#he learned how to read with this thing. it means a lot to him.

[mariasont]

I know youre working on a fic right now but can you sometime make a fic where a new agent comes to work at the bau (the reader) and early seasons Spencer catches her interest, to which he's completely oblivious? Like just a cute little fluffy fic where two genius idiots can realise they like each other throughout their case together.

(also a lot of jokes from Morgan lol)

Reading Between the Lines - S.R

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: reader just being in love with dr. reid

wc: 1.2k

The two of you were alone in the police station break room, which had become something of unofficial workspace for the team during the case. You'd been sitting there for a while, mostly pretending to read through a file while Spencer, across the table, actually read his—flipping through pages faster than should be humanly possible.

You'd been watching him out of the corner of your eye for the last ten minutes, trying (and failing) to keep your focus on your own. You couldn't help it. He was enthralling to watch. His long fingers moved smoothly over the paper, turning each page with that ridiculous speed-reading technique of his. And when he tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the words so quickly it looked like he was barely reading at all, you were sure you'd never seen anyone more unfairly attractive in your entire life.

And you did mean unfairly in the purest sense. It was undeniably unfair—no, unnatural—for a man to possess such a perfect plethora of qualities, like Spencer Reid did.

You hated how obvious you were being. Every time Spencer glanced up at you, your face grew hot, and you had to fight the urge to duck your head like a nervous schoolgirl. It was absurd. You were a grown adult—a professional in the FBI, for gods' sake. You had no business mooning over someone this hard. But... it was Spencer. How could anyone not?

Eventually, you gave up trying to work and leaned forward on the table, resting your chin on your hand. "How do you do that?"

Spencer glanced up, blinking. "Do what?"

"Read that fast," you said, gesturing toward the file in his hands. "I mean, it's like you're just flipping through the pages for fun, but you're actually... reading them, right? You're not just pretending?"

Spencer tilted his head, his lips twitching into a smile. "No, I'm not pretending. I'm absorbing the information. It's called speed-reading."

You raised an eyebrow. "And you just... taught yourself how to do that?"

He nodded, setting the file down in front of him. "It's not as hard as it looks. Anyone can learn it with enough practice."

"Anyone?"

"Anyone," Spencer said, leaning back into his chair. "It's all about training your brain to recognize patterns in the text and absorb information in chunks rather than word by word. It's just a matter of rewiring how you process what you're reading."

You stared at him for a moment, then a grin spread across your face. "Teach me."

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Teach you?"

"Yeah," you said, sitting up straighter. "If anyone can learn it, prove it. Teach me how to speed-read."

For a second, he just stared at you, like he wasn't sure if you were serious. But then his expression morphed into something that looked almost... excited. "Okay. I can teach you."

You tried not to look too pleased as he reached for a book sitting on the nearby counter and slid it across the table toward you. It was some dry academic text about linguistic patterns across extinct languages—typical Spencer reading material—but you figured it didn't really matter what the book was. You weren't here for the content.

"Alright," Spencer said, pulling his chair closer to yours so he could see what you were looking at. He leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours, and every single coherent thought you had ever had evaporated into thin air. You swallowed hard, staring at the page but unable to actually read anything. "The first thing you need to do is stop subvocalizing."

"Sub... what?" you asked, already lost.

"Subvocalizing," he repeated patiently. "It's when you say the words in your head as you're reading them. Most people do it without even realizing it, but it slows you down. If you can train yourself to read without subvocalizing, you'll process the text much faster."

You nodded slowly, though you weren't sure you entirely understood. "Okay. So... how do I stop?"

Spencer smiled. "It takes practice, but one way to start is by using your finger to guide your eyes. Like this."

He reached out and gently took your hand, guiding your index finger to the first line of the text.

Your brain short-circuited for a second. His hand was warm, touch light as he moved your finger along the page. Did he notice the way you tensed up? Did he feel how clammy your palm was? If he did, he didn’t mention it, his focus entirely on the page. Meanwhile, your focus was entirely on him.

"Try to keep your eyes moving with your finger," Spencer said. "Don't focus too much on each individual word—just let your brain take in the whole line."

Every time you inhaled, you caught the faintest hint of soap and coffee—clean, warm, him—and it was becoming impossible to think straight.

"Okay," you said softly, moving your finger along the line as he'd shown you. "Like this?"

"Exactly. Now, try to pick up the pace. Keep your eyes moving."

You tried, but your focus kept slipping—not because of the text, but because of the way Spencer was leaning so close, his shoulder almost brushing yours as he watched you. You could feel his breath, soft and even, against the side of your face, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that this was probably the closest you'd ever been to him.

"Am I doing it right?"

"Mostly," Spencer said, his hair brushing his forehead as he leaned even closer to point at a section of the text. His long fingers hovered just above yours, and your heart stuttered at the proximity. "But try not to pause at punctuation. Just keep your eyes moving in one fluid motion."

"Okay," you said again, though honestly, you weren't sure how much you were actually absorbing. Your brain was too busy screaming Spencer Reid is touching me. Spencer Reid is this close to me.

For a few more minutes, Spencer guided you through the process, his hand occasionally brushing yours as he helped you adjust your pace. You couldn’t tell if you were actually improving or if you were just doing your best to survive the moment without completely embarrassing yourself.

"You're doing better already," he said. "It just takes time to get used to."

You smiled back at him, cheeks warm. "Thanks. You're a good teacher."

Spencer’s ears turned pink, and he glanced down, his fingers brushing idly at the edge of the book. "I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before. A good teacher, I mean."

You couldn't stop smiling.

"Maybe next time, you can teach me," he said suddenly.

You laughed. "I don’t think there’s anything I could teach you that you don’t already know, Spencer."

"I wouldn’t be so sure about that," Spencer said, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and for a second, his eyes met yours, before flicking back to the book.

Correction, you wouldn't be able to stop smiling for the next 3-5 business days.

Morgan was leaning against the hallway wall just outside the break room, holding his phone and scrolling casually, when you finally stepped out of the room.

You didn't see him at first—you were too busy floating on a cloud, practically glowing as you replayed the last few minutes with Spencer over and over in your mind. You were smiling so much your cheeks hurt, and you could still feel Spencer's hands on yours.

"Well, well, well," Morgan voice cut through your daydream, startling you so badly you almost tripped. You snapped your head toward him, your heart jumping to your throat. He was grinning like a cat who'd just caught a mouse. "What's got you all smiley? Pretty boy say something sweet, or are you just thinking about those magic hands of his?"

You felt your face burst into flames. "What? No! It's not—"

Morgan held up a hand, shaking his head as he chuckled. "Save it, girl. I know the look of a lovesick rookie when I see one. Trust me—you've got it bad."

You sputtered, desperately trying to come up with a convincing rebuttal, but Morgan was already walking away. "Better make your move before he speed-reads right past you!"

You groaned, burying your burning face in your hands as Morgan’s laughter faded down the hall. Lovesick rookie? Was it really that obvious?

Yes. Yes, it was.

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[erinwantstowrite]

the thing about Irondad is that i can make reality whatever i want and what i want is Tony being a cringe failure when it comes to the parenting side of things and Peter simultaneously being like "yeah he is a fucking loser" and "he's super smart though and learning from him has been awesome" and "but if he would be my dad that'd be cool." like Peter is an unreliable and a biased narrator at the same time so he thinks Tony is cool but in my eyes I know what he is. Tony is actually like "i would die for this kid" but having an emotional conversation feels like he's been asked to drag his bare ass across hot coals. he doesn't even know where to begin to accomplish that task. which is why Peter says things like "oh he doesn't say a lot of things to me about how he feels but i can read between the lines" and in his mind Tony says things that mean another thing but never are *quite* that thing. usually jokes that talk about what he means without having to say it or be vulnerable. in his POV he's freaking out that Peter is missing to the point of being physically ill about it, yet Peter couldn't imagine it's that bad or because losing *him* is the cause of that problem. that's how Irondad really is, and i can make it better because canon is my bitch now

[blxxmingrose]

hans was still holding his phone when it chimed with the arrival of new messages, his thumb clicking on the notification eagerly to see what june had written. he couldn’t help but smile as he imagined june typing them, his voice echoing in hans’ head as if june was there to say them in person. 

he allowed himself to read the messages once more, focusing on the fact that june thought he’s doing great so far, and that june was learning from him too. and as he typed his reply, he knew he meant every word: 

hans: i think this is really good, we’re both learning from each other. that seems like a good sign :)  hans: and hopefully sunny is learning good things from us too. not just eating messily!

he leaned back against the headboard, recalling dinner and how sunny had made a huge mess out of it, how fun it had been to try something new together. he chuckled softly, not wanting to be too loud to avoid waking up sunny from across the hall. that thought made him look at the clock and how late it was, and he quickly typed up more before he could fall asleep mid-conversation. 

hans: well i can’t hold you hostage if we’re sleep-deprived, so we better get to that now! hans: i had a lot of fun today, june hans: good night. i’ll see you tomorrow. :) 

there was a bit of reluctance when he put his phone down on his nightstand, wanting to take one more glance at it for any incoming message, but in the end, sleepiness won. he was fast asleep before he knew it, and just like that, night turned to day, and for the first time in a while, hans slept past his alarm. 

he wouldn’t blame his tiredness, but he’d blame the drop in temperature that could only mean one thing. the weather app confirmed his suspicion: snow is expected today! a smile appeared on his face as he picked up his phone, scanning through his notifications as he got out of bed and into sunny's bedroom. as he broke the good news to sunny, he went straight to composing a new message for june: 

hans: good morning. looks like we will get what we want today :) 

june smiled as he read hans’ messages, warmth blooming in his chest at the way hans let his walls down little by little. it wasn’t just the words themselves—it was the effort hans was putting into making this work, the vulnerability he allowed himself to show. june wanted to treasure that, to make sure hans always felt safe opening up to him.

he started typing, his words coming slowly at first, then steadily as he let his feelings guide him.

june: you’re already better at this than you give yourself credit for, hans. you think you’re the one learning from me, but i’m learning from you too.

june: every time i see how much love you pour into sunny and the people around you, it makes me want to be better.

the thought of sunny calling him her favorite brought a quiet laugh from june, and he couldn’t help but tease back a little.

june: sunny’s endorsement means a lot. i’ll do my best to stay in her good graces. and yours

he hesitated for a moment, thumb brushing against his screen before he added one last part, lighthearted but sincere.

june: holding me hostage with snacks and movies, huh? well, i’m not complaining :)

june hit send, his heart feeling lighter with every word he shared. it wasn’t just the snow day or the nights like this — it was the thought of countless tomorrows with hans and sunny, one little moment at a time.

[nualaofthefaerie]

i know your melvik hc are gonna be insane. i'm begging

Melvik! - SFW/NSFW headcanons ( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡

A/N: I love those two so much, I have so many headcanons about them and so many thoughts. These current headcanons are based on Pre-S1 Melvik AU.

SFW Headcanons

Viktor and Mel met early in Viktor's career when he was still Heimerdinger's assistant.

Mel took notice of Viktor first. His wits, but even more so his pride made an impression on her. Viktor in turn is quite oblivious, but he finds her judgement to be respectable and her as a person very pretty.

Viktor catches the first notes of her attraction to him when it's quite obvious - she funds his first independent project (before Jayce and Hextech). She thinks she is very sleek with the way her funding forces conversation between them at all times.

He has definitely taken her out to dinner at a place he can absolutely not afford on an assistant salary, however, his pride again would not allow him to slack off in how he presents himself

Mel has never competed with Viktor and if she does is more focused on intellectual and social topics as opposed to flaunting her wealth in front of him. So Viktor's dinner was more of a score in her books than he would give himself credit for.

When she realises she actually really enjoys spending time with someone who challenges her, she offers to pay off his entire college debt if he helps her to construct a prototype for a clean water pump whose purpose is to lower the tensions between Piltover and Zaun. They spend a lot of time up in her apartment to a degree where they fall asleep on the floor sometimes. However, due to Viktor's chronic pain, he wakes up during the night and would always without fail put a blanket over her before leaving for his apartment. (would also always leave her a note. He's not barbaric)

They love playing chess. They get very competitive about it. Mel always plays white.

Mel is shit at cooking, Viktor is decent and the only thing he is exceptional at is Borscht. Mel learns that she loves Borscht.

They have a reading club and take turns choosing books. Mel has definitely made Viktor read "Crime and Punishment", in turn, he forced her to read "Essays by Michel de Montaigne". They often read and discuss together.

On weekends when he is not stuck in the lab she'd ask him out to a gala, which he is not super thrilled about but seeing a Zaunite with the richest woman in Piltover makes him an enigma and a curiosity for the high society (she is selling the concept of Viktor to make sure his projects attract attention and funding).

When Jayce tells Mel "he disappeared, he does that sometimes" she fights off the urge to say "I know". Their relationship is not something they've ever shown to Jayce, although their bond is undeniably almost telephatic.

Their arguments are not loud but are very fast-paced and very cutthroat. It's not about who is right sometimes, it's about winning.

Their first kiss is kind of a mistake that turns for the better. Mel is approached by the thousand suitor during a gala, assuming that Viktor is nothing but a plaything she keeps around. Their blatant disregard of his presence stings him, so he proves them wrong, leaning in very demonstratively to lend a kiss on shoulder, almost possessive. When they don't get the hint, Mel pulls him in for a kiss to prove the point.

She makes an attempt to apologise when they're in private, but he just kisses her again without saying much else.

Viktor sleeps on the right side of the bed.

Mel builds a special shelf structure for his braces and cane next to the bed.

NSFW Headcanons (now we're in it, team)

Aftercare: Both are very strict with aftercare. Since both of them feed off of arguing and sometimes being mean to one another, reassurance after sex is very important to maintain trust in one another.

Body part: Viktor's jawline, especially when he tilts his head in provocation could drive Mel crazy. She loves to bite and kiss and leave marks on it. On the other hand, Viktor has a thing for Mel's waist and back. He enjoys that they are more or less the same height so he can easily hold her and kiss along her shoulder blades between the golden details on her skin.

Cum: Both of them are hypothetically very clean (in practice it depends a lot on their mood). Still no matter what a condom is always present even though I'm absolutely sure Mel is on the pill.

Dirty secret: I didn't think they have any tbh.

Experience: Both of them are relatively experienced and think they know what they want from the relationship but as soon as they actually got together they clash and realise that their palletes are a lot wider than they thought they are. But they have experience.

Favorite position: If Viktor tops he likes to watch her back arch and be able to kiss her back so doggy would be his favourite. If his leg hurts or Mel tops too, she rides both cowgirl and reverse. If Mel pegs that man she likes to watch his face unravel so she folds him like a fucking pretzel until he cries.

Goofy: They are deadly serious during sex, both of them.

Hair: Mel is always meticulously waxed and clean, that woman doesn't have a shred of hair, but Viktor likes that because he can trace the golden lines that go from her pelvis to her core. Viktor keeps himself clean, not hairless, but well-groomed.

Intimacy: Even in their hatefucking era, it's extremely intimate. They always hold each other painfully close as if one of them lets go the other one will disappear.

Jack off: I don't see either of them needing to masturbate a lot since they are always three doors away from one another if they need each other, but sometimes it turns them on to watch the other do it to the thought of fucking. Viktor has shamelessly jacked off with her panties at least once.

Kink: Where do we start? Both of them have an ownership kink, they don't like sharing, they don't tolerate others making advances. As an extension to that marking kink, not necessarily visible, they're adults, but Mel knows ther marks of her nails are imprinted on Viktor's back and Viktor knows that there is a blooming mark on Mel's stomach and that gives them peace. Mild exhibitionism too. Both are big on the thrill of fucking in public.

Location: as I said, their bedrooms are fine, but the back of a gala or their offices simply is better.

Motivation: Competition. Winning. They love playing chess because trying to win and the smugness of outsmarting the other tuns them on painfully. The loser usually is a rather unwilling bottom that gets to be broken by the top (they're a mystery, you never know which one is going to explode first).

No: Nothing that physically harms the other. Under no circumstances and no roleplaying. They hate roleplaying. Both of them.

Oral: Viktor doesn't mind receiving, but he is a giver. A very skilled giver. He enjoys watching Mel unravel under his tongue. It makes him feel in control. He is also a very meticulous eater, and very purposeful. Mel doesn't like to give oral very much but understands its importance. She's just lucky Viktor is indifferent to receiving it. Although if the schedule is tight she'd gladly offer her assistance and as I said, he'd never hurt or pull on her, often the sight of her on her knees is enough for him.

Pace: Depends. If Viktor tops it's often a bit slower so he doesn't exert himself too much but it's also very clean and very good. If Mel tops things get much faster and much more rough.

Quickie: Big on quickies. They're very busy there's not often time for the whole package. She'd ride him in his office chair just to feel him close.

Risk: They take calculated risks. Fucking in public doesn't mean fucking in the bathroom where they could be caught. Although the rush of being caught does turn them on. Also having to conceal the nature of their relationship is thrilling.

Stamina: They like one round each, Mel perhaps could take more but in those cases, Viktor's mouth becomes a tool. He would gladly relieve any pressure and frustration even if he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck.

Toys: Big on straps and on small vibrators, one of those with the remote controls. (I'm not saying they only use those on Mel, I think they both enjoy it a fair amount).

Unfair: An open collar on Viktor, a high slit on Mel, a lingering touch, a lingering touch there, they love to tease one another. They would purposefully provoke jealousy to get to see possessiveness and ownership in the other.

Volume: Viktor is a loud grunter, Mel moans beautifully but quietly, usually in his ear.

Wild card: They have gone down to the pleasure house in the lanes and definitely tag-teamed on a sex worker.

X-ray: We've all seen it on screen, I don't think I need to say that Viktor is packing a big, slightly curved dick.

Yearning: Both of them have quite a high sex drive, since their drive is born out of frustration and intimacy, basically anything can set them off into a night to remember.

Zzz: They're both insomniacs. They lay in bed reading books for the next three hours or work.

A/N: My box is open to any Melvik and Skyce thoughts right now, because these four are driving me to the wall.

[bckwardsfrwards]

could you do dr phosphorus x reader relationship headcanons on a alien reader

Absolutely! Thanks for the ask :D

These are for a GN reader! Headcanons below the cut sorry for the long wait I have a lot of projects I'm working on at the moment!

At first he'd be a bit weary, You being from an entirely different planet and all. But he'd be quick to warm up to you once he realized you weren't a real threat to him. (Not that much is)

He'd crack stupid jokes with you most of which you don't understand. But his genuine attempts to make you laugh slowly start to work. And when you reference something from your homeworld he's equally puzzled. You both laugh anyways putting the cultural difference aside.

He often seeks you out since you more than tolerate his presence. He was so used to being alone or disregarded that he easily latches onto your genuine attention.

You often find yourselves telling stories from your past, some pleasant but most not. You sympathize with the doctor and all he has lost.

"Courting" with Doctor Phosphorus is a little strange to say the least. You're unused to Earth's unspoken societal rules and rituals. So when he is openly being flirtatious you're a little oblivious to it. You can't see his eyes and you don't understand the meaning of prolonged eye contact, so when you finally figure out his intentions of romancing you you're a little embarrassed at your obliviousness.

Actually dating the doctor is an interesting experience for the both of you. You've never been with an earthling and he's never even seen an alien before you. But you quickly catch on to what he likes.

You learn Phosphorus hasn't known a friendly touch in 15 years and without thinking too much you pull him into an embrace. He's a bit shocked when you pull back and you're completely unharmed. Casual touches quickly become one of your favorite things. Tracing the outline of his bones over his translucent skin.

You can see through him both literally and figuratively. He's not as good at hiding his emotions as he thinks. He seeks you out often just for the comfort of your presence. Whether it's sitting together in companionable silence or just holding hands, feeling the heat radiate from him.

You learn that it's not as hard to read Phosphorus as you originally thought. The way the flames on his head grow a little hotter and burn a little brighter when he's upset. How after a particularly draining mission he'll be more needy for your touch than normal.

He has no shame when it comes to your relationship. Often joking openly with the other commandos about it. Holding your hand in the back of the transport car. Trying his damnedest not to let you out of his sight. He's overly cautious and for good reason, he's terrified of losing you.

You can hold your own in a fight but whenever you find yourself injured he's gentle with you. Attentive and overly cautious making sure that your wounds are tended to. He tells you it's because he was an actual doctor once but you can tell it's just an excuse to worry over you.

As snarky and sarcastic as he is, he is also very genuine and caring. He tries to put your needs before his own whenever he can. Deflecting and claiming he doesn't need to be doted on. But you do anyway, you show him the same gentleness and affection that he so clearly craves and he melts into it.

You show him love he hasn't known in this body and he isn't sure how to handle it. He's torn between giving in and staying reserved. But he lets you in, lets himself be vulnerable and cared for.

That's all for now, maybe I'll do a part 2 and include NSFW headcanons :)

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

First of all, let me just thank you for taking the time to explain all of these points! There were many contexts here I didn't know about and it helps make more sense of the story! So thank you so much ❤️

And the thing about Ancient Greek and color is really fascinating! Kudos to the people that first began translating the ancient texts, because oh boy! Hahaha @mari--lace also mentioned in the replies how it is not a consensus on Athena's eye color either. I've only ever heard about the "wine colored sea" point, but never had the thought to dig deeper and learn more. I am definitely going to change that hahaha There are so many interesting things to learn, no wonder so many scientists have been studying the topic for centuries.

I'll have to admit, our poor Menelaus really did suffer a lot, dear Gods. Since my first contact with him was through the Odyssey and some fandom posts, sometimes I forget Agamemnon was his brother. And yes, as much as he loved Odysseus, learning about your brother's death like that can't be easy to digest. And the timeline of how long he stayed shipwrecked was a little fuzzy to me, so it makes sense that after 7 years, his memory would be hazy! I see what you mean when you refer to it as a vision/dream now. I didn't know Aegisthus had them exiled either, so that definitely adds even another layer to the hell Menelaus' life was at that time! We talk so much about Odysseus' hardships, but oh my, poor Mene didn't catch a break either, I'm appalled 😰 I have yet to wrap my mind around the fact the the poems were supposed to be performed out loud as well. A lot of the narrative choices make way more sense when you remember that, it's not just a regular book. I suppose that is why some things sound jarring when you read it for the first time.

And yes! Oh my, I never thought the texts would be so expressive and so warm, you know? We tend to have this idea that people from different times were too cold and distant, but they were still human at the end of the day. Of course they'd be affectionate to the ones they loved! And to be honest, it reminds me of when I read Sherlock Holmes for the first time. It really caught me by surprise how Sherlock and Watson were described and how they talked about each other in such a loving way. I don't know when we stopped writing platonic relationships so beautifully like that, but it truly is a loss to modern literature, in my humble opinion.

And I had no idea about Odysseus' own prophecy! I did know he tried to avoid going to war, but I just assumed it was because he had a newborn son and wanted to be there for Penelope. In that scenario, it really is fair to point out Menelaus trying to warn them wouldn't change much. On that note, Athena herself also told Telemachus Odysseus was alive and he didn't believe her, the Wisdom Goddess hahaha I hadn't thought about that before, but it really does illustrate how hopeless all of them were. If Telemachus didn't believe Athena, you're right, he wouldn't really care about Menelaus' letter either.

I knew about the law of Xenia, so I assumed that was the only reason stopping them from sending the suitors away. I admit I was a tad bit confused why Telemachus didn't force the suitors to leave once he outright had Athena's and Zeus' blessing, so your explanation really helped me make sense of everything!

It's such a nice and sweet detail to have Telemachus and Odysseus going through their journeys at the same time (Telemachus' first journey and Odysseus' last journey, even!), only to meet again at home and taking back control of their palace together. Maybe I teared up a bit, can't deny nor confirm hahahahaha

You are still way more knowledgeable on the topic, and your academic background gives a perspective other people might not have. So I think it's fair to call you as such 🥰❤️

Oh, I see! Sorry, I'm a bit too anxious at times and end up worrying too much that I gave the wrong impression or was rude by accident hahaha

This has been a lovely discussion indeed! Once again, thank you so much for being so kind to explain everything, I'll definitely be reading the books with new perspectives and insights!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[thechaoticcherub]

Cherub

Pairing: Priest!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Reader is a student teacher at the Catholic nursery school attached to the church she attended growing up. While becoming disillusioned with being a teacher she runs into the church's priest that she has known since he taught her confirmation classes.

Warnings: 18+ please, large age gap, power dynamics, dubcon(?), priests, catholicism, lots of religious imagery, i mean i am GOING TO HELL, blatant blasphemy, violation of holy spaces, joel is a PERVERT, some mentions of him being interested in reader as a underage teenager(no actual underage anything), masturbation, sexual shame, humiliation, embarrassment, innocence kink, virgin reader, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, light choking(not even really choking), rough sex, pussy pronouns, no use of y/n, religious trauma, i really gotta underscore how much I violate holy things from christianity, smoking, cigarettes, cum play, lots of pet names, no daddy kink but lots of calling him Father

Notes: Okay please bless me lord for I have SINNED. this is FILTH even thought there isn't like constant smut it might be the dirtiest thing i've written? I'm so sorry to Catholics everywhere. And I'm sorry if I fucked up terminology. I tried to do lots of research but you know, liturgical shit is hard to understand. also yeah, i get how much this is more writer insert than reader considering the title. Ahem. I'm sorry this is again not really edited or beta read. sorry. Well I hope you enjoy!

OH! also: I have a playlist for this if anyone would be interested, let me know!

Word Count: 6.4 K

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It had been a long week at Holy Trinity Catholic Nursery School and you were exhausted, when you had first started your student teaching unit you had been beyond excited to be back at the church you grew up going to. You were familiar with the facilities including the big, beautiful sanctuary and the priest who still presided over the Parish was the priest who had done confirmation with you. Father Joel Miller had always been a slightly off-beat, interesting, yet intimidating choice for priest of a Catholic church. He was known for smoking Marlboro Reds in his office, having a scruffy unshaven face, giving short homilies in his gruff Texan accent and seeming more like a cowboy than a priest. 

There was something about him though that had always sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t tell if it was a good shiver, or something sinister. He was handsome, that was a known fact around the church when you were growing up, the other girls in your confirmation class giggled about it and  even now your co-workers at the nursery school often made jokes or teasing comments to each other. He had to be in his mid-fifties now with greying stubble and hair and lines around his eyes and forehead but yes, you did still find him attractive, but it didn’t shake the sense that your tingling sense of something might not have been entirely positive. 

Maybe it was the simple fact that his eyes always had lingered on you for longer than you felt necessary. Even when you were a young teenager in his confirmation classes, learning prayers, handing in your sermon notes, sitting in mass every Sunday, you felt his eyes on you. You never understood what it was about you that made him look for so long but he had. Now that you were working on becoming a teacher like you had always hoped, you found that when he came to visit the classrooms, he spent his time asking you questions about the classroom instead of the lead teachers. That was easy to brush off as maybe he felt like he was helping you learn, but when you brought the children to the main church for their daily prayers his eyes would spark on you and he would come to you first when he gave a blessing to everyone. His hand resting on your forehead as he spoke his short blessing before drawing the sign of the cross on your forehead with his thumb, his eyes stuck on yours as if he would never look away. Eventually he always did, moving on to each individual child and adult from your classroom, but he didn’t linger with any of them the way he lingered with you. 

Now, as the day was coming to a close you had snuck away from the classroom to try and escape the exhaustion that was working with children day in and day out. You had always wanted to be a Nursery school teacher but now that you were experiencing a classroom you understood why burnout was so common. You had made up a bad excuse and snuck down the cool hallway, away from the school portion of the building,  to the candle lit nave, you weaved your way through the pews over to the side aisle lined with stone arches. You took a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of the cutesy dress you wore because of your ridiculous desire to be the next Ms Frizzle. In your opinion, just under the arches to the side of the pews was the best place to sneak away to and smoke without being in too much danger of being caught. The incense that was regularly burned covered up most of the smell, you could enjoy the view of the sanctuary and the altar while you smoked and it was usually deserted. You tucked yourself under one of the arches, your back pressed into the cool stone and lit up. Taking a long inhale you relished in the fact that you weren’t surrounded by screaming preschoolers. It was allowing yourself these couple minutes away from the chaos of the end of the day that made this week bearable. You smoked and tapped the ash off onto the stone floor, rubbing it into the cracks with your foot as you went. 

“You ain’t sposed to be smokin’ in here, young lady.” The voice came from a few yards away by the priest’s door that opened into the sanctuary by the altar, you jumped and turned to face the man whose voice it was. Father Miller was watching you as he walked across the sanctuary, first past the altar and then the pulpit and down through the central gap between the altar rails. You felt frozen in place, you had smoked here multiple times and no one had ever come in and of course now, it was Father Miller who had found you here. He stood in front of the first pew and crossed his arms over his chest, still watching you. 

“Shit,” you said, unsure of what to do with the lit cigarette. Usually when you were done smoking you’d put it out on the floor and rub out the mark and shove the butt into the pack to get rid of later. Now he was there and the smoke from your cigarette filtered up above you, curling against the stone arch and then dispersing. 

“Got a fresh mouth on you too,” He added with a laugh. “Never knew that about you before,” he crossed in front of the pew, walking towards you. You felt like a small animal caught in a trap and he was some kind of giant predator stalking towards you. He was wearing all black, his shirtsleeves were rolled up and his clerical collar was bright white against the black of the shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Father, I…didn’t think-” You broke off because really you didn’t think you would be caught, not that you didn’t think it would be a problem or anything. Joel’s eyes widened a little as he waited for you to finish your sentence, he turned at the end of the pew to walk along the side aisle to the first arch where you were still trapped. His finger grazed alone the  wood of the pew, 

“You didn’t think…?” He prompted when your voice faltered. You shrugged, 

“I don’t have an excuse, Father.” You admitted. Father Miller walked right up to you in your alcove that you thought would be so secret and stood in front of you. You remembered how intimidated by him you had always been, suddenly you felt fifteen again, having to recite scripture and prayers correctly in your weekly confirmation classes. Your heart thudded in your chest as he looked down at you, he was tall, broad and as he stood so close to you, popping any sort of personal space bubble you thought you had, you realized you could smell him. Tobacco, cool mint, fresh sweat and then underneath it all, an acrid heat, almost metallic. It mingled into something not unpleasant but it did mean he was too close. 

“Go ahead and smoke that, kid.” Joel’s eyes moved from yours down towards the cigarette dangling in your fingers and he nodded slowly, encouraging you. 

“I-I shouldn’t…” You stuttered, still looking up at him, almost transfixed on his face, still frozen there half with fear, half just trapped in his gaze. 

“No, you shouldn’t…but you already are, cherub, may as well finish.” Joel said and you watched as a sly smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. Cherub. Not typically did a priest use any sort of nickname for a parishioner, let alone a pet name like that. If anything they would say “my child” if in confession. Cherub sent that familiar shiver down your spine, a memory surfaced of that word on his lips years before. It had been to you then too,

“Say a hail mary and you will be absolved, cherub.” You must have confessed something to him or done something wrong in class.  Your heart sped at the memory and your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was telling you to smoke, daring you to and there was no reason not to anymore. It wasn’t like he didn’t smoke in the church, Mr. Marlboro Reds in his office. So you held his gaze as best you could and lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. You blew the smoke away from him and he watched you, like he had so many times before. 

“Aint you supposed to be with the kids?” He asked, still standing to close, his scent still wafting over you, still just watching you smoke. 

“Yes,” You said softly, “But I needed…a minute away,” You didn’t even want to admit how much you needed to get away from your job, your responsibilities but the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. You hurriedly brought the cigarette up to your lips again, as if to silence yourself.

“A minute away…” Joel repeated, “To pray?” He asked, his voice mocked you because even though you were in the church, you weren’t lighting a candle or on your knees asking for peace. You were smoking and feeling bad for yourself. You started to shake your head, the cigarette dangling from your lips now, before you could even complete the motion his hand was on your chin, halting your movement.  His thick thumb dug into one side of your jaw, his pointer finger curled down the other side. Breath, and all thought was knocked out of you. All you could do was look up at the chiseled face above you.  There was grey in the scruff on his cheeks and peppering his mustache and  his chin was tilted up as his eyes looked down on you, examining your face. The old priest shouldn’t have been touching you like this, you knew that but your feet wouldn’t work, your stomach twisted and the shiver running up and down your spine still couldn’t make up its mind about whether it was a good shiver or a bad shiver. “I think you need’ta get on your knees to pray more often,” his voice had lowered slightly but the gruff resonance in it was enough to shake you. You thought for a half second he was about to force your to your knees now but instead he reached up with his other hand and plucked the dangling cigarette from your lips. He put it into his mouth, inhaled and then removed it, taking a step away from you,

“Thanks, cherub.” he said and then he turned on his  nice leather shoes and walked back up through the pews. 

+

You didn’t return to the church to smoke again. You did tell yourself you would go to mass more often. The thoughts you were having about that evening were completely unholy, and you needed to force them out of your mind. You needed to take the Eucharist and try and heal yourself from these sins of the flesh. For the first time in a long time you had been tempted, really tempted to do something you knew was wrong. When you were young you had touched yourself plenty but as you got older you became more and more disgusted by your actions and resisted it, knowing self love was sinful, but that interaction with Father Joel Miller had you thinking things that made your body heat up. The crawling shiver up your spine had been a warning, a warning about feelings that had bubbled up in your tummy and how it would be so easy for those feelings, those desires, wants, needs to take over. It was your own dirty mind that was allowing you to believe it was because of Father Joel looking at you that you got that creeping sensation. He was a priest, a little bit of an unorthodox priest, but a priest nonetheless and you were allowing dirty thoughts to change your opinion of him. So going to mass was a good idea. 

You didn’t allow yourself to look at Father Miller during the service on Sunday, but his gruff voice speaking his homily reminded you vividly of the way he said “cherub”. The way he had told you that you needed to “get on your knees to pray.” You could barely pay attention to his words because simply his voice, that resounding, husky voice did something to you and warmth pooled deep in your belly. It felt like there was a persistent drip of warmth sliding lower down, lower to that place that remained mostly unexplored by you, by anyone. All because of his voice.

You felt like it vibrated through the floor of the church and up into your pew, making you pulse with your disgusting desires.

You kept your eyes down, on your hymnal, refusing to look up at Father Miller because there was a quiet part of you, in the back of your mind, that told you if you looked at him, you’d be meeting his gaze. That would do absolutely nothing to help control that heat that was pooling inside of you. 

When you stood to go to the altar rails and receive the eucharist your legs were wobbly, damn this weakness. There was no reason to sexualize Father Miller’s kindness to you. He hadn’t gotten you in trouble for smoking in the church and in return you were allowing these debased thoughts to happen to you in church on your way to receive the very body and blood of Christ. While you walked up the aisle, the crucifix directly in front of you, a statue of the Virgin Mary staring into your soul, you could feel that drip of heat wetting your underwear. You tried your hardest to tell yourself it was nothing, it was just natural discharge, not what you knew it to be, your body’s reaction to Father Miller’s voice as he spoke holy words, prayers and talked of repentance during his Homily.

At the altar rail you knelt down on the cushion and clasped your hands in front of you to pray while you waited for your turn to receive communion.  You knew you would have to look at Father Miller while he gave you the body of Christ but you were scared, you had forced yourself to avoid looking at him all throughout mass, you hadn’t met his gaze when you knew he was looking at you and you told yourself time and time again that his gaze meant nothing. But your attempts to curb your desires had been in vain something about his voice, about the memories of his hand on your chin, his body so close to you, his smell had caused you to leak arousal into your underwear. Your labia felt swollen against the tight cotton and you were ashamed to be kneeling in church like this, your face was burning much like you would be if you were to be struck down dead right now. You could hear him approaching, speaking to each parishioner as he placed the body of Christ on their tongue and blessed them. You would have to look up at him shortly, your eyes would have to meet his, you would have to take in that face that had been haunting you while he spoke his blessing to you. He was on the person to your right and now was the time to tilt your head up, you almost didn’t but as he moved over, you knew your place as a good Catholic and you looked up at your priest. 

He was just as entrancing as he always had been, in off white vestments with gold stitching, his greying hair pushed back away from his face, a little long in the back, curling around his neck and his eyes, dark and hungry, staring down at you. Your vagina clenched around nothing and you burned with shame and the memory of his big hand at your chin and jaw. 

Your eyes locked onto his and his gaze held yours, refusing to let you go, there was no choice in the matter, you would gaze up into his eyes until the end of time if he wanted it. He held the body of Christ out to you, your head upturned. At the time you didn’t understand just how reverent you looked, all you could think of was him and the vague worry that your juices might have been dripping down your leg. 

“The body of Christ,” Father Miller’s voice changed ever so slightly when he spoke the words to you. You had been listening the whole time you had been kneeling and now his voice had lost the monotone pitch he had had. There was a lilt in his voice that was only for you. 

“Amen,” You said, you opened your mouth, your tongue very slightly pushed out, resting on the edge of your bottom lip, your eyes still captured in his gaze. Something blazed there, behind his eyes and despite the heat in your cheeks and the heat that was making your wet and swollen vulva pulse with a need you had never felt before, that familiar shiver crawled up your spine. Joel placed the body of Christ on your tongue and maybe you imagined it, maybe it was a split second that felt like it stretched into eternity but you could have sworn the tip of his finger grazed the side of your tongue as he took his hand away. That tiniest touch of his thick, calloused finger against an intimate and sensitive part of yourself made your brow briefly furrow and that deep clench of your sex to take over your body again. You closed your mouth around the wafer that you believed to be the actual flesh of your Savior and your gaze remained on the man granting you that sacrament. You watched his lip twitch ever so slightly as, without taking those dark, burning brown eyes form yours, he took the chalice he was handed and held it before you. 

“The blood of Christ,” he said, you could hear that lilt again, like he was mocking not only you but God himself as he held that chalice out. 

“Amen,” you said and he brought the chalice to your mouth, tilting it back while cupping his hand under your chin in case it spilled over. The proximity of his hand to your chin buzzed something in you. Your eyes remained on him and his eyebrows raised slightly as he fed you the Blood of Christ. When he removed the chalice from your lips, a droplet of the wine dribbled out of the corner of your mouth. You were about to reach up and wipe it when his thumb beat you to it. In one quick motion, he swiped it away, the calloused thumb leaving a trail of heat on your face. You felt him tear his eyes away from you like a punch to the gut and you knew you had to continue on. You made the sign of the cross on yourself, collected every ounce of strength you had and got up from the altar rail. You could feel your slick soaking your underwear, and wetting your thighs as you walked. You knew you had to beg for forgiveness and the only place to do that was Confession. 

+

You knew you had to confess. You hadn’t been able to resist your carnal desires, once you had returned to your apartment after mass on Sunday you had tried your hardest to relieve that mounting pressure between your thighs. You had delicately stroked your folds and experimented with pace and tried to find a rhythm that would relieve you but as if as punishment, you couldn’t. Now, you needed to confess and to make matters worse, the only person you could confess to was Father Miller. You came to confession on a Friday night after school had let out. The hours for confession were set and you knew he would be in the confessional, waiting for perishoners.

Friday was usually silent at the church, the staff had left for the weekend and most people didn’t confess on a Friday. You walked into the church  and down the side aisle to where the confessional was. It was tucked into the side aisle just in front of the very altar rail you had knelt at and drenched your underwear earlier in the week. Your cheeks were bright red as you stepped into the booth and knelt down in front of the partition, there was a screen between you and him but you knew he was there. The smell of him lingered all around you. Tobacco, mint and the acrid metallic scent…what could that be? If you had to guess you’d say gunpowder but that made no sense to you. Your body reacted to his scent as if you were being touched by him again, your body clenched and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was…” You actually had to think about it for a moment, you had confessed at your church in college but that was over a year ago…was that the last time you had confessed? “Over a year ago,” You mumbled. You paused, unsure if you should just start or if he would say something else. 

“What are your sins, Cherub?” He knew it was you. He’d never say that to someone else. It would have been, “My child”. But no, cherub. You were taken aback by this breach in protocol and you didn’t speak for so long he cleared his throat, “We ain’t gettin’ any younger.” He said. “And your sins aint any closer to absolved,” You needed to speak and speak now, to get all this off of your chest so you could lay it to rest and forget it. 

“I’ve…been plagued with unholy desires, Father.” You said. You could hear him shift in the box next to you and you leaned your head forward, your forehead pressed to the screen separating you. “I’ve been having these intense…” Embarrassment made your cheeks flush, you fiddled with the hem of the skirt you wore today and you knew you had to keep going, “Sexual fantasies,” You blurted it out and you heard him let out a long, slow breath. “I can’t stop them but the thoughts are so intense…and wrong,” You said. You listened to his breathing while your own breathing quickened because the heady scent of him was doing something to you again. Your knees were aching from where they were pressed into the kneeler and your whole body felt tight and tense. 

“You been actin’ on these…fantasies?” He asked. Acting on them? Did an aborted masturbation attempt count as acting on them? In the eyes of the Lord, yes. You needed to admit it to him. 

“Yes, Father…I…I believe I have.” You said it even as you could feel that blooming, dripping heat fill your belly. 

“You believe you have, huh?” He asked, that mocking lilt colored his voice and another shiver crawled up your spine. While the shiver might have been caused by something unholy, it certainly was a good shiver. 

“I’ve touched myself because of these fantasies,” You admitted softly, your fingers still twisting the end of your skirt. “I was never able to…finish but it’s still a sin.” You told him taking a deep breath through your nose, you wondered if he was leaning in towards the screen too. You pulled your head back to look,  you could see bits of him through the latticed wood that created the screen that was supposedly there to protect anonymity.  

“Yea, Cherub, it sure is a sin.” He spoke and the words, his voice was like an injection of heat straight to your core. You had already practically leaked all over the altar rails at communion but now you were going to drip down your thighs in confession. “And I know what your penance should be,” he said. You let out a relieved breath, maybe if you did the penance you would be absolved and God would take the lust from your body. 

“Yes, Father. What should I do?” You asked. You heard Joel lean forward now, his voice was closer to the screen and the seat he was on creaked slightly. 

“You gotta reach your fingers under your skirt and touch yourself again, right here, right now.” His low voice sounded even more gravely than usual and the words burned through you. 

“F-Father?” You questioned, unsure if this could be possible. Your brain was already addled with lust, and this felt wrong but the temptation was so strong. 

“The only way we can absolve you of these sins is to complete them.” He insisted and you knew how wrong he was. Those shivers you felt were warnings of him. But how could you resist this? His voice was like a drug and that scent and the way you remembered the feeling of his fingers on your jaw, the pad of his thumb on your chin at communion, the ridge of his finger on the side of your tongue. “I want you to tell me just how wet you are, kneeling there before God,” Joel’s voice came to you through your lust filled fog and before you could think further you reached your hand up under your skirt and into your underwear. Your fingers immediately slipped over your soaked lips and you let out a gasp at the realization you had been soaking your underwear during the entirety of the confession. 

“Father, it’s…so wet.” You gasped, you heard movement again from his side of the confessional, the rustle of clothing and maybe the clinking of a belt being adjusted. 

“Get those knees nice and wide and stroke your lips for me,” Father Miller said, and you knew he was close to you leaned into the wood lattice screen. You could practically feel his breath. You did as you were told, kneeling a little wider and stroking your lips. You let out a squeak of pleasure, “Nice n’ slow, darlin’” His voice floated through the screen and your fingers slowly, painfully slow stroked along your puffy lips. 

“Oh God,” The words were ripped from you as the tips of your delicate fingers grazed your clitorus and your whole body throbbed. 

“Jus’ your lips, pretty girl, don’t touch that clit of yours.” The filth words coming from your priest's mouth only spurred you on. You wanted to ignore him and touch your clit again, but how had he known you had touched it in the first place? “Stroke down to your hole, cherub,” it was horribly disgusting and lewd to hear him talk like that but it still stoked a terrible fire inside you. You reached your hand farther down, sinking your butt back towards your feet as you knelt. Your finger found your entrance, the source of your wetness and you found yourself longing to push your finger into yourself. As if he heard your very thought Joel chuckled,

“Dont even think about fingerin’ yourself, little girl.” He said. A moan of desperation that matched any of the vulgarity he had spewed to you fell from your lips. “Tell me, cherub, is that a virgin cunt you’ve got over there? Or is there somethin’ else you need to be confessin’ to your Father?” he asked. Your fingers were tracing a circle around your soaked hole, trying to listen to him and not let your finger enter your body. 

“I’m a virgin, Father. Please…” You didn’t know what you were asking for with that please but it felt appropriate. Once you said that, there was a rush of movement and then the door to your side of the confessional was thrown open and Father Miller stood in front of you. You nearly toppled over from where you were kneeling, your hand still shoved into  your underwear.  He made a tsking sound, 

“Oh my little Virgin Mary,” his voice crawled up your spine like the shiver. “I’ve always known you were my good girl,” He reached down to where you were kneeling and wrapped his arm around your upper arm, pulling you up to stand. You gasped and he pulled you out of the confessional, his body moving your weight like it was nothing. His hand tightened on your arm as he pulled you into his body and then it dropped to around your waist and his mouth was on yours, kissing you. It was anything but a chaste kiss, his tongue lavished your mouth, circling yours while his arms wrapped around your waist keeping you locked against his broad, strong body.  When he pulled away from you, you were gasping for breath and he let out a dark chuckle

“Oh, I am going to eat you up, Cherub.” It was a threat, but it made you pulse with need. Joel took your upper arms in his hands again, fingers digging in, “Let’s pray,” he said and he started to pull you over a few feet to the altar rail. In a sharp movement he pushed you down, bent at the waist over the rail, your feet pressed into the kneeler, you squealed in surprise, 

“Father!” You managed to squeak out.

“Let’s see this pretty cunt that’s causin’ you such problems, sweetheart.” Joel growled and with one hand shoved your skirt up and then ripped your undies down, exposing your soaked pussy to him. You whimper in shame and embarrassment. You were so close to the holy altar, staring up at the crucifix while your most private part was exposed to Father Joel Miller. He let out a laugh, as his hand came up to your ass, he grabbed the meat of it, digging his fingers in and spreading it enough to expose more of your pussy to him. 

“Ohhh there she is,” He breathed, he let out a low whistle, “So swollen, so wet.” The fingers of his other hand stroked down your wet lips and in response you spread your legs a little more. “Is that what you want, Cherub?” he asked. You nodded vigorously, completely lost in lust. Joel stroked along your lips up to your clit and he started to flick slow circles around it. Your moans started to echo as he worked you up. “That’s it, enjoy that sin, darlin,” he breathed, leaning over your back to whisper into your ear. You could feel his black button up pressed into your back while his fingers continued to circle around your clit, sending burning pleasure coursing through you. 

“P-please!” You begged, letting yourself go completely to the need for more. “God! Please!” You cried. 

“Please, what?” Joel asked into your ear, you could feel his stubble and mustache against your ear. His scent washed over you, intoxicating you further. 

“Please, I want you inside of me, Father!” You cried, you hadn’t even realized that was what you would say when you opened your mouth but it came tumbling out anyway. His fingers moved from your clit to your entrance where you were clenching on nothing, your cunt was begging for it regardless of what you said. His middle finger circled around your hole, not entering you but noticing how tight you were. Joel pulled back enough to look down at your pussy again, 

“You want me inside of your virgin pussy?” He asked, You nodded before letting your head hang down in shame, the shame of how much you needed it and how much you were willing to sacrifice for it. The temptation of him had been too much. You could feel his eyes on your fluttering sex while he started to ease his finger inside of you. He rocked his finger inside of you and you pressed yourself back against him. 

“Oh cherub, I can see that you’re a virgin.” He said, those greedy, dark eyes on you, still, even now, sending shivers up your spine. His finger had barely made it halfway inside of you when he tugged his finger away. You gasped at the loss and pressed yourself back towards him. 

“Father! No! Please!” You whined, wiggling your hips. 

“If your virginity is gunna be mine, I sure as hell am gunna take it with my cock.” Joel’s molten voice sizzled inside of you and the realization washed over you that you weren’t going to try to stop him, and you were about to be filled with his cock right here in the middle of the church. You heard the buckle of his belt and the shift of clothes, still leaned over the altar railing, legs spread wide, ready to for him to fully know you. 

Joel watched your pussy as he notched his thick cock against your hole, your inner lips were parting for him waiting for your cunt to accept him. 

“Joel,” you gasped his name for the first time as you fully understood what was about to happen. “Is it going to hurt?”You asked. 

“Well it ain’t goin’ to be a walk in the park at first, Cherub.” He said, and you could feel how thick his cock head felt at your entrance“But I think she’ll open up for me,” his voice had that mocking lilt to it again. Before you could say anything else he had started to push into you and the stretch was so much that the breath was completely knocked out of you. You lurched forward as his hips rocked into you. 

“Oh, that looks so good…pretty cunt splittin’ open for me.” He said and you knew he was watching the place where your bodies connected. He pressed himself forward again, forcing his way inside of you, making a spot for his thick cock in your tight hole. You let out a whine and he gripped your hips tugging you back more. “Atta girl, you’re takin’ my cock so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” he asked and all you could manage was a garbled moan in response. It did hurt some as he continued to ease himself in inch by thick inch but you were also completely drenched with slick that it was decently quick work to ease you open. 

“Father! Oh, its…so big!” You pressed your hips back, hoping to open yourself more to him. When he was fully sheathed inside of you, he was still for so long that you felt like you might go crazy with the need for friction. “Please…father…fuck me.” You gasped and that seemed to spur Joel on, he started to pull his cock back before shoving it back in, setting a brutal pace. Joels breath started to grow ragged with his own pleasure,

“Is that what you want, little girl?” He asked as his hips snapped forward to fill you over and over. “You want my cock to fuck you?” He asked. You nodded, still dazed. 

“I wanna hear you, Cherub. Confess to me, what do you want?” Joel bent forward over you, one hand snaking around you and grabbing your throat , fingers pressing into your jaw.  You moaned, unable to form a proper sentence as he pulled you back by your neck, making you look up at the altar in front of you. “Come on, let‘s hear that confession,” he said as his cock ruthlessly pummeled against your cervix, splitting you open more and more with each thrust. His other hand, the one not forcing you to look at the image of your savior, trailed down your belly and underneath your skirt. His middle finger found your clit, stroking it in those quick, flicking circles. Your body tensed against the feeling, tightening around his cock. He groaned into your cheek while he held you up with his hand on your neck. “Come on, tell me you want me to fuck your pretty little cunt.” He said. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cried, your eyes blurring with tears as you admitted it in front of him, and God all the same. “Yes, I want your cock to fuck me and I want to come!” You cried. 

“You want to come?” He asked, “Is that it, Cherub? You wanna come while confessin’ your sins right here in front of the holy altar?” his voice was strained and you could feel his thrusts becoming messier, harder as he chased his own orgasm. 

“Yes! Father! Please!” his finger stroked across your clit. 

“Come on my cock, Cherub. Let go for me,” He spoke the word into her cheek, your head turned to the side, leaning back into him. Your orgasm burst over you like white light, heat and shivers down your spine. He stroked your clit through it while his hips pumped his thick cock in and out of you, pulling mewls of pleasure out of. Your eyes opened and you watched the statue of the Virgin Mary while his cock pummeled your cervix and he released ropes of his hot spend inside of you. He groaned into your cheek, your body still back against him. Joel’s teeth caught your jaw, biting you briefly. 

As your breathing settled a little, Father Joel Miller pulled himself out of you. You felt his eyes on your completely destroyed pussy and his fingers briefly stroked at your entrance, gathering a generous amount of his sticky come onto his fingers before he lifted your underwear for you, covering you again. 

“Turn around, Cherub.” he instructed and you did, your face burning with the shame of what had just happened. Joel grabbed your jaw with one of his hands, “Open,” he said and you did what you were told, your tongue pressed out just a tiny bit, resting against your bottom lip. He brought the finger coated in his come that had been dripping out of you to your tongue and swiped across it. The salty, heady taste mixed with the scent of Father Joel Miller, Tobacco, mint, fresh sweat and the acrid burning metallic gunpowder smell. Shivers ran up and down your spine as you stood in front of the holy altar, bleary eyed and red cheeked. 

“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

[dootznbootz]

Hello, I want to ask this question but I don't want it to sound disrespectful, I really want to know and I'm not trying to be rude.

Why are Helen and Menelaus one of your OTPs? I mean, at least the versions I know Helen falls in love with Paris and willingly goes to Troy with him (but I have to say that this was told to me, I didn't read it from any legitimate source, so I could be wrong) so I'd like to know what makes you love them! And that's all, I hope you have a nice day:3

YIPPEE! :D First of all, I wanna say thank you for being polite and genuine with your ask :3 I really appreciate that you seem to be coming from a genuinely curious perspective and want to know why! I hope you have a lovely day too <3

And then~ Ima put some links to other posts of mine (AND some other lovely folks) that discuss Helen and Menelaus and the whole thing with Paris. Most have text evidence :3

I have made the ones that I think are most important to read in bold

Menelaus in the Iliad talking about how Paris stole Helen

A fantastic essay written by another Tumblr user (deactivated now. you will be missed!) that delves into the reality of Paris and Helen's relationship alongside Paris as a person

My own essay about how Odysseus and Helen play "similar roles" in their stories. I'm assuming you've found me through my Odyssey and Water Wife stuff, so you're probably an Odysseus fan so this kind of delves into how I, personally, believe that Odysseus and Helen mirror each other in many ways plot wise. So if you are also in agreement that Odysseus couldn't have cheated because cheating requires consent, Helen is basically in the same situation. Paris is just basically having Aphrodite strongarm Helen for him.

My Own personal feelings on Paris

A neat essay on how, narratively, the story fits into the themes of the whole Epic Cycle and the Iliad if Helen was actually kidnapped

Some stuff on Menelaus being a soft man in canon :3

My Own post delving somewhat into Helen's unwillingness with some text evidence

I recommend reading most of these (or at least the ones that intrigue you) and then I can chatter about these sillies below 🥹

So in canon, just for the Iliad and the Odyssey, Menelaus is often portrayed as a quiet, shy even, and I would even go so far as to call him gentle, man. (It's kind of a collective fanon headcanon that Menelaus is austistic coded based on his behavior in the texts) It's something really interesting that one of his epithet's is "War Loving" and yet, he's one of the more "peaceful" kings there.

Adrestus rolled out of the chariot beside the wheel, face down in the dirt. Menelaus, son of Atreus,                        stood there over him, holding his long-shadowed spear. Adrestus clutched Menelaus by the knees and begged: “Take me alive, son of Atreus—you’ll get good ransom. My father is a wealthy man, owns lots of things—bronze, silver, well-worked iron. So he’ll give you a splendid ransom, if he learns I’m by Achaean ships, alive.”                             Adrestus pleaded. Menelaus’s heart in his chest was moved. He was about to hand Adrestus to his attendant, to take back captive to the fast Achaean ships.           But then Agamemnon came running up to him, sharply criticizing Menelaus:  “Menelaus, you soft-hearted man, why are you sparing men’s lives like this? In your own home, Trojans treated you exceptionally well, did they not? So don’t let any one of them evade a terrible destruction at our hands— not even the young child still carried in his mother’s belly. Let no one escape.                         Let everyone in Troy be slaughtered, without pity, without leaving any trace.”    

(Book 6, Johnston)

Like the main reason WHY Menelaus is fighting this war in the first place and fighting so hard, is because he just wants Helen back. Literally the most "violent" we've seen Menelaus is, imo, during his fight with Paris, the man who kidnapped Helen and is forcing himself upon her. As he literally starts DRAGGING Paris by his helmet on the ground. And when Paris offers Treasure in place of Helen, Diomedes' declines on his (and technically all the other Achaeans') behalf as Menelaus was injured.

And if you've looked at the bolded links I put above, you'll see how Helen also desperately does not want to be there and just wants to go back home, missing Menelaus and their daughter, Hermione.

And with Helen, she literally basically tells Paris that since he would've lost the fight with Menelaus, therefore would've been killed, if not for Aphrodite, that he should kill himself because that's what's honorable.

“You’ve come back from the fight. How I wish   you’d died there, killed by that strong warrior who was my husband once. You used to boast you were stronger than warlike Menelaus,  more strength in your hands, more power in your spear. So go now, challenge war-loving Menelaus to fight again in single combat. I’d suggest you stay away. Don’t fight it out man to man with fair-haired Menelaus, without further thought. You might well die, come to a quick end on his spear.”  

(Book 3, Johnston)

I honestly fucking love how Helen straight up says to Paris' face that she wished Menelaus killed him. Deserved.

In some ways, I think Paris is a very neat contrast to Menelaus in how Paris left his wife and child behind to start a life with a new "better" wife, while Menelaus is willing to go to war to bring the wife he loves so much back home, safe and happy, with him. Menelaus can't even think of the idea of just "starting anew".

And in the Odyssey, it's just... It's just so sweet seeing how these two interact when Telemachus goes to Sparta to talk to them. Helen is no longer in tears, and while she's still dealing with her self-loathing and guilt, so does Menelaus. They share this burden together and are very gentle with each other. The way she's back to being so happy and hosting as a happy Queen and wife should, is so SO different from how we see Helen in the Iliad, as she's finally happy, safe, and at home. 😭

Like, please look at how silly these two are when they see Telemachus:

Right away she started speaking to her husband, asking him some detailed questions:                                   “Do we know, my divinely cherished Menelaus, who these two men who’ve come into our home claim to be? Shall I speak up and pretend, or shall I tell the truth? My heart tells me                            I must be frank. I can’t say I’ve ever seen                            someone who looks so much like someone else, whether man or woman. When I see it, I’m amazed—this man looks just like the son of brave Odysseus—I mean Telemachus, who, when he left home, was a new-born child, when, because I’d acted so disgracefully, you Achaeans all sailed away to Troy, your hearts intent on brutal warfare.” Fair-haired Menelaus then answered her and said: “This likeness you’ve just noticed, my dear wife,               I’ve seen, as well. His feet are similar, as are his hands, the glances from his eyes,                                              his head, and his hair on top. And just now, as I was remembering Odysseus, discussing all the troubles he’d endured because of me, he let a bitter tear fall from his eyes and raised the purple cloak across his face.”

(Book 4, Johnston)

Like??? She feels free to speak and state her mind because she IS free with Menelaus. She feels respected and loved in her own house and is the queen to his king and slkdjf kljdsfalj THEY'RE HAPPYYYYYY

In the Odyssey also, it was she who interpreted the omen that Telemachus and Pesistratus even though Menelaus was asked to interpret it! ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF HER HAPPILY BEING A QUEEN AND HER AND HER WORDS BEING RESPECTED.

Menelaus, for all his warlike qualities, was at a loss to give him the correct interpretation, and his beautiful wife forestalled him. 'Listen,' she said, 'while with such inspiration as I have I explain this omen and what I feel sure that it portends. [...]

(Book 15, E.V. Rieu)

LOOK AT EURIPIDES' HELEN

Like to me, these two in canon are kind of "opposites attract" while OdyPen are "Likeminded". As Helen is definitely one to chatter more and Menelaus is perfectly fine letting Helen talk for him.

And while young, Menelaus and Agamemnon after their father, Atreus, was killed by their uncle, they had to flee Mycenae to stay safe and were exiled. And where did they stay during this time?

In Sparta, WITH TYNDAREUS AND LEDA, HELEN'S PARENTS >:3

And with most depictions of Menelaus and Odysseus when getting married to Helen and Penelope, both are usually beardless, implying youth/same age. So I love the idea of them being childhood friends to lovers. (that's just MY interpretation though) It's part of the reason why Helen picked him out of all the suitors (though yeah, another interpretation)

AND look at this depiction of them reunitiing!!!

So for the context for this specific version/interpretation of them reuniting, he has just killed Deiphobus, Paris' brother that Helen went to after Paris died, (Troy was fated to fall, if Helen was returned, Menelaus and the other Achaeans would go home and Troy would be left alone, so... Fate interfered with Helen even possibly going home) and she was in the room when it happened. Helen, being somewhat scared that Menelaus would try to kill her, started to run. (That's Helen on the Right, the left is supposed to be Aphrodite, who, while she did keep Helen in Troy for Paris, is still the goddess of love. So that's why she's there.)

BUT LOOK HOW HE TOSSED HIS SWORD TO THE SIDE TO RUN TO HER?! 😭

In general, I love the dynamics that play into their relationship AND how their relationship even plays with other characters like OdyPen. I'm not as detailed with their lives as I am with my OdyPen, they're still heavily involved in my ideas and they're all very close. They go on double dates!

Heck, since I have the whole "childhood friends" stuff in my stuff, Helen, Menelaus, Penelope, Castor, and Deiphobus all grew up together and were kind of a goofy lil crew :3 (I have aged up Clytemnestra to work with my Agamemnon more with how I have my timeline work out :') The timeline is a mess and this is how I'm making it work)

Like, My OdyPen are my "Freak4Freak, Likeminded, ADHD, squirming, wriggling, giggling, nuzzling noses and constantly moving and chattering" couple while my MenHelen are my "Slow and relaxed, long kisses, Helen chatters while Menelaus listens, Menelaus is Helen's weighted blanket person who eases her anxiousness with his quiet demeanor, staring at each other with big eyes." couple 🥹

Snippets of my goobers being affectionate in their own special way, my OdyPen one from my one longfic and my MenHelen is just a snippet I wrote recently.

OdyPen squirm and wriggle while MenHelen stare at each other with big eyes and are each others safe place.

My dear friend, @thehelplessmortals (One of MenHelen's super fans! Check em out if you're even more curious about them! they have their own fanart and headcanons for them too!) doodled my version of the goobers being silly. My Helen is Chubby and 6'4 (Zeus' child and most beautiful woman in the world) and she likes to wrestle, and Menelaus is 6'2, she can pick him up >:3

"DAD, I WANT THIS ONE!"

Also~ Here's my list of Odyssey translations I've gathered :3 Feel free to pick one if you ever wanna read the actual text.

[nadas-dirthalen]

I don't personally feel shame for enjoying Veilguard but I feel like it's vital to support positive readings of the game's content, given the amount of vitriol. And I adore that there are people like yourself encouraging individual engagement and entertainment, thank you 🧡🍊

So, here's my question for you: What do you think of Morrigan-Mythal's role in the game and how her motherly aspect was depicted?

Ohhh my god, I love this ask. I LOVE this ask. (And thank YOU, anon!)

I'm sure people are going to disagree with me, but I loved it. Hear me out, people.

My own relationship with my mom is nothing short of fraught. No, I'm not going to divulge a lifetime's sorrows here in a response to an ask, but I feel like it is important context for everything I'm about to say. My mother has done frankly inexcusable things, and those things will not be excused! Not by me!

That said: I think Morrigan's adoption of Mythal was masterfully done. The biggest reason I love it is that it harkens back to everything we learned from Anders and Justice during DA2.

Morrigan talks about how Mythal appeared to her, and how Mythal appeared as a combination of herself and Flemeth. This shows me that BioWare are still very much writing from the same place, the same bit of lore, that created the best parts of Anders' arc (to me).

During DA2, I was frankly startled by how different Anders was to the one we saw in Awakening. But it soon became clear to me why: Anders tells you that the moment he took Justice into himself, willingly, that their two beings fused in a way impossible to extract or pick apart. Not even Anders knows how much of him is Justice, anymore.

His same sardonic humor from Awakening? His same wolfish grin and renegade attitude? Changed, irrevocably. We only get little glimpses of "Awakening Anders" throughout DA2.

The same, I feel, is true of Morrigan—and if it causes anger, fear, uncertainty, then I feel that is because it is supposed to. We can no longer see the line where Morrigan ends, and where Mythal begins.

I see her reasons, first and foremost, for taking Mythal into herself. Morrigan reminds me of me. As I've grown older, while I do not (and will not) forgive my own mother for some of her actions, I see their motivations in clearer light now. I see the person my mother is, and I see her good intent. I know how to be a different person than her, how to act better on my own good intentions. If I were to inherit all of her belongings and all of her diaries/memories today, I would not become her. I would use those things to do better in the world.

And if you look at some devnotes left in DAI for that scene with Solas and Flemeth, you'll see that Flemeth was always scripted as passing along her/Mythal's memories and spirit. She did so with the intent of those things being a gift to Morrigan. Whatever you believe about Flemeth, the fact remains: Morrigan was always going in this direction.

It is important, also, to remember that Flemeth is dead. Even if Morrigan is taking Flemeth's memories, the mother who abused Morrigan is gone. I think, as she's aged, Morrigan can see that for herself. Taking Mythal's spirit, and willingly, does not mean becoming Flemeth. It means being able to use Flemeth's tools, her magic, in better ways. It means being able to take Flemeth's intentions, whatever they were, and do better with them. Be better. End the cycle of hurt.

How much of that is now coloured by Mythal remains a mystery, and I love that mystery.

Much of Morrigan is precisely the same. Her quips, much the same. Her speech patterns, the same (go look at how much she uses the Hallelujah cadence in DAI, I dare you, everyone). She speaks of motherhood so reverently that if your worldstate inclues Kieran, it fits.

But there is something different. Something calmer, more refined. Something that speaks with more precision, and something that betrays less heated emotion. Something aloof, watching, from behind Morrigan's eyes. Age has done a lot to temper Morrigan, yes... but look at how she appears to not have aged much at all in the time since DAI.

Morrigan, in DATV, is kind, helpful, and reliable... for the same reasons that Solas is cunning, calculating, and unafraid to betray Rook many times over. Because it suits the Evanuris living inside her skin. There is no reason for Morrigan to give Rook any evidence to distrust her with. There is no reason to be anything but pleasant. There is no reason to not talk about motherhood and show Rook her soft side.

And on the opposite side of the coin? Emmrich (I believe) makes note of how spirits do not process emotions and move through them on their own. This is why Solas is stuck in the same regret for 10,000 years, until he gets the external help that lets him let go. This is also why Mythal, jumping from host to host to host (my theory is she was in Andraste, first, or Andraste's half-sister), has learned to soften and empathize with people in that time. Her hosts are that external help, enabling her to process feelings, to learn and grow in ways the other Evanuris (Solas included) have not.

We see it even when she is in Flemeth, and when Flemythal are venting about the betrayal that will shake the very heavens. In the same conversation, she is the only Evanuris who has ever said a kind word to one of the Dalish People. "You do the People proud." (or something similar!)

When within Morrigan, that statement goes one step further. Morrithal says that modern elves will eventually surpass their ancient ancestors, hinting that it is because of their mortal (multifaceted) spirits.

That said... Mythal, I am watching for you, and I am so ready to see your beautiful face in Morrigan down the road.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Hello, can you do MLT in enhypen that is good in bed. 🥹🥹🥹

I am going to use this question to dive into what their sexual energy is. I have been interested in this topic lately.

Disclaimer: No facts, all alleged. I am reading sexual energy here and it helps understand who they are as a person. I went back and forth if I wanted to answer this one. Spicy question and my Scorpio mars felt intrigued. Now, I am going to expand on this question and ask about their sexual energy. Now, sexual energy can be about matters of sex, but it can also be harnessed into creative projects as well and extended to other areas of our lives. Now, I do not see the act of sex as dirty, perverted like some of ya’ll do, it is a beautiful act, if done right, between two people. How one approaches sex connects to their past, their upbringing, aspects of themselves, and any healing that may need to be done, so I wanted to answer this question to see where they fall in that spectrum. This energy can be used for their creative work as an idol as well.The reading will go into both aspects. Now, with the energy. I may be able to determine where they fall here with the question you asked, so I can try to list it. Okay, this is listed in the order of the question that was originally asked to the best I can by the energy. This took a lot longer than I expected good thing I did this on the weekend lol

Jake (The Chariot/King of Cups/The Hierophant) 

Of course he would get the King of Cups, as he is a Scorpio, so he is very in his energy. He is someone who is bold and will take the initiative. He has a fearless energy to him, always up for the next challenge, but he can also move on pretty quickly. I can see him facing any challenge that comes his way. He is a loving person, compassionate lover, someone who listens and tries his best to please his partner. Sex can be very emotional and intense for him. He also sees it as an emotional act. I see him being the type to take his time. He may be the type that likes to give guidance or receive guidance. I am getting, learning from elders, so maybe someone passed down some guidance of how to please a partner or the act of sex, that is weird, but okay. It is like he heard or saw how they go about things and followed suit, yup going with that. Sounds weird to me, but just the messenger. I can also see the hierophant as someone who is experienced, so he can have that. Although he is very emotional and intense, he does his best to not show it and does keep his cool, and maybe tries to come off colder than he really is. It is interesting to me that he doesn’t seem as bold when it comes to his creative pursuits, as these energies tie into each other, he seems much less confident in that area. Alright, so I did ask why he isn’t as confident. I got the message that he gets judged, and I am thinking he doesn’t get judged during sex, but got more pressure, okay, makes sense actually. So, if he didn’t get judged and had that pressure, he would be much more bold and take risks when it comes to creative projects with work. Interesting. 

Sunghoon (7 of Wands/Death/Ace of Wands)

Oh, we got our first wands, yay! I see a defensive energy here, but now kind of seeing that protective energy, possessive energy he has. It gives me what is his, is his. This Death card gives me Scorpio energy, so he is intense and passionate, so his sexual energy seems to be the strongest to me. There are things he needs to kind of release. Also, the act of sex can help him release any tension he does have. It can be a transformative experience for him. I got an out of body experience, interesting. I do see him enjoying the act of sex, enjoying the passion and intensity of it. I mean he does have strong Scorpio placements, but seeing him being more intense than Jake, I would say it would surprise me, but not really lol It is like he is able to let go of himself, maybe not be so tense, so it can help him release tension he has, that makes sense why he enjoys it and other reasons of course. He also has creative ways of doing the act and he can be spontaneous. He probably prefers quickies and he isn’t the type to take his time. I keep hearing the korean word 빠른 which means quick, so yeah. I can see this with his creative work of being protective of what he does, defending his territory and work and having this spark of passion, but it quickly dies, so he loses interest. 

Heeseung (Wheel of Fortune/10 of Wands/Queen of Cups) 

Something about time is speaking to me with two of these cards. It is like he tends to feel rushed or needs to rush. He puts a lot of burden on himself. I don’t see sex being very relaxing for him per say. I am not sure why I am getting, time is ticking, I keep hearing that. On this one card, I never notice the clock and now that is all I can focus on. This is interesting, what does that mean!  This also spills into his creative pursuits, this need to rush. All that plays into together in the bedroom and when he creates something. So, with the queen of cups, he is sensitive, nurturing, tender, very giving and most likely pretty emotionally attuned to the person. He would know and understand what his person likes and enjoys and will do his best to please them. I can see him seeing this as an emotional act between two people. I see him being a very sweet lover. I can also see in his creative pursuits he will also need to be emotionally attuned with it, and I believe he pours his emotions into his music, so whatever he creates comes from his heart and his own experiences.

Jungwon (Ace of Wands/10 of Wands/King of Pentacles)

So, we got some wands here. He goes in hard and fast, I don’t mean to sound dirty, but that is what I got, leave me alone lol. He goes from the ace to the 10, that is a very fast progression there. He is a passionate one, pretty sexual. It is like a lot happens way too quickly and then he burns out, how that plays out in sex, don’t know. He may be the type that likes to try different things. It is like he goes from 0 to 100 and doesn’t let things slowly progress. Now, with the King of Pentacles, he is a precise person, maybe a perfectionist. He may like things a certain way. He may be specific about certain details. It is like he wants things this way or that way. I can see him carrying the burden on himself and wanting to take control of things. So, he is pretty dominant. I am kind of getting, let me do with you as I wish, omg lol He is also pretty stubborn and has a set way of doing things, so trying to change that will be hard. If I remember correctly, I did do a reading where I heard he was a passionate lover, so I am still getting that, but anyway, how this plays to his creative endeavors, well he is a perfectionist, a very detailed person, precise with things. I can see him being someone who tries to do too much and carries all the weight on himself, not really wanting the help from others and quickly burning himself out.

Jay (9 of Pentacles/5 of Cups/7 of Wands) 

It takes Jay  a bit more time to open up. I will say he isn’t as open as the others with this topic, which I understand. There are some wounds here and rejection. Some disappointment. I see him preferring to do it on his own than with somebody. He is protective of his space, also getting a very defensive energy here. I will stop. He isn’t as comfortable with his sexual energy. So, I moved to his creative energy as they blend with another, there is a sense he may feel he isn’t good enough, or has been rejected in the past for his creative endeavors. It seems he is trying to build financial independence but hasn’t been able to build that. Sorry, can’t get much from him and not forcing it. He’s got some wounds to heal with this one.

Sunoo (10 of Pentacles/Page of Swords/4 of Cups)

I kind of felt he had slightly an asexual vibe, even though I didn't mention that in the LBGQIA+ reading, although flirty, I say more playful than flirty, not that sexual in my opinion. Also, cards saying that too. He is about building a legacy, so he may have children, but that is for the family legacy. He doesn’t seem like the type that enjoys sex all that much. I don’t see an emotional connection to it. He connects through the mind and conversations, not through sex. I don’t see him being all that communicative and open with sex. He may be that comfortable with the act of it. It is like the act is an obligation for him to be honest. I feel him on that, same. The act may even give him the ick to be real. He seems pretty cautious and will do it mainly to make a child, or if he really loves the person. But it isn’t something he enjoys. So, his sexual energy doesn’t seem that strong, so creating music can be a difficult task for him, or tapping into his creative energy can be.  He just isn’t that confident in that area. I wouldn’t say not confident, but just timid and shy when it comes to it. It seems hard for him to express that energy. It is like this energy doesn’t come natural to him.

Ni-Ki (The Hanged Man/Ace of Swords/The Tower)

Yeah, expected this, not much with him too, which makes sense. Pretty passive, not in a rush to do the act. Not sure he ever has to be honest. He is very cautious. I see him getting a whole bunch of information about it though, so I see lack of experience here. I see him ghosting people a lot. Interestingly enough I also got the tower when I did my own sexual energy reading, I took as me catastrophizing the act and thinking something bad will happen out of it, hint kids. I don’t want kids! That could be his mindset, so he avoids it. He can just sense something bad can happen from it. Yeah, not much here. He continues to give me asexual energy. It doesn’t mean he won’t have sex or have kids, but it isn't a high priority for him. Now, on to the creative side, he has potential to be a creator. He does have that energy to create things, but he isn’t very connected to it. Actually, when I read for him in general, he gets the ace of swords a lot, meaning he has the potential and the ideas, but doesn’t plan further, or look further into it to implement the idea, crazy how these connect. Sexual energy and how one creates do blend together I see. So, this lack of fall through he has could affect his sexual energy. He tends to not go through with things.

[sarahsoba]

Faking Fate Chapter 3

Big shout out to @separatist-apologist for letting me use her Day Court city name. Her fics are canon to me, it didn't feel right to use any other name!

HUGE shoutout to @lovingelucien for being my beta reader/editor. She's my guardian angel fr.

@tele86 @foxyfairydream @the-hidey-hole

If Nesta wasn’t hurling into a toilet, she spent most of her time taking advantage of Day’s extensive libraries. She read her typical romances of course, she occasionally picked up a history book, wanting to learn about this new fae world that she found herself living in. She also read a couple pregnancy/parenting books, to ease her nerves about her situation. 

Helion said her scent started to change about a week ago. That was surreal. Despite Helion’s insistence that he’d be there to help her, she couldn’t help but feel very alone. Her mind wandered to Cassian. What kind of father would he have been? Thoughts of him with their baby did things to her. The guilt of keeping the pregnancy from him sat uneasily in her stomach, right next to the morning sickness.

There she was, reading in the light of her silver flames. Helion taught her how to create her own flames and how to silence fireplaces after learning of her aversion to fire. Helion had promised to teach her how to use her magic in a safe, controlled environment, and the idea of it didn't make her want to retch. She had a feeling that Helion would make for a much kinder teacher than Amren. And with a baby on the way, Nesta didn’t want the danger of her uncontrolled magic at large.

Nesta glanced at the window. Helion said he would be back that afternoon, though he didn’t say exactly when. When Helion left, Nesta felt like there was nothing keeping the Night Court from coming in and  her, despite knowing they weren’t looking for her.  Helion was  keeping something from her. Though what it was exactly, she couldn’t tell.

When Helion opened the door late that evening, Nesta nearly jumped out of her skin. “You’re back.” She said, searching for him for any sign of what he was keeping from her.

“I am. And I brought surprises!” Helion grinned, opening the door further, revealing Gwyn and Emerie, each carrying duffle bags, with tears in their eyes as they looked past Helion to Nesta. 

Nesta gasped, standing to greet her friends as they both dropped their bags and lunged for her, crying as they held her. 

“Cassian told us you died!” Gwyn cried, “Don’t ever do something like that to us again!” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I- I didn’t have many other choices.” Nesta giggled through the tears, happy beyond belief to have her chosen sisters with her.

Emerie sniffed and pulled away to look at her, brows furrowed, “Are you pregnant?” 

“They didn’t tell you? I’m about a month along.” Nesta smiled, unable to contain the joy of being able to celebrate with someone other than the High Lord.

Her sisters squealed and hugged her tighter, “We’re going to be aunties! No, fuck Cassian, I’m their dad now.” Emerie said with a sense of determination she often saw in her winged friend.

“How do you know Cassian is the father?” Nesta asked, eyes narrowed, as the girls finally pulled away to wipe their eyes free of tears.

“Timelines?” Gwyn shrugged, “You didn’t have to tell us the details, you were always practically glowing after a night with him.”

Nesta’s face flushed red, “I was not!”

“You absolutely were.” Emerie smirked.

“How long are you guys here for?” Nesta asked, wanting to change the subject.

“As long as you are.” Gwyn grinned, “Helion offered us positions in his library!” 

Nesta thought back to her first time seeing priestesses in Helion’s library. Helion told her that it was originally the Day court that had the concept of healing women working in the library. 

“You’ll like it a lot. The library is much larger here than in Night.” Nesta said. 

“So we’ve been told. I might even open up a bookstore in Rhodes, if I can raise the money.” Emerie revealed, “Helion offered to sponsor me, but I don’t want to take too much of his kindness.”

“Are you sure you guys are okay with leaving the Night court behind like this?” Nesta asked, the worry creeping up on her

“After what they did to you? Absolutely.” Gwyn said resolutely.

“I didn’t want to stay in the Night Court after Cassian told us you died.” Emery added, “We didn’t have the means to leave until Helion approached us.” 

Nesta looked past her friends to Helion, who was casually leaning against the wall, watching the exchange with a smile on his face. Nesta ran over to him and embraced him tightly, “Thank you for bringing them. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I would do much more for you, Nesta Archeron.” ______________________________________________________________

Lucien never received many visitors. He got the usual door-to-door salesman about once a month, despite being in the city for a few years now, he had yet to make many connections with the townspeople of Velaris. The fact that he was often away, in the human lands, didn’t help with much either.

So when Lucien received a knock on his door one afternoon, he was surprised. He was  downright shocked to see that it was Elain, carrying a large bag. Mostly books, he noted. She seemed out of breath, like had she run there. It took him a moment to still his heart as he opened his mouth to speak before he was interrupted.

“Can I come in?” she asked, panting.

He nodded and shifted to let her in. Elain hurried in, setting the bag on the nearby couch. He shut the door behind her looking over, “What’s going on?” eyeing her warily.

“You and I need to go to the Day Court.” she said quickly. 

“The Day Court? Why?” 

“I had a vision. Nesta is alive. In the vision you were with me. So you need to come too.” She said simply, as if it was obvious.

“Do you know why I need to join you?” Lucien asked, still wary, but growing more hopeful by the moment. She hadn’t said this many words to him since they had met at the cauldron. He was waiting for a catch. A trip to the Day Court with his mate sounded exactly like something he needed. The inner circle off his back and time with his mate unaccompanied.

“Something about missing family.” she waved off, going through the bag to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.

“What’s all that?” he asked, gesturing to the bag with his head.

“Nesta’s things. I stole them from Feyre. If Nesta truly is alive she’ll want these back.”

“I thought you had a proper burial for her. How would she still be alive?” he asked, pulling up a chair and sitting in it backwards. 

“I don’t know. I’m hoping she’ll tell me when I see her.” she said and slung the bag over her shoulder. “C’mon, get your things!  We have to leave before they realize I took everything.”

He sighed. This wasn't the craziest thing he’d do for his mate, but it was up there. He trusted her and her visions. He stood, packing a bag of necessities. He was rarely in his apartment so there wasn’t much. “Alright, I’ll winnow us there. Do you know exactly where she is?” he asked. Shaking her head, “I think the palace? We should talk to Helion first.”

______________________________________________________________

It was late evening as Nesta, Gwyn and Emery sat in a circle, going through baby name books, picking out their favorites. They were all in their pajamas as they bounced name ideas between each other. Helion told her that fae don’t typically prepare for the baby before it’s born. Bad luck or something like that. But Nesta couldn’t help but be excited now that her friends were there.

There was a knock on the door as Helion popped his head in, “Nes, can I talk to you?”  

Nesta got up from the circle and left the room, she stood just outside the door with Helion, “What's going on?”

“Elain and Lucien are here.” Helion said, getting straight to business, “I have a feeling Elain had a vision of you. What should I do?” 

Nesta cursed internally. She should have known Elain might have a vision about her. That she might be led to her. The more she thought about it, the more she didn't have an issue with Elain knowing about her, though she didn't want her running back to Feyre and Rhysand about her.

She thought about this carefully, “I’ll be nearby. I’ll listen in on the conversation.” 

He nodded, “Ok, let me shield your scent.” he said with a small hand gesture.

Rolling his shoulders, Helion walked to where Elain and Lucien waited.

“Lucien Vancerra. Elain Archeron. How can I help you both?” He asked kindly, keeping his eyes on Elain.

“I’m here to see Nesta. I know she’s alive.” Elain said firmly. 

“Elain, you saw her body. You buried it.” Helion said sympathetically, “She’s not here. She’s buried in the Night Court.”

“I had a vision of her, alive and pregnant, here in Day.” She asserted, her brows furrowed.

Helion sighed, “Even if she was here, which she is not, I wouldn’t discuss her situation. Not when you could run back to Feyre and Rhysand.”

“I won't.” She promised, “I don’t wish to speak to them. They’re dead to me. They promised Nesta would be happy and healthy in the house and look where that got her. I’m prepared to stay here indefinitely. If she were here, of course.”

Helion eyed her warily, arms crossed over his chest.

“How about a bargain? An oath to secrecy?” Lucien offered. “I, Lucien Vancerra, swear to secrecy on Nesta Archerons whereabouts, on my life no one will hear about her from me without her permission.”

Elain’s mouth lay agape at the sheer confidence he had in her and her visions. She’d given him scant details about the vision, and yet he was staking his life on it. 

Elain gave a similar vow, offering her life if she revealed Nesta’s whereabouts without her permission. She felt a familiar ping of magic whenever a bargain was struck.

Helion watched protectively, once all was said, he sighed and looked to the doorway where Nesta hid. 

Nesta entered, timidly, embarrassed now that her ruse was up. Elain set down her bag and ran to her sister, enveloping her in a tight hug, “Oh my god, Nesta!” she cried.

Nesta sighed and hugged her back, “I’m sorry Elain, I had to.” she said, trying to think of how to explain this all to her. 

“How did you even do it?” She asked, pulling away, Elain’s hands cupping her face.

“The body was fake.” She explained, “But the scene wasn’t. Helion got to me in time. I’m sorry-”

“I get it, Nesta. Seeing your… fake body like that was traumatic but I understand why you did it. I saw how they treated you at dinners. How they spoke of you behind your back. They even used you for your magic. You weren’t safe there.” Elain said.

Nesta felt tears come to her eyes, “Then why didn’t you do anything?”

“They promised me that sending you to the house was the right thing to do. That you’d be safe there. I’ve seen your death a million different ways and I was so desperate to try to prevent it.” She explained, “I finally just wanted to see a future where you’re happy, Nesta. And I think you achieved that.”

She nodded, “ I think I just needed someone. Anyone. Not to judge me. To be there and tell me it was going to be okay. I cant use bathtubs anymore and I can’t be around fires. I just… wanted things to go back to normal.” 

Elain took Nesta’s hands in hers, “No more ignoring you because others tell me to. They will have to pry you from my cold dead hands for me to leave you again.”

That made Nesta smile.

“There’s another reason we came.” Elain began, “Lucien has some missing family here in the Day Court.”

“Missing family? Who?” Nesta said, looking up. She regarded the two males now, standing side by side. Then it clicked. The resemblance was uncanny. 

“Can we do a paternity test?” Nesta asked, looking at Helion.

“Between who?” he asked

“You and Lucien.”

His eyes widened as he looked to Lucien, searching his face for something. It seemed Lucien was doing the same. The room came to a stand still as the two males regarded each other. Helion shifted closer as his hand came up and held Lucien's face, “How could I not see it before?”

“Are you…really my father?” Lucien asked, voice quiet as he held back his emotion.

“How old are you?” Helion asked

“Four hundred and fifty three.” Lucien said, “That might be off by a couple of years but- oof!”

Lucien was quickly interrupted as Helion pulled him into a bear hug, tears streaming down his face, “I have a son…”

Lucien chuckled and hugged the male back, his eye wet with his own tears. He let out a breath, “Yeah, you do.”

Previous Chapter

[ceasarslegion]

Oh, boy! @general-luce @justfortalkingtofriends @onwardsandfourwords

So i should underline that I don't know exactly where this started, but I have a few personal theories based on what I've read of his and his online presence.

For those who don't know, years and years ago, when Twitter was still Twitter, SK had made a public statement regarding the then-new wave of book banning in the US where he said that if your school bans a book, to go to the nearest public library or book store and find out exactly what it is they don't want you to see and make your own conclusions. In this he included a graph of all the usual suspects of alt right Christian eye lasers: the hunger games, to kill a mockingbird, 1984, Harry potter, etc. JKR responded to this by saying that SK was one of her allies and said something to the effect of "im so glad that someone in our circles still has common sense" because she had equated his statement about how banning books is always bad regardless of what that book is to mean he was supporting her personal views. SK responded with a short and sweet "trans women are women" and then posted a screenshot showing she had blocked him. Objectively funny interaction

My personal theory is that this is where it all started. Because you don't exactly see the whole interaction if you follow someone and they never reply to the last thing someone said to them. If radfems had only seen the one sided view of SKs words through JKR, then they would naturally assume he was on their side.

But ever since then, there's been a weird... spike of radfems in the tags for SK works. Most notably, I've seen them hanging around the tags for The Shining, Carrie, and most often, Misery.

For those who don't know the book plots of these works, The Shining and Carrie focus a lot more on the systemic misogyny aspect of the abuse that Wendy and Carrie White face than their film adaptations do. Wendy is lulled into learned helplessness by being totally financially dependent on Jack after he saved her from an abusive family life, essentially meaning that she traded one abusive situation for another. In Carrie White's case, she's described explicitly as fat and unconventionally attractive for a young woman, which is portrayed as the main reason that she is abused by the other girls in school, and why pig's blood specifically was chosen to dunk her with at the prom. And a HUGE difference between book and movie in these ones is that in the books, SK's women have a lot more personal agency over their actions and are a lot less passive than they seem in their movies. Wendy is way more gung-ho about self-defense against Jack and Carrie White owns her psychic powers more; they drive their own story and actions rather than being people those actions happen to.

In the case of Misery, you can take that and multiply it by 100. A brief plot summary for those who don't know is that Paul Sheldon is an internationally famous author who made millions off of his victorian period romance/drama novels featuring the character Misery Chastain. He kills her off in his recent book because he's tired of being defined by what he terms as trashy romance books and wants to be a Serious Author. He gets in a car wreck and breaks both his legs, and a former nurse named Annie Wilkes drags him out and nurses him back to health. She claims to be his biggest fan and worships the ground he walks on, until the last Misery book releases and she reads her death. She keeps him locked up and tortures him into writing one last Misery novel just for her where she gets resurrected and they all live happily ever after. That's a very basic version of it, but just know that at one point she chops his foot off with a rusty axe for trying to escape and runs a rookie cop's head over with a lawn mower for trying to rescue him, and the only reason she doesnt shoot Paul in between the eyes and then herself is because he hasnt finished her book yet.

Annie Wilkes is also not described as the most attractive person in the world. This is not for any physical features beyond what you would expect from a book written in 1987, this is a combination of how Paul is a bit of misogynist with mommy issues that he ascribes to women as a group himself (heavily implied that his mother used to emasculate and beat him as a child), and how Annie doesn't take care of herself. She's described as gross more than ugly, like she doesn't bother to shower and leaves greasy dishes behind for weeks to grow mold and rot and Paul can smell it on her breath, or hear the rats scuttling in the basement. She was once also on trial for murder in Denver after a strange amount of NICU infants died under her care as a nurse, but was let off for lack of evidence. She's also very religious but in the way racist republicans are religious, so she essentially kills people and thinks it's justified because they were wicked and deserving of damnation. Many things can be read into there with the earlier things I mentioned.

Anyway, Annie has been... I don't know if "reclaimed" is the best word to use? She's been somethinged by radfems. I think most of us with basic reading comprehension can grasp why Paul's character would not exactly describe Annie in the most respectful or best of lights, considering she kidnapped and tortured him, kept him drugged up, killed a bunch of babies, forced him to write a book for her, chopped off his foot, locked him in a cellar with rats, and horrifically murdered the man who tried to rescue him. The TERFs do not grasp this very well. A common theme you'll see among them in the SK book fandom is that Annie Wilkes did nothing wrong and Paul deserved his torture and should've been murdered at the end of the book for his pretty run of the mill milquetoast 1980s misogyny. And that the way King describes Annie is in itself misogynist for describing a kidnapper and torturer in a negative light. There's many who have voiced that they actually felt bad for Annie by the end of the book and described King as "verbally battering" her. As if a few mean words towards again, a kidnapper and torturer as described from the POV of the guy she is kidnapping and torturing, are worse than the kidnapping and torturing.

There's also a few slurs within the book. I want to heavily underline here that these were dropped within the context of showing the flaws of the characters who said them in a horror novel, they weren't just thrown around for the sake of it. For example, Paul introduces a new black character in the book he writes for Annie because his characters go to Africa looking for an experimental cure for Misery's condition and most people tend to not be white in Africa. Annie actually likes this character a lot, and still very casually and without hesitation refers to him as the N word, which in the context of an otherwise relatively relaxed scene, is meant to make the reader flinch and feel uncomfortable, which draws attention to how Annie's poisonous worldviews infect the way she thinks of even the people she likes, reducing them down to inherently inferior even when they hold positive positions in her head. Also, someone like her is not exactly going to realistically use PC language. The discomfort is the point and it's additive to the novel at large. This is of course taken as though King himself approves of the use of these terms despite being vocally anti-racist and portraying racism as an element of HORROR, ie, something to be HORRIFIED by.

So here's some examples I found after 5 minutes of scrolling the Misery tags to prove I'm not fucking with you:

Why are the Stephen King tags so full of terfs when the man himself has been vocally pro trans and told JKR to fuck off

[orcelito]

another highlight of dnd:

ranger beheaded a guy (this is a not very agreed upon action by a few party members, including fang). she's getting ready to bury him, fang goes over to... pay respects? something?

she cautions that beheadings are pretty gruesome, and fang just offhandedly replies, "I've seen limbs being ripped off" to be like "i literally have already seen this shit, it's w/e"

except. i said. "rimbs being lipped off"

and i had to pause. and be like. "... let's try that again" sdlkfjslkdfj kind of ruined the serious of the scene for a bit

[bumblingbabooshka]

Thinking about marriage/women's rights on Vulcan Some may think that T'Pring not being allowed to divorce Spock was because he was going through the pon farr but if she were allowed to divorce him at all she probably would have done that a long time ago, confirmed by T'Pol when she's speaking with Koss, who isn't suffering from the pon farr. She says that he can choose another mate (without invoking a fight it seems: note the difference between a 'mate' and a 'challenger') and after he makes it clear that nothing she says will change his mind about marrying her, she finally threatens to declare a kal-if-fee. It's clear that Vulcan women cannot divorce/refuse to marry a man they've been betrothed to under any circumstances if A) He himself doesn't consent to ending their marriage or B) She doesn't have someone else waiting in the wings to be given to in his stead. Though, if the challenger she selects fails to win the fight, she'll have to marry her betrothed anyway unless (again) he decides he doesn't want her after the challenge. That seems like an incredibly unfair system, heavily biased towards men. SNW is an alternate universe in many obvious respects but most egregiously in that T'Pring has a lot of non-canonical agency over her relationship with Spock. It's interesting to me that Vulcan society has women in many positions of power and treats women as equal to men from what I've seen despite these laws. We don't really see Vulcans exhibiting a misogynistic attitude towards women in general but in TOS (perhaps because of its general writing style but it's still interesting to note) both Sarek and Spock take on patriarchal attitudes specifically regarding wives. Amanda says that 'of course' Sarek commands her because "he is a Vulcan and I am his wife." It's worthwhile in my eyes to note that she specifies 'wife' instead of attributing this attitude to women as a whole. Again, with TOS' writing style it wouldn't be out of place for her to say "he is a man and I am a woman." Spock, while in a pon farr induced irritation, states that it's "undignified for a woman to play servant to a man that isn't hers" - again implying that there's something specific about being a Wife in Vulcan society which is different from being a woman in general and demands subservience to a husband. This could perhaps stem from the extreme sense of ownership that Vulcan law has permitted men to have over women. A woman legally cannot point blank refuse marriage. There is no option which guarantees she won't have to marry her betrothed other than death. When T'Pau speaks of T'Pring she refers to her as being 'property' and Stonn, before being interrupted, states he's made 'the ancient claim' - we don't know what this is because he gets cut off but it's obvious they're both using the language of Vulcan law. Men are permitted true freedom to choose. If a woman wants to choose someone else to be with there is no option available to her other than the kal-if-fee which might result in the death of the one she wants to be with. And, if her lover fails, her husband can still just decide he wants to marry her and she'll be forced to. T'Pring gives two scenarios: One where Spock 'frees' her and one where he doesn't - it's still ultimately his decision which is clear when he ends the conversation with "Stonn, she is yours." This again isn't just because of the pon farr as T'Pol also goes through this. Koss can choose another mate and when the option is talked about there's no implication that this would result in any sort of fight (both by the casualness of its mention and by the fact that there's no formal word for it unlike the kal-if-fee.) Also, the fact that Koss does eventually grant T'Pol a divorce and it's all fine means that T'Pol isn't lawfully required to have another man waiting if her HUSBAND doesn't want her. It's ONLY required if SHE doesn't want her husband. Tradition must take precedence over individual desire UNLESS!!! You're a man. Then it's fine. Like, your parents might not be happy but legally you're golden.

[sideblogdotjpeg]

ive been thinking about the red string superstition recently and also sol bufo always and it makes me sick how uncannily caldwell tanner has made sol to perfectly target me personally

(+ cropped versions !)

[whatudottu]

Hello I put way more effort than I needed to into this, but have it anyway :P

Boniface meets Bonifire, what will they do :P

A version of this page without text because technically this was the first page I drew and put all my effort into that one first lmao-