourself laden with honeyed need, leaking against the inside of your thighs through your underwear. You know he can see you kneeling, prostrating yourself before the judgment of your holy superior. Still on your knees, you lean back, hiking up the fabric of your skirt, pushing your hips up to present your ruined panties. "Holy Father, you are a servant of the Lord, are you not? Would you deny that one of your flock is in need? Would you leave them to temptation in solitude, with only their hands, the devil's playthings, for companionship?"

His voice betrays the first sign of will being tested. "This could just as easily be a test, a bit of trickery from the Devil himself."

"Who better to rid me of devilish desire than one who speaks on God's behalf? Who baptizes the young, unifies lovers, grants last rites to the condemned? Serve your Lord and banish this Devil from my loins, if you be pious, if you be merciful."

His voice is trembling now, thick with an intent you had hoped to provoke. You are intriguing him, winning him over. Summoning your courage, you draw your underwear down to your ankles, clumsily preening your sex the same way you have been whenever the heat between your legs burns like Hellfire. "See for yourself how the Lord makes me a conduit. Would you call this the will of the Devil? The need of a woman for a man?"

"I have taken an oath..." he stutters, choking on his own words.

"An oath to serve your parishioners... Would you bear witness to sin, knowing you can make it holy?" you bleat, the lamb on the altar, bound by ropes fastened to your soul. The Priest stands, and you can see his shadow making the mark of the cross, muttering a prayer to himself. Your self-defilement doesn't even slow, the low, wet sounds of hungry flesh accepting your phallic substitute the only sound in the confessional. In another moment, you hear the door opening, and your savior stands framed in the light of the jamb.

"Bless you, Father," you moan. He shuts the door, and in the dimness, you capture the full depth of his radiance. His brown hair drapes in front of his eyes, standing as a buffer between those nearly-black irises and the small circular frames that grace the bridge of his nose. A nervous sweat shimmers on his dark skin. His cassock is disheveled, his silver cross hung up on one of the higher buttons, collar greyed at the edges from sweat.

"We must make haste to rid you of this curse," he breathes, tugging at his collar. Thinking on its symbolism, he detaches it entirely, leaving it hanging on the doorknob. With rough strength, he brings you to the chair one could use to confess face-to-face, bringing your arousal level with him when he drops to his knees. He inhales, something within that bouquet seeming to pique his interest. "You reek of unholy desire."

"It has tormented me, Father."

"I can see now what you mean. It would be irresponsible to leave you in such a state. I shall grant you this mercy, my child. God will heal you through me."

With a slight tilt of his head, he partakes in your communion, his lips brushing over the outermost of your folds, murmuring a prayer against the electrified nerves. You can feel every syllable evoked against your body, sending ripples of heaven cascading through your system. You are certain that God's holy presence is being imparted from the teasing edges of his lips into your body. His tongue parts from between his pursed, muttering lips, lapping at the inside of your sex, searching for something buried deeper still. Your hands dare to caress his head, guiding him towards the spot he seeks. Charting into fresh territory, he stakes claim to it, his eager tongue seeking out places you've yet to even map yourself. Each press of it is a blessing, the burning ache in your flesh the doubtless throes of a demon being flayed from your soul.

"My dear, I'm beginning to wonder if I misjudged. Your taste is divine."

Your fingers dig into his thick locks, pressing him to persist even further, to reach past the purgatory of your desire. You feel his nose grinding against your most sensitive spot, something you have never had a name for, feeling every time he inhales and exhales, his mouth far too preoccupied with more concerning matters. You are fighting to keep your carnal affectations from becoming any louder than a whining wail you smother in the small of your throat, lest it be loosed completely unrestrained.

"You're doing well to keep your voice lowered," he praises you. "You are a true servant of your Lord."

"I-I am in his service," you affirm, your words snaring every time his tongue darts against your walls.

"Your dedication deserves to be rewarded," and he pushes himself as far as the limitations of flesh permit, lodging his lapping extremity so firmly within that you startle nearly upright, sharp nails that bite against the fabric of your clothes urging you back down. "He says 'be still and know that I am God.'"

You groan against the scripture being branded on your innards, a new sensation creeping across the tensed muscles of your legs. With a muffled moan, he is baptized in your release, and he offers a satisfied sound of approval. Your legs quake against the ceaseless undulating of his attentions, finally extricating himself when he's had his fill of you. He runs the long, thin thing that just concluded making a mess of your insides over his glistening grin, still slick from your consecration. Your focus drifts downward, to the crook that will shepherd you to salvation tenting the fabric of his soutane.

"Traces of habitation still remain, my child. We must take measures to save your spirit." He undoes the lower buttons of his robe, exposing himself to you, as he would have been in Eden. You can feel it against you, afire with purifying heat, sliding against your sopping entrance with anticipation. "Accept these rites."

"Bless me, Father," you whine, grinding yourself against him.

"Please, dear, call me Alastor." It's not permission; it's a demand. He waits, poised against you.

"Please give me your blessing, Alastor."

His lips curl into a grin, his canines so jagged and long that they're the first teeth you see. "God answers all prayers in good time." With a shove, he enters you, your teeth clenching, your breath shorting at the feeling of this union. He can't help but let a pleasured grunt leave his lips, and he catches your eyes as the last inch of him slips inside, brushing an errant strand of hair from your eyes. You feel cold, flushed at the overwhelming relief of finally being face-to-face with what you'd thought could only be in a fantasy. He gives a thrust, testing the waters, shaking your faith. You whimper against the force of it, still growing accustomed to the sensation of being taken. "Do you feel the sin drying up? The demonic need being purged?" Alastor wonders, driving himself into you with ever-increasing force, his restraint abandoned. "In its place will be holy admiration, a want to submit, as all of God's good creatures must possess."

"I will be a good creature," you promise.

"The best their ever was," Alastor croons, his jagged incisors hunting for the soft of your neck, carving runes against the submissive skin, seas of red pooling in the canyons. "Will your blood run black, as a demon's, or red, like the dust of the Earth? You have the allure of a succubus, but the taste of a virgin." His nails ribbon your collarbone, leaving oozing trails like spilled wine. He partakes of this communion with the same vigor as before, drinking it like an elixir. Your nervous hands grasp against his back, enfeebled fingers digging into the fabric of his clothing. Through all of this, his rutting has never slowed, increasing in desperation when he samples your blood. When he pulls away, you can see it trickling against his teeth, his tongue dragging over the surface to crudely clean them.

"I have dreamed of this, Alastor."

"Our lord works in mysterious ways," he assures you, clawed fingers still tracing thin rivulets across your skin. "I am nearly at my limit," he pants, burying himself against you. His thrusts finally slow, each push against you deliberate, purposeful. With his body laid against yours, his mouth is laid by your ear, and you can hear every facet of his breathing, every pant, moan, and inhale he makes broadcasting into your brain, the only sound you can hear. You are as close as he is, and you wrap yourself around him as he pumps into you one final time, his holy fire coating your insides, his assured breaths becoming high-pitched whines as he spasms against you, driving you to your own climax. It is nothing like what you've made yourself feel; it sends shockwaves through the taut fibers of your lower half, makes you cry out in uncontrollable lust, leaving your limbs clenched around Alastor as the last of his climax is left spilt within. You feel his chest heave with a deeply drawn breath, his sigh in your ear scattering chills across you. "Do you feel purified, dear?"

"I worry that I will have further need of your services, Alastor."

He pulls away from you, his smile sadistic yet sincere. "The clergy lives to serve, after all."