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#h beauty&youth
jinsei-pika-pika · 3 months
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deadghosy · 1 month
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MORE OF TRAILBLAZER!READER PLS PLS PLS PLS PLSSS, WHAT DOES THE ANGELS THINK OF TRAILBLAZER!READER???
HAZBIN HOTEL ANGELS X TRAILBLAZER! READER
prompt: how they viewed you in heaven was something no one excepted an angel like you to act.
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I just gotta say. You are a fucking menace.
When you first appeared in heaven as the most beautiful thing with your golden eyes and two pair of wings….you weren’t the most nicest as you were too blunt.
“Is this a flash bang? Why the hell is it so bright here.”
everyone gasped at the H word as if this was kindergarten all over again
*cue you need to leave sound*
Sera had to put a few rules in your face. Literally a whole ass rule book as you sat there with a blank face saying. “Are you effing Fr?” Sera nodded and left leaving you with this HUMONGOUS ASS BOOK THAT REMINDED YOU OF FAIRLY ODD PARENTS
Sera founded you as a troubled youth that needs to see the rules all over again to see the true potential for you to stay in heaven.
Emily didn’t think of you being a troublemaker, she found you quite cool as you explored around heaven having the bravery to speak your mind and not let anything bring you down.
Emily and you got along great and fine as she calls you her little collector as you call her…just Em.
It was a late heavenly night as you stood up from your bed as you did a barrel roll for your balcony as you were starving for some digging. You rummage through the dumpster to find a nice old pearly necklace and a bracelet. “Emily would love this…” you said as you smiled not noticing a blonde haired lady watching you with an asumed smile.
The blonde haired lady from afar found you mysteriously cute and attractive as you roam the streets of heaven. 
ADAM HATES YOUR FUCKING GUTS😭😭
It all started when you was digging in trash. It was basically flirting for you to dig through it. *cue fuck boy face* AND THEN ADAM HAD SNUCK BEHIND YOU READY TO INSULT YOU-
But you kicked him straight in his fucking chin-
That horse ass kick gave him a bruise on his chin for legit 2 weeks
You once blasted music in your apartment…I mean shit it was good music you got from the human world you use to live in. You got so much noise complaints but thanks to Emily, she made it seem like you weren’t causing issues.
Lute has no opinions on you, she just doesn’t have time to even look at you. Even though you sometimes break in her place to eat all her food like the raccoon you are.
One day you actually caused trouble in heaven just because you decided to dig in a lady’s trash bin from outside.
“HEY GET OUT OF MY DARN TRASH BIN YOU RACCOON!” An angel yelled from her window throwing her boom at you as you swung your metal bat at her that you totally didn’t find in the trash nights ago…..
The lady screamed ducking as the bat went back into your grasp like a boomerang. “THATS IT! IM CALLING THE GUARDS!”
And so that was your cue to run as if your life depended on it as you thrown a rotten banana peel you found in your pocket. You still had one in your mouth.
And that’s how your 1 month trial ended because you fought bitches for your trash.
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stormgardenscurse · 16 days
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‘do you remember? back when…’
Summary: a childhood friends AU! Well, Lilia’s is more like ‘back in our youth’ rather than childhood, but you get the gist.
Characters: Lilia, Malleus, Riddle, Jamil, Vil
Content warning: the Reader is gender neutral, but it’s mentioned they’ve worn dresses in Malleus’ part.
If you liked this, consider checking out my TWST Isekai Fanbook, now digitally available on my kofi!
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Lilia Vanrouge
Back when you were both training to be knights, you mistook Lilia for a girl at first. 
In your defense, it’s simply because of how pretty he is, yet so cutthroat and lithe on his feet that you swear this is what they mean by ‘angels of death’ descending on a battlefield. 
Lilia calls you weird for comparing him to that when he much prefers to think of himself as some type of demon, or harbinger of doom.
“Do I still not look intimidating enough for you?” He’d asked, sharp teeth flashing with the question as the both of you leaned against the railings on the castle rooftop. Lilia angles his head back to gaze at you, and you think to yourself how it exposes the pale skin of his neck, which he’d never show to any opponent in a fight.
Two of your fingers reach to tap on that expanse of skin, causing Lilia to freeze from the contact. He tilts his head, comfortable enough that he hasn’t decided to shove you away yet. 
“It’s just… you seem more mortal to me.” You shrug. “As mortal as a fae can be, anyways. I can reach out and touch you, and I would walk away unharmed.”
“That’s because I allow you to.” Lilia rolls his eyes. He finally steps away, picking up his weapon — heavy and gleaming emerald. From beneath his lashes, he gives you a challenging smile as he flips and catches it in his hand. “Care to spar before we turn in for the night?”
“Maybe you’re a vampire after all.” You pretend to be tired of his late requests, but follow Lilia down to the training grounds regardless. “The kind that human kingdoms are romanticizing in their newest novels. Sparkly under the sunlight.”
“If you’d like to sleep already, I’d be more than happy to croon you a lullaby.”
“You’ll only do so after I’m defeated on the ground, I’m sure.” With a pause, you give Lilia a proposal. “If I win, I’ll sing to you instead. But I’m not carrying you back to your dorm.”
“Oh? It’s a deal, then.”
Ever since, you can’t be sure if Lilia likes to throw your sparring matches just for the chance to hear you sing. You don’t often do so (you’re knights, after all), so he regards it as a secret side of you that only he gets to witness. You only come to this contemplation after feelings spark between you — face flushed as you wonder what to do next when you’ve fallen for someone so impossible.
He’s already been keeping you up at night with his nocturnal tendencies and hangouts… and now this?! 
Malleus Draconia
It helps that as children, you never truly processed who Malleus was until a little later in your friendship. You were told he’s the son of the royal advisor, and so you prattled to him with questions of what the crown prince is like. He’d answer vaguely, sometimes saying that His Royal Highness has bad habits, and you’d nod along, hanging onto his every word.
Malleus soon realizes that you don’t care as much for ‘the prince’ as much as you did for him as your mysterious friend. You were both lonely noble-children, and you enjoyed sharing treats, flowers, and any new thing you could with Malleus. Once, he even tried on the trendiest dresses with you out of curiosity, and you lamented the fact that he could’ve made a beautiful girl.
No one would dare say that to him in any lifetime, other than you. Though to be fair, you didn’t know he was the prince yet. 
“Flowers look wonderful in your hair! Since it’s dark, they stand out.” You continue weaving yellow and blue blooms into Malleus’ locks. “...Hey, what do you think life would be like if we were regular children?”
“Not nobles, you mean?” He hums, helping you decorate your hair once you’re done with his. He casts an easy spell to dye your hair with highlights to match the dress. “I suppose we’d be towns-children frolicking without a care in the world.”
“We’d still be friends, right…?”
Malleus pauses at the anxious edge in your voice. Perhaps you were just as reliant on this comforting friendship as he was. He tells himself to hide his status for a little while longer. “Of course. Our parents would still be acquainted, and we’d still have playdates — only running through the roads rather than castle halls.”
It’s hard to find a real friend amongst noble children. Some cling to their families, others are picky or judgmental, and…
A lot are only friends for as long as the other is useful.
“We should have an outing in the city one day.” You smile, trying to fight away the heavy air. “I’m sure you’d like the marketplace. I’ve only seen it from inside a carriage, but it looks fun.”
Soon, the outing is arranged. However…
“Before we go, there’s something I need to tell you.” Malleus takes your hands in his, squeezing them as if to ground himself in the moment. Time passes quickly for the fae, but his heart is beating out of his chest at what your reaction might be.
…He ends up delaying this reveal until the end of your excursion. But the last thing he expects is for your eyes to well up with tears and for you to latch onto him in a hug.
“I’m… I’m so sorry—! If only I was more reliable, you wouldn’t have to keep this a secret, and…”
As you let out a hiccup and continue apologizing, Malleus’ confusion melts into a soft smile, hugging you back. 
Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle’s mother didn’t know about your existence for a while, as you’d always sneak over to his window after she left the house. You claimed you knew how accomplished his family is, so you told Riddle you’d prepare for a better impression in the future! “That way, we can hang out normally or study together!”
Truth be told, the only studying you’re interested in is with practical magic — as another child with an affinity with magic, you’ve been going to the library often to read up on theories, experimenting with what spells you can do.
As worried as Riddle is for your safety (you’ve been doing all this without supervision), he’s also very curious about watching magic unfold from your own hands. You showed him a color changing spell once, surprising him by appearing with a different appearance — it was cute how he panicked, thinking you went ahead and dyed your entire head pink.
“And nothing hurts? No side effects?” He asked.
“Nope! And one day, we can both attend a magic school and do spells like these all the time!”
One day… Despite how he’s temporarily stuck at home still, adhering to his mother’s strict rules, he clings onto the hope that it’ll fruition in him becoming a great mage. Then, when that happens, he can be the one to wow you with magic you haven’t seen before. Just as you have all these months, visiting with the intention of cheering him up or encouraging him. 
On rare days, you manage to sneak Riddle out of the window for a quick visit to the park or library. There, with his heart thumping out of his chest, he’d marvel at the world you’re so familiar with already, and so willing to place into his unsteady palms.
“Can you read that?” You ask, pointing at a passage in a history book. While technically rebelling, you still chose a book on the same topic Riddle was meant to study at home.
“Yes, it’s…” As Riddle translates the scripture, he realizes you’re listening very intently. And all of a sudden, the closeness of your seats in the corner of the library makes him flush, realizing how you’ve always spoken to him kindly. Different from the playful tones you used at the start of your friendship, or currently do with the acquaintances he’s seen you greet along the way.
It’s been a while since he’s felt special, especially as the sentiment expired after years of his mother claiming he had a gift; that because he had the potential to be perfect, it'd come at a price of overwhelming pressure.
So why does your kind of ‘special’ feel like a balm? 
Jamil Viper
Between his busy schedule working for the Al-Asims, it’s all Jamil can do to relax in the solitude of his own room… that is, until you’re temporarily displaced from your own, and have been allocated to bunk with Jamil since he’s ‘very capable’ and close to your age. Another bed is moved in. There’s still space, but Jamil dislikes having his privacy encroached upon.
The two of you never interacted before this, but he’s seen you around the mansion before doing chores and learning from the head servants. You aren’t too chatty, Jamil thinks, until you finally break it to him after the night of a banquet (the both of you too tired to keep up appearances, slumped on your respective beds), that he frowns a lot. And that’s why you haven’t spoken to him much until now.
Jamil blinks once, then twice. “I do?” He’s always been good at controlling his facial expressions—
“Yeah, when you think people aren’t looking.” You raise a finger in the air. “Especially when the meals aren’t to your liking, you tend to look around with judgmental eyes.”
“So you watch me when we’re at work.”
“Only because you never looked like you wanted to talk.” It’s not accusatory, merely an observation from you. With a sigh, Jamil falls on his back against the mattress. “Did you see the performers at the banquet?”
“The dancers were great. I saw them practicing in the morning before the event.” Jamil answers. It’s the first time you’re having a proper conversation, and while he’s not as chatty as Kalim (who he’s normally assigned to watch), you feel at ease. 
“I remember them! The kitchen was handing out meals to the staff, and I was one of the delivery people.”
“Did you help cook too? There wasn’t enough salt in the curry.”
“You—! Then come and help us yourself!”
“Too much work.” Jamil pushes himself up on his elbows just to stick his tongue out at you, before turning to lay on his side. “We should rest. Tomorrow the guests are leaving, so the suites have to be cleaned.”
Even after you move back to your room, you spend time with Jamil, running off to the market after visiting family, and watching street performers and food vendors go about their day. On rare occasions, you knock on his window when you have a bad dream, and Jamil groggily holds up a conversation until you’ve calmed down. The stars are especially twinkly on those nights, as if they’re another witness to the friendship you shared beneath busy days and tall adults.
“Do you think we’d make good adults, Jamil?”
“Not many adults are good at it either. So we’ll be fine.”
“Well… That’s true. Goodnight, Jamil.”
“...Goodnight. Sleep tight.”
Vil Schoenheit 
When you first met Vil as kids, you were intimidated by him not because he acted in evil roles, but because he had the aura of an adult.
“It’s weird… you look my age, but walk and talk like a grown-up.”
“Hm, I guess that’s not too bad of an impression. …What’s your name?”
You were next-door neighbors, and suffice to say your interests lied more in pop-culture as an audience rather than as an artist on-stage. It’s a world away from Vil who’s a child-actor and upcoming model, but when he’s not pursuing such work, he’s still just a boy.
…A boy who you were very surprised to see act his age, when he was with his father or smiled as he told you about the movies they starred in. You’d always listen, realizing that while Vil was always pretty, he’s even more eye-catching when he’s rambling about something he’s passionate about. It almost makes you want to grow up quickly too and pursue your own dreams.
No one would see this side of him outside the comfort of your homes, though. Vil has an image to uphold (at least, you’re quite sure he’s trying to craft a persona for the camera, considering how he asks you what you think an actor’s personality should be like), so you try and cover for him when strangers ask about Vil. Giving just enough praise without revealing too much, since they might be reporters:
“He’s really hard-working and nice to others! Vil even explains his work to me if I ask. You can tell he really loves acting.”
“Oh? You sound like you admire him a lot.”
“Well… lots of people do. Once you meet him, you’ll realize he’s like a diamond!”
Word of your comments gets to Vil, and he seems to be in a good mood, explaining to you that it sounds like something a fan would say. “...One day, I’ll have as many fans as my dad does.”
It becomes routine for Vil to knock on your door whenever he gets a new script. He likes having you watch him rehearse and give him your thoughts, amongst other things like discussing the story and causing the both of you to become invested in the plot. 
You’re sworn to secrecy, of course, since you can’t leak the movie’s details. And after you’re a bit older, Vil instead makes it a game to read random lines to you, then asking you to make up the rest of the story (it’s a good improv session, even if your conversations devolve into ridiculous scenarios.)
You got each other parting gifts after you were accepted into different colleges; Vil’s to you is a ‘poisoned flower’, which is to say, an artificial flower scented to help you sleep. It’s so you can get proper rest instead of scrolling on your phone, Vil claims. And of course, you’re added into his personal Magicam to get life updates — even now, when asked who you were texting with a smile on your face, you keep Vil’s secret and claim it’s just a childhood friend: 
“He’s in Night Raven College.”
“Oh, the same one Vil Schoenheit is in?”
“The very one! Pretty impressive, huh?”
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pearlprincess02 · 2 months
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pisces sun, cancer moon, pisces rising, aquarius venus, aries mars
pisces sun: dreamy, distracted, can be very stand-offish, escapist, TW: could be dealing with addictions, surfer vibes, has particular topics they know a lot about, more introverted, knows and has many secrets, artistic, silent but deadly
cancer moon: cancer moon beauty involves with them having small faces, their faces being heart-shaped, and their upper head being rounder than their lower face which takes on a sharper shape. their chins are usually very meaty and prominent, and they usually do have a cleft chin. the width of their face is usually wide/long, and their features are normally just in the middle, very pinched-like face structure. these female cancer moons tend to have pouty lips, their lips are usually triangle shaped and they have round eyes. the soft curve of their eyebrow tail gives them a very soft look, and these cancer moon women usually have glossy skin and a youthful appearance.
pisces rising: looks like a mermaid, beautiful people and angelic looking but they can’t see that so when people compliment them or stare they don’t really get it, looks different in every photo they’re in, another placement that attracts creeps and stalkers, picks up everyone’s energies around them which is why it’s important for them to be around good people
aquarius venus: aquarius venus style is generally characterized by a unique and independent approach to life, relationships and style. with this venus sign, you may be attracted to partners who share your love of freedom, intellectual stimulation and originality. you may appreciate having a partner who can keep up with your progressive ideas and who can keep things interesting and exciting. in terms of your style, you may prefer pieces that are futuristic, avant-garde and innovative, and that reflect your creative and non-conformist nature. you may also experiment with different styles and looks, and like to incorporate elements of surprise and fun into your fashion choices.
aries mars: aries mars can have a tendency to be impulsive and volatile. when triggered, they can become easily frustrated and angry, with a quick temper and a tendency to overreact. they may lack patience and have difficulty controlling their impulses, which can manifest in aggressive or destructive behaviors. they can be prone to rash decisions and can also come across as overly aggressive or pushy. they may also lack the ability to deal with complex problems or situations calmly, which can lead to problems in maintaining relationships and in achieving long-term goals.
(@h-u-m-a-n--b-e-i-n-g)
ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ
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harmoonix · 9 months
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🪽Angelic Astrology 🪽
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• A N G E L I C •
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🪽Having the next following aspects can mean that you have an enchanting/angelic aura around you and you can warm up people with your energy;
Neptune - Moon aspects 🪽
Neptune - Sun aspects 🪽
Neptune - Ascendant aspects 🪽
Cancer in big 3 (Sun, Moon, Rising)🪽
Pisces in big 3 (Sun, Moon Rising) 🪽
Saturn - Moon aspects🪽
Saturn - Ascendant aspects 🪽
Uranus - Ascendant aspects 🪽
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🪽 Having Moon aspecting the ascendant can make you to look very ✨ Ethereal ✨ you can have really soft skin and big eyes because of this aspect also very gracious gestures
🪽Having Moon aspecting the South Node means that you can be very attached to your past and often you can be quite sensible, is very hard for you get rid of toxic habits/patterns also this aspect gives you high intuition about things going on in your life you are and you were very connected to your soul
🪽Moon represents your soul and you inner world, the sign you have under the moon can tell you about your past lives and how you lived them based on the house you have your moon sign in
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🤍The 9th house in your chart is the house of God, having the Moon/Sun in the 9th house can make you connected to God and to religion/spirituality, you can have this *child of God* allure around you as well you can possess talents related to those things 🤍
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I don't wanna go
But baby, we both know
This is not our time
It's time to say goodbye
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🤍Mercury can also represent youthfulness, having Mercury aspecting the ascendant/sun can often make you young - looking and people can be confused knowing your age
🤍 Mercury - Moon aspects can have talents related to music and art, they can be very good at singing and their voices can also be quite unique
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🪽Having the next following aspects can mean you can be very lovely and intense + nurturing
Asteroid Ceres [1] in a water Sign
Water placements/Stelliums
Earth in big 3 [Sun, Moon, Rising]
Earth Venus/Venus in 2nd/6th/10th houses
Venus aspecting Pluto
Moon aspecting Pluto
Asteroid Ceres in an Earth Sign
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🪽Having Taurus/Libra placements makes you to be someone very romantic and passionate yet also someone who can make a good first impression, people see you as someone very elegant and respected 🌼
🪽Having Capricorn placements is never easy due to the high lessons these natives need to learn, no one knows what's in their heart, no one knows how much they cried or teared for some things no one knows how much pain was in their lives, but one thing is sure they are the most powerful people out there !! You got this Cap Placements!!🤍😇🤍 Never forget how powerful you are
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~ H E A V E N ~
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🪽Having Aquarius Placements is not that easy either because to their differences and uniqueness these people had this stereotype of being "weird" just for doing things they find good for themselves they have their own struggles and their own problems but one thing is clear...Never stop being yourself, be yourself everyday, everyday when you look in the mirror tell yourself how beautiful you are ♥️✨
🪽Having Cancer/Moon prominent in your chart can make you a very sensible person with a very nurturing and warm vibe, you can be like a mother to others with your energy 🪽🤍
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Some angelic placements with angel asteroid 🌼
Asteroid Angel [11911] - ascendant aspects
Asteroid Angel [11911] - moon aspects
Asteroid Angel [11911] in the 1st/4th/8th/12th houses
Asteroid Angel [11911] - sun aspects
Asteroid Angel [11911] in the 7th/9th houses
🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍
🪽 Asteroid Angel [11911] in contact with Uranus or Neptune can make the native to have prophetic dreams, they can recieve messages through their dreams
🪽 If you have Asteroid Angel [11911] in the 8th house and someone from your family/someone close to you died, they can give you signs with their presence and you can feel it, you can feel them close when they are near
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It will come a day
When we will find our way
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🪽 Recently i discovered that natives with Sun in the 12th house suffered a lot in their past lives and it was mostly an emotional pain, that's why you can feel very emotional in this life, it is from your past life. You were hurt, very hurt in some cases and the lesson is to heal the wounds and toxicity that is around you
🪽 Asteroid Angel [11911] in aspect with Venus: Your angel/spirit guides can send you messages and signs through songs/music, you can listen to a song when you are sad/when you feel bad and to find something you needed in the lyrics of that song [When you listen music while being sad the brain focus on lyrics more]. It can also show that the native is very loved by their angels/spirit guides
🪽Having Asteroid Angel and Asteroid Juno aspecting or under the same sign makes your relationship protected by the guides/angels, the divinity takes care of you 2
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{ D I V I N E }
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🪽Asteroid Angel [11911] - Pluto aspects in very tight orbs = Your guides/angels can be very powerful and destructive if someone will want to do harm upon you, also they are here to make sure you learn your lessons and you find you power when you are low/at your lowest
🪽Asteroid Angel [11911] - Aspecting the Asteroid Hekate [100] in the 1st, 4th, 8th or 12th houses can make the native extremely intuitive, you are that intuitive that you can feel warning signs if something bad is gonna happen, also Hekate can team up with your angels to protect you
🪽Asteroid Angel [11911] - Aspecting the Aphrodite Asteroid [1388], your spirit guides/angels can give you confidence over you looks and the way you look, you are very beautiful and so is your soul with your angels/guides, you can have a very lovely/beautiful spiritual family
🪽Asteroid Angel [11911] - Aspecting the Lilith asteroid [1181], your angel/spirit guides can be half angel half demon and can hold a great power in these 2, these can be fallen angels who are your guides or extremely powerful sources from heaven, they are the type of guides who can get very mad when someone does harm upon you [These 2 aspecting eachother is so powerful]
🪽Asteroid Angel [11911] - Aspecting the Asteroid Archangel Raphaela [708] have an extremely powerful healing soul, you can heal other people and you can heal yourself from all the pain, also your soul is protected from pain, even if you can experience pain sometimes the feeling can disappear fast
🪽Having these angelic asteroids in your 1st/12th houses can make you an angel on earth vibe/energy
🪽 Having Angel in Retrogade [Rx] your spirit guides/guardian angels need to work with you in this life in order to finish your earth lesson
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🪽 Howwww y'all have been doinggg, July started to show up and the North Node return is coming closer than ever 🔥🥹 need to prepare. Anyway enjoy this Heavenly Post Part II since so many of you liked the 1st part 🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽 Some placements can have this kind of energy in them 🤍🤍🤍🤍 and because the angels are very beautiful and harmonious why to not make an post about them 🤍
🤍🌼 Hope everyone reading my notes has a good day full of love and peace 🤍🌼
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Here is part I for those who didn't see it
🤍🌼🤍🌼🤍🌼🤍🌼🤍🌼🤍🌼🤍🤍🌼🤍🌼🤍
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awearywritersworld · 9 months
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everything i was looking for
nanami kento x reader summary: when nanami became a salaryman, jujutsu wasn't the only thing he left behind. four years later, he's got his job back and he wants you back too. w/c: 1.5k tags/warnings: angst to fluff. hurt/comfort. gender neutral reader. reader's hair is long enough for nanami to tuck behind their ear. cursing. a/n: it's about time i wrote something for this man. we get to see baby nanami animated soon:') masterlist
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"he left, (y/n)."
you laughed apprehensively at gojo's words, though the expression on his face was anything but amused. honestly, it might have been the first time you'd ever seen the boy wear a serious expression and it made you nervous.
"well when is he coming back?"
a look of pity crossed his features as he searched for the right words, but that itself was enough for you to understand the situation.
"so what?" you scoffed in disbelief. "he's just gone?"
gojo nodded. "he asked me to tell you."
you tried to speak, but you could feel your throat tightening as your body flooded with panic. you needed to reach your dorm before the weight of the situation hit you in its entirety. "o-okay. i'll see you later, gojo."
~~~
though it seemed like a lifetime had past since that afternoon, it'd been only four years. you spent each of them attempting to move on from nanami, but you were beginning to think that it may never happen.
he still appeared in your dreams and some nights, it was like nothing changed. you're eating lunch together in the shade, or you've snuck off to the forest to lay in one another's arms.
other nights were much different, a time spent plagued by his disappearance. you'd be stuck in the first few days of his absence, your only saving grace the coolness of your old dorm's bathroom tile.
it was after a night like the latter that you first heard the former salaryman intended to return, and at once, you resolved to spend the rest of your life hiding away from him and everyone else on the jujutsu campus. that was healthy and realistic, right?
you were successful for nearly a week, but luck would not stay on your side forever.
~~~
when nanami approached the school after completing his first mission back, there was a chill in the air and the moon was already setting. he carried on rather slowly, not quite ready to submit to sleep despite the lateness of the hour. his eyes were well adjusted to the darkness by the time he reached the familiar paths of his youth.
still, he almost missed your silhouette tucked away near the edge of the forest, your back toward him and your face tilted up at the sky. he could barely make you out, but even then, he was sure it was you.
nanami began moving in your direction, his footsteps drown out by the trill of crickets. he stopped short of where you sat because despite the fact he'd been wanting to see you since he arrived, he was hesitant to disturb you now.
he asked gojo about you and was promptly told to give you some space and time. you didn't see what they were like when you left. the warning had been rattling around his head ever since.
"hey," you greeted without moving, having sensed his presence for some time already. you were resigned to your fate, accepting that you couldn't avoid him forever.
nanami didn't answer right away, struggling to get a read on your mood when it used to be so easy. his feet carried him closer and while he was finally beside you after all these years, the space between you felt immeasurable.
"hey," he returned, settling on the ground to your right, near enough that if he reached out he could touch you.
observing your features, he could tell how much you'd changed, but god you still looked so beautiful. that didn't change the fact that you'd hardened somehow. it was written all over your face and he suddenly found it difficult to cope with the fact he hadn't been there for you the past few years.
"you're back."
nanami reached up to loosen his tie, the fact that you hadn't spared him a glance evoking his nerves. "and you're still here."
"i never doubted that i was supposed to be," you spoke sharply.
he fought back a sigh, one that was directed only at himself, while you regarded his silence as a bit grating. maybe it was because you no longer felt comfortable in it. he'd always been quiet and you were used to that, but things were different now.
"i should go."
and he let you, for the first few meters anyway.
"wait," he eventually called out, scrambling off the ground. "d-don't walk away."
you laughed in disbelief, still taking strides in the opposite direction. "you can't be serious."
"please, (y/n)." his tone was one of desperation.
"no!" you stopped in your tracks and he was taken back by the volume of your voice. you finally turned to face him, fists clenched at your sides. "i may be walking away, but you're the one who left."
chest heaving with indignation, you took in his appearance for the first time.
he stood much taller and his body was a bit wider. your eyes lingered on his hair, now much shorter and neatly pushed back out of his face. you felt betrayed by the way it made your stomach stir.
"i'm sorry, just let me-" he began, taking a step toward you.
"stay back," you spit venomously. "you... you don't get to ask me to stay and you don't get to tell me you're sorry when you didn't even let me say goodbye!"
your voice cracked, causing nanami's knees to buckle under the pressure of his own guilt. he tried to get closer to you and this time you stayed completely still, preoccupied with a sad attempt at holding yourself together. when he was near enough, he reached out and let his fingers graze your arm.
"please don't," you begged.
he whispered your name, his voice thick with emotion, and that was all it took for your walls to come crumbling down. the sound of your cries shattered whatever remained of nanami's heart, though he'd left most of it behind all those years ago.
his arms acted on their own accord when they pulled you against his body, one hand holding your head to his chest, the other wrapped around your torso. he still smelled the same.
"no, please," you wept. "i can't do it again."
you beat weakly against his chest, but it was no use. he held you against himself tightly, his lips brushing the top of your head when he spoke.
"it's okay. i'm here," he tried to comfort you.
your voice sounded so small when you gathered the strength to reply. "please don't do this to me, ken."
nanami wondered for a moment if this was wrong, if he should have left you alone or just never have come back at all. the thought was fleeting though. he knew he had to make this right.
"i left because i was trying to find purpose through my work and... i... i couldn't see you because i knew you were the only person who could've convinced me to stay. i didn't see how wrong that was back then."
he heard you sniffle and let out a shaky breath, so he pulled away just enough to gather your face in his hands, your hair lacing through his fingers. you held one another's gaze and somehow it was the most content either of you had been in a long time.
"i'm sorry," he professed earnestly, looking down at you with regretful eyes.
"it's- it's okay." the words tumbled passed your lips before you could stop them.
"no, it's not. but i hope you'll give me a chance to make it up to you. to make it better."
you nodded almost imperceptibly, but other than that, neither of you moved. a breeze swept between the two of you and nanami tucked a loose strand of hair back behind your ear.
it was strange, perhaps even a bit unfair, that after so much time, after everything he'd done, there was no where you'd rather be than here with him. your hands found their way to his chest, the space there broader than it used to be.
"i love you," he murmured.
terrified you wouldn't say it back, he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to yours. the kiss was slow but not without fervency and the small noise that escaped his throat had you pulling him closer.
it was intoxicating to him, the way you felt against him, the softness of your lips, and the warmth that emanated from your skin.
even so, everything about him was impossibly gentle. nanami pulled away first, scanning your face for any hint of dismay.
"i love you, ken."
feelings of relief and responsibility overwhelmed him in tandem. he'd thought about you saying those words every day for four years and he knew he didn't deserve to hear them now. not yet.
nonetheless, you found yourself enveloped in his arms once more as he pressed a kiss to your head.
"everything i was looking for... i had it here with you all along."
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xythlia · 4 months
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↳ THE FEVER
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› HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR SICKO HUSBAND ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER <3
› satoru x stepdaughter!reader [reader is like early twenties bc it was easier to write with my own age in mind idk]
› word count : 2k+
warnings : dark content stepcest, voyeurism, male masturbation, possessiveness, inherent power imbalance, peeping, showerhead masturbation, yandere ish, he's just a mega perv if I missed anything lmk!
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Truth be told Satoru never thought he'd be the marrying type, if it were solely his decision he probably wouldn't have but with the external pressure to marry and produce a child he ultimately chose the path of least resistance.
A readymade family so to speak, a cheeky loophole to those unrelenting demands he'd heard since he was in his late teens. Not that he didn't care for his newfound family, he did of course. The solid golden band around his ring finger, tangible proof of his commitment. A smart, lovely, accomplished spouse with a daughter already on her way to becoming equally accomplished, if not more so.
He'd only been introduced to you a few months before the wedding date, he didn't push you for any earlier interaction because your mother had already warned him you were surly about the whole thing, distrustful of him as a would be father figure. And yes, it was a slow road to minimal acceptance but you'd made progress in the time after the wedding. For instance you no longer glare and pointedly ignore his presence in the house.
A win is a win, after all.
But as time has gone by Satoru found himself plagued by thoughts, not of his wife, but of his adorably aloof step daughter. He couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful you were, strikingly similar to your mother but with the dewiness of youth making you all the more enticing.
Maybe getting married wasn't such a bad thing.
At the same time it's become tortuous living in the same home together. Its a test of resolve, the way he can't help but stare at the way your sleep shorts have ridden up your ass when you blearily pad around the kitchen in the morning, grumbling about coffee. The way you routinely wear no bra in the comfort of the home without a second thought, although his every thought focuses around how it would feel to palm at your breasts, squeeze them and hear you whine in his hold.
All this early morning rumination comes to halt when he hears the gentle splashing sound of the shower from across the hall, pausing his endless train of thought as his cock throbs.
You're in the shower.
He can picture it: the way the water beads on your skin like rhinestones, the smell of shampoo and conditioner filling the room with the distinct scent of you, and the way soap would foam almost obscenely against the planes of your body.
If someone had the ability to print perfect snapshots of his thoughts they'd rival even the raunchiest porn publications in existence and his hand flexes against the satin sheets, fisting them in an iron grip as his cock throbs. His imagination isn't enough, the train of thought is veering into insatiable territory but it makes his pulse pound through his entire body. Lust and adrenaline mingling into a dangerous shot that he's already swallowed whole.
He has to see you for himself.
As he flings back the sheets and pads towards the bedroom door the tiniest sliver of guilt pierces the haze of desire wrapped around his brain like saran wrap. Of course he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't even be considering it. He's your stepfather and you're his stepdaughter, struggling to adjust to the upheaval of your life and finding your place in the brutal world you inhabit parallel to the normal one. Fuck, h should be helping, not daydreaming about-
His eyes catch you in the mirror first, back turned to him as you fiddle with a bottle of body wash. Satoru has to stop himself from gasping not just at the sight of you but at the flood of rapid fire thoughts that speed through his head.
Do you touch yourself? Surely you must, a woman in her early twenties is hardly unaware of self pleasure but do you finger yourself or are you partial to toys? Have you fucked someone? It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility, and he's seen you get dressed up for dates here and there before but it makes his blood rush thinking about some faceless nameless man getting to look at you naked, kiss that pretty pussy he's dreamt of, or god forbid be inside you.
The perfumed steam wafting from the cracked bathroom door makes his eyes flutter shut, hands flipping the waistband of his boxers down just enough to slip his aching cock out. He hisses as it springs free, lightly smacking against his abdomen. The pressure of his hand is only a bare, fleeting sense of relief considering he'd much rather see you soaking wet and on your knees in front of him, have your hands wrapped around him.
Spitting into the palm of his hand he wishes it was your mouth mapping the veins of his cock instead as he strokes himself, spreading saliva along the thick length of his shaft and his thumb swipes against his overly sensitive head feeling the warm precum leaking from his slit and it feels like he's made of hardened sugar that's now dissolving in the warm steam of the shower.
The pleasure is heightened both by the fact that this is beyond perverse and by the sick way his eyes can't move away from your reflection. The water rinsing down your body should be his fingers trailing burning paths over you, teasing adorable little noises from your lips and making you beg for him. The way your breasts look soaking wet is enough to make him nearly forget himself as his strokes become more frantic, panting in harsh, heaving breaths as his muscles scream to shove open the door and push you against the slick tile wall.
He can practically hear it, the yelp of surprise that he'd shush from you and the way you'd moan helplessly as his fingers swiped through your folds, tactile admiration of your pussy before stuffing you full of himself. It wouldn't be kind or romantic, not with the way you make him feel like a rotten dog, all starving neediness and if he sunk his teeth into you it's doubtful he'd ever be able to let go.
His breathing becomes so labored it's like a stone is pressing against his chest as he lets himself run wild, cerulean eyes blown wide but unseeing as the mental images over take him like a small vessel helpless against raging waves.
How would your hand look wrapped around his throbbing cock? Would you struggle at all, would it be new for you? Those impossibly wide, ravenous eyes are all devouring as he watches you run hands down your body. It's the sheer thrill of this entirely forbidden sight that has him nearly doubled over now, jaw clenched so hard surely his teeth would shatter if he were an ordinary man. His hand pumps his cock faster now, grip tightening as he swipes over his sensitive, weeping head and god would heaven be more than just a word if he could feel you around him. Would your eyes get that glassy, cockdrunk look and would drool slip shamelessly from the corners of your mouth as he fucks you senseless? What he wouldn't give to slap your cheek with his flushed cock, turn you into nothing but a taboo slut.
As you grab for the showerhead it nearly stops him dead.
As if you knew what kind of questions your unwelcome observer was asking.
So you do enjoy self pleasure. Seeing you adjust the jet of water and angle it just right makes his nerves feel like someone spiked fishhooks through them and yanked them impossibly taut. If only that jet of water was his tongue, lapping at your wetness and nudging your clit with his nose while your fingers tug on his alabaster hair. He'd have you on your back before you could blink, thighs squeezing his head and toes curling mid air from how thoroughly he'd work your pussy over. Fuck if only he could taste you-
The coil in his stomach snaps and he can't help the bone deep moans that escape his lips, thigh muscles trembling from the effort of keeping him upright as his balls throb and thick cum spurts in his hand. As he pants his ears ring, every sound as if it's coming through a cardboard tube pressed to his ears.
You'd look so beautiful with his cum splashed across your chest, your face.
Its not until Satoru feels goosebumps rise across the back of his neck that he remembers himself, remembers exactly what he's doing. Glancing up his eyes catch yours in the reflection.
Its damning, but he can't help being defiant against it. Grinning back at you, seeing your eyes wide with shock and your hand frozen poised above you as you were slotting the showerhead back in its holder. His heart hammers so hard against his ribcage it feels like surely it would break loose, splatter across the floor. Its a defining moment, will you scream threats at him or will you cower away?
You say nothing, do nothing but simply turn back around. Your slightly hunched shoulders glistening with moisture tell him enough, you feel exposed and vulnerable but lack the conviction to stand against the feeling. It shouldn't make him feel so elated but now he's got confirmation: you're weak in positions like this.
Would you be just as weak flat on your back?
168 notes · View notes
minarixx · 9 months
Text
𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 ✯ 𝐓.𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨
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"𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙚𝙙. 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙤 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙗 𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙢𝙚."
PAIRING. Best Friend'sDad!Kuroo Tetsurou x f!Reader
CONTENT. Sexual Content, Age Gap, Adultery, Degradation, Pet Names, Sub!Reader, Dom!Kuroo, Vaginal Intercourse, Spanking
The hidden struggles and desires lurking behind the façade of Kuroo Tetsurou's seemingly picture-perfect suburban family. An ordinary man who, in the midst of a midlife crisis, becomes infatuated with his daughter's friends, Y/N L/N.
WC. 4.2k
A/N. Proof-read like half and hoped for the best. Ts too long not reading allat
WARNING. Minors DNI
Inspired by American Beauty (1999)
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𝓣he mid-morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft, golden glow on the bedroom walls. Another day in the monotonous cycle of Kuroo’s existence begins. Pulling away from the blissful embrace of sleep, he fumbles to silence the alarm clock, its persistent beeping an unwelcome reminder of the unremarkable hours that lie ahead.
Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror,he saw a stranger. Deep lines etched themselves deeper into his face, a testament to the weight of a life half-lived.He wondered where the spark of vitality and adventure that once defined him went, as he forced a smile that felt foreign on his weary lips.
Downstairs, the illusion of domestic tranquility is maintained. Akira, his wife, moved through the kitchen with an air of calculated efficiency. Every gesture, every word, a well-rehearsed performance. Beneath her composed facade, was the growing chasm that separated them, a canyon of unspoken grievances and unfulfilled desires.
Nana, his daughter, slouches at the breakfast table, lost in the world behind her headphones. Her sullen gaze hints at the disconnection that has settled between them, a silent reminder of the fragments of intimacy that have slipped away unnoticed. He ached for the days when laughter echoed through these walls, when a genuine connection was forged in the simple moments they shared.
The room was shrouded in an eerie silence as the family sat around the dining table. The clinking of cutlery against plates echoed through the room, accompanied only by the occasional rustle of napkins. Each family member seemed lost in their own thoughts, their faces masked with a disinterested expression.
Nana, a quiet and reserved teenager, took a deep breath and broke the monotony. She glanced at her parents, Kuroo and Akira, who were engrossed in their own world, their eyes fixed on their untouched meals. Her voice barely above a whisper, she quietly shared, "I have a cheer performance tonight."
Akira and Kuroo exchanged a brief, absent-minded glance before shifting their gaze back to their plates. Their lack of response was disheartening but not unexpected.
“We’ll be sure to come dear, what time is it?” Akira replied. “6pm mother.” Nana responded, not looking enthusiastic about it. 
Without uttering another word, they continued their silent meal, the sound of chewing filling the void that enveloped the room.
When 6pm rolled in, Akira and Kuroo drove to their daughters' cheer performance in silence as usual, no music, just the sounds of the bustling streets of Tokyo. 
Tetsurou Kuroo, a man adrift in the desolate sea of middle-aged mediocrity, found himself drawn to the vibrant chaos of his daughter Nana’s high school cheerleading performance. As he sat in the bleachers, surrounded by enthusiastic parents and the deafening cheers of the crowd, a peculiar restlessness stirred within his soul.
His eyes scanned the sea of young faces, each filled with anticipation and hope. And then, like a siren's call, his gaze fell upon you. You, a vision of youthful allure and confidence, stood at the forefront of the cheerleading squad. Your (h/c) hair cascaded over your shoulders, framing a face adorned with delicate features that seemed to radiate an intoxicating beauty. You radiated a youthful energy, an untamed spirit that danced in your eyes. Laughter, like cascading melodies, echoes through the air, and for a fleeting moment, time slows as your gazes meet. 
In that instant, time seemed to slow down, the constraints of his ordinary existence fade away, and the dormant embers of desire ignite within him. The world around Kuroo blurred into the background, as if a spotlight had illuminated you, isolating you from the rest of the universe. Your smile, a seductive curve of lips, pierced through his complacency and ignited a dormant flame within him.
Kuroo's thoughts swirled with a mix of admiration and desire. He couldn't help but be captivated by your aura of self-assuredness, the way you moved with a grace that defied your tender age. You symbolized everything he had lost touch with—youth, vitality, and the intoxicating allure of unbridled passion.
As he watched you perform, Kuroo's mind became a battleground of conflicting emotions. A part of him yearned for the forbidden, to embrace the vibrancy of youth and indulge in the forbidden fruit of desire. Yet another part recoiled in guilt, acutely aware of the consequences and the moral boundaries he risked crossing.
But beneath the surface of his infatuation, a deeper realization began to take hold. He understood that you, with your superficial allure, was merely a vessel for his own misplaced longings. You represented a nostalgia for the freedom and excitement of his own youth, a time when possibilities seemed limitless and life was an open road.
Kuroo's thoughts ventured into the depths of self-reflection. He questioned the choices that had led him to this point—the compromises, the sacrifices, and the loss of his own identity. Your  ethereal beauty became a symbol of the life he had forsaken, a reminder of the person he had once been and longed to reclaim.
But as the cheerleading routine came to an end and you disappeared into the bustling crowd, reality settled in. Kuroo recognized the ephemeral nature of his infatuation. You were but a mirage, a fleeting embodiment of his own disillusionment. The true path to fulfillment in rediscovering the beauty himself.
And so, as the applause faded and the cheerleaders retreated from the spotlight so did Kuroo's fantasy.
Kuroo rose from the bleachers and got ready to congratulate his daughter. As they were in the hallways picking up their daughter, his eyes lit up when he saw you holding bouquet from your parents. Your smile shined brighter than any other. It was like those cartoons of a man smelling food and floating towards it, however to him, it was as if he hadn't ate for years.
Kuroo later found himself standing at the window of his dimly lit study, gazing out at the world beyond. His eyes, once dulled by routine, now seemed alive with a glimmer of hope. A gentle breeze danced through the curtains, rustling the papers on his desk. Lost in his thoughts, Kuroo pondered the emptiness that had consumed his life. The monotony of his job, the strained relationships with his wife and daughter, and the relentless pursuit of societal expectations had left him feeling like a hollow shell. A desperate longing for something more whispered within his soul, a plea for salvation from the mundane.
And then, as if in response to his silent prayer, he saw her. A figure, ethereal and captivating, emerged from the shadows. The evening light caressed your porcelain skin, and your flowing white dress seemed to float around you like a cloud. Your hair, cascading in waves like the milky way, framed a face that radiated a beauty so rare and otherworldly, it took Kuroo's breath away.
At that moment, time stood still. Kuroo’s heart, burdened by years of disillusionment, skipped a beat. It was as if an angel had descended from the heavens, gracing his world with her divine presence. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, as though caught in a mesmerizing spell.
As his gaze locked with yours, Kuroo’s mind was flooded with a torrent of emotions. A sense of longing and desire, but also a profound sense of understanding. In her eyes, he saw a reflection of his own hidden dreams and forgotten aspirations. It was a connection beyond words, a silent conversation that reached deep into his soul.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Kuroo felt truly alive. The weight of societal expectations and the shackles of conformity melted away, replaced by a surge of newfound liberation. In this mystical encounter, he glimpsed the possibility of breaking free from the chains that bound him.
His thoughts swirled in a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. He yearned to abandon the trappings of his past life, to embrace the beauty and wonder that beckoned him. The angel became a symbol of his redemption, a guiding light in the darkness of his existence.
When morning came he was back to his mundane life routine, it was all just a dream. The morning sun painted gentle streaks of golden light across the kitchen as Kuroo sat down at the breakfast table, his mind still grappling with the lingering thoughts from the previous day's encounter at the high school cheerleading performance. He had been captivated by the enigmatic allure of you, yet a part of him recognized the illusory nature of his infatuation.
"I'll be working the night shift today.." Akira spoke, her back turned to Kuroo as she lightly spread avocado on her toast. Kuroo didn't reply.
As he reached for a slice of toast, his daughter Nana entered the room, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and mischief. She took a seat opposite Kuroo, her youthful energy providing a stark contrast to his own disillusionment.
"Dad," Nana began, "My friend Y/N from cheer is coming over."
“Who is Y/N? I mean, I know she's your friend, but what's she like?"
"Oh, Dad, you have no idea. Y/N is the epitome of beauty. She's confident, charismatic, and has this aura that draws people in. She's got this wild, rebellious spirit that's so different from anyone else I know."
Kuroo’s eyebrows furrowed, a mix of intrigue and caution flickering in his eyes. "Sounds like quite a character. But what's her story? I mean, besides being your friend and all."
Nana replied. "Well, she's got this reputation, you know? The boys at school go crazy over her. She's always surrounded by attention, but she's smart too. She knows how to use her charm to get what she wants."
Kuroo’s mind raced, caught between the allure of your magnetic presence and the nagging voice of reason that warned against crossing forbidden boundaries. "Nana, I hope you understand that there's a lot more to a person than just their outward appearance or reputation. It's important to look beyond the surface and value the qualities that truly matter."
Nana nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. "I get it, Dad. But sometimes, you just can't help being drawn to someone, you know? Y/N has this energy, this confidence that's hard to ignore. I guess that's why she has such an effect on people."
Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat, his thoughts immediately transported back to the image of you on the cheerleading squad, your vibrant beauty captivating him like a moth drawn to a flame. He struggled to maintain composure, to hide the flicker of desire that threatened to ignite within him.
"Y/N, huh?" Kuroo replied, feigning casual interest as he tried to quell the rising tide of emotions. "That's nice, Nana. You two have fun."
The afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the windows as you arrived at the Kuroo residence, your presence like a gust of wind that stirred the stagnant air. Kuroo watched from the corner of the room, a mix of curiosity and trepidation coursing through his veins.
You, exuding an air of confidence and allure, walked into the house with a sway in her hips and a smile that could melt hearts. Your eyes locked onto Kuroo, a knowing glimmer dancing within them. The room seemed to come alive, charged with an electrifying energy that crackled between them.
Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat as you approached him, voice dripping with seductive charm. "Hi, Mr. Kuroo. It's so nice to see you again. Nana has told me so much about you."
Kuroo’s pulse quickened, his mind racing to find the right words. "Likewise, Y/N. Nana speaks highly of you. I hope you two have a good time hanging out. She's upstairs showering right now"
You leaned in closer, breath caressing his ear like a whispered temptation. "Oh, we will, Mr. Kuroo. But I have to admit, there's something about you that's caught my attention. You're not like the other dads. You have this air of mystery and allure."
Kuroo’s throat tightened, the weight of desire and responsibility pulling him in opposite directions. He knew he should resist, that giving in to your advances would jeopardize everything he held dear. Yet, the allure of your gaze and the intoxicating chemistry between them threatened to unravel his resolve.
A subtle smile played on your lips as you continued, voice laced with an undercurrent of seduction. "You know, Mr. Kuroo, you have a way of making a girl feel alive. You've got this fire inside you, and I can't help but be drawn to it."
His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape from the magnetic pull you exerted. His mind churned with conflicting thoughts and emotions, torn between the temptation that stood before him and the consequences he knew would follow.
Summoning his last ounce of willpower, Kuroo straightened his posture and met your gaze with a steely resolve. "Y/N, I appreciate your flattery, but I can't ignore the boundaries that exist. My focus is on being a responsible father and husband."
Your eyes flickered with a mix of disappointment and defiance. You took a step back, your mask of confidence momentarily faltering. "I see. Well, maybe one day you'll realize that life is meant to be lived, to seize the passion and desire that comes our way. Until then, Mr. Kuroo, you'll just have to settle for fantasies."
Kuroo’s heart sank as he watched you retreat to go upstairs, your words echoing in the empty space between them. The temptation had been strong, but he knew deep down that pursuing this forbidden path would only lead to destruction. The dance of desire had been tantalizing, but the cost was too high to bear.
As you left the room, Kuroo was left with a mix of relief and a lingering ache. He had resisted the temptation that had danced before him, choosing instead to honor the commitment he had made to his family. It was a bittersweet victory, a reminder of the fragility of human desires and the strength it took to stay true to oneself.
The night settled over the Kuroo residence like a velvety curtain, casting a hushed stillness upon the house. Kuroo sat alone in his dimly lit study, bathed in the soft glow of his computer screen. The rhythmic tapping of the keyboard filled the room, a solitary symphony in the silent hours.
Lost in his work, Kuroo's mind danced between the lines of code, his thoughts consumed by the demands of his job. It was in this moment of focused concentration that he heard a faint rustle from the staircase, a delicate whisper amidst the silence.
His heart skipped a beat as he looked up, his eyes meeting the form of you descending the stairs. Your presence, like an apparition, sent a shiver down Kuroo's spine. His initial surprise was quickly overshadowed by a rising tide of apprehension. The forbidden allure of the earlier encounter hung heavy in the air.
You approached him with a coy smile, your eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and desire. "Couldn't sleep, Mr. Kuroo?"
Kuroo's voice caught in his throat as he struggled to find words. He glanced at the clock, the late hour a reminder of the boundaries that should have kept them apart. "Y/N, it's late. You should go back upstairs."
Your steps were purposeful and deliberate as she closed the distance between them. Your voice, a gentle melody, enveloped him. "I couldn't resist, Mr. Kuroo. There's something about you, something that draws me in. I feel a connection, an electricity that I can't ignore."
Kuroo's heart raced, his resolve waning in the face of your allure. The lines of his own moral code blurred as he wavered between succumbing to the forbidden desires and upholding the values he held dear.
There was a tiny voice in his head that said he should stop before things get too far to the point where you can't control anything. His desires and impulses finally snapped.
Lingering gazes full of longing, wandering hands that find a home on your body, the voice that gives you jolts in your body. You clench your thighs at his voice and touch. The seductive act was sexy, he has to admit, sometimes the forbidden can be the most tempting. 
“Are you finished tempting your friend’s father? Did you have fun? Or do you still wanna keep going’?” he questions, placing one hand on the countertop and the other on his hip. One half of his shirt bends where he’s got the buttons undone, showcasing his chest 
He wants you to admit how much a desperate girl you are. How much of a needy slut you’re being. 
“I haven’t even got you on my cock yet, and you don’t know a damn thing already. Acting like you weren’t behaving like a whore during the whole time you were in my house.” The older man wasn’t wrong at all. 
“How about we skip to the part where you admit you want a man nearly twice your age to fuck you, baby?” he questions, snapping you out of your thoughts. Any second thoughts you had were ready to die like wilted flowers. “I know that cunt is begging to be filled.”
With his words, your walls clenches. Your panties are drenched and have turned into a darker shade at the crotch.
Kuroo stood behind you, though it takes only a few strides for him to reach you. You crane your neck to look up at him, his tall height causing him to tower over you. “What happened to the girl who was so willing earlier?” He ridicules you.
 “Please..I want this.” you quietly murmur, and you watch as his face hardens.
“Oh, now you wanna be my good girl? You’re lucky it's night, your best friend is sound asleep and my wife is at work, sweetie. I would put you over my knee and spank that cute ass of yours ‘till you’re crying,” Kuroo tells you, and you have a feeling he’ll do exactly that any given moment.
You whimper at the thought. Kuroo’s hands look heavy, veiny yet soothing, and he doesn’t seem like a man who takes misbehaviour lightly.
With the little daring personality you had left, you reached up on your toes and grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Though you started it, he quickly took control. Biting, kissing, he makes out with you in an unforgettable way. A way no man has ever. 
He claims your mouth and his hands do the same to your body. They grip your hips and bring you close to him, his hardened cock rubbing against your ass. Now, it feels as though it’s more intimidating than you expected.
But it makes sense, a man of his size must be large all over. He moves into you, grinding against your body for a moment’s relief.
Eventually, you pull away when the ache between your legs turns unbearable. “N-Need your cock, Mr. Kuroo. I need you in me. T-to feel you” you tell him, reaching down to palm it. Kuroo quickly pulls away before he gently moves you.
You’re bent over one of the countertops with the older man’s hands still on your hips. The cold surface is soothing against your hot skin, but it doesn’t quell the throbbing of your cunt. “So slutty… I’ll fuck you like the whore you are. Don’t worry,” he reassures you, flipping up your skirt.
Your nipples make contact with the marble of his work desk as you pull down the top of your dress. Kuroo lands a spank on your ass, making you let out a loud cry. “Shhh… You gotta be quiet, sweetie. We don’t wanna get caught, right?” he quietly tells you, and you nod your head.
He pulls down your panties and admires the glistening of your cunt. “That’s all for me?” Kuroo questions, pocketing the cloth.
Nodding your head, you whimper and clench around nothing. “Mhm, all for you, Kuroo! No one else,” your voice is more pathetic than it usually is. The confident facade was crushed by this man alone. “Good girl. Call me Tetsurou.” The zipper of his jeans is dragged down, the sound ripping through the air and waking up the butterflies in your stomach. 
“Y’know, I could stretch this pretty cunt out so easily. Gonna let me ruin your little fuckhole? How many little boys have already been in this cause it's clearly never been by a real man.” 
Immediately, you agree, in fact you beg for it. “Mhm—please, Tetsurou? I need you to make me take it,” you tell Kuroo. The way his name rolls off your tongue makes him groan. 
You can feel the heavy tip against your opening, collecting your slick, giving you a teasing slap, and letting it catch. “You better take all of this dick, sweetie.”
With that, he pushes in. The stretch is overbearing as Kuroo pushes his entire cock inside of your wet pussy. He grazes your g-spot and fits snug, right up to your cervix. 
Your hand fists together as you adjust to his massive length and the intense pleasure. Although all you could think about was him, his daughter aka your best friend was just upstairs. The sight of her finding out what her father was doing to her best friend felt wrong but made you even more turned on.
Moans leave your mouth continuously as Kuroo begins to thrusts, growing addicted to the way your cunt clenched around him. “Best pussy I’ve ever had... this can't just be a one time thing.” Insteading of replying all you could do was simply whine. 
He begins to fuck you, pushing in and pulling out of your tightness. His cock shines with your arousal and your noises grow louder. “Good girl—such a good girl for me only. You’re takin’ it like a winner, sweetie,” Kuroo coos, but you’re speechless. 
The sensations that send jolts through your body are ones you know you won’t be able to recreate with anyone else. Each thrust leaves you nearly-trembling, his cock brushing against your g-spot as he kisses your cervix. 
Kuroo’s balls slap against your clit and your body jerks forward as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Feelin’ good, baby?” he questions, leaning over you. His chest presses against your back and his mouth is right by your ear. 
As he thrusts into your pussy, he laughs. The chuckle is low and gravelly, one you’ve heard many times. “Already fucked stupid? How cute. It’s okay, baby. It’s your fault for being a slut and tempting a married man.” Kuroo husks, and his words have you suddenly clenching around him.
He curses at your grip, and does so again when you let out a wail of pleasure. 
Immediately, his large hand comes up to your face and clamps over your mouth, muffling your moans, whimpers, and whines. 
“You dont wanna get caught now do you, princess?” he reminds you. 
“Are you gonna come, baby?” Kuroo questions, noting your little reactions. 
Your cunt squeezing his cock, your pornographic sounds, and so much more. “Yeah? Gonna soak my fat cock already? Go ahead, slut,” he smirks, finishing his sentence with a series of dizzying thrusts. 
Your eyes roll back as you suddenly hit your climax, pussy gushing around your friend’s dad, just like you’ve fantasised about. This whole scenario was straight from a porno. “That’s it, good girl Y/N. Make a mess on this dick, baby. I gotcha,” he soothes, fucking you through your orgasm.
After the shocks travelled through your body, your limbs twitch and shake from the intensity. Kuroo’s hand soaks up each of your pornographic moans while he stretches out your drooling fuckhole. The grip of your pussy is as tight as a fist, and Kuroo knows he won’t last as long as he wants to.
It’s not because he finishes quickly—it’s because you feel so damn good, and he can’t risk getting caught any longer.
Eventually, you ride out your release and Kuroo is determined to swiftly bring you to another orgasm. “You fuckin’ love this, don’t you, baby? Gettin’ fucked by a man twice your age and your size.” The mention of the two differences has you wanting to bite your lip, but you can’t. 
Never in your life have you ever been fucked so good. You nod as best as you can and in return, Kuroo laughs of pride. 
“That’s right, sweetie. Bet I already ruined you for other men, hm? This pussy was made for my cock, so you better not touch it without my permission,” he warns, and you nod your head. Kuroo pulls his hand away, the other one petting the back of your head. “Lemme hear it, baby. Tell me you’ll be his good girl from now on.”
“I– I’m your good girl W– Won’t be bad, promise,” you tell him, trying to keep your voice quiet. But it’s hard when his cock is stroking your walls and bringing you to another orgasm so soon. Your folds are sticky with arousal and so is Kuroo’s sack. It slaps against your clit each time he pushes forwards. He groans, “Good girl.”
Warmth fills you up and spills past his thickness, ropes of cum shooting out of the older man’s sensitive tip. A few seconds later, Kuroo’s cock is coated in your release. 
As you both catch your breath, you shamelessly move your hips. Kuroo curses from the feeling, he sets his left hand on your hip, the other one bracing against the edge of the desk. 
“Still didn’t fuck the brattiness out of you, did I?”
“Nope. But you love it. Don’t you. ?” 
The look on his face and the throbbing of his cock answer for him.
©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.
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yawarakaizai · 6 months
Note
pmzai with an equally miserable s/o fem reader
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ⵌ IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT
SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM Dazai Osamu (BSD) CONTENTS You sit and stare and wait for him to return to you. You've been bad and you've been good. There's nothing and no one that gives you purpose like he. NOTE reader+dazai are 17/18, implications of s/h, slight misogyny, death of parent, it's kind of angsty.. , soft couple, miserable couple, sui/cide mention+ideation COMPANY I'm Not Human At All
A/N ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ th is wa s har d to make b ecause i h ad sOOO OO m any ide as an d my playli st wa s feelin g good an d kept pla y ing song s th at g ave me diff fic ide as ;; th is is sad ,,, i do nt like sa d fics bu t ,,, this is kin d of a ven t? hehe FEE L FREE TO REQ UEST MOR E!
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Your tender heart would care for an injured bunny rescued from a bear trap.
You'd nurse the animal as best you could yet it would always die.
Your father was a hunter. He earned your living costs by selling animal hide and what meat he'd have spare after covering what you'll need. Your mother died when you were a little girl.
You were as sweet as your mother.
Your father would tell stories of how She would gaze out on the winter sky and say to Herself, "My daughter will be as snow. Gentle and graceful, yet freezing to those who demand more of what perfect she is already."
When your Mother died, they put Her in a box full of pink carnations and orchids. Surely to counteract the smell of Her decaying corpse, to display Her flesh as something beautiful before her descent under soil to where Her bones will return and fertilise what surrounds.
Rural life in Japan was not for the weak. Which you were.
You picked up what your Mother left behind.
Tending to the chickens in their coops and shearing the sheep, you'd milk the cows and free the rabbits when Father wasn't looking.
Your hands plush with baby fat would clench around your rosary every night and pray like a good girl.
By the time you reached puberty, your features resembled your Mother more than ever before. Your figure changed and as did your father.
He'd sneer at the dress that fit you perfectly just two years ago. You'd become defiant and bold, a rebellious child.
" Father, but why? "
Your protests and argumentative nature would anger him. And now, you weren't a good girl.
Shouting battles always left you sobbing into thick pillows until your throat hurt.
It was at the age of fifteen did you find out what lies beneath your thin flesh and blue pulse.
You are made of bright crimson and spite.
At sixteen, you ran away.
It was impulsive. You forgot how and what happened. You don't want to remember.
Your calves ached and your feet blistered with pain from trudging up and down hills and farms.
You are a mixture of love and loss.
Everything is a blur, and sometimes you question whether running away was the wisest thing to do.
You had collapsed the moment you stepped foot into the city.
A sad, lost soul who ran away from her father.
You had been a..
" Very bad girl. "
The voice startled you enough for you to spill the batter all over your clean white apron.
" Osamu! " You cried out in disbelief, the boy laughing hysterically. " That isn't funny, knock it off. "
In a way, Dazai reminded you of those bunnies you'd rescue in your youth. He was caught and wounded by the claws of Life. And although you may cup his cheeks into your hands and tell him 'You're alive', he had already died before you were able to cradle him to your chest.
" I told you not to wake up early, Y/N! I should have known to not mention my fondness of crêpes to you. "
You felt untamed, wild hair brush against the bare of your neck before soft lips made contact with your jawline. A soft kiss pressing into what was cold. He was grateful to have you in his sad miserable life.
And even if you two were not perfect for each other, you'd both die to watch the world burn.
" I did it on my own accord. " You lied. " You did not. " He calls your bluff like air. You huff in surrender.
Setting down the metal bowl of paste, you turn to face him. You think of the horrors that his empty, black eye must have seen. His other eye, obscured by bandages, was a mystery to you. You respected him enough to not budge him about it.
" I wished to make you something special. "
You confess, certain he already knew your intention. Your boyfriend was simply smarter than many.
" I don't need anything. Coming home to you is enough, bella. '' His hand stretches to you like death.
Your eyes were not as bright as they were when you were little. They reflected the bad girl that you've become. The one that left her sickly impoverished father in treacherous conditions alone because her feelings were hurt.
" Belladonna. "
He'd pull you back into reality when he'd notice you slipping.
" 'samu. You've barely been coming home anymore, okay? Let me do this, just this once for you. " You snaked your arms around his waist and he mirrored your action, twirling you both out of the kitchen.
Dazai was inexplicable to you. He was a man your father wouldn't like. A man your Mother would hate. A man your younger self would despise.
You willingly moved into a shared apartment with the mafia executive after a few months of living in Yokohama. It was him to have picked you up from the streets. Sensing you were worth more than the muddied appearance you showed at that time.
Your one-time use turned into a second-time use, and your second-time use blossomed like a flower in Spring. You interested him.
You both intoxicated each other. Dazai was able to make you feel light. You felt weightless and as fragile as a butterfly. Weak, small and at his mercy.
" Then don't hide yourself away from the kitchen when I'm right here, love. "
By the time your spinning head focused on what was around you again, he had toppled you both onto the living room couch. He loomed over you, fully dressed in his mafia uniform, his stupid tie obscuring your vision until he tucked it between the buttons of his revere blouse.
" What would you do if I were to die? "
" Osamu. Stop that. "
You muttered.
You feel his life. The warmth of his body, the tender flow of blood heating his body as his finger traced patterns into your cheek. Your heart keeps beating.
" Answer me, Y/N. "
You didn't enjoy thinking of your partners demise. You wouldn't mind if you were to die.
The problem was, you didn't want to be alive for your boyfriends funeral, yet you didn't wish for your boyfriend to be alive for yours.
You loved each other to the point it became hate. Hate for how the other made living seem worth it.
Dazai had an eventful life. You did not.
You had no education whatsoever. According to the government, you did not exist. You had no birth certificate. You were no one. You lived hidden in this cramped apartment.
When Dazai was away, it was only you and your thoughts. Your thoughts were a dangerous thing.
" I think I would kill myself too. "
Your voice caught up on an unexpected crack. You were puzzled until your vision became glassy.
" Pretty baby. I'm sorry. " His apology was belated as you'd already begun to sniffle, he lowered his weight on you, turning to lay on his side as he pulled you in close, coaxing you into silence.
" Don't die, 'samu. Not here, not now. " Your sad little beg mused him.
Dazai was all you had left. You were most certain that if you were to part, you would die.
With Dazai, you were still inadequate. Without Dazai, you truly were nothing but a walking corpse.
He thinks that you are something weak and soft, with a fire raging in you that cried to be extinguished before it could spread.
You hush yourself to enjoy the feeling surrounding you. You feel Dazai's ribcage rise with each steady breath he takes. The beating of a heart is somewhere far deep in, and yours is jumping in your throat.
" Not now. " He repeated after you, and part of you wished to believe it.
There was something mystical about Osamu.
Something that warned you to not feed coal to the flame.
And that if you reached your hand in, you'd burn yourself on what was forbidden.
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©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3
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Text
So like a year ago, I made a post asking why Dorian confessed to murdering Basil in the 1891 edition of the book, but not the 1890. For the last few months, while working on tlg and the comic, I’ve on and off again worked on a small animatic for the ending of TPODG. Because of this I’ve had to reread the ending conversation with Henry again and again. And a thought occurred to me:
Is Dorian’s ‘desire to be good’ actually an attempt to stop being objectified?
Dorian’s ‘desire to be good’ is obviously horseshit, even to himself, but why does he do it? "To feel something new" is a lazy explanation especially when the book literally says that “[h]e felt a wild longing for the unstained purity of his boyhood”. He doesn’t want something new, he wants what he had before. But it’s not the innocence of his youth, nor something material he desires—it’s the way people treated him before Henry and Basil.
The thing that always stood out to me was this exchange (occuring after Dorian’s confession): 
“There is someone at White’s who wants immensely to know you—young Lord Poole, Bournemouth’s eldest son. He has already copied your neckties, and has begged me to introduce him to you. He is quite delightful and rather reminds me of you.”
“I hope not,” said Dorian with a sad look in his eyes.”
While many modern adaptations either forget this line or give a charitable reading, to me it reads as though Dorian realizes he’s replaceable. Even though he has a magic portrait and eternal youth, he still is a dying relic of a changing world. He will never be anything more than the innocent, youthful doll society and Henry treated him as.
His confession, to Henry of all people, was a final plea to be seen as more than the dumb youth, as an innocent angel—he is begging Henry to look at him and see that Dorian Gray is a person. That he feels more than youth, or beauty, or idolatry. That he is capable of great violence and even greater crime, like any other man and through that can be capable of evolving with the time like any other. He doesn't want to live as a passing fancy of perverts and naive young people.
But Henry breaks all of that in one simple line:
“You and I are what we are, and will be what we will be.”
But, Lord Henry was never going to see Dorian as a real person. Because Henry himself isn’t real. ‘Lord Henry’ is a role he plays, one that consumed him far before the first chapter. In many ways, his cynical philosophy is his own defective portrait. He hides any semblance of a person in his role of ‘cynical hedonist’ and denies any change. He too is a dying relic of a changing world.
When Henry denies his attempt to change, Dorian seeks Basil’s portrait of him. I think it's quite telling that even after he murder him, Dorian seeks implicit comfort from the man who had idolized his rose-white purity. Basil was the only relationship that was closest to what he had before. But the sad truth is laid bare:
No one ever saw Dorian Gray as a real person. 
He was always a role being played. 
And he dies tragically discarded.
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papenathys · 7 months
Note
Do you have any recs for books about muslim queer people? especially graphic novels?
I have some fiction recommendations, as I don't usually read too much non-fiction:
[ NOTE: Yes, I am aware that all the gay books listed below are depressing as fuck while the sapphic books are fluff or romance. Take it up with the authors. ]
MLM Muslim Books
Darius The Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram: an Iranian-American boy with clinical depression makes a best friend for life, reconnects with his grandparents, and repairs his relationship with his father on a trip to Yazd.
Guapa by Saleem Haddad: Rasa, a gay man working as a translator and living in an unnamed Arab country, tries to carve out a life for himself in the midst of political and social upheaval, in this novel set over 24 hours.
God in Pink by Hasan Namir: set in war-torn Iraq in 2003 and follows a young gay Iraqi man struggling to find a balance between his sexuality, religion, and culture by seeking guidance from a sheikh.
The Carpet Weaver by Nemat Sadat: a tragic love story between two gay youths in 1970s Afghanistan, who must keep their relationship a secret due to the fears of societal ostracisation, violence and even the impending threat of a war.
WLW Muslim Books
The Henna Wars by Adiba Jaigirdar: Nishat, a young Bangladeshi-Irish lesbian has to fight against racism, homophobia and cultural appropriation when she starts a henna business at her Catholic school, and falls for a rival classmate.
Bright Lines by Tanaïs: a vibrant debut novel set in Brooklyn and Bangladesh, which follows three young women and a diasporic Bengali family struggling to make peace with secrets and their past.
The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali by Sabina Khan: a young Bengali-American girl's conservative Muslim parents forcibly send her off to Bangladesh for marriage, after they catch her kissing her girlfriend; once there, she finds solace and strength through reading her grandmother’s old diary.
Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating by Adiba Jaigirdar: a grumpy-sunshine fake dating romance between two young Bengali-Irish sapphic girls, one Muslim and one Hindu, each having her own troubled relationships with friends, religion and family.
The Quilt and Other Stories by Ismat Chughtai: a collection that includes the titular erotic lesbian love story between a Begum and her maidservant, their sexual trysts unknowingly observed by an innocent little girl– this story revolutionized Indian queer literature and lesbian history.
Radiant Fugitives by Nawaaz Ahmed: a Muslim-Indian lesbian political activist working in the early days of Obama's presidency, attempts to reconnect with her mother and sister, years after her father abandoned her because of her sexuality.
Roses in the Mouth of a Lion by Bushra Rehman: Razia, a Pakistani American, grows up across cultures in 1980s New York, confronting stereotypes, dealing with American society, practicing her Muslim faith, and falling in love with a female classmate.
Tell me How You Really Feel by Aminah Mae Safi: a YA enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy about a popular Persian-Indian Muslim cheerleader and a Jewish wannabe director who end up working together on a project, despite their mutual hatred.
Soft on Soft by Em Ali: a very fluffy and low-angst romance between two plus size women- a Persian makeup artist/beauty influencer with anxiety and a Black actress.
MEMOIRS
My Life as A Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi: from a god-fearing British-Iraqi Muslim boy enraptured with their mother, to a vocal, queer drag queen estranged from their family, this is a memoir about the author's fight to be true to themself.
Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H: a nonbinary butch Muslim author's powerful, religious memoir spanning from her childhood, to their arrival in the United States for college through early-adult life in New York City, describing how she found queer affirmation in the Quran and Islam.
A Dutiful Boy by Mohsin Zaidi: a poignant coming of age memoir by a British-Muslim gay author, about growing up queer in a conservative household, amidst poverty-stricken east London.
We Have Always Been Here by Samra Habib: a memoir about feminism and LGBTQ community by a nonbinary queer Ahmadi Muslim author, whose family sought asylum in Canada after fleeing Pakistan's political turmoil.
In Sensorium (Notes for My People) by Tanaïs: this memoir interlaces memories of childhood in the South, Midwest US and New York with a universe of memories and scent—inspired by the author's own perfume maker background– while offering an alternate history of South Asia from a Bangladeshi Muslim femme perspective.
I have not read some of these, and am not Muslim, so I cannot testify to their "correctness" of Islamic representation. Unfortunately I do not have any graphic novels that deal with queerness and Islam. Perhaps my followers can help.
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fandomwritingbit · 7 months
Note
hi!! would like to req a priest william smut with a fem sub reader :>> the events taking place at night would be great since it’s hotter that way lmao but the plot can be abt anything! tysm and super love ur work btw <3
Hiya, thank you so much for this request, I just love playing with religion, you and my pfp make eye contact like that one monkey meme. That being said, I’m gonna warn you, I’m Church of England, I only know basic things about Catholicism from studying history. But I done some research, and I think it’s decent- feel free to correct me though if something is grossly wrong.
Again, thank you!
Priest William x (fem) sub reader
Warnings: smut, inappropriate relationships, corruption, guilt.
A little over thirty minutes ago, you’d thrown yourself through the wooden doors of the church, the pouring rain making your clothes cling to your body and your hair stick to your forehead. The stormy weather perfectly summed up the torrential feelings, it was like a bomb exploded inside you and shattered any illusion of control or power you thought you had in your life. Your life, that notion is almost ridiculous. You hate it, and everyone, and everything. Your overbearing mother who demanded perfection, forced you to smile even though it killed a part of you to do so. Your father, god, if you could even call him that. Your work, the stress it caused you. All of it.
The emotions were so strong you couldn’t stay in your room and push past them. You were drowning in them and the only way to feel any semblance of sanity was to kneel in a pew and pray for some miracle to help you overcome your troubles. So you replaced your nightclothes with something more acceptable and fled your house, not even noticing the rain until you’re halfway to the church with a rosary painfully clutched in your hand, the beads pressing indents into your palms.
You don’t know what time it is when you arrive and enter the old building, the steeple silver-lined by the light of the moon looking like the cover of a horror story. Gothic and dark but strangely beautiful.
Inside a sudden calm came over you, the stained glass window over the altar casting stunning colours across the floor, intense twists of blue and purple swirling together and diluting the image of Jesus it portrayed. You drop to your knees before it, pressing your eyes shut and trying to ignore the warm tears that seeped between them. You shiver when you clasp your hands together, beginning to mouth your words of prayer.
You’re so lost in your worship, you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you, seeking to investigate the source of the doors banging open then shut again at this time of night. The church didn’t 'close', but a responsibility lies on the clergy to make sure people coming in so late are legitimate and not youths after a laugh.
The priest moves near silently, watching your figure before him. He recognises you from service, how could he not, sometimes he spoke directly to you, mesmerised by how you slung on to his every word. And now, the arch of your back is so pretty as you kneel there praying. A rhythmic sniffling makes him realise that you’re crying, a thought crossing him mind that whoever could make a sweet thing like you cry, deserves more than hell.
You pause in between prayers, needing a moment to catch your breath as your sobbing finally begins to subside. You knew this would work, something about the calmness of a place of worship settling your bones and making you realise your problems weren’t as massive as they seemed. Inhaling through your nose, you hold it for a few seconds to force your body to adjust to a more peaceful state. But a hand landing on your shoulder causes the breath to tear from you in a shuddered gasp.
“Ah-” you turn to the man standing beside you, your eyes moving from his hand on your skin to his face looking down at you with a small smile, “God, you scared me… father.” It takes you a moment to take notice of his collar, obviously there’s someone here, you feel like an idiot.
He chuckles, shaking his head with an almost mocking expression. “Blasphemy will add another Hail Mary to your list.” The words are professional but that hand on your shoulder didn’t feel so.
“Yes- I’m sorry.”
“Apologies mean nothing," The smile on his face grew wider, becoming a smirk that wouldn't have looked out of place on the devil himself. He pauses briefly, his fingers rising from your skin and catching a loose strand of hair, beginning to twirl it around his finger, the action making your browns furrow instantly. “You have to… demonstrate your repentance.” The way he plays with those words gives you goosebumps and you look up to the priest with a growing knowledge spreading across your face.
How you found yourself here is a mystery. A dark, twisted and sinful mystery. It’s almost an out of body experience, the rain bouncing off the stone building not helping to ground you but rather pulling you further and further from your senses. This is nothing like you, you wouldn’t dream of doing anything like this, or anyone like this.
A large hand traces over your naked breast, your nipples hard in the cold air making them achingly sensitive to the touch of this man. You couldn’t think for how wrong this was, your mind clouded by a guilty need spreading through your core. You don’t know how he got you here, laid back on a sheet of fabric draped across the floor, your skin prickling with anticipation, it’s sheer madness. You’re bare before him, completely naked but not freezing because the arousal kept you warm. And his touch dragging down to your stomach and then between your legs was more than enough to distract you from any thought of the cold night air.
The father kneels between your legs toying with the desperation there, your slick quickly coating his fingers. You don’t even realise what you’re doing until his lips are against yours, your hands around his neck pulling his body on top of you, letting him feel the gasp he elicits when he begins playing with your clit. He grins at your instant reaction, your hips rising to meet his touch and trembling at the patterns he draws on your sensitive nerves.
You felt so perfect underneath him, your smooth skin and the curves of your body reminding him of all the things he was supposed to give up under his occupation. He slowly moved his long middle finger down through your folds savouring the delicious heat of your need, before pressing it inside you, joining it with his index finger he pushed them both down to the knuckle, the most lascivious moan escaping you. Then he settled at a torturously slow and deep pace of fucking his fingers in and out of you. Each time his fingers curl inside you forces you to become more of a moaning mess, your hand grabbing his wrist as you get closer to reaching your peak.
You’re so close already, needily grinding your hips up against his hand, all sensible thoughts of caution or regret long lost in favour for feeling good. His pace adjusts like he can read your mind, now pressing his digits in and out of you faster, how deep it felt coupled with him brushing against your g-spot so perfectly brings you to the height. Your back arching and walls clamping down around his fingers tight whilst you ride out the waves of unreal pleasure. You can feel him hard against your thigh, eager to feel how good your fluttering walls feel squeezing around him, silently asking for him to fill you up.
The priest kisses you again, a firm hand on the back of your neck holding your position while the other raises your left leg to tilt your slick hold towards him. You smirk breathlessly as he positions himself, cock brushing achingly against your entrance, his head teasing you as it rubbed through the hot wetness there. A sudden feeling of nervousness spreads through you, he’s still dressed, his clerical collar a glaring reminder of what this was, but instead of having second thoughts all you want is to see just what celibacy does to a man.
He has to force his eyes from your face as he presses the tip of his cock into your heat, ducking his head into your shoulder so you didn’t see the shameful snarl on his face as he pushed inside, your blissful walls making room for him. He makes it halfway inside you before you reach out to still him for a moment, he’s big, stretching you open so much you almost cry. It feels good, almost ruthlessly so, but once he starts to shallowly move in and out, still not fully inside, you realise that the slight burn was more than worth it. There’s little patience left in him and so, with a cast iron grip on the plush of your arse he lifts you against him and fully sheathes himself. God, you nearly scream, falling instead to a breathless groan into the crook of his neck.
It’s crazy how good it feels, your body taking charge of itself and rutting into his movements hooked on the delightful feeling of corruption, though who is corrupting the other more, you don’t know. He doesn’t fuck you rough, the steady pace is more than enough to make you come undone, but there’s a selfishness to it and it get’s you off that he needs this, needs what your sweet little cunt can give him. These words in your internal monologue shock you, that kind of language feeling unnatural from you but so right simultaneously.
He brings you impossibly closer to him, bodies completely flush, his head buried in your neck, breathing you in and it’s perfect for hearing him grunting as he thrusts in and out of your pussy. He can hardly bear it, your walls wrapped around him harshly, stuck in that state of wanting to go slow to keep himself under control and wanting to push himself to climax all at once. But you feel too good. His pace grows quicker, a desperate edge to it and this change makes another climax raise its head, gaining on you so quickly it’s frightening. He could tell you were close, your fingernails digging into his arms and the prettiest of moans fleeing your lips.
At that point he's greedy, wanting more than anything to feel you clamp around him, to see your eyes roll back as he fills you with his release. That when you cum, pussy clenching tight as a vice around him, fluttering with the waves of your pleasure, he reaches his end, his thrusts becoming harder as he grunts, that warm feeling of his cum inside you apparent even as you twitch through your climax.
He groans before pulling away from you, quickly fixing himself, leaving you laid back to watch him whilst the knowledge of what you've just done trickles between your legs.
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ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 9 months
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My Moon and Stars
pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem!reader
genre: mild angst with comfort
el's thoughts: this was requested by @writingmysanity for my 1.3k follower celebration
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Nikolai!” Y/N called as she lifted the skirts of her dress and hurried through the tunnels of their underground hideout. “Have you seen Nikolai?” She turned to different grisha as she passed them. No one had given her the answer she desperately needed to hear. 
She was separated from him during all the chaos caused by the Darkling’s shadow monsters. Her dress now in shreds from when she stood to the side rushing everyone else ahead of her. 
Her heart was racing while her feet ached and forced her to slow to a stop. She leaned against the dirt wall trying to hold back her tears and the choked sob that crawled its way up her throat. “Nikolai.” She craved to be in the comforting hold of her husband’s arms. The arms that she had found solace in over the years of their marriage. He was always kind to her and built a relationship with her based on friendship. Over time she had fallen for the prince and truly grew to love him. 
“She um-” Y/N could hear her father clear his throat, “She should be here any minute now. My most sincere apology for making you wait.” 
“It’s no matter really.” An unrecognizable voice spoke up before silence settled into the room, the only sounds being her parent’s harsh whispers. 
Y/N quickly hid herself behind one of the stone pillars lining the large hallway. The two wooden doors slid open and the clicking of heels were heard making their way into the hallway. The princess held her breath as she waited for the footsteps to finish their walk down the hall. 
“And what do you think you’re doing out here?” 
The y/h/c haired girl spun around and muffled her scream with her hand. Once she saw the voice was her mother’s lady-in-waiting she straightened out her light blue summer dress. “Oh well, I… I was just playing-”
“You’re too old to be playing anything now, don’t you think?” The older women tsked teasingly. “You have guests kept waiting in the Great chamber.” 
Y/N grasped desperately for an excuse. “You can tell them I’ve come down with a terrible terrible cold.” 
The graying woman smiled in pity at the girl before her. The girl whom she’d watch grow into the beautiful young lady whose father is now trying to give her hand in marriage. “You know I can’t do that.”
“It was worth a shot.” The princess sighed and foled her hands together in front of her as she walked to the doors of the Great chamber. She kept her voice low. “And here we go.”
The heavy wooden doors swung open and Y/N was met with the sight of her family and the Ravkan prince with his older brother and parents. She dipped into a shallow bow keeping her head down as she made her way to the empty seat beside her mother. “Please excuse my tardiness, your highness.”
Her father nodded, “Yes, please forgive her.”
The Ravkan prince waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t fret, we are here for a few days afterall. We are in no rush.”
Y/N took the time to look over Nikolai’s features while he spoke with both of their fathers about arrangements. His blonde hair fell across his forehead gracefully, framing his face in such a way that made his facial features sharper. Not sharp enough to be threatening. No, his face still held a softness that she had only seen in children. He carried a youthful spirit with him.
The gray-haired queen that sat next to him smiled smugly at the princess when she noticed her staring at Nikolai. 
Y/N looked down at her lap bashfully. Her lady-in-waiting placed a soft hand on her shoulder and rubbed her thumb against her skin in comfort. ‘It’ll be okay.’
“Y/N!” Tamar called for the princess. “Nikolai is here.”
Y/N’s head snapped up and she wiped under her eyes as she walked quickly down the tunnel and turned the corner. The familiar mop of blonde hair came into view and she felt a new wave of tears spring to her eyes. Her feet carried her faster until she crashed into his side, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly. 
“You’re okay. Saints you’re okay.” Nikolai kissed her head repeatedly and ran his hand through her hair. “I thought…” He swallowed thickly instead of finishing his sentence. 
“I thought I lost you.” Y/N murmured quietly into his shoulder, trying to suppress her tears. She felt Nikolai shake his head. 
“You’re my moon and stars,” he kissed her head again. “My compass, my direction, my home.” He pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. “It’s all you. It’s always been you. I’ll always find my way back to you. Not even death could keep me away.”
“Don’t say that.” She closed her eyes. “Don’t speak of death right now. Please.”
“Okay, okay.” He brought her back into him and placed his lips on top of her head. “But remember that it’s true. You’re my moon and stars.”
They may have been arranged from the beginning, but their love had nothing to do with their parents. Their love had grown after moonlit walks and spring picnics in the gardens. Breakfast before a busy day and ranting about the day before bed. Traveling together and telling stories of their childhood. They both knew they’d have each other through this war, and that was all they needed.
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did I ever tell you guys about how I would adapt (the tragedy of) Hamlet (prince of Denmark) if ever given the chance. because I have so many thoughts and I’m adding onto them all the time so here’s a post with all my ideas compiled.
- firstly, it would be an animated mini-series of five episodes, each one corresponding to an Act. I think Animation is a highly under-utilised and underappreciated medium that would suit this particular story well in terms of what it could achieve visually and also these are just a bunch of words to say I’m heavily biased towards animation and just love it so much.
- there are so many fun little character design tidbits i would implement. including but not limited to: Horatio being the shortest, Claudius/Hamlet Sr identical twins (and Claudius having a Scar reminiscent scar on his face for the drama… and also the eventual Act 5 Scene 2 parallels when Laertes wounds Hamlet with the rapier in an incidentally similar way), Laertes having a silly curly moustache, Horatio and Ophelia resembling the other, Hamlet looking tired, pale and ghostly at all times, character’s hair being used as a way to show passing of time (Hamlet having hair on the long side of short in Act 1, growing but in a little ponytail over Act 2, medium-length and unkempt in Acts 3 & 4, and cut shortly and neatly in Act 5. also Ophelia’s hair growing noticeably as well and being often neatly braided with little flowers in Acts 1-2, loosely braided without flowers in Act 3, but being down and wild in Act 4 etc), and so on so forth.
- I would shamelessly be including flashbacks to pre-tragedy memories of the castle/inhabitants. Baby R&G&H running through the castle halls and playing hide and seek. Hamlet actually, god forbid, practicing fencing. The Players entertaining at the castle in Hamlet’s youth. Ophelia and Hamlet sneaking out into the garden beneath the willows by the pond, Hamlet braiding flowers into her hair while they sit together. Yorick entertaining baby Hamlet. All coloured with the softest, goldenest glows that nostalgia can manage to contrast the desaturated depressive hues of the current day. I think a lot of the tragedy of *Hamlet* specifically lies in comparing what was to what ended up being, and since the play starts after Hamlet’s entered his mourning period, it’s hard to fully comprehend the true nature of such a fall.
- Each Act having a lovely stylised title card in its introduction with themes and motifs that are specifically prevalent throughout. Act 3 would have curtains, for example, given the play staging and Polonius’ later poor choice of hiding place. Act 5 introduces the classic skull we all know and love.
- Very purposeful dramatic lighting and colour throughout. Daylight lighting and then the switch to a lot of Hamlet’s soliloquies seeming to appear under more ‘spotlight’ lighting. Early evening during the play, sunset during the scene where Claudius prays (golden light tricking through beautiful stained-glass windows), nightfall when Hamlet yells at Gertrude. Lighting also being used to dramatise entrances perhaps, such as Claudius’s prayer being interrupted by the shift to ‘spotlight’ lighting before we even see Hamlet at the door.
- Same goes with music and motifs, interwoven character leitmotifs and themes that shift keys and qualities and work together to make larger pieces and show up to herald the arrival of a character, or turn sour to match their emotions.
- the visual humour of the play being upped, as well as the wordy humour being emphasised, in order to really contrast the shift in tone throughout the halves of the play. I’ve always been a tragicomedy truther when it comes to Hamlet, I think if done well it could be a really neat way to get the audience to invest more in the characters while also really highlighting how quickly everything goes south.
Probably add more on as I go
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letteredlettered · 3 months
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Hi Im sure you answered this already but i sadly cant find it: how did end up shipping or rather writing drarry fics?
I've actually been asked quite a few times why I ship H/D. I never answer, because it's complicated and long and I have an essay on the subject, so I'll answer the 'how' question without addressing the 'why'.
Once upon a time, the internet was becoming a thing that people used regularly. The news kept talking about how the youths of the day were "surfing the 'net" and this was going to be the new normal. As usual, I could not identify with the 'youths of the day,' even though I was one. What could possibly be of interest to me on the internet? Reading books was far better than talking to other people. Then one day in my senior year of high school it dawned on me that you could possibly talk to other people about books, something I had never done before, as I didn't know anyone but my parents and brothers who ever read for fun, and my parents and brothers did not like to read things like Jane Austen. What if there were people on the 'net who liked Jane Austen??? Seemed fake, but I gave it a try.
The first Jane Austen website I found was Republic of Pemberley, which hosted something they called "Bits of Ivory." Through the "Ramble" board on Republic of Pemberley, I found out that there were "Bits of Ivory" elsewhere. It was called fanfic and hosted on fanfic.net.
Almost all of it that I was introduced to was Harry Potter fic, as HP was the megafandom of the time, and my Sense and Sensibility friend was obsessed with Snape, mainly because of Alan Rickman. I was also obsessed with Snape, though I must say that even though I had been obsessed with Alan Rickman since 1995, I never did like his casting as Snape and still don't. Anyway, I ended up getting interested in Snape/Hermione fic, and continued to be interested on and off for over the next five years.
I should pause at this moment to say that I had been writing fanfic since the fourth grade. I didn't know it was called fic. I didn't know other people did it. It never occurred to me to share it. When I found "Bits of Ivory" it actually took me a while to process that the stories there were in a similar vein to the stories I had been writing all my life, stories based on fiction by other people. It was just so wild to me that anyone would share that stuff, as though other people would want to read the different endings that they came up with, the self-inserts and the cross-overs they came up with.
I should also take this moment to say that I didn't really have slash ships. I was aware that slash existed, and I thought it was great. Sirius/Remus was a background ship everywhere at the time, and even though I didn't really see it in canon and wasn't terribly interested in it, I thought it was a nice thing. And when I started getting into X-Men through Wolverine/Rogue, it seemed obvious to me that Professor X and Magneto had a past sexual relationship. I, in fact, had an original story that I'd started writing in eleventh grade that had similar tension between two male characters, and the idea that they were in love and unable to have sex about it explained so much. And I wrote more original stories in college that were gay.
I think my problem was that the canons I was consuming were quite straight, and while I wasn't obsessed with writing canon-compliant fics, I was (and still am, to some extent) obsessed with writing characters who were true to canon. At the time sexuality seemed some kind of immutable thing to me that was deeply a part of who a character was. Also, sex to me was very Other; it meant something really deep and serious about you that obliterated other things you were. For instance, I was frustrated with all the Frodo/Sam porn, because I felt it obliterated their beautiful friendship and made their relationship about sex and being gay rather than the deep pure bond of friendship. So I was maybe kind of homophobic and confused.
Then I fell in love with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and while that canon has a lot of heteronormativity, it not only has a character who thought she was straight who realizes she's gay, it also has vampires who have lived for centuries and who have broken every kind of social norm that exists. It seemed silly to me to assume that Spike or Angel were straight, which is how I began shipping Spike/Angel, which is how I got absolutely obsessed with slash. It was so liberating to write porn where the power dynamic wasn't influenced by centuries of patriarchy! It was so liberating to write porn where I didn't have to think about my own anatomy or gender or position in a sexual dynamic! It was so liberating to write porn with a bunch of dicks!
Having discovered slash, I turned back to ye olde faithful fandom, which had ten billion fics about everything. I'm not sure I even tried Sirius/Remus, because I was still so uninterested in it, but now I read all the Snape slash, the majority of which seemed to be Harry/Snape. The thing is, I don't ship Harry/Snape. It can be very hot! But while the porn is fine and some of the stories are fun, these are not two people that I want to live happily ever after. I just think that the power dynamic between them, the history they have, and the personalities they are do not make me want to imagine them as a couple with a happy marriage who occasionally have the friends over for games of Quidditch and Exploding Snap. And while I like queer complicated, angsty stories, I also like a happy ending in a semi-heteronormative sense, especially for Harry Potter, who really seems to want one. So, I started looking for other Harry Potter slash.
I knew that Harry/Draco was a juggernaut pairing, but I just hated Draco Malfoy so much. I honestly could not stand him. I used to go about saying that I hated him not only as a person (like, I also hated Snape as a person; he's a dick, and he's cruel to children! But he's a great character) but as a character. I just didn't like the function he played in the narrative. I like big, dramatic rivalries and evil vs good; meanwhile, Draco Malfoy is a little worm. So I kept thinking about reading HP slash, but resisting.
Then, one day, I was sleeping on the couch, and woke up suddenly with the idea that Draco Malfoy could be reformed. He could be sorry for all the shitty things he's done! He could be really apologetic! He could be really trying to make up for his past, and Harry could find this truly beautiful, and they could have sex about it!
Surprisingly, it was hard to find fic about this. For some reason, in most of the fic, it was Harry having to earn Malfoy's approval, instead of the other way around, which I found absolutely bonkers. But I eventually found Eclipse, by Mijan, which was just what I wanted. Then I was obsessed and was reading every Harry/Draco fic I could find.
Eventually, I even read the ones in which Harry was a cad and Draco Malfoy was a perfect snowflake who never did anything wrong. And then I started finding fics that really emphasized that Draco had a very different point of view of what happened, which showed that he really had no way to understand who Harry was, or what Harry had been through. In these fics, Harry had to do some work to understand Draco, which is what really sold me on the pairing. I still want fics in which Draco has to do a lot of heavy lifting to address his past and deal with the hurt he has caused and the violence of his previously genocidal outlook, but I love it when Harry, too, has to adjust. After saving the world and losing most people he loves and protecting the innocent and doing his exhausted little best to be honest and righteous and true, Harry Potter still has to do work, again, to overcome his past and find a peaceful life. And that's what made me start writing Harry/Draco, the end.
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valeskafics · 1 year
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"Like A Prayer" - Aemond Targaryen x Septa!Reader (Chapter 1 of 4)
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A/N: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while lmao darkish aemond i guess idk if i'd say he's fully yan yet
Summary: Aemond meets a beautiful new septa-in-training.
TW: religious imagery (it's a fictional religion tho), profanity, innuendo, sexual themes, aemond creepin, corruption kink, dark aemond
Word Count: 1,978 words
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
HOTD Taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @ietss @revory @floswife @its-halleys-comet @syzrina @ad-astra-again @themelancholyhour @michaelcliffordbrokeintomyhouse @ur-local-asseater
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You never thought that your youth would be spent as a septa-in-training. You always dreamed of adventure. Of going off and seeing the world, whether by foot or carriage or by sea. But things changed after your father died. The large sum to pay the dowries for you and your sister was slowly but surely depleted by your mother in her desperation to provide for the two of you. In the end, there was only enough for one of you to be married off, despite being from a noble house.
So, being the elder sister, you offered to join the Faith, so your beloved little sister would not have to live the life of a spinster. You remember how your mother sobbed and cried the day you left, the guilt she felt. But it wasn’t her fault, and you made sure to reassure her of that. Your sister bawled her eyes out as you boarded the carriage for King’s Landing, running after it as long as she could.
When you reach the sept of the Red Keep, it’s cold and unfamiliar. But most of the septas are kind, understanding you’re a young woman so far from home, having made a selfless decision for the good of your family. They welcome you with open arms, teaching you all they know. The High Septon, extremely happy with how devoted you are to the Seven, names you the caretaker of the statue of the Maiden, citing your virtuous nature. The septas and the High Septon have taken to calling you their little dove, with your voice being so soft and gentle when you sing your hymns to the Seven. Feeling quite overprotective of you, they make sure to keep you cloistered away during the busier parts of the day.
And that’s why it takes so long for him to find you.
When Prince Aemond sees you for the first time, it’s late at night. He has gone in to light a candle and pray. Unlike his usual visits where he prays for his mother or sister, this time, he has come to pray for himself. He prays for someone to be his, and only his. Someone who will accept him, with his scars, his cold temperament.
And then, he sees you lighting the candles. You’re wearing a full septa’s habit, only your face showing. That’s enough to have him completely infatuated. He looks you up and down in the gray dress and headpiece. You are modest, and pious, and innocent, and good.
He hears you humming one of your hymns as you go about your duties, holding the long match in your hand. The flames illuminate your face beautifully. You look like an angel come down to earth to save him.
Or, he thinks to himself, perhaps I am the devil who has been sent to corrupt her. Perhaps it is I who will lead her to her damnation.
Aemond doesn’t see a mere septa when he looks at you. He sees an innocent young woman, a flower, ripe to be picked and corrupted.
To Aemond, you are perfect and exactly what he’s been waiting his whole life for. He approaches you slowly, his gait confident and purposeful. Like a lion about to pounce on a gazelle.
His voice is uncharacteristically soft and gentle as he approaches you, “Do you need any help, my lady?”
From where you stand on the small ladder, lighting your candles, you turn and smile at him sweetly, “Thank you for offering, my prince, but I’m quite sure I can manage.”
He gazes up at you as you finish lighting the last of the candles, “As you wish,” he pauses before asking, “What is your name, dear septa?”
You slowly climb down from the ladder. Aemond extends a hand to you as you reach the bottom and you take it thankfully. He can’t help but notice how soft your hands are.
How good they’d feel running over his-
“I am not yet a septa, my prince,” you tell him, “I’m only an initiate and have not taken my vows. They call me Sister Y/N.”
“Sister Y/N,” Aemond repeats, testing the way your name sounds on his tongue - and he likes it.
Your cheeks flush at the way he says it. As though your mere name is some precious treasure to him. Something to protect.
And it doesn’t escape your notice that he still hasn’t let go of your hand. You remove it from his grasp, feeling a bit sad when you do. But, you are a sister of the Faith. If anyone sees you holding hands with a man, let alone the prince, like that…
Aemond, for his part, looks quite distraught when you pull your hand away, his lips pulling into a frown. But, he makes sure to quickly twist his lips into a polite smile before engaging in conversation with you again, walking behind you and admiring whatever little of your form he can see as you walk.
“How long until they name you a septa, Sister Y/N?” Aemond asks.
“They’ll do so whenever the gods deem me fit,” you say as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.
You begin setting out the hymn books for the morning service, your last duty of the night. Aemond continues walking toward you until he’s right behind you, almost on top of you. His eye bores into the back of your head.
“You seem awfully pretty,” he all but purrs into your ear, “Are all initiates so beautiful?”
Anytime he breathes, Aemond’s chest brushes against your back. If you hadn’t been wearing your headpiece, you’d have been able to feel his breath on your neck.
You do your best to respond without blushing or stammering, “Thank you, your grace… Yes, I believe all the septas here to be quite beautiful. All of the Mother’s children are.”
Oh, how sweet, Aemond thinks to himself, my pretty little flower.
You turn around, thinking he’d be gone by now, but now? Your chest is flush against his and you’re looking up and meeting his intense gaze. You feel short of breath as you feel his eye roam your face.
“Where do you come from?” Aemond questions, leaning forward, nearly caging you against the pew, “What is your family name?”
“My family is of House Y/L/N, my prince,” you inform him.
Now this gets Aemond’s attention. He arches a brow.
“House Y/L/N? A great house indeed. And how did you find yourself in this place?”
“My father, Lord Y/L/N, died when I was a girl,” you tell him, not sure why you’re telling someone who’s practically a complete stranger about your life, “My mother had to use my dowry to provide for myself and my sister. I chose to join the Faith so the remaining dowry monies could be used for my sister.”
“How very,” Aemond leans into whisper against your ear, resting a hand against your hip, “Selfless of you, Sister Y/N,” he pauses before adding, “Do you fear death, Sister?”
Aemond wants to know if this piety of yours is all an act. That would be no fun. He wants you to be sweet and innocent. It will make it all the better when he corrupts you.
“No, your grace, I do not fear death,” your voice is honest, he thinks to himself, pure, “The Stranger will take us all in our due time. There is nothing to fear from death.”
He clicks his tongue, “Well said, Sister Y/N,” he pulls back slightly, his eye burning into your soul, “Do you fear anything?”
“The gods, of course, my prince,” you say, ducking under his arm and continuing to set out the hymn books, him admiring you still, ”I fear displeasing them.”
He hums in acknowledgement before asking another question, “Have you ever done anything wrong, my flower?”
The nickname brings a new blush to your cheeks as you speak, “I am sure I have done many wrong things in my life. But the Seven love us with all our flaws and choose to forgive them.”
As you begin walking away again, Aemond grabs you by the hand and pulls you to his chest again and speaks, his voice barely a whisper, “But have you done anything sinful, sweet flower?”
You look at him curiously, “Sinful?”
He grins, “Have you ever kissed a man? Have you ever lusted for a man?”
You shake your head vehemently, “No, your grace. I’ve never kissed a man.”
“But do you know what lust is, dear sweet Y/N? Have you felt that churning in your stomach when you see a handsome man? Where you desire nothing more than to be near him?” Aemond’s voice drops nearly an octave as he murmurs in your ear, “That sensation between your legs, late at night when you’re alone and thinking of what you want that man to do to you? Have you never been tempted into sin, my flower?”
You gaze up at him and gnaw at your bottom lip nervously, “I haven’t lusted after anyone before… We are all tempted by sin, my prince. Everyday. It is our test from the gods.”
“But have you ever,” his hands rest on your waist, moving lower so he can use his thumb to press against your hips, “Given into that temptation?”
You shake your head, “No, my prince. When I have sinful thoughts of envy or anything of the sort, I do not act on them. I pray on them.”
You drop one of the hymnbooks you’re holding and your eyes widen. You bend down to pick it up, but Aemond beats you to it. The two of you are on your knees on the floor and he hands you the book, staring at your lips, completely unashamed.
“Would you like to pray together, my prince?” you ask him.
His eye brightens almost visibly, “Yes, my lady. To pray with someone of your,” he grins, “Purity would be an honor.”
You take a seat on one of the pews, him taking a seat beside you. His thigh is pressed against yours. You don’t think you’ve ever sat this close to a man in your entire life.
You clasp your hands together, bow your head, begin to pray. Aemond just stares at you, not bothering to close his eye or bow his head. He doesn’t give a damn about praying right now. He watches your lips form the names of the gods, he watches the way your eyelashes flutter as your eyes close.
Had you been looking at him, you’d see his gaze was almost animalistic. Like a predator, stalking its prey. A cat stalking a mouse. A pure maiden of noble blood, dedicated to the Seven.
No, not the Seven.
Soon, the only god you’ll worship will be him.
When you finish the prayer and open your eyes, he averts his gaze, not wanting to be caught quite yet. He smiles to himself. The septas begin calling everyone in to retire for the evening. You stand and brush off your habit.
You give Aemond a deep curtsy and a warm smile, “Goodnight, my prince. May the Seven watch over you and may your travels bring you to this Great Sept again soon.”
He watches as you walk away, “Goodnight… Y/N.”
As you walk away, you find yourself glancing back at him over your shoulder, only to see him still looking at you with an eerie look in his eye.
Like you’re a little mouse that has just evaded him. And like he wants you and will do absolutely anything to have you.
As you make your way to the rooms for the initiates, he keeps his one-eyed gaze trained intently on you.
He is a man obsessed.
“Goodbye for now, my sweet flower.”
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