#i've been sitting on this for weeks though

[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.”

[bambi-kinos]

Sorry for taking so long on this post, I've been writing it in my head for weeks trying to figure out how to phrase everything. But umm I think Paul was in a bath tub when he was taking certain photos of John.

So the book itself is divided into sections based on location. There's a London section, a Paris section, then they go to New York and then on to Miami, etc. The London section is really interesting and the photos are very revealing IMO. I definitely recommend getting your hands on a physical copy, your local library may have it. This is something you should experience physically because uh. There's a lot of John in here. To me at least it's very obvious how deeply in love Paul was with John.

So imagine for a minute that you're Paul McCartney, and you're in London, England with your best mate.

The way that journalists are treating this set of photos makes me feel a little insane because so many of them are saying "this is John and Paul backstage!" Y'all, this is not John and Paul backstage. This is John and Paul in their hotel room. Alone.

First off let's look at this:

Here's John shaving the stubble off his face. Sunglasses still on; John had prescription sunglasses so if he's wearing these then his contacts are not in. Look at the background of this photo:

John's in the way here but that is a set of curtains in a hotel room! You can tell from the horizontal bar on top, those are to hold the black out curtains. And another thing: I think these are John and Paul's suitcases sitting on top of a wardrobe. Not entirely sure about that though since the image is so grainy.

At this point John has taken off his sunglasses, he's brushing his teeth and has washed his face. Again, look at the background:

This is a medicine cabinet, a storage feature in bathrooms to keep toiletries safe from the humidity caused by a bath and/or shower. I don't know how common these are anymore:

What I find interesting about this sequence of photos is that John first pulls a funny face for Paul:

But then something grabs his attention:

Spits out the toothpaste:

And then off John nyooms...making soft eyes at Paul no less.

Pay close attention to the background on this photo! We're seeing the hotel window from another angle, the horizontal strip at the top is the tell:

I outlined the horizontal strip on the curtain and then drew lines on the dips in the fabric so you can compare it to the OG photo:

Paul is utilizing an interesting run-and-gun style of camera shooting here, he's got John tilted and at an angle that puts John over Paul. Unconsciously signaling something? Let's move on...

According to this strip...

...this is the next photo in the sequence:

Again calling attention to more interesting details here:

John's tie is missing and his shirt is undone. And that looks like a towel in his hands. He's turning in for the night.

2. John is standing in front of a reinforced door which are common in hotels but are not common in dressing rooms:

3. This photo is itself a reflection of John's face that Paul has taken in a mirror, maybe a vanity mirror. Someone in the McLen discord server said it was too small to be a vanity mirror and I'm inclined to agree, so maybe it's a compact or hand mirror propped up on the sink.

So what does this mean? I think that John and Paul were getting ready for bed, someone knocked on the door, and John went to answer it. You'd think Paul would but for some reason he didn't. Oh and another thing...check out the four jackets in the mirror:

They're definitely hanging from something so John and Paul were looking out for the suits that night.

Next in the sequence, John is back at the sink washing up. Check out the hotel window curtain being reflected in the mirror there!

Then something kind of odd happens...John is seen coming back and re-entering the shot again? Through out Eye of the Storm Paul emphasizes a lot of duality with John, including a shot where John reflects on his own sculpted face. Paul was very interested in John doing performing the act of reflection on his own face:

But here's the really interesting bit and what makes me think Paul was naked in a bathtub when he took these last two photos:

Y'all, that's the fluffy fringe of a towel! You can tell that the threads are hanging down from it! These are very different from the clean lines of the curtain or the medicine cabinet or even the lines of their suit jackets! Paul was sitting in or on the edge of the bath tub when he took these photos of John! He wrapped a towel around his camera to protect it from getting wet! Cameras are generally made for right handed people so when Paul had his finger on the button on the right hand side. That means Paul keeping his finger on that button pushed the edge of the protective towel over the lens!

So I submit to you Paul McCartney's Eye of the Storm, where he submitted a film strip where he was staying in a hotel room with John and was most likely nude and bathing when he took John's photographs! Someone knocked on the door to get their attention while Paul was naked so John answered the door for them, while Paul followed him a little. John was enjoying having Paul right there for him too:

PLEASE get Eye of the Storm, it's such a great book and there's so much in it. Paul lets the pictures speak for themselves and wow they have one hell of a story to tell!

@perasperaadastratoday

[kuroosatoru]

let me love you - ceo!toji x fem!reader p.2

based on let me love you by ari ft. lil wayne // wc: 1.1k

icymi: part 1

cw: nsfw, angst, megumi kinda sucks, steamy daydream, power imbalance hinted at, size kink (kinda), alcohol consumption, semi-proof read

you had slowly started to settle into your new routine. toji sent out a car every weekday morning to pick you up at 5:30 on the dot; you started to relish in the hour of alone time you had before spending the day getting teased by mr. fushiguro. he had started to enjoy having you around, which was new for him.

today the air's chill followed directly behind you, nipping at the bare skin on your legs as you walk into your job. to be honest, you still weren't used to the climb the elevator made to drop you off even though you had been there for about a month now. as you walk to your desk and set your things down, toji summons you into his office.

"y/n. please sit." he says, motioning towards the seat next to him. he notices the way your dress perfectly cuts off at the middle of your thigh and his mouth gets dry as the thought of bending you over his desk crossed his mind, he didn't need to start thinking about you in this way. not when you were so good at the job you already had, "i wanted to call you in here to give you a small welcome gift, seeing as how you've been here a month," he continues, his green eyes meeting yours as he reaches for the small bag in front of him. he hands it to you, looking anxious as you eagerly open it. you pull out a dainty watch that perfectly fits your pre-established wardrobe, he's taken the time to pay attention to the things you wear. not that he could stop himself from looking if he wanted to.

you had been catching his eye a lot more as of late, and the smell of your perfume had begun to fill his office; toji would be remiss if he denied it turned him on. his mind constantly wandering to the one place it should shouldn't be, to that heavenly daydream he kept having:

- you walk into his office towards the end of the day, your blouse perfectly accentuating your breasts. toji's eyes rush to meet yours as he tries to ignore the twitch of his dick getting hard, "y/n? to what do i owe the pleasure?" he asks you, a smirk sneakily creeping its way onto his face. you ignore it, "i was just coming in to let you know i've scheduled all of your appointments for the next two weeks and that you don't have another meeting until your lunch with mr. noritami," you pause, now oblivious to toji's eyes exploring your body.

'this feels wrong' he thinks to himself as he steps towards you, placing his large hand on your shoulder. you can feel your thighs clench at his sudden contact, "thank you, you're such a big help, things have been so.." he pauses, letting his grasp on your shoulder fall as his eyes look down at your chest, "..easy since you've started working for me." toji says, clearing his throat as you notice how he's looking at you. you give him a sly smile, "i can make it a lot easier on you." you reply, your hand reaching for his dick as it grew harder.

toji gets pulled back to reality by his phone ringing, his face flush as he moves his hands to cover his raging hard-on, praying you didn't notice. "i'll be seeing you around, y/n," he says, dismissing you as he answers the call. you close the door behind you and get started on your work for the day.

you start to wonder what had come over mr. fushiguro as megumi approaches you, handing you a hefty stack of papers, "here. do these for me, yeah? i gotta meet up with some friends," megumi deadpans, his eyes lowered in disinterest. "i mean, if you really need to go that bad..." you trail off. megumi gives you a short nod and walks away. you scoff in disbelief as you decide to say something to toji.

-

it's now dark outside as you wrap up your work for the day, megumi's added papers did absoluely nothing to help your steadily increasing workload. you could barely handle your work as is.

"staying late, y/n? i dont even do that and i own the place." toji chuckles, his face dropping wen he sees you're not as into the jokes the two of you usualy share tonight. your eyes suddenly start to tear up and toji places a hand on your face, as if his body and mind were no longer agreeing with what was proper.

"hey, whats up?' he asks, concern lacing his sultry voice. you gain your composure, "it's nothing. i'm just a bit stressed out and i'm adjusting. i swear i can handle the job but-"

"but megs is being an ass? he does that to everyone. let me see what he gave you." toji cuts you off, holding his hand out and taking the stack that remained. thumbing through it, he sighs, "i've lost one too many people to him being an ass. don't worry. i'll do something about it.

and boy, did he do something. the next day, you walk to your desk to hear him yelling, his voice booming through the seemingly empty hallway, "you cannot keep doing this! it's not right and if i wanted her to do the work, i would've given it to her myself! you either start doing your own shit or i find someone else to take your spot, or better yet, she can have it!" he yells, and you decide to not stick around for the impending confrontation megumi had in store for you. you just barely make it into the womens restroom as you hear toji's door slam.

after waiting for what felt like forever, you make your way back to your desk, the threat of megumi gone. toji's office is still closed, but this time it's silent. you decide to push your luck and check on him, knocking on the door. "come in." he says as you open the door in response. he looks rough, the argument with megumi still heavy on his mind. his hair was unkempt, having ran his hands through it while contemplating his choices that had led him to this point. the choices that had led him to you.

he takes out two glasses, "do you drink whiskey?" he asked pointedly, "it's just jameson. i keep my good shit at the house," he says with a laugh.

"sir, we're not even halfway through the day, i couldn't possibly-"

"i insist. if you truly don't want any it's fine, but im still going to have some." he says, not allowing you to finish your sentence as he pours a glass and offers it to you.

"ah, why not?" you shrug, taking the glass and waiting for him to pour his own. "cheers." he grumbles, his demeanor changing as he was done keeping up appearances for you.

notes: okay i never said how much longer part two would be, but here you go :) have a great day!

-

taglist: @cajunfootrub

[clementineofmine]

Not Looking for Happy (But Found it Anyway)

I've been writing this series of kinda stand-alone happy-fuzzy (or as close to that as my whumpy heart can get lol) Hargreeves-siblings-returning-to-their-timeline-and-figuring-their-shit-out epilogues for my Same Weird Family post S2 series for a while now and just posted the latest on A03 (hooray).

And, since we all live in the worst-timeline and maybe some of you could use a distraction as much as I could, I thought I'd put the latest chapter of Diego and Five eating breakfast up here on tumbles as well. Enjoy, and stay safe out there my friends...

---------

Diego was making eggs, concentrating on the way the whites bubbled in the cast iron skillet, when he heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder, and was mildly surprised to see that the footsteps belonged to Five. 

“Mornin’,” he greeted Five with a nod. Per tacit agreement, Diego pretended not to notice Five pretending not to notice Diego look him up and down, assessing his healing progress. Five had done a surprisingly adequate job of taking it easy over the last few weeks, and to everyone’s surprise he had even (mostly) tolerated Diego’s self-appointed role of charge nurse. 

Though they didn’t talk about it, Five had been in bad shape when they had arrived home. Diego wondered just how much Five remembered of that time, or ever thought about how close he might have been to not making it home at all. Between the abuse of his powers and the further abuse in Reginald’s dungeon, Five had emerged with the constitution and complaints of an old man, despite his previously healthy-ish teenage body. 

But that didn’t mean they had to talk about it. Just like they didn’t talk about how Diego’s broken nose was healing a little crookedly, or that he would carry an additional facial scar as a permanent reminder of his fight with Reginald. 

But today, things seemed to be looking brighter for both of them. Diego was pleased to see Five was standing squarely, if a bit stiffly, and most of the visible bruising had faded to pale shadows on his face and neck.

His assessment done, Diego returned his attention to the egg pan. Just in time too, as Lila didn't like her yolks runny (a preference that Diego thought bordered on the verge of obscene) but didn't like them hard either. 

Diego was pretty sure that she had made up the last preference just to be petty. Eggs should have a nice jiggle, like your ass in a nice pair of pants she had complained the last time he had overcooked them. 

“So what are you making?” Five asked, his tone a too-forced casual.

“Eggs,” Diego answered noncommittally, continuing to survey the eggs’ progress. He had heard from the others that Five was attempting small talk this week, and didn’t want to cut him off, but also wanted to avoid another reaming out from Lila.

“Hm,” Five said, and Diego could hear the frown in his voice. “Luther said you ate your eggs raw.”

“Luther’s a dumbass,” Diego retorted. 

They fell into silence again. 

He wasn't avoiding talking to Five, Diego kept telling himself as he used the spatula to pry up the eggs. 

“That wasn’t a no,” Five pointed out. “So why are you cooking them?”

Diego felt his lips pull up into a small, tight smile, not quite a grimace, but certainly not an expression that reached his eyes. “These are for Lila,” he explained, carefully maneuvering the perfectly cooked eggs out of the pan and onto a ceramic plate. 

“Oh,” Five said. “I see.”

Silence.

Diego felt a pang of guilt, sighed, then took pity on his brother still awkwardly standing in the doorway and waved him towards the table. “Sit down, Five. I'll make you some too. How do you like yours?”

“Not raw,” Five said dryly. 

As he wiped out the pan, Diego turned to Five and raised an eyebrow. “Come on, man. I already get enough shit from Lila.” 

Diego watched Five avoid his eyes, looking around the kitchen as if the answer would be found on one of the glass cabinets. 

“Over easy?” Five finally said. 

The way it was said, Diego was instantly certain that Five had picked a style at random. He felt a pang of frustration but kept his face carefully neutral. “Over easy,” he confirmed. Then, “You sure?”

As the words left his mouth, Diego remembered that Grace had always made scrambled eggs, so it was more than possible that Five had never been asked how he liked his eggs before. 

The way Five's lips suddenly set and his jaw tightened confirmed to Diego that he was right. 

“Look, it's not a big deal,” Diego backtracked. He turned back towards the stove, and added more butter to the pan. “Over easy it is.” 

A sudden jolt of panic hit Diego as he saw the plate of steaming eggs cooling next to the stove. “Hey, Five, you mind taking these up to Lila first?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Five said. 

Once Five departed, Diego shook his head to clear his thoughts. He cracked six eggs into the browning butter in the pan. He looked at them, looked back at the package, frowned, then grabbed four more eggs and added them to the pan. 

Five was healing nicely, Diego mused, mentally checking through the list of Five’s injuries. He was on his way back to normal. But Diego also was very well aware that normal for Five Hargreeves wasn't something that he, anyone really, was familiar with. And would normal even be possible for a fifty-eight year old man stuck in a teenager’s body? Diego became again aware of the anxious knot that hadn’t left the pit of his stomach since they had found Five in Reginald’s basement. He knew he was driving Five, himself, hell everyone, nuts with anxiety. 

But he couldn't stop himself. 

Besides, Five had always driven Diego crazy: as a kid due to his overly competitive nature, and now, as an agent of chaos disrupting their lives. 

Five said it himself, he’s the four freakin’ horsemen, Diego recalled. And he was viscerally aware, more than the others, of the death that had followed in Five’s wake. 

Griddys. Patch. Kennedy. Dad (twice). 

How many countless others? 

Diego felt the knot twist in his stomach. He knew it was wrong, but it was hard not to blame Five for the destruction that they had all experienced. The chaos that seemed to follow him like a shadow. 

And Diego did feel a tiny bit justified being angry at Five’s antics. The killing sprees. Lying about the killing sprees. Normal people don’t act like that, Diego told himself. But he knew that didn’t justify blaming Five for everything else. 

Diego sighed and jiggled the eggs in the pan. What a fucked up family we are. But not so deep down Diego knew that he loved his fucked up family, and would hold onto them as long as he could. 

Even Five. 

And so Diego was doing what he could to take care of Five. Even though he knew it made him annoying as shit to himself and everyone else. 

Five came back into the kitchen just as Diego’s ruminations and the eggs were done. Diego shook his head to clear it, then divided the copious pile of eggs onto two plates. 

“Lila said ‘keep trying’, then some disgusting stuff that I’m not going to repeat,” Five smirked. 

Diego growled as he maneuvered the plates of eggs onto the table and went to grab forks. 

Five maneuvered himself into one of the chairs at the table. Interestingly, as he sat, Diego saw him lay a small package on the table. But he didn’t say anything about it, so Diego ignored it for now and simply slid a fork and a plate of eggs over to Five. 

“Goddamn it,” Diego muttered, clattering his own plate down on the table and taking a seat. “I've been making that woman eggs for weeks now and….She can make her own damn eggs next time.” Reaching for the salt and pepper shakers, he saw Five frowning at his plate. 

“Something wrong?” Diego asked, pepper shaker in hand. 

When Five ignored him, he kept talking. “Hey, look, Lila’s a limey idiot. These are good eggs.”

Five still said nothing. Diego continued adding his condiments, then shoveled a perfectly cooked egg into his mouth. They were good eggs. 

Five was still sitting motionless, now staring through the plate of eggs more than at it. 

“Something wrong?” Diego asked again, a new sense of unease limiting his enjoyment of the deliciously runny yolk. 

Five looked up, as if finally noticing Diego. He blinked, then shook his head. “No, I—nevermind.” He looked around the room again, as if seeing it for the first time. “Last time I was in here I, uh, used the stove as a bomb. It was—” he picked up his fork and stabbed at an egg. “—more kinetic than I expected.” 

Diego remembered witnessing the explosion from down the block. At the time, it had certainly been one hell of a distraction, and had given the Umbrellas the perfect cover to sneak into the Academy. “Well, we can’t all be perfect,” he scoffed. “Not even you.” 

Five’s face twisted. 

Immediately, Diego regretted the words. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Five’s mouth twitched again, but he said nothing. 

They ate in silence for a minute. “Lila’s wrong,” Five finally proclaimed through the last bite of eggs. 

“Come again?” Diego asked. 

“You do make good eggs.” 

“Uh,” Diego began, trying to hide his surprise. “Thanks,” he mumbled. He couldn't remember the last compliment he had gotten from Five. Hell, he couldn't remember ever getting a compliment from Five. 

Five reached down and slid the small package across the table to “Here. I got, well,” he amended. “I found something for you.”

Diego reached for the package. It was a small object, wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. He unwrapped it carefully, feeling Five’s eyes watch him the entire time. 

When it was open, Diego placed the object on the table and simply stared at it. Then he looked up and stared at Five quizzically. 

“I thought,” Five began haltingly, “that you’d want to have it. A memento. To remind us that he’s finally gone for good.”

Diego looked down again at Reginald’s monocle. It somehow seemed to be staring back at him, which was creepy, so Diego palmed it, squeezing his hand around the glass and metal. It was cold, colder than Diego would have expected. “Where did you find this?” he demanded. 

Five shrugged and looked embarrassed. “There’s a secret compartment under dads liquor shelf. I saw it in the, uh, Sparrow Timeline. Thought it might be here, too.” 

“I…” Diego picked up the monocle and dangled it from his fingers, frowning at it. “Five, I threw this monocle into the river after Dad died.”

Five blinked, looked uncomfortable for a moment, then shrugged it off. “Reginald probably had a spare.” 

Diego twisted the monocle between his fingers and considered the idea. 

“Either that or we’re in a different timeline.”

At those words, Diego looked up sharply.

“I’m kidding, Diego,” Five said with a hint of a smile. Then, the smile transformed into a concentrated frown. “Well, maybe…the temporal math…hmm, it's not impossible…”

As Five rambled, Diego inspected the monocle. It was still cold, and he thought it was very odd that it hadn’t picked up any body heat from his hand. In fact, Diego realized that he now felt a chill in his fingers, as if something was draining the heat out of them.

On a whim, he put the monocle up to his eye and looked through it.

Immediately the world shifted and Diego’s stomach lurched. He squinted through the glass and panned around the room, frowning at seeing what had just been formerly functional kitchen appliances replaced by broken equipment and debris.

But when he looked up from the monocle, the image was gone.

He turned to Five, intending to interrupt his incoherent monologue to point out what he just saw. Yet the words died on his lips when Diego caught a glimpse of Five through the monocle’s glass. 

Where Five was sitting, Diego saw an old man with weathered cheeks and a scraggly beard. Diego blinked, and the image shifted to that of another stranger, another old man, this one impeccably dressed in a vintage suit. A pistol was expertly laid out on the table in front of him. 

Diego blinked again, and other versions of Five appeared through the monocle:

Five as a young adult, wearing a ripped and ratty version of Dad's hunting outfit, Diego’s own knife harness strapped to his gaunt frame. 

Five, still young and skinny, in a dirtier version of the Academy uniform. 

Then, the scene changed slightly and the uniform was clean, but blood spattered. 

The perspective warped dizzyingly, and suddenly this version of Five stood over Diego clutching an axe, his face contorted into a feral grin. Diego’s felt his heart palpitate as he looked up into Five’s eyes, glinting with madness, staring straight down into his own. 

Diego blinked rapidly, and the monocle responded with more visions. 

Five in suits and rags, his hands clutching weapons, briefcases, or unidentifiable objects. 

Five in a Sparrow Academy uniform, a black eye and a bloody lip complementing the ensemble.

At one point Diego could swear he saw a woman's face, with blond hair and a kind smile. But he blinked again, and the vision was gone.

Diego wasn't sure how long he was captured by the spell of the monocle, blinking through what seemed like an almost infinite number of portraits of Five.

“Diego? Diego?”

Suddenly Diego saw a familiar version of Five: Five as a child again, a young child who wore a frown too old for his face, his eyes pleading with Diego. 

With effort, Diego ripped the monocle away from his eye. For a moment, the world swam, then snapped back into focus.

“Diego?” Five said again, his voice tinged with impatience. “Are you okay?”

Diego stuffed the monocle into his pocket. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I'm fine. Thanks for the present.” 

Five worked his jaw like he was going to say something, but Diego decided to quickly change the subject. “So, do you want to train sometime?”

The non-sequitur caught Five off guard and he raised an eyebrow. 

“I mean, you’re almost healed,” Diego explained. “And I don't know what you did at the Commission…and I know you’re probably not at your peak, but…” he trailed off. “Look if I were you I'd be itching to get back in the gym,” Diego admitted. “And I started boxing again so…”

“Diego, are you asking me to fight you?” Five asked, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

Diego rolled his eyes. “I mean you don't have to spar with me or anything. Luther used to, but it's fine there's plenty of people at the gym. For someone of your age—”

The words dried up in Diego’s mouth as his memory superimposed the older versions of Five in his vision. Diego instinctively felt the monocle in his pocket. He could feel the coolness even through the cloth. “There's older…I mean younger…” Diego threw up his hands in frustration. “Fuck, I don't know how damn old you're supposed to be, Five!”

Five’s raised eyebrow went even higher, and the corner of his mouth twisted into wry amusement. He seemed to be relishing Diego's discomfort. He held the beat for a moment, then turned serious. “Sparring with you would be fine, Diego. I think….I think I'd enjoy that,” Five admitted. 

Before Diego could say anything, he continued. “I mean, as long as you don't mind your friends watching you get your ass handed to you by someone who looks like…” Five trailed off and gestured to his body. 

“Oh, I don't mind,” Diego said, leaning over the table and looking Five in the eye. He flashed him a ruthless smile. “Because, you see, that is never going to happen.”

Five stared back at him. For a moment, Diego could have sworn he saw that glint of madness flash in his eyes, and his adrenaline spiked.

But just as quickly the moment was gone, and only his brother remained. Five flashed Diego a wide, sardonic smile. “Challenge accepted.”

[gothamite-rambler]

Carrie and Damian meet again

Sabrina, Damian's close friend and a spirited African American girl, took a playful bite from Damian's bento box. He rolled his eyes but offered her more with a reluctant smile.

Sabrina: Damian, did you hear about the new kid?

Damian: I've been... checked out lately. What about them?

Sabrina: She’s this wild redhead who keeps talking about how a robin saved her a few weeks ago. I already like her! She has lunch with us and should be here soon.

Damian stopped eating, nearly dropping his fork as the description of the new kid began to materialize in his mind.

Damian: Did you say... um, redhead who was saved by a robin?

Sabrina: Yep! She's a Batman fangirl. I love it. She should be here soon.

Damian (thinking): Don't be her. Don't be her. Don't be her. Don't be her.

Just then, the girl in question, Carrie Kelley, scurried into the cafeteria with a brown paper bag and made her way directly to Sabrina and Damian's table. When he saw it was the same girl that annoyed him when he saved her from muggers, his jaw clenched with a tight smile.

Carrie: Hey, I’m Carrie! I’m super smart, so I’m like two years younger than you guys, but this is great. I was so worried I'd make no friends, but then Sabrina with the winning smile invited me to lunch, and oooh, you’re the rich kid’s son! Nice to meet you!

Damian groaned, laying his head on the table. He had already endured the civilian's energy when they first met, and now she was attending the same school. Sabrina, oblivious to the fact that the two had technically met already, shook her head with a smile.

Sabrina: He’s like that sometimes. Take a seat. You know me, he’s Damian Wayne.

Carrie (sitting down and opening her lunch bag): This is so awesome! Love your names, by the way. My name is inspired by the best horror movie character, Carrie White. I wish I had psychic powers like her.

Sabrina: Isn’t that movie for adults?

Carrie (chuckle-snorting): Not when your parents are sleeping. Am I right?

Sabrina nodded, giggling, while Damian tapped the table, staring down at it.

Damian: This can't be my life right now.

Carrie: Hey, Damian, have you heard of Batman?

Damian (trying to be nice): Yes, I’m well aware of him.

Carrie: Cool! I’m going to talk your ear off about him, though! You don’t mind, do you?

Damian: Y—

Sabrina: Go ahead, girl! We’ve got time.

Damian groaned as Sabrina giggled mischievously while drinking from her juice box. Meanwhile, Carrie began eagerly yapping about her Batman knowledge and incorrect theories.

when they first met

[nualaofthefaerie]

I just read your melvik headcanons, and I love them! They're just *chef's kiss*

Do you perhaps have some skyce headcanons for us?👀

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

A/N: I've been itching all over to actually do the Skyce headcanons but every time I get lost in giggling and kicking my feet like crazy so instead of actually doing it I sit down to doodle them. I have like 4 other asks asking for Skyce headcanons and @acedragontype asked me also, so let's actually do it this time. Season 1 Skyce ONLY (Same as the Melvik ones, I assume exclusivity) headcanons because for season 2...you'll see, I have been working on something for the past three weeks. If I finish it will be so worth the wait.

Melvik version

Also THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO FUCKs WITH MY SILLY CRACKSHIP!!!

SFW headcanons

When Viktor first sneaks Sky into the Academy there is a period of time where Jayce disapproves of her involvement, especially because he thinks she is giving him the cold shoulder. Sky's first impression of Jayce is that he is a genius, although quite eclectic. That rubs her wrong. Mix that with the fact she is shyer than Viktor and these two get off on the wrong foot purely due to a misunderstanding.

The idea to incorporate plants as test subjects was Sky's. She spends about thirty minutes rambling about the ways the boys could use a certain strain of carnivorous plants, which forces Jayce to realise he had been a fool for ever doubting Viktor's judgement in hiring her as opposed to any of the Piltover pupils. When Jayce sides with her and convinces Viktor, their relationship becomes better.

Jayce helps in the botanic garden when the forge is too suffocating. It's a big and bright space and he can still use his physical strength to think and tire himself out so he likes it. Sky ignores that he prefers to do that job in the same way he does his forgery work - half-naked. She also ignores that it makes her heart flutter, constantly trying to remind herself that getting involved with the big boss is not good for anyone's resume, but he makes it VERY difficult on her.

They are quite oblivious to how close they are becoming because each of them thinks they have a crush on a different person.

Sometimes their age difference shows up in unexpected ways even though she's just two years younger than him. She'd make a trendy reference and he'd look at her dumb while holding his chin in faux thought (he has no idea what she just said. He's too much of a nerd to know anything 'trendy').

Ximena Talis LOVES Sky Young because she learns every dish Ximena teaches her and she is full of warmth and enthusiasm. She notices they have a level of chemistry but doesn't really say anything. They move in sync and they don't even notice, so Ximena thinks that if it's meant to work it will. They are both good cooks.

At some point, Sky begins spending more time with Jayce than Viktor simply because his schedule is fuller.

Both of them are cinephiles. Sky is certainly more pretentious than Jayce. He loves to watch all sorts of movies, and she has a more 'refined' taste. When their crushes didn't pan out they kind of thought they'd go through it together so they sat down to watch the Piltover equivalent of 'Mean Girls' (Sky had never watched it), but she was so sad she fell asleep on his shoulder. Jayce picked her up, carried her to his bed and slept on the couch (he too begins to ignore how much it makes his heart flutter in almost a childish way).

They are also very competitive at board games and Twister. Viktor and Mel usually tap out but these two will go on until their muscles are sore. Sky has better flexibility, Jayce is bigger so he takes up more space. She does cheat. She'd blow air into his ear or jokingly whisper something sexual into his ear to win. He never says anything because he's too busy blushing (she doesn't realise it has an effect on him)

She is almost like a shadow in public. It didn't bother him, but when he realised he likes her close to him he starts looking for her and gets frustrated and grumpy when he can't find her.

She finds his tick of rubbing his neck quite attractive, he finds her pushing up her glasses cute.

Despite looking very sweet, they bicker a lot over things that definitely don't matter cause they find it makes them run hot (especially before they ever make any romantic moves).

The one time he took her to a gala with him (Mel and Viktor did not have the time) she spent her entire time promoting the Hexpartners project. It was also the time they almost kissed but Jayce recognized he was too drunk and he was far too upright to take advantage of drunk Sky even though she consented. He takes her home while she giggles and tells him about how much she likes how he does different things and proceeds to list the most minuscule details about his behaviour.

They have been in the opposite situation as well. He has been drunk murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. She tosses it off to him probably mistaking her for Mel. (do you notice a pattern with these two?)

By the time they kiss, they're like kettles about to explode. Their first kiss happened at Jayce's apartment, during one of their weekend evenings. He wanted to show her the prototype of a vase for the flowers they use that could essentially water itself using Hextech. 'To make your life easier, you know. You already don't sleep enough.' he'd say and proceed to explain in detail how it works. She'd be so moved over the fact he thought about her, it would be an instinctive action, more of a peck and she immediately tries to apologise but it's difficult to apologise when a man the size of a mountain is kissing your apologies away. He basically crushes her into his arms upon the realisation kissing Sky Young is no longer off-limits.

There is no little spoon in their relationship because Sky sleeps on top of Jayce.

NSFW headcanons (now watch me lose my fucking mind)

Aftercare: Jayce Talis is the best aftercare giver in the game. He can get quite out there when he wants to pleasure his partner and that's not lost on him, so he makes sure there's water and something sweet by his bedside so she doesn't lose consciousness.

Body part: Those arms and slightly crooked smile could drive Sky crazy. Jayce loses his mind when she isn't wearing her glasses cause then she's bating those big doe eyes at him. When they fuck glasses are off no matter what. Also he takes off that fucking bun. He can't stand it. He loves to watch her curls bounce on top of him.

Cum: They don't mean to be messy, they promise they don't, but they are. She is on the pill, and although she tries to convince him to wear a condom that man has a creampie kink, there's no way she can convince him of anything. And one thing about Jayce Talis - he can be painfully convincing when he sets his mind to.

Dirty secret: They pretend like crazy in front of Viktor. They feign unfamiliarity but the moment he isn't looking Jayce would either sneak a hand around her throat, without any pressure or squeezing, just to prove he can and watch her expression grow stiff and frustrated.

Experience: Relative experience, they know what they're doing. Sky has had Zaun partners who've been quite...rude and rough with her so she can't really figure out how when Jayce is rough it feels good. Jayce Talis fucked bitches his whole life, I'm tired of pretending he hasn't.

Favourite position: If you ask Sky she prefers to feel his weight on top of her until it's suffocating, but Jayce loves when she clings to him so he prefers fucking her standing, while she holds on for dear life to his neck.

Goofy: they can be goofy in that Sky would get freaked if she's just hanging midair, but if the fucking is post argument it's deadly serious. She'll touch him a bit more, he'll squeeze a bit harder, a game that has to be won.

Hair: Jayce Talis grooms himself once every two weeks. He doesn't like hair on his face because it's not 'presentable' but he doesn't mind a well-maintained happy trail. Sky Young certainly doesn't mind it. She used to shave but switched to wax once every three weeks when she moved to Piltover, so some hair can grow but it's often little and more reminiscent of fluff than actual hair. Hair doesn't bother either of them, they're adults.

Intimacy: I've said it once, I'll say it again, they run St. Valentine's like the Navy. So they are very intimate. He'd steal a kiss when no one's watching, she'd rub his hand if he's nervous. That extends to their sex life. He'd whisper her worries away, she'd hold him impossibly close.

Jack off: Sky is a small hour of the night-pleasing herself type girl. Even if it's in her own apartment, she tries to keep very quiet, especially if her mind trails to his smile or his hands or his chest, like she is ashamed of how lewd her thoughts can become when it comes to him. Jayce is a rare mastrubator to me. He is more of a sufferer. He'd let the images run through his mind but would grip his working tools and go in the forge unless it was during one of those nights when she falls asleep on his shoulder or just looks at him for a moment too long, then he has to rub one off in the closest private space to be able to breathe.

Kink: Jayce is a pleasure dom to Sky, so overstimulation is a main kink. Another main of his is creampies, he loves to watch his cum trail down her trembling legs. He also has an unhealthy oral fixation (both giving and receiving). He likes to role-play situations in which she holds all the power over him and lets her do what she wants. Sky is not dominant by any means but she learns she enjoys to top once in a while. With time she develops a certain bratiness to her - deny his orgasm, scratch his back a bit too hard, mock him a bit, all in the name of her head being thrown on the pillow and fucked stupid. Oh, also both of them are really into shower sex for some reason. Really into it - wet and licking water off her collarbones, it turns them on.

Location: Jayce's apartment. Sky's is too small, he's too cramped in there they can't move freely. But Jayce's apartment is a sanctuary for both of them and his bed is big enough to toss each other around.

Motivation: If they argue, like actually argue, fucking is close. If Sky's cheating at a game, fucking is close. If Jayce rests his head on her shoulder and begins to nibble on the skin while she works, fucking is close. She's not good at expressing her needs explicitly but if she hooks a leg around him while they watch something, chances are she'll straddle his waist and kiss him without saying anything. It's embarrassing, but he doesn't need her to say it. He'll always ask her if she's sure and then they're off to the races.

No: He'll never in a thousand years take advantage of her nativity even if it turns him on, even if he finds her oblivious passion for her subject super hot, he would never ever take advantage of her boundaries. So BDSM is a no. She can do with him whatever, he doesn't mind, but he could not handle seeing her in pain. Even when she's asking for his hand around her throat, he never squeezes too hard like he knows he can and has done before. Sky is very strict about public PDA. Small caresses are fine, when her office door is locked it's okay, but nothing that could jeopardize their careers, reputations or projects.

Oral: Both of them have a thing for receiving and giving oral. Jayce would beg to eat her out if he has to, just to feel his nose pressing against her clit while she tugs on his perfectly ordered hair, moaning and pleading. Sometimes he'd eat her out to soothe his own unrelated frustrations. But there is nothing Jayce Talis loves more than to force Sky to sit on his face - suffocate him, hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her as close to him as possible, pressure his head between her thighs, it's a sweet way to die. In return, he loves watching her work her mouth on him. She's far too good at sucking him off, it almost makes him jealous thinking she had to acquire this technique somewhere. In the beginning, he wasn't with deep-throating her, but as time went on he got comfortable with it. Watching her gag as spit and precum run down her chin and those pleading doe eyes looking up is enough to make him cum in minutes. He can fuck her for hours, but if she puts her mouth on him he's a goner in minutes. Sky herself loves watching him eat her out messily, juices dripping down his chin, cheeks flushed as he always grips her as if she's a meal he can't afford to skip. She also learns to ride his face properly for her own gain as he tells her to. 'Don't worry about me' is their mantra when it comes to oral. It's a good day if her nose is pressed to the hairs on his pelvis, eyes rolled to the back of her head from the stretch on her throat. It's also a good day when she gets to tease him about how weak he is to her mouth. He'd cut himself or just run a loving hand on her cheek and she'd bite on his thumb or suck on it slowly just to prove she can and then let him go back to his duties. It's the only form of public teasing she is okay with but it's more than enough for him.

Pace: On special occasions, it's slow, deep and filled with loving confessions and giggling, but more often than not it's messy, fast and rough.

Quickie: Not big on quickies. They like to take their time, to taunt each other physically, to watch their eyes grow droopy from pleasure and overstimulation. If it's too much or they need fast relief they masturbate.

Risk: Not very big on risks. Jayce wouldn't mind if Sky didn't mind as much as she did, but he respects her wishes.

Stamina: That man is a bull. And you know what? Sky Young can handle going for seconds and thirds. They're both athletic and healthy. They match each other pretty well.

Toys: I don't see them being really into toys. More like they both have a clothes kink - her underwear in his pocket/or as a way to gratify himself, his tie to bind his hands to the bed frame or keeping her socks on when she wears those wool knee highs people wear inside the house during winter.

Unfair: To be fair he teases intentionally more than she does, but she is a bigger teaser unintentionally - she'd fix his cuffs without him having to ask, or grab his face when he wants to shave and do it for him, sway her hips, if it's really urgent she'd kiss his knuckles secretly to help him calm down before a speech (it riles him up). His teasing is more gently picking her chin here and there, a remark in her ear, those types of things. He'd leave himself looking a bit shabby to tease her about always making him look properly good.

Volume: Together they are very loud. He loves hearing her under him, it's like a reward for a job well done. During those times he's still more of a moaner and broken cries type of dude. (looks at s2 Jayce...he's a different story)

Wild card: She has shown to work with his shirt tugged in instead of hers without telling anyone (all of hers were dirty). It trickles into Sky Young role-playing as a councillor, wearing only Jayce's councillor coat while riding him into oblivion.

X-ray: As a friend said Jayce Talis packs a weapon we are not ready to discuss. Is it more girth or more length, god knows, but Sky Young will tell you she swears it gets to her stomach and she's not a short tiny little lady.

Yearning: Pretty normal I'd say, a few rounds like twice a week. Whenever, even though they always yearn for the touch of the other.

Zzz: Both of them are quick sleepers. They are more morning people than night owls. They fuck, they cuddle, giggle about something stupid and in 15 minutes they're both out.

A/N: You know my inbox is always open for Melvik and Skyce thoughts.

[telekineticseance]

CIRCUMSTANCES

pairing: matt stone x f! assistant reader

summary: your friends leave you at a bar and you only have one number memorized

genre: fluff

word count: 2627

cw: legal age gap although nothing happens, drinking

author's note: this is like my first matt related fic so i hope y'all enjoy, may have more parts, may not idk i'm awful when it comes to updating

"Hm...Hello?" The voice rang through the other end of the phone that you held shakily in your hand. You didn't know why out of all people you decided to call Matt, but he was the only one with a phone number you seemed to remember. The only one who was sober enough to not leave you at a bar at least.

"Hello? Who is this?" He spoke again, his voice sounding raspier than usual, you definitely woke hi up which made you even more guilty about the situation. "Matt.." You mumbled against the phone as you heard a bunch of shuffling on the other side of the phone before Matt spoke again, "Y/N? Is that you? Are you okay? Where is your phone?"

He continued asking questions that your brain couldn't quite comprehend, as he was speaking so fast and the loud music from the bar was ringing in your other ear. "I-I'm okay. Just by myself." You slurred out, resulting in a sigh from the other end of the line.

You heard Matt take a deep breath before he spoke again, "Where's your phone?" You shrugged in response, as of he could see you before coming to the realization and responding, "I...lost it. I think. I don't know. But I didn't remember any other numbers and my friends all left with other guys and I don't know what to do." You spoke into the phone, tears welling in your eyes as they scanned the bar and you twirled the cord of the phone in your fingers nervously. This was a terrible idea, and extremely unprofessional.

"Hey. Hey. Take a few deep breaths." Matt's voice soothed across the line, him adding a few shushes in as he spoke, keeping himself calm. You nodded at his advice, taking in deep breaths as he continued to speak through the phone, "Now Y/N, where are you?"

You looked around, trying to remember which bar you ended up at. You had been bar hopping all night with your friends before they decided to leave with a group of random guys, despite your protests against it. "The Little Bar," you told him, once your eyes spotted a sign.

You hear more shuffling coming from the other side of the phone and the jingling of a belt followed by the sound of keys, "Okay I'll be there in a few minutes. Don't move. I'll come in and fin-" His voice was cut off before a loud beep rang through the phone and you let out a small groan, realizing it ran out of time before hanging the phone back on the hook.

You stood in your corner waiting for Matt to arrive, watching the blurry scene pass by. The music playing a recent pop hit loudly through the jukebox in the corner as people danced and drank while singing along off key. You tapped your foot to the beat before wincing from the pain shooting up your leg from your feet. Wearing your new heels that you hadn't broken in yet, probably wasn't the best idea but you wanted to look nice. You were trying to catch the attention of someone, whether it be a guy or whoever, just someone to give you the attention you craved.

You hadn't gone on a date since you started working for Matt as his assistant about a year ago. Since before you started you had a crush on Matt. You watched a lot of South Park in your younger years, practically being the same age as the show, you knew you had no chance with Matt. After all he was 51 and you were hardly 25, but the thoughts definitely crossed your mind every now and then. The first time you saw Matt was when you watched BASEketball in middle school with some friends, and immediately you had your eyes set on him from there, not knowing you'd eventually be the one he practically relies on for his day to day business.

You sighed, shaking the thoughts from your head again before leaning down and slipping off your heels, holding them in your hands as you continued to watch the night life. Suddenly, you felt the warm presence of a figure next to you before looking up and seeing a unfamiliar man there, drink in his hand as he looked down at you. "Hey there cutie, you look lonely over here, how about I buy you a drink and we can have some fun?"

You looked the guy up and down before giggling slightly, "Was that your best pickup line?" You looked up at the tall figure, he wasn't the most attractive guy around, then again nobody really is, although he did have nice eyes. He chuckled at your response before looking back at you, "Okay I admit it wasn't that good. But I wasn't lying, you are cute and I would like to buy you a drink."

You looked around, seeing if you could see Matt's tall figure through the crowd, but didn't. "I shouldn't my friend is coming to get me and told me to stay where I was." The guy nodded while smiling before looking where your eyes were scanning and turning his attention back to you, "Well I can always bring the drink to you if you'd prefer that."

You thought for a moment before shaking your head, "I'm okay," You tell him as he nods in response while taking another sip from his glass. The silence between you two is filled with the beats of the song playing before he turns back to you. He takes a pause before opening his mouth, "I know it's straight forward but do you wanna make out or something?"

Your eyes widen as you turn and look at him, face full of shock, "Excuse me?" He chuckled nervously at your response before speaking again, "Listen. You seem nice and we probably won't see each other again. Just a thought for living on the riskier side of life for once."

You took a moment before shrugging and nodding, who knew when Matt was actually going to show up, plus you came here for two things, to get fucked up, and to get fucked. And at this rate, only one of those things were coming true and it definitely wasn't the second one.

You wrapped your arms around the neck of this random bar guy before feeling him wrap his arms around your waist and the two of you began kissing with his back pressed up against the wall. The two tongues explored one another's mouths as your fingers tangled into his hair. Shortly afterwards you heard the loud clearing of a throat before pulling away and turning around to see Matt himself, standing there in slightly baggy jeans and a loose fitting tee. Although it was such a simple clothing choice, you couldn't help but find yourself staring in awe, before turning your eyes to meet his gaze where his eyebrows were slightly furrowed and his jaw clinched as he looked between the two of you.

Matt cleared his throat again before holding out his arm and giving you a "come here" motion with his hand, "Uh Y/N...I think we should leave. Unless you're too occupied." He said with a slight tilt to his head as he continued glancing between you and the guy. You pulled yourself out of the guy's grasp as he stared at Matt with a look of shock and confusion.

"Goodnight....dude." You tell him giving him a light pat on the chest before turning around and walking towards Matt. The guy just gave a small wave, still eyeing Matt with the same look as you two left the bar and Matt walked you to his car, opening the door for you and helping you as you stumbled getting in a little.

Matt walked around after shutting your door and climbed into the driver's side before turning and looking at you, "So was that before or after you woke me up and asked me to come get you?" Matt asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone, different than the tone he had previously on the phone with you.

You shrugged looking out the window, trying not to stare at him. "After I guess." You mumbled, resting your head against the glass and Matt sighed before leaning back into his seat and starting the car. You fiddled with the heels still in your hands as you glanced over at him driving. Circumstances by Rush played softly throughout the speakers as he tapped lightly on the steering wheel with the bass line, his fists slightly clenched along with his jaw.

His eyes shifted gaze from the road to look down at you and you quickly went back to looking away. He took a deep breath, "Where's your address again?" You told him softly, looking down at your shoes. You felt bad for dragging him out of bed and making him come get you. You glanced at the clock before seeing the dim light shine 3:23. "Fuck," you sighed out before turning your gaze to Matt, "I'm sorry I didn't realize it was so late."

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road, "It's fine. Couldn't sleep anyways." He was lying. You knew when he was lying as he was never really good at it. At least as long as you knew him. Despite only knowing him for a year, you practically knew everything about him as it was kind of your job to know. He also confided in you for a lot of things, whether it was stress about work or if he just needed a person to vent to, he knew he could rely on you, no matter the time or place, you were there for him.

After the awkward drive in partial silence, with only the sound of Matt's music playing through the speakers, Matt pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex before turning to you, "You don't have to come in tomorrow, I'll be okay, just get some rest." He spoke softly, the clenching of his jaw wasn't there anymore, just a soft gaze from his eyes.

You shook your head, you hadn't missed a day since you started and you weren't gonna start now. "No I'm okay. I'll be okay." You opened the car door and began to get out before tripping over your own feet and falling. You heard Matt curse under his breath before shutting off the car and running out to get you. You shooed him away as you tried getting back up but everything around you was spinning, and it definitely wasn't helping. Matt placed his hands on your waist sending a shiver down your spine as he helped you up. He pulled his hands away, mumbling a soft, "Sorry", as he cleared his throat and looked back at you.

"It's okay," You muttered, as you looked back at him before trying to walk before stumbling slightly again. Matt let out a soft chuckle before placing a hand on your waist once more and putting the other on your arm, "Come on clumsy I'll help you get to bed."

You nodded as he helped you up the stairs to your apartment before you fumbled with you key and unlocked the door. The two of you walked down the hallway before Matt opened your bedroom door and flicked on the light switch.

You felt embarrassment wash over you as his eyes scanned your walls lined with random movie posters and pictures of random celebrities you found attractive, Matt not included. He chuckled as he looked back at you, "Quite the interior designer aren't you," he teased before helping you into your room and helping you sit on your bed.

"Now let's find you some better sleeping clothes," He said before walking over to your dresser and starting to open the top drawer. Your eyes widened as you gasped, "NO NOT THAT ONE!" Matt jumped slightly at your protest and threw his hands up defensively.

"I'm guessing the clothes aren't in that one?" He questioned before pointing to the second drawer hesitantly and you nodded in response. He gave you a nod back before opening the drawer and pulling out a tank top and a pair of shorts that were laying on top and handing them to you.

You took the clothes from him and set them on the bed next to you before standing up and reaching behind you to grab the zipper to your dress but finding it hard for yourself to reach. You let out a sigh before dropping your hands and turning to look at Matt with a pleading look in your eyes, "Can you help me unzip?"

His eyes widened ever so slightly before he cleared his throat, nodding in response. He walked over to behind you and you held your hair up as you felt his touch as he gripped the top of the dress and pulled down the zipper gently. You held up the straps and turned to look at him before thanking him. He nodded once more before excusing himself, "I'm gonna go grab you a water and such." He said before quickly scurrying out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

You took a deep breath before slipping off the dress and throwing it in the clothes hamper across the room. You did the same with your bra before putting on the pajamas that Matt had handed you and laid down in the bed.

After a few minutes, Matt knocked gently before he walked in with a bottle of water, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a small trash can with a fresh trash bag inside, looked to be your bathroom trash can to be exact. He also had some blankets and cushions from what seemed to be your couch. "I didn't want you to throw up on the floor."

You giggled slightly at his statement as he set the trash can on the ground next to your bed and set down the other items on the night stand, still holding the cushions and blankets under his arms and in his hand, "If it's alright with you I was just gonna crash on the floor, just to um keep an eye on you. Under other circumstances I wouldn't think of it but, I just uh, wanna make sure you're okay."

You felt your heart skip a beat and your stomach flip at his words. Matthew Richard Stone at your apartment, sleeping in the same room as you? Middle school version of you was punching the air at the thought. You nodded in response and he gave a small grin before setting the cushions and blankets down before flipping the light switch and laying down. You turned over on your bed, thinking about how he was only a few feet away from you, in a place outside of the work environment and it made you giggle a little inside. Maybe it was a side effect from the alcohol but the whole situation definitely made you feel a little giddy.

"Hey Matt?" You chirped, breaking the silence. He moved a little on the cushion, "Yes?"

"I like you....a lot." You confessed, eyes widening a little. He chuckled slightly his voice raising a little as if he was talking to a child, "I like you a lot too Y/N."

You sighed, knowing he didn't understand what you meant but chose to ignore it. "Now get some sleep. Okay?" He spoke softly, moving on the cushions once again.

You let out a soft sigh, "Okay..goodnight Matt."

"Goodnight Y/N," he returned before you felt yourself drift off into another world.

updated a/n: i made a part two.. enjoy :)

[fluentisonus]

chiens-loups

[one-flower-one-sword]

well I know what you want from me you want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception setting you free won't you come and dance in the dark with me? show me what you are, I am desperate to know nobody better than the perfect enemy and I know what you want from me you want the same as me my redemption, eternal ascension setting me free

for @bladesmercy's fic The Fear of Falling Stars

[anonyanonymouse]

Addiction

Malleus pampering Silver with feel-good pleasure magic that takes away his nightmares and sadness, pushing Silver's problems to the back of his mind so he can go limp and thoughtless in his arms. Silver will always tell him not to (if he knows what Malleus is about to do at all) but he likes it so much while it's happening, doesn't he? He gets so upset about it, but what for? Malleus just wants him to enjoy himself, and if he's so bothered by it afterward, he can kindly cut away those memories for him <33

Sometimes he gives his blessings through food, sometimes through kisses. He thinks he has control over the effects, but he really does go too far most of the time, leaving Silver drooling and flushed and broken...

Before NRC, it was less frequent, but now that he can see him and play with him every day, he can accidentally leave Silver in that dumb giddy state for days. Obviously, others worry, but Silver likes it, right? He would never refuse it if it was something Malleus wanted of him, would he? It's not like his grades perform any better when he's in his regular state of mind anyway, not like he doesn't miss classes already, so why not let him stay in Malleus' bed all day like the little spoiled pet he is?

And even if Lilia or Sebek do fight to get Malleus to stop, it just leaves the poor boy an even worse mess than before. Silver's head hurts, throbbing and sharp, and no amount of healing magic from the nurse, his father, or anyone else can fix it. He has nightmare after nightmare, sleeping for a mere few minutes at a time before he's waking up screaming his throat sore. He's nauseous, he can't keep food down, and everything hurts.

The only one who can put him back together is Malleus

[nixie-deangel]

Nixie! I’ve come to bother you again!

Just watched the Blue Angels documentary and now all I can imagine is Jake and Bradley being new recruits for the team. 2 years of living in each other’s pockets, learning to be a unit but also being able to critique each other’s flying.

I would imagine they get the 2 solo spots, but maybe they’re in the diamond! Trusting each other to be within 18” of the other’s jet wing/canopy.

The pride, the camaraderie, the other daggers coming out to watch their shows when they can. The show in Miramar being watched by the whole crew (TG86 and TGM)!

-Snow ❄️

SNOW!!! Okay, I LOVE this. Like, love it. Also reminding me I enjoyed that doc and it sparked ideas I had forgot about because yes!! Similar brain's friend!

Am in desperate NEED of a Blue Angels Hansgter AU now. Like just the thought of them having to learn to trust one another like that, living out of each other's pockets like that!!! It makes my brain go !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! no lie.

Before I toss angst on this, but yes!! The 86 Flyboys and the Daggers coming to all the shows they can, much easier for the flyboys because most are retired, and the daggers never miss a show if they can help it! They are so immensely proud of Jake and Bradley! Most of the daggers, Javy and Nat especially never thought they would see the day Jake and Bradley could be Jake and Bradley and not just Hangman and Rooster! So it's all cheers and camaraderie and love. They also definitely all make it to the final show (Ice and a few of the others pull strings to ensure everyone can always make it!)

Okay, but now to add some angst on here, imagine a freshly broken up Hangster being selected to join the Angels and them having to be open and honest about their issues with the committee about it because you need to be able to completely trust every pilot you go up with, need to know their heads, their minds are going to be solely focused on the mission, on their jobs. And somehow they do manage to get selected together and somehow learn to put aside their issues and learn to focus solely on flying and learning and being the absolutely best, you know, the reasons they got selected in the first place! And over time they learned to talk about their feelings and their issues and what went wrong and how maybe they could try again and them being adult about it and waiting to fully talk about that possibility until they finish, because neither wants to fuck it up for anyone.

And on a completely different note, think about all those enforced training hours and traveling hours and that being how they both clue into the fact they've actually been in love with one another all these years and deciding after one night of amazing, mind blowing sex, to wait to try anything serious until after, because Jake doesn't want to test fates by adding emotions and relationships into an already high stressed and fickle posting (and because he needs to test if Bradley is serious about them, about him!). And Bradley is happy to wait t out because Jake is worth waiting a few more months to have and hold and love for the rest of his life!

[theyilinglaozus]

So for those who, like myself, no longer have x/twitter and perhaps weren't aware, Seven Seas has come under fire again due to a recent licensing announcement.

On February 21st, Seven Seas announced that they had secured the rights to license the Kinnporsche novels into the English language:

This announcement was met with both positive and negative reaction; the negative focusing mainly on two points. The first being that Daemi, the authors for the original Kinnporsche novel, were already under fire for their behaviours and treatment towards an actor in the KP drama, among other questionable behaviours.

But the other main negative reaction stemmed not from the novel or authors that were licensed, but towards Seven Seas themselves.

Kinnporsche is the first Thai BL novel of this kind to be licensed under the Seven Seas name. Yet Seven Seas has caused upset because, despite coming from a different country entirely, they have still decided to brand Kinnporsche as a danmei title.

Many fans took to social media explaining why this was an incorrect thing to do, yet rather than listening to them as well as both the Chinese and Thai communities, they instead decided to edit their websites definition on what danmei means:

For those that perhaps aren't already aware, danmei as a genre specifically applies to Chinese works. It does not apply to any other outside country - and that includes Thai.

It isn't just China that has a unique name for their male/male genre novels. In Japan, similar titles can be called yaoi. Thai takes inspiration from the Japanese name for this genre, often referring to their works as Y.

"Although the term boys-love, or its abbreviation “BL”, is more prevalently used internationally to denote the genre, it is more commonly referred to as waai (วาย) or “Y” in Thai. This term is derived from the first letter of the Romanized spelling of the Japanese expression for the genre yaoi. The term waai functions as an adjective and can be added, according to Thai grammar, after any media formats, such as siirii waai (“Y” series), niyaai waai (“Y” novels), kaatuun waai (“Y” comics). So, the next time you encounter “Y” alongside any Thai series, you will now be able to recognize it as belonging to the BL genre." (source)

While boys' love is the overarching umbrella for all these genres, it is both important and respectful to refer to the genre name of the given country of origin for a novel. Seven Seas has chosen not to do this, and instead has decided to band everything together under the danmei umbrella. This is both wrong and misleading.

If Seven Seas wants to publish such works under a more open branch, they'd be better rebranding under the boys' love term. But they won't, due to the success they've already achieved from their past releases of Chinese danmei. It isn't fair to other Asian, non-Chinese releases to not be referred to by their own title of the genre. Many of these potential new releases we're seeing are the first to come from certain countries - do they not deserve the same respect upon release as others?

I've been in fandom a long time - long enough to see the Japanese yaoi genre grow from being something rarely known in the west to something that's grown hugely popular. I've been here from the beginning of these danmei releases in the past recent years. While seeing how reintroducing stories to new audiences can come with its own difficulties and growing pains, we've come far along enough in the years that there is little excuse for Seven Seas not to show more care and respect when it comes to the way they handle these things; especially given how they've already received backlash in the past with their danmei releases when it's come to concerns over translation, treatment of translators and their work, the decline in quality vs. the rise in time between volume releases, as well as arguments that they don't always do the required research into licensing a title beforehand.

Don't get me wrong, I love that Seven Seas is bringing some of our favorite titles over to us. I just wish that the people behind them cared a little more, especially when it comes to these sorts of things which could very easily be rectified/researched into in the first place.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent images I suppose ~

[jichanxo]

early sunday six 🌼

tags! @four-white-trees @passthroughtime @phantasy14 @overdevelopedglasses @skysquid22

here's something with kuwana that also has lost judgment spoilers. (i don't remember who has and hasn't played, so excuse the tag😭)

Here he thought when he was disgraced and fired that he wouldn’t have any more parent-teacher interviews. Now they wracked his nerves something fierce, and he had a corpse left afterwards instead of paperwork. Hell of a trade-off, that was. Sometimes third year students used to ask why he decided to become a teacher, and he’d shrugged and given some canned response about how fulfilling it was. 

Kuwana’s got another bully’s corpse tucked away in a safe, isolated corner of the world. At least now when parents asked him what he had to gain helping with such an act, he could muster up a little more gusto when he called it fulfilling. Even though most of them gave him a look like he was full of shit, they’d trusted him enough to follow through with it, didn’t they? 

[mokeonn]

One of my favorite things about being in my early 20s is that I'm starting to understand that I can use things not for their intended purpose. When you're growing up, you get told what an object is and what its intended purpose is, and as a kid/teen, I just accepted all of it at face value. As a young adult it's finally clicking that I can simply do things a different way if it makes me happier. Sure, I was taught that you stand to take a shower, but there's nothing stopping me from just sitting if I don't feel like it, ya know? I might have always had my medication in the kitchen, but if I'm no longer remembering to take it, I can just move it somewhere where I can remember. You don't have to specifically store all food in the kitchen, you can have a little snack cart or snack station in another room.

The downside to finding out the various ways you can use objects is that you develop habits that would probably go on an r/relationships post where everyone says you're a little freak.

[suddencolds]

~