#maybe that’s the raised-by-Catholic side of me (I doubt it)

[the-bluestreak-cat]

Coworkers headphones stopped working so they made the completely batshit decision to just blare their music to the office

[piratefishmama]

Angel | Steddie Oneshot

Eddie Munson never believed that he’d go to Heaven. Sure he’d been raised in a catholic household, his uncle was religious, he’d been raised to give thanks for the food they ate, to pray before bed that should he not wake, his soul the lord take an all that jazz.

Wouldn’t believe it to look at him, to hear the songs he sang, the music he played. Wouldn’t believe how he’d been raised if one were to go by covers instead of contents.

But despite his upbringing in the very catholic Munson Trailer of Forest Hills Trailer Park, he never believed he’d go to heaven. Something about queers and submitting to sin and blah blah blah it’d been a long-ass time since his last confession, but Uncle Wayne stopped reminding him a few years back, so he had an excuse to keep ‘forgetting’ to do it.

Turns out, one did not need to go to confession to make it to heaven!

Angels would just. Turn up, apparently.

Maybe he’d done something good that he wasn’t aware of, he did go to that Make A Wish thing a few weeks back, DM’d a whole one shot for the kids, he’d spent hours there, a whole dang day just… hanging out with sick kids.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was what brought this heavenly creature to his side.

To cut a long story short, he was on stage one minute, belting out the lyrics from the final verse of the last song in their set ‘Into the Underdark’, Jeff was slipping into the ending guitar solo, Eddie was gearing up for an end of gig crowd surf and the next.

The next he was looking into a bright, blinding light that kept moving between his eyes.

He’d always been told not to go to the light. If you see it? Don’t go to it, going to it would make whatever trip you were going on a one way ticket, there was no going back when you reached that light. Just hang back, wait for the resuscitation, it’d happen, someone would breathe life back into you, or whack you with enough voltage to get that heart kickin again, just don’t go into that light.

That light was way too close to his eyes, and he couldn’t swat it away. His arms felt tied down. Rude.

And then the light was gone, had he reached it? Was that it? One way ticket stub punched, sorry Earth, Munson out. “Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” Oh what heavenly chorus, the light had momentarily blinded him but shit… when his sight came back, at least enough to make out the vague shape of a very square jaw, of angular features, of warm hazel eyes, and a luscious head of hair surrounded by a halo of brilliant white light.

Angel. He had an audience with an Angel. It could only be an Angel. Neat.

He’d enjoy the ‘I Told You So’ he got from his uncle whenever the old goat made it up there he hoped it wouldn’t be soon though, he’d prefer a longer wait than a short one, thanks.

“Mnn… I hear you big boy, are you sure I’m in the right place though? I’ve been told Heaven wouldn’t want me” it sounded smooth in his head, but he was pretty sure he slurred half the words.

How could he have a slurred voice in Heaven? That didn’t seem fair.

Oh he’d forgive the slurred speech bit if the angel kept making that wonderful music with his vocal chords, that little giggle of a laugh, so bubbly and sweet, yep. Somehow he’d weaselled his way into Heaven. Suck it soccer moms. “Well, at least you can summon the strength to be charming.”

He was charming? An angel thought he was charming? Hell yeah, he’d rock this heaven shit, he already had an in with the big, winged boys!

“I can summon the strength for other stuff too, worship ain’t ever really been my thing but, baby I think I can learn for a literal Angel” he’d subject himself to an afterlife on his knees gladly if it meant he’d have his hands curled around this creature’s thighs, his mouth on—

“Oh wow…” Eddie couldn’t really see it properly thanks to the lovely blinding spots in his eyes that was no doubt his eyes adjusting to heavenly light, but he was sure his angel was blushing, he sounded a little breathless. Good. “You’re uh… wow”

Eddie hadn’t had much charm before becoming world famous but, he’d gained a little experience. Women and men alike throwing themselves at him, knowing he wasn’t all that fussed, babes were babes. All genders welcome to hop on and take a ride. He knew it was mostly the fame, he was still the same nerd he’d been back in high school, but… if fame got him laid then fame got him laid.

At the very least it gave him the experience to flirt with one of Gods pretty little birds. Maybe even score if the reaction he got was any indication.

So much for lust being a punishable sin, huzzah.

Steve was having a day. Okay no, Steve was having a whole week. The only upside to his overtime riddled ass, was that Robin had been on the majority of his shifts with him, so they could at least talk in the ambulance while they roamed the streets waiting for chaos to drop.

Monday, it’d been a seven car pileup on the highway, a few lost limbs, no fatalities but one hell of a close call on two accounts.

Tuesday, it’d been a tumble at a care home resulting in a popped hip and some heavy flirting from a few old ladies. Poor Robin suffering it from a few old men trying to shoot a shot they didn’t have.

Wednesday it’d been crisis after crisis resulting in him not finishing his shift until six hours after he was meant to finish his shift.

Thursday he had one blessed night off, thankfully his on-call status hadn’t dragged him in, and he got a decent six hour nap in.

Friday, another car wreck, he didn’t want to think about that one.

And now Saturday.

Dispatch sent them to the sold out arena, some idiot had leapt off the stage likely for a crowd surf, his foot tangled in an amp chord, it reduced his air time dramatically and he brained himself on one of the guard rails.

Excellent. At least he wasn’t dead.

Which given how easily one could wind up six feet under from such a whack to the head, he was lucky.

They parked by the side exit, shuffled in by security, and right through into the arena. The patient hadn’t been moved as per dispatchers instructions to the person who’d called. No moving the idiot until the professionals arrived and determined it safe.

Cameras, flashing lights, big beefy security guards standing in front of them blocking the majority of what was happening from view, there was… quite a bit of blood there. It didn’t look pretty in that lighting. “The crowd’s too much, let’s get him to the ambulance.” Robin’s patience didn’t exist when it came to large crowds.

Too many people. Plus she’d been on shift five hours longer than he had.

“Alright, you two, c’mere” Steve singled out two of the big security guys “we’re gonna need you to help us get him onto the gurney, we’ll look him over in the back of the ambulance.” There were no broken bones, nothing stopping them from moving him just enough to get him to the ambulance unscathed.

And then, somewhere between writing out paperwork, checking vitals, and Robin googling who this guy was, said guy… woke up.

Steve, being closer, was quick to check responsiveness, pupils reacted well to light although a concussion did look likely, they’d cleaned up the blood and found the cause to be a cut just above his left eyebrow that’d probably make a kickass scar and oh.

Without the blood. Oh. Oh he was pretty. Pretty plump lips, long lashes, deep brown eyes, faint freckles across his nose. All that hair. He was pretty.

“Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” He’d asked, while shining that little torch into those pretty brown eyes, left to right to check the responsiveness. And then he spoke and Steve— well. Robin was eyeballing him judgementally pretty damn hard given how fast his face flamed red.

Her head in her hands, her fingers plugged into her ears as Munson rattled off promises of worship and good lord— Steve didn’t know what to say, what to do, what does one do when a hot yet slightly delirious rockstar offers to worship your ‘angelic body’?

What does one do with that?

One awkwardly stutters through thanks while bright red and toasty until they can part with the guy at the ER wishing he’d met him under better circumstances cause it’d been a long ass time since anyone even touched him let alone worshipped him but accepting that he’d probably never see the guy again, so it didn’t really matter.

Until a few days later when the official Corroded Coffin account slid into his DM’s on Instagram, apologised profusely, and requested very sweetly to make it up to him with dinner the next time he was free.

Signed Eddie. With a little angel emoji. How on earth could he say no to that?

[pulpbeing]

whenever i go to church, if im not asleep i always thinkin bout fuckin my fav on the altar (this case, dottie,,)

excuse me if this seems too. you know.. sacrilege ,, (i dont know if you actually like god or forced to like big daddy up in the sky) feel free to ignore my ramblings im a crazed man

yk,, thinkin bout maybe you're a priest. n you end up with a sinner of a lover.. he gotta repent, right? just bending him over the altar, making him wet the bible with his drool and tears.. poundin into him so hard and relentlessly but your words are sooo sweet and just praises, makes him so dizzy cuz you're tuggin on his hair harshly as ya make him read the bible,, tellin him good for tryin to read even tho his babblin and his eyes are blurry from cryin,, makin him bite onto a rosary as u cum inside of him, but never stoppin until you think he's repented for his sins despite him being so fucked out and cumming so many times he can't think anymore,,, only how good your cock feels inside of him 😰😰

of course can't forget about the confession booth. favorite place to think about doing it. making him touch himself on the other side as you tell him what to do, and allll the nasty stuff u want to do to him and he's whining for you because he can't possibly finish without you :( then stuffing his mouth full of your cock, telling him to be quiet as you let others in for confessions... n he's tryiing so hard to stay quiet but ohh he just loves how you grip on his hair so harshly and bury his face down to your crotch till he could barely breathe.. choking till theres tears in his eyes and he's gripping on your thighs until your skin bruises... n when they leave, you fuck his throat and express disappointment that he's not keeping shut, but you forgive him and that you believe that he can do better! and ofc he would,, so he tries and tries again at every person that enters the booth.. not getting a taste of your release bc he keeps failing,, n he wants to sob cuz fuck he wants your cum down his throat so bad.. but its worth it, you're always very generous when u reward him when he finally does it right 💞💞

basically sweet priest that has effectively broke his mind,, makin a man like dottore worship you like a god n would get on his knees for you without any questions... thinkin mindbreaking him with really sweet praises that he now can't live without em,,,

i was raised christian, specifically pentecostal and missionary, so i don’t have much experience at all with catholic practices beyond media i’ve consumed o7 and dw. i don’t believe in the man upstairs. sacrilege is my middle name with how much gay sex shit i be thinking in a church. if he hasn’t struck me down yet, doubt he exists as i’ve been told lolol. not like i’d want my church’s version of a hypocritical god.

n e ways

if he can’t even accept your god-fearing, pure love, you doubt he can accept god into his heart for sure. he’s too greedy, always begging for more of you, of your semen, more of you folding him in half and bending him over so roughly you leave bruises on him for days. watch how he shivers in sinful delight when you tut in disappointment into his ear, calling him a “worthless whore destined to an eternity of damnation” and a “greedy, filthy sinner.” the wood of the altar is only saved by the nun’s habit you have him wear, the modest dress flipped up and held from behind to expose his greedy hole, ring of frothy white around it that exposed just how sinful he’s willing to be if he’ll defile such a place with his filthy, dirty words and sins. but… it’s better if he only sins with you, and since your god is merciful, you just have to forgive him, make him repent and beg forgiveness from the lord as you pump him full yet again, force his head back by grabbing his dyed hair and make him look at the ceiling, to the heavens above as he screams your name. looks like you have to have him repent again.

like any pastor, one must guide their sheep through all, especially when they misbehave— especially ones like dottore, who at the moment, doesn’t even deserve to have you properly continue with his guidance with how sloppy and loud he is, sinful mouth drooling and slobbering with every bob of his head, so, in his punishment, you keep him from his reward. of course, you still have a job to do, still have others to guide, so while he pouts with his lips still attached to your sex, you attend to follower after follower, your merciful god granting them all forgiveness as you do with your pitiful dottore. like all lambs, he’ll eventually learn to listen completely lest they be led astray and be devoured by the wolves— so he takes your gift, his throat bulging with how you fill him like the holy spirit does to a true believer. he takes it all as he should, eyes fluttering to a close as he basks in your forgiveness and mercy.

ah, it seems as though he sees you as his god now.

[strangesickness]

i've been thinking about the losers and religion a lot lately because i think it's a pretty interesting topic that would impact them a fair bit.

eddie was actually the one who got me on this tangent because i think he's the least religious of all the losers so welcome to me rambling.

everything is pretty vague and i'm not really talking about actual religion and more talking about geography and historical context and stuff but figured i'd put a cut here in case this isn't something you want to read about <3 also its long oops

so we do actually have some canonical information about eddie's religion. he was raised methodist*, and his grandparents (at least on frank's side) were polish catholic. he becomes non-practising as an adult.

*(which is the same denomination as richie, which leads me to believe there was a methodist church in derry, and the town was largely methodist, since it seems strange that the kaspbrak's would convert to protestantism when frank's side of the family was catholic, especially since even though methodist is the second most common denomination of protestant in the USA, it has less than half as many followers as southern baptist, and also maine has a pretty low methodist population compared to other states according to this site, so i think it stands to reason they didn't have access to a catholic or southern baptist church. although i'm not super educated on christianity so this could all be wrong. i also haven't finished IT so maybe king talks about this in the novel idk) (also in case y'all weren't aware theres beef between catholics and protestants, which is why it's kind of weird they converted, unless sonia's family was protestant and she convinced frank to convert, which seems unlikely to me)

anyways thats great and all, eddie's protestant like everyone else, but consider! he's actually non-practising his entire life. i think it makes a lot of sense. sonia watched frank die of illness, then she watched eddie nearly die of illness, if anything could shake someones faith in religion i would think that would be it. she's clearly unwilling to leave anything up to god, with how obsessive and controlling she is over eddie's health and safety. i think a sonia that either does not believe in or does not trust god makes a lot of sense.

i think they'd still attend church on sundays, as to not stand out, and if asked they would both say they're christians, but i think there is deep seeded doubt in the both of them, and i don't think they pray, or read the bible, or bless meals, or avoid meat on fridays, etc. etc.

i don't think of any of the losers as holding their faiths in particularly high regard, i think it's likely they were all raised religious to some degree considering the historical and geographical context, but weren't heavily religious. i think they were the kind of people who didn't follow their religions very strictly (i know this is not the case for the uris' in the films but it is in the novel). however, i think of eddie as someone who quite frequently questioned god outright, "if there is a god why did my father die?" "if there is a god why am i sick?" "if there is a god is he kind?" etc etc.

i don't really have a plotline or point to go along with this, i've just been thinking about it. this headcanon might make an appearance in a fic someday, idk.

[dogmetaph0r]

10, 13 (alfie - i mean i have to - plus one of your choice) and 14 for salty asks game 👉👈

OOOH HERE WE GOOO

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

I didn’t not like it narratively, but I didn’t particularly enjoy the whole arc of trying to get Linda and Arthur back together :/ I did appreciate it in a “fellas we are never breaking the cycle” way, but it kinda drove a wedge between me and my enjoyment of Arthur’s boyfailure arc at some points. Linda kinda reminds me of my adorable little WASP-y mom so seeing her threatened and upset because a man will do anything but go to therapy……eugh, hard watch.

13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

Alfie - this is gonna maybe be a bit controversial (or not? idk it took a while for me to wrap my noggin around the vibes) but……I don’t think Alf is all that religious? He is very very involved in his community and seems to be a well respected member of Jewish society in Camden Town, but idk how much he really practices in his day-to-day. I could be entirely wrong (would be happy for a Jewish PB fan to correct me if I am, and honestly I much prefer the headcanons that imply it matters a bit to him because as you’re about to see….I love cultural exchange) but Alfie’s irreverence and self-deification don’t really come across as terribly devout to me. If you consider the non-TV works to be canon, he definitely seems to be of the impression that nothing really matters beyond the carnal. He does seem to believe in a God, but that God’s existence isn’t really consequential to him. So I think his Jewish identity is more forged in community than shared reverence! I can relate, in a way; I never practiced Catholicism, but because my entire dad’s side did and I grew up in a highly Catholic neighborhood, it impacts how I interact with the world. So that’s how I kinda see it: it’s not the religion that he practices, but more the identity of someone raised with the religion.

I also wanna doooooo……..

Polly - she wasn’t always a wise, rational woman throughout the show. There were plenty of times she acted out of anger, fear, stubbornness… and while I do love that we kinda treat her as our voice of reason, she’s still as flawed as the rest of them. I feel like I’ve seen a lot of fics fall into the idea that Polly knows everything. It makes for a good story driver, but I feel like that unfortunately just doesn’t encompass who Polly is as a person. I don’t wanna ramble super long AGAIN but I think a lot of her interactions with/about Michael kinda demonstrate that. She’s easily blinded by her fear of loss in particular, and in a way it’s very similar to Tommy’s motivations. I think that’s part of why they butt heads sometimes. I’d like to explore that more myself!

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

Oooh boy, this one is kinda tough to say. But I think we have a looooong way to go as a fandom in terms of cultural sensitivity. I know we’re working with source material that already has a pretty problematic and shallow way of going about Romani characters, but I think it’s our duty as fans to sorta….grapple with that a bit? Address it with nuance? Or at least listen to POC, particularly Romani, creators who take issue with the things done in the show and in fan content. There are SO many aspects of the show itself that play into racist stereotypes about Romani people, and I’ve seen a number of tropes and fic concepts that revolve around those stereotypes in particularly shocking ways (for example, maybe don’t have “sold to the Shelby family” or “magical g**** fortune teller” as a plot point??? Many levels of inappropriate to that). I do largely give people the benefit of the doubt because I know that not everyone knows what to look out for, especially if they themselves are not targeted personally by bigotry in their communities, and fewer people know where to go to figure that out…. but I feel like specifically Romanichal culture is a strong enough theme in the show to warrant SOME promotion of cultural research. Of course we all have work to do (I’m no exception, and I wholeheartedly welcome concrit if anything in the story seems off) but I feel like some people really lean into exoticism and stereotypes without any unpacking of why they’re doing it. And, when other people express discomfort, I’ve seen more than once the sort of response that sums up to “well so-and-so said it’s not a slur/bad trope/stereotype so I’m gonna keep using it”. Thankfully it’s less prevalent here on tumblr but it’s still a problem! Let’s rid ourselves of the idea that any one culture is a monolith! Cultural exchange and education are exciting! Decolonize your writing! Respect and an open mind go a long way!

BUT YEAH basically that’s it teehee :•)

[away-ward]

okay, i just saw your hc of “what if emmy got pregnant in high school” and now its making me think the same about damon and winter since damon also has a breeding kink (which we see much more of in the bonus au scene) how do you think damon would react? i just started following your account and im really liking a lot of your hot takes

Hey thank you! It's always good to know that at least some out there are enjoying them.

I figured I'd just do the other three to keep them on the same post. We'll start with Damon since that's who you asked about.

Damon, we know from the alternative scene, wants to get Winter pregnant as away to keep her and control her, which is his particular brand of "love" in high school. If he found out that she was pregnant...well, the image that comes to mind is like a cat that ate the canary.

Winter would be furious, I think in either of the timelines but especially in canon. She's too young, she doesn't like Damon extending his control over her like that; she wanted a choice, not to be forever tied to him by accident. Still, if she did keep it, she'd love that baby with everything she had. She'd keep it and protect it from Damon.

The baby would definitely be a source of fighting for them.

If it was a boy (which, looking at Damon's track record...) Gabriel would be interested. Good chance he'll pull a Christiane 2.0 and take him away. If it's a girl, it's the Ashby's problem.

The Ashby's would seriously consider sending Winter away again. I just know her mom would ask if there were still those boarding schools for "girls like her," that took pregnant girls so they didn't disgrace the family. Her father would promptly walI her over to the town doc that performs all the abortions unwanted/accidentally pregnancies for Thunder Bay (but shhhh, that's a secret). If Winter wouldn't go through with an abortion (she'd have to really fight and scream to get her father to relent), she would consider closed adoption. Considering how angry she was, there's a chance she would have gone through with it. But I'm also thinking her love for Damon despite everything would keep her from being a 100% committed, and that small room for doubt would be enough.

Michael

This wouldn't happen to Michael. He wouldn't even touch Rika until she was 18 or close to it. If she did somehow, despite all this plans, become pregnant with his child, that's it. They're getting married and raising that thing together side by side, as faraway from his family as he could get. Her mom too, if she doesn't get sober real quick. Noway is that going to be let around his kid.

For Rika, this is not how she planned it, but she always wanted Michael so maybe this was how it was meant to be. It's just like them to skip past all the nonsense of dating and getting to know each other. They already know they're made for each other, anyway. But she hates the idea that Michael thinks she tricked or "planned" this. She wasn't poking holes in condoms and she resents him for implying it (which he definitely has more than once).

They'd fight, they'd bicker, they'd annoy each other, but overall they'd be content and happy, approaching this new stage of their life with purpose and assurance that the other is going to try and be the best parent they could.

Kai

This also wouldn't happen to Kai, but it's way more likely to happen to him than to Michael. Especially with Banks involved. His brain shut down whenever she appeared in front of him. Honor bound, he would do whatever he could to make it right. He wouldn't love the idea of abortion (hard to tell if he's the type of Catholic that's completely against the idea, or if he's more along the lines of it's not my body though it's my baby, or if he's more like it's not okay for anyone else but this is my emergency so I'll ask for forgiveness (that he doesn't thinks he'll get... kai's weird)). Overall, if the baby is born and he has to tell his parents, he's going to have one giant shadow over his head. Of course he loves the baby. But this is just another way he's disappointed his father. But then Kai will go to college, and get his degree, get the job, get the salary that will provide the very best for his family. No more screwing up for him.

Basically, this would be something he beats himself up over but would not take him down.

There's a really good chance Banks never tells anyone and takes her self to the abortion clinic. Her fear that Gabriel would kick her out because she can't bring another mouth into his house - that was not the deal. Or ended up anything like her mom, chasing after to rich man to take care of a baby neither of them wanted. Not that she would chase after him. It's just the whole situation she'd want to avoid; it hits too close to home. And don't even bring up Damon finding out. I think she'd also be scared to mess the kid up. At seventeen, she doesn't think she's anywhere close to being mother material. Best to save this kid some pain before it understands. The only thing that might stop her is if Kai somehow found out and talked her out of it. But that would have to be one hell of a speech.

Hope you don't mind me highjacking your question! I'll probably come back and edit to include Will's so that all four are on the same page.

I'll be interested in hearing anyone else's hot takes or opinions. Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments or post.

[chvoswxtch]

AAA Hello dear! Super excited to be in the bar with you!! CONGRATS!! and thanks for feeding our souls with your writing <3 Margarita of your choice <3 Been hearing NONstop 'The devil is human' by Aurora and 'Jekyll and Hyde' by Five Finger Death Punch. Totally different tones, still sour notes in both. The catholic guilt on the first one had me wandering on Matts crooked faith and how he feels guilt every so often. Second one just the duality of himself and his life and how tiring it can be. CHEERS!! hope you are having a wonderful week <3

hello my darling!

so I tried to incorporate both of these lyrics as best as I could. this actually came at the perfect time bc i'm rewatching season 3 of daredevil (yes again, it's my fav), and just generally feeling like an angsty little gremlin. this was heavily inspired by episode 1 of season 3 (resurrection) and my own religious trauma asjkhdjsk.

cheers! 🥂

blurb below the cut

the devil is human

why did you give us hearts we don’t understand?

Matt didn’t understand the confliction he felt. It seemed simple from the outside looking in. Why believe in someone that doesn’t believe in you? Why ask for forgiveness for what was done to him; what was put inside him? Why continue to forgive someone who has taken everything they could possibly take? 

There had been moments of doubt throughout his life. Violent shades of anger, piercing blows of grief, cold winters of loneliness, and frustrating winds of complexity. But he always found peace and understanding in scripture. His shoulders always felt a little lighter after confession. His heart rose above the sea level in his chest when he prayed. 

Everything had a purpose. Losing his sight. Losing his father. Losing Elektra. 

But twice? Losing the person he loved most in this world, having them die in your arms, twice, that was cruel. 

Matt had thought his abilities were a gift. A trade for his loss of sight. He believed the hellfire he felt in his heart was a test of his faith and his strength to be a warrior of God. He believed the blood of the Devil in his veins is what aided him in fighting for truth and justice. It was that extra kick he needed to protect the innocent. The Devil himself had been an angel once, God’s favorite even. 

But Matthew Murdock was not God’s favorite. 

And he didn’t really care anymore. Because he was never God’s to begin with. 

His abilities were a curse. The wicked flames that split open his knuckles and fueled his thirst for blood weren’t holy in origin. He hadn’t been crafted with pieces of the Devil. He had been created by the Devil. 

He was raised to believe in a God that didn’t believe in him. He gave his blood, sweat, and skin in exchange for a cause that was never his to begin with, and for what? A lonely life full of loss, torment, and pain. 

Maybe that’s why he felt so torn. He spent his whole life thinking he was fighting on the right side. Being told that if he followed the rules, he could be saved. If he sacrificed himself, he would be good. It would all be worth it in the end, when God welcomed him into his home in the next life. 

It was all bullshit. God was never inviting him into his home. He never even answered when he called. It didn’t matter if he prayed until his knees bled, saved a hundred lives, brought justice to the real monsters that walked the Earth; none of it mattered. 

So why did he still tense up when he heard sirens? Why did he have the itch to run across the rooftops when he heard screams for help? Why did he still want to fight? What was he fighting for? Who was he fighting for? 

Did he even make a difference anyway? It had been weeks since Matt had been protecting the city from the shadows, and it felt like nothing had really changed. Maybe he was just a different kind of monster that lurked in the dark.

Matt tilted his head back slowly, his blank, bruised eyes gazing upwards towards the stained glass window he knew was right above his head that depicted one of the saints. 

He wasn’t one of them.

“If I ever want to change, would this all remain the same?”

His whispers echoed in the silence of the church basement like thunder. He wasn’t sure who he was asking. He wasn’t sure if he even cared to know the answer. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore. 

But he knew that he would rather die as the Devil than live as Matt Murdock.

[myrddin-wylt]

that same British anon here

You know what. Yes I will take Ukraine to be the point of reference here, Ukraine know what they're trying to do and are trying to fucking do it, I can respect that.

But yes I've noticed that all the germans I've known are very scared to criticise the government, and I'm not sure why, might just be a culture difference considering the bullshit the tabloids do here, but they seem genuinely a little afraid

imo Britain's problem in general is that while plenty of Brits can agree that the current situation is Very Not Good, even a riot ain't gonna do shit if it isn't goal-oriented and 100% clear what tangible action people want the government to take, and I imagine there's currently a lot of disagreement rn. like the French have a very clear tangible thing they want from Macron: repeal the law raising the retirement age. Euromaidan had clear goals: Yanukovych needed to resign and the Azarov government be dissolved only being the first of a very long list. also I'm putting this under a readmore because I love to ramble.

as a wider, historical uprising example - and please excuse me for coming off as like, US-obsessed patriot American I swear it's just the document really is written as just a perfect example - the US Declaration of Independence is really fascinating to read because it is literally a list of tangible grievances. 'we are angry and have provided you with a list as to why: because you did [a], [b], [c] etc concrete actions. so we are gonna do [x], [y], and [z] (which just so happen to be high treason).'

so grievances like 'being a tyrant' isn't enough, nor is 'hey I can't afford to heat my house or go to the doctor because you fucking suck at running the country, fix this shit.' ya gotta pick a very specific action, and that's not something I think the general British population has agreed on yet? I mean, yall are very good at getting Prime Ministers to resign (and without needing to use violence to do so), which is a very concrete action! and I'm not saying that sarcastically or in a mean way, I really am being genuine. like the Germans could fucking never. Americans could never, or else Trump would've resigned during his term. so I'm still holding out hope for yall and you know what, what does it matter anyway how many PMs you've had in however many years, as long as the transition of power was peaceful and legal? it's better to swap em out as needed than cling onto one that has shown to be Not The One. like what are you, fuckin Catholic or something? divorce them. serve them the papers. also I really, really do not know nearly enough about domestic UK politics in the last 25 years to be making any of the statements in this paragraph but that won't stop me because I'm an American!

......re: the Germans, hm. I thought they were more complacent than scared, but if they are scared it's presumably because the freedom of speech laws in Germany are............ well, the Network Enforcement Act is not helping. in any case, the Germans have always erred toward the side of censorship when it comes to the freedom of speech/hate speech/misinformation dilemma so maybe there's a cultural attitude of "better to be silent and let others think you a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt," if that makes sense? maybe they're less concerned about the government censorship and more about social censure/conforming to popular opinion, idk. I feel like I'd have to be fluent in German to be able to understand the attitudes there. you'd need to ask a German about that.

[summerwritesfics]

⛓️Father,  Did You Miss Me?

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 2496 Words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: Supernatural/Modern AU, Priest!Kuai Liang, Demon!Hanzo Hasashi, Priest Kink, Deepthroating, Prostate Massage, Crying, Cathoclicism, Confessional, Catholic Imagery, Catholicism but make it sexy, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Coming Untouched, Size Difference Kinktober Day 10: Priest Kink + Deepthroating + Prostate Massage + Crying

Kinktober Masterlist

Notes: I’ve had this ongoing little AU in my head for a few years that I think I’ve posted snippet to my WIP tag on tumblr, but basically it’s an AU where Kuai is a priest, and Hanzo is a demon lord who asks Kuai for sex in exchange for his help hunting down and wrangling escaped demons. Of course, it doen’t stay just sex and they fall in 💕love💕 Because this is me lol. This basically belongs to that AU and maybe one day I’ll actually finish my WIP’s and do more with it lol Hanzo calling Kuai “Father” is the closest I’ll ever get to writing daddy kink lmao Again sorry if this isn’t at my usual standard, I’ve had an awful day. Nothing extremely wild or interesting, just bad. But y’know what they say about us AO3 Authors, we could be on our deathbed and still be posting. 🙃 Title is from “Going To Hell” by The Pretty Reckless.

“Father, did you miss me?”

Hanzo enjoyed the sigh from the other side of the confessional booth.

“Good evening Lord Hasashi,” Kuai Liang softly spoke through the grating. “Forgive me for being so upfront but may I ask why you’re here? I highly doubt your intending to confess your sins, given you are already a Lord of Hell.”

Hanzo chuckled, “Alway’s to the point, Father Song.” Hanzo listened to the man on the other side of the wooden box. There was a rustle but nothing more. “We have a deal, Father, I hope you have not forgotten that.”

Kuai made a confused noise, before saying, “no, I haven’t but forgive me Lord Hasashi I do not seem to recall being in your debt currently.”

“You aren’t,” Hanzo assured him, leaning back and inspecting his claws. “It has merely been a while since our last meeting, and I wanted to be assured that you remember our agreement.”

“You are surprisingly needy for a Demon Lord, you do know that?” Kuai sighed again as Hanzo laughed.

He wasn’t needy, not really, but he did find himself enjoying Kuai’s company and did rather miss him when they did not see each other for a while. Sometimes, demons escaped Hell so often it meant they spent weeks together. But times like this, when everyone seemed to actually want to behave? Well, Hanzo guessed he should be thankful he didn’t have to do much more extra work, but instead he found himself bitter that he didn’t get to see his favourite priest as much as he’d like.

He watched as Kuai’s shadow moved behind the shutter, he heard a door open and the shadow was gone. Seconds later the door of his booth came open and Kuai stood on the other side, with a hand on his hip and looking as gorgeous as ever. Hanzo always did have a thing for the holy, but Kuai Liang was something else.

“What exactly do you want for assurance?” Kuai asked, holding out his hand to help Hanzo to his feet. Hanzo didn’t need it, and given their size difference, it wouldn’t effect much, but he appreciated the gesture.

“Well,” Hanzo purred as he took Kuai’s hand and stood up. Once standing, he placed his hand on Kuai’s cheek and pushed his thumb against Kuai’s lips. “I had a few ideas.”

“You’re in luck, I am about to retire from my duties for the night,” Kuai claimed, raising an eyebrow. “But I get the feeling you already knew that.” Kuai pulled away and crossed his arms. “Just how long exactly have you been waiting for me to finish, Lord Hasashi?”

“Roughly 40 minutes,” Hanzo replied as he saw Kuai’s eyes rolls. He turned away and began to walk back into the centre of the church, Hanzo following behind like a lost puppy. “Forgive me Father, I just enjoy watching you dole out God’s will.” Even with Kuai’s back to him, Hanzo could imagine the frown on his face from the knowledge someone was listening in. “Although, that woman having an affair with her gardener-“

“Lord Hasashi, I do hope you aren’t trying to get me to break my vows and gossip with you about the members of this church.” He looked over his shoulder slightly, just as they got to the door to the private back of the church. “We may have arrangements, but I still have my duty.”

“Very well,” Hanzo replied, watching Kuai open the door before they both made it inside. “But hypothetically if you didn’t have your duty, would you say her husband really was having an affair first?”

“Oh absolutely,” Kuai said without hesitation. “With her sister.” Kuai turned around with a weirdly gleeful smile on his face. “And the sister’s pregnant, and wishes to keep the child.”

Hanzo blinked a few times. “Right well, once I’m done fucking your brain’s out you are going to have to tell me that full story.”

Kuai gave a small cheeky smile. For as much as Kuai liked to pretend he was above such things, Hanzo definitely got the juiciest stories of mortal sins from him. Maybe in some way, it was a form of release. It must be hard to have to listen to everything someone’s done to harm others all day.

Hanzo looked around the room. It was about as plain as it always was, Kuai really was not one for material possessions. Something about that upset Hanzo sometimes, if only because Kuai deserved far more than he allowed himself to have. Kuai’s selflessness was admirable, but Hanzo worried it might turn out to be his downfall.

One day, Hanzo would convince Kuai Liang to forgo his faith, and whisk him down to hell, where Hanzo could spoil him for all eternity.

He knew that wouldn’t happen any time soon however, but Hanzo was a patient demon. He could wait as long as it took.

Kuai sat on the edge of the bed, putting his hands on his lap and tilting his head.

“So, Lord Hasashi, how exactly do you want me?” He asked innocently, smiling softly like he was about to sing a sweet hymn rather than do sinful things with a demon.

I want you in so many ways, Hanzo thought the words he could never say aloud. In those fantasies where he took Kuai away, he thought so long about all the ways he wanted Kuai. But he couldn’t do them all right now.

“On your back, head off the bed, clothes on,” Hanzo ordered. As much as he loved Kuai naked, there was something he liked about doing things while Kuai was still in his robes. There was something so blasphemous about it, and while Hanzo really had no qualms with Kuai’s God, the influence of the underworld made him delight in the way he perverted it.

“As you wish.” Kuai swung his legs around onto the bed, and he scooted himself into the centre of the bed. As he went to lie down, he made sure his head hung off the side, his hands gripping onto his sheets in anticipation.

Hanzo approached, gripping his belt and waiting until he was in front of Kuai’s face to pull it away. He dropped his trousers enough for his cock to be revealed. He always enjoyed the way Kuai swallowed thickly whenever he saw it. His breathing quickened, and he opened his mouth wide in preparation. Hanzo brought his cock towards those lips and started to push in.

Kuai’s lips clamped around his cock, and Hanzo felt his tongue circle the head of his cock. Continuing forward, Hanzo pushed in slowly so not to overwhelm Kuai and make him gag. As much as he loved to have Kuai screaming, he preferred it to be from pleasure than pain. He never wanted to do anything to hurt him.

His cock hit the back of his mouth, only three quarters of the way in. He did pull back, before feeding himself back in, this time going a little further. Kuai did gag a little, causing Hanzo to pause and let him get used to it.

“Easy, Father,” Hanzo soothed, reaching down to stroke Kuai’s throat. “Just relax for me.”

Kuai gurgled in agreement, and Hanzo watched as his grip on the sheets increased. Hanzo attempted to go further. Keeping his hand on his throat, the deeper he went, the more he started to feel his cock bulging out from under Kuai’s skin. He removed the hand to admire it. It was always impressive just how much Kuai could take.

“You’re doing so well,” Hanzo whispered, as he made a final push to get his entire length inside. He could see Kuai’s hands clenching. “Sh, almost there, just a little more.” And with that, his entire cock was inside, and he could make out the outline. “There we are. Perfect. You take me so wonderfully.”

Kuai purred again, swallowing around Hanzo’s cock. Hanzo began to pull back, watching the bulge travel with it. He only pulled out until he was at the end of Kuai’s throat before testing the water with a hard thrust. Kuai’s body jolted, brighting his legs up at the knees, but otherwise didn’t react. He gave another thrust, seeing if that would be better. This time Kuai did not react, letting his legs drop flat again, although his hands still clenched at the sheets.

He brought his hand back against Kuai’s throat, pushing down slightly as he began to thrust in a slow but hard rhythm. He loved being able to feel the way Kuai’s body yielded to him. Regardless of it was Kuai’s throat or his stomach, he loved being able to see himself inside his beloved priest.

“You are so perfect,” Hanzo growled between his thrusts. “I just adore you.” He pulled his hands away, and just watched. “You are wasted on your God.” Kuai groaned around his cock, cut off when Hanzo pushed in as far as he could go. “So pretty, so good for me. Too good for these sinful heathens.”

He gave one last hard thrust, before he felt himself released right down Kuai’s throat. He could feel Kuai swallowing, and after a few more thrusts to make sure he was done, Hanzo finally pulled out. As he did, saliva pooled out of Kuai’s mouth, dripping down his face. It was enough for Hanzo to almost miss the tears in Kuai’s eyes.

Almost.

“Oh, Snowflake,” Hanzo whispered, reaching for Kuai’s torso to bring him up. “I’m sorry, are you hurt?” Kuai panted heavily, choosing to shake his head in reply. “You are crying.”

As Hanzo brought his hand to Kuai’s face, wiping away a tear that was rolling down his cheek, he replied with “O-Overwhelmed.”

“Why did you not try to stop me?” Hanzo questioned. He understood that verbally Kuai was incapable, but if he’d brought a hand up and tried to push Hanzo away he’d have gotten the message.

Kuai coughed a few times, bringing his hand up to try and wipe away his spit and tears. “G-Good overwhelmed.”

Ah. That made Hanzo feel better. He trusted that Kuai would have told him if it wasn’t good for him. Hanzo brushed his hair out of his face.

“My poor, sweet father.” He pushed Kuai to lay down on the bed with one hand, reaching across for a vial of oil. “I have been so selfish.” He grabbed onto Kuai’s trousers, roughly pulling them down and causing a short “eep” to escape Kuai’s lips. “Allow me to make it up to you.”

He poured the oil onto one of his fingers, taking no time to begin pushing it into his hole. Kuai gasped, squirming slightly and Hanzo pressed his other hand against his chest to still him. He began to feel around with that single digit, not stopping until it brushed against a spot that had Kuai gasping.

He chuckled, removing his hand to pour oil onto his second finger before letting it slip inside Kuai too. He immediately went back to that spot, pushing down and watching the way Kuai shuddered. He adjusted himself so he was majority towering above Kuai. He continued to press against that spot, rubbing around in circles and watching more tears gathering in Kuai’s eyes.

“Is that nice?” He asked, pressing down particularly hard and watching the way Kuai’s hard cock twitched against his stomach. He chuckled and said, “Good.”

“M-My Lord,” Kuai spluttered, bringing his hands up to Hanzo’s shoulders. He continued to move his fingers in circles, watching as Kuai’s back arched off the bed and Hanzo felt fingernails dig into his shoulders. “A-Ah, Please.”

“You always get so overwhelmed by pleasure, don’t you?” Hanzo lent down to kiss Kuai deeply. As he did, he paused his movements. “For all your church loves to talk of sin, the only truly sinful thing is that this has been denied from you for so long.”

“I- ah-“ Kuai shuddered again, his eyes screwing shut. “I knew t-that would be a sacrifice I’d have to make.”

“You give up so much of yourself for people who do not truly care for you.” Kuai looked liked he was about to argue against that, but Hanzo stopped him with another kiss. As he pulled back he said, “the second I asked for you as my payment, your church threw you at me like a lamb to a pack of wolves.” Granted, Hanzo was ever thankful for them doing so, but that didn’t excuse the potential danger they could have put Kuai into. “Your God cares for you, I can tell, I can feel his holy energy protect you. But they do not. For all they knew I could have done anything to you.”

“But you didn’t,” Kuai argued. He trailed his hand up to Hanzo’s face, stroking his cheek. “And I have faith that my Church and God knew you would not harm me.”

“You are so naïve, Father Song.” It wasn’t Kuai’s fault. Hanzo had no doubt that Kuai was favoured by his god, but he doubted his church cared for him as much. Kuai was lucky it was Hanzo whom the church made a deal with, and not some other demon lord. He could imagine with more than a few who would not have been as kind or gentle with him. They would have torn Kuai apart, and taken everything from him regardless of what he wanted.

“Maybe,” Kuai whispered, a faint smile on his lips. “But is that not part of why you love me?”

Hanzo didn’t reply, just pressed his fingers down in a way that made Kuai buck, and second’s later, he came. It squirted up onto his robes, the pearly white standing out against the black fabric. Kuai lay panting on the bed, looking up as Hanzo as if he were the entire world.

And Hanzo did love him. Truly. Even if he feared ever admitting it aloud. He had too many enemies, too many people who would use his attachment against him. He vowed Kuai would always be safe with him, he could not allow anyone to harm him.

“So, are you sated Lord Hasashi,” Kuai purred, in a tone so sultry it was hard to believe it was coming from a holy man. “Or do you require more assurance?”

“I may do,” Hanzo answered with a grin. “It may take me all night.”

“So long as I get a chance to rest every once in a while,” Kuai began, letting his body go loose and spreading himself open, “my body is yours for as long as you require it.”

Hanzo let out a growl, he could feel that he’d gotten hard again. He lent down to capture Kuai in a passionate kiss, lining himself up with the priests entrance, swallowing his moan as he began to push inside.

It would definitely take a few more times for him to be satisfied.

[beyondspaceandstars]

Oh, Baby

Relationship: Matt Murdock x Reader Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, breeding kink, dirty talk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (obvi), fingering - 18+, minors DNI Summary: Matt’s been holding in his desires for too long and now that you two are married, he can finally let it all out. A/N: idk where this came from. Idk how this popped out of my brain but it did. Enjoy reading as I enjoyed writing.

Masterlist

Matt Murdock thought he was going crazy. 

He couldn’t stop talking about babies — having babies with you, specifically. 

It had started even before you two were even engaged. You had invited him to your family’s Thanksgiving and your sister had been there with her newborn. Matt, at first, had thought much about it. If anything, he was concerned that the baby was going to be annoying and loud during dinner. But then when you two arrived and he heard your high-pitched voice as you greeted the baby… 

He nearly cursed right then and there. Because now all he could think about was you using that voice to talk to your baby. He could hear your heart skip every time someone brought the newborn in the room and the way you gushed over being able to feed them. It was just about too much for Matt. He considered pulling you into the nearest bathroom and taking you right then and there before dessert was served. 

But Matt also knew he couldn’t do that. You had been very strict about your intimate life. You’d made it clear you didn’t want kids before marriage, that these things need to be thought out and take some time. Matt had agreed. Being raised Catholic, he held similar beliefs about marriage and building a family. But also… His lower region sure liked to ignore those beliefs when he sensed you near a child. 

A couple of years into your relationship, Matt had finally proposed and you two were married just less than a year later. Matt was incredibly happy with you, and you were just as happy with him. He truly felt you two were it for each other forever and he was ecstatic to have found a life partner. 

But he also couldn’t deny that he was excited about the other perks that came with finding your other half. 

***

Matt finally let it all out one night. Your two had just celebrated six months of marriage and were doing what any other couple would: going at it like absolute teenagers on your living room couch. 

Matt was assaulting your neck with the sweetest yet fiercest kisses. 

"Matt…" You sighed, gripping onto his hair as his hand began wandering up and down your side. 

"Hmm? What do you want, sweetheart?" He responded. You could pretty much hear the shit-eating grin on his lips.

You groaned and bucked your hips, slightly frustrated. "You know what I want."

"You right, I bet I do know what you want," Matt said as he gave a particularly rough kiss on your neck, no doubt in an attempt to leave marks he wouldn’t see but would have the pleasure of knowing were there. "But do you know what I want?"

You stilled slightly, your brows furrowing in confusion. Sex, right? Is that not what he wanted? Was that not why you were pinned to this couch, the skirt of your dress pushed up against your waist, your panties practically soaked? 

"I…" You didn’t really have an answer. Maybe your husband was finally going to let out his kinky side. You could play along with that. "What do you want, Matt?" 

"I want to put a baby inside you."

The admission may have stunned you but Matt carried on, working you up and running his hands. You gasped as his finger drifted over your clothed core. 

"Wh-What?" You choked out.

"I think it’s time, honey, don’t you?" Matt mumbled against your skin. "Think about it. You, pregnant…with my child. Having a little one running around here. That sounds really nice to me."

How dangerously low tone was making it hard for you to think but… Something in your heart twitched. Yeah, that did sound incredible. You had to admit, children with Matt had always been on your mind. You just wanted to put it off until you two were more stable and the relationship was solid. Well, you guessed nothing screamed solid like being married. 

You gave a weak nod before remembering where you were, who you were with. "Yeah," you responded. "That… That sounds very nice."

Matt let out a satisfied groan which went straight to your core. It must’ve been pool down there by now.

Something in Matt snapped and next thing you knew, his lips were on yours while his hand was working your panties down your leg. He wasn’t even bothered getting you undressed which really did something for you. 

He cupped your soaking core. Your back arched instinctively, trying to get closer to him.

"Matt, please," you cried. He chuckled. 

"Patience, sweetheart," Matt muttered. 

"No," you said with a pout. "Please, Matt, please…"

"So eager for me to put a baby in you, huh?" His words were borderline mocking and you absolutely loved it. Slowly, his fingers began working on your clit, every now and then teasingly dipping into your wet folds. You gripped his hair tighter, pushing your face into his neck as you whimpered at his touch. 

"Cum for me once, baby, okay?" Matt whispered as his fingers sped up, now taking the time to curl them in you just right. "Cum for me first then I’ll fill you up real good, got it?" 

You were so caught up in how deep his fingers were and the precise motions on your clit, all you could do was whimper in response. But Matt didn’t like that. His palm gave a forceful thrust on your clit, making you jump in both pain and pleasure. 

"I need an answer, honey," he said. "You gonna cum for me? Cum on my fingers?"

"Yes, yes…" You let out a mindless chant of yeses as your high began approaching. Matt, very satisfied, started hitting the right spots within you, his motions never wavering as the tightness in your gut began letting go until you were coming apart underneath him. You let out loud, crying moans, surprised by how powerful your orgasm was. Who would’ve thought chit-chat about having a baby would make such perfect foreplay?

But now it was time for the main event. To put your money where your mouth was. 

Once you came down from your climax, Matt wasted absolutely no time undoing his pants, pushing them and his underwear down just far enough to pull out his cock. He was hard, unbelievably hard. 

You licked your lips in anticipation as he worked to line himself up to your now incredibly soaking core. You didn’t even realize it was possible to get this wet. You subtly shifted your leg over, giving him complete and total access to where you needed him the most.

"You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this," Matt said in bold confession. But before you could even contemplate the weight of that statement, he thrust into you in one full, long, glorious stroke. You yelped, surprised and pleased at his forcefulness. 

You and Matt had never done this without any sort of protection in between so to feel him… To feel this… Oh, how the butterflies of pleasure ran through your stomach. He felt so good, so deep. And you had no doubt in your mind Matt felt everything — everything.

He let out a heavy groan. His head was tucked with your neck, his body shaking slightly. "So soft, so warm," Matt whispered in your ear and you don’t think he even realized what he was saying. But he sure knew what moves to make. 

With little warning, he began short but powerful thrusts inside you, sending your body jolting backward on the couch. His hands found your hips, pinning you beneath him, right where he needed you as he continued his thrusts. 

"Oh, Matt," you sighed as he hits every right part of you. Despite how many times you two have engaged in such intercourse, you didn’t realize it could feel like this. You grow wetter with every movement, your bodies meeting with every movement of force. 

In no time, you felt Matt’s thrusts begin to waver a bit. They became longer but slower as if he’s trying to hold himself back. You couldn’t blame him, really. Sex with him rarely goes under a few minutes, but you needed it like this. You needed to feel him, all of him, within you. And there was no denying how much he had been craving it as well.

That familiar warmth in your stomach was growing quickly. You hadn’t realized you were also nearly over the edge, so caught up in how perfect your husband was.

"Come on, Matt," you whispered. "Cum for me, I need it, Matty. Need to feel you in me, need you to fill me up."

Matt’s grip on your hips got tighter at your words. His thrusts began picking up again. 

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He muttered, his voice cracking slightly. "Need me to fill you? Get you pregnant with my child? That’s what you need sweetheart? Come on, I wanna hear it again." He gave a particularly harsh thrust as his words faded. You cried out, your fingers gripping onto his shirt for support.

"Yes!" You yelled, both frustrated and needy. "Please, Matt. Give it… Give it to me…" 

In a desperate attempt to get you there with him, one of his hands left your hip and found your sensitive clit. He worked circles on your while keeping in turn with his movements. It was so much, it was too much. 

"Oh, god, right there—," Matt groaned before letting go, a new type of warmth spreading through you. The feeling of him, in more ways than one, sent you over the edge in seconds, forcing you to join your husband in climax.

He gave some final shallow thrusts, his cum and yours mixing together, which for some reason you weren’t going to dissect turned you more on. You were truly discovering so much about yourself tonight. 

Spent, Matt collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily with a foolish, excited smile on his face. He rested his forehead against yours and held you close, his arms now making their way around your waist. That new wetness was still between your thighs, reminding you and making you a bit pleased about your earlier actions. You didn’t even care that it was likely on course to ruin your dress and the couch.

"How was that?" Matt asked, still sporting that giddy grin. You let out a breathless laugh. 

"Perfect," you replied. There was no other word to describe it.

"Think it worked?" Matt said as he tried to casually move one hand to rub your stomach. Your thighs twitched. He wasn’t even really doing anything yet fire began spreading through your body again.

"I don’t know," you admitted, slyly. "Should we…try again? One more time? Just to be sure?"

You felt Matt’s cock harden against your inner thigh. "Absolutely," he agreed, his tone full of faux innocence. "We want to make sure we get this right, yes? Only one way to assure that…"

And then his lips found yours once again.

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[sapiowoman28]

I can, I can't : Part 1 of 3

Pairing: Jaemin x female reader

Gener: best friends to lovers au, smut, fluff

Warning: mentions of sex, masturbation (Female)

Summary: Jaemin and Y/N are part of a group of best friends. One day, things change.....

They called themselves the dropouts. Brought up in good Catholic families, active within the Church community as kids, Catholic school education... the works. They then grew up and stopped going.

It wasn't some group thing were everyone agreed to stop going altogether at the same time. It was more like, one by one, they stopped going.

Jeno was the first to stop, at 15, after his parents got divorced. He became angry and withdrawn. By 16 he was mixing with the wrong crowd - think underaged drinking, partying, It was only after a close brush with the law that he - literally and figuratively - sobered up and decided to focus on healthier pursuits like education and sports. Thankfully too, the old Jeno that everyone knew and love came back.

Then were was Renjun. Renjun was always the one who wasn't really into religion anyway. He was more apt to believing in aliens and ghosts. His mother kept him going for as long as she could. By 18 he was out.

Haechan, as he got older, became a sporadic goer. After moving out on his own to live with the guys and Y/N in an apartment closer to campus, he stopped too.

Y/N? The older she grew, the more she learnt about the importance of gender equality. The more she embraced feminism, the more she found some church teachings hard to swallow.

All was left, of course, was Jaemin. Now Jaemin, he was still a "good boy", faithfully going to Church every Sunday. It wasn't that he was extremely religious. It was more that he had gone to Church every single week all his life. To not go one week felt odd and different.

The good thing was, nobody made fun of him or tried to stop him from going. Jeno even woke him up on Sunday mornings before he went for his 10km runs just so Jaemin would get to mass on time. (Mass is what Catholics call a church service.)

Y/N enjoyed hanging out with her friends. She was like one of the boys. It had always been like that since they were young. Everyone who knew Y/N knew she was not to be messed with. Not only was she capable of kicking anyone's balls, she also had four bros who would come after their ass too. In fact, guys who were interested in dating her would often try to get in good standing with the four guys so life would be easier for them. So it was hardly surprising that Y/N had never had her heart broken.

The problem was, Y/N was the one breaking hearts. Commitment wasn't her strongest suit, and more often than not she'd break off with whoever she was seeing with very trivial reasons, First she was dating Xiaojun. Then 7 months later she broke it off with him because apparently he "sucked at making out". The truth was, Xiaojun was good enough in bed but Y/N wanted to date the more exciting Yang Yang after meeting him at a frat party her gal friends dragged her to and making out with him. So Yang Yang it was. For a while she was happy. But then 10 months passed and Yang Yang was history. Now it seemed, was some guy called Lucas.

"Now, before you guys misunderstand, Lucas is not my boyfriend." Y/N declared over a pizza with Jaemin one Saturday night. "He's just... a friend..."

Jaemin raised his eyebrow. "You mean a friend with benefits? Cos based on what we have to hear every single Friday night, none of us think you guys are friends. Speaking of which.... Jeno wants me to talk to you."

"Let me guess, you lost rock paper scissors. Again. And that's why you're the one speaking to me."

"Well, we have house rules to follow..." Jaemin started, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Jeno and his stupid house rules." Y/N sighed. "What now? I can't bring Lucas home?"

"It's getting kind of weird for all of us...."

"You guys bring girls home all the time!" Y/N protested.

"I don't." Jaemin said. It was true.

"Jeno does. Haechan does. Even Renjun! Remember that weird Yoga chick he was seeing?"

"But they're not loud. Lucas sounds like he has a loudhailer in his throat and it's weird hearing him......we end up having to use headphones."

"I've tried asking him to tone it down. But he gets too excited when I blow him..." Y/N grinned as Jaemin covered his ears with his hands, not wanting to hear the details.

"Look, Jeno says he appreciates that YOU have gotten less loud since that time you were dating Yang Yang. But Lucas he's just.... too expressive. Can't you do it at his house or something? It's not the moaning as much as the dirty talk, you know?" Jaemin's voice was getting tinier and tinier.

"If Jeno has a problem, why can't he tell me himself?" I know it's not Haechan or Renjun who are complaining. Haechan's always gaming with his stupid headphones on and Renjun's always listening to music on his noise cancelling ones."

Jaemin sighed. "Don't put me in a tough spot, Y/N..."

He looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. I'll speak to Lucas. But I'm only doing it cos of you, cos you good Catholic boy and virgin and all."

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Y/N, I'm not a virgin!"

Lucas took the news surprisingly well and he was happy to have her hang at his apartment instead. Which turned out to be a better thing, since his apartment was bigger and his housemates were never around. Y/N wondered why she insisted on making out at her apartment to begin with.

"I'm surprised Jeno was the one with the problem.." Lucas said after they had made out and she was snuggling in his arms.

"He has all these rules. The worst part is he makes Jaemin speak to me instead of telling me directly."

"It makes sense. You and Jaemin are close."

"I'm close to all four of them."

"No no no." Lucas said, "Each of them has a different thing with you."

"Explain, Mr Wong." she said, looking up at him.

"I think Jeno knows both of you have strong characters so he has Jaemin speak to you instead when there's an issue so you guys won't argue. He prefers to keep things light, so the most you're gonna get is Jeno making fun of you for having a thing for foriegn men."

"What about Haechan?"

"Haechan's your gaming bestie. You talk about gaming, and game together. But he'd kick the ass of anyone who gives you trouble."

"I think I'm least close to Renjun."

"I don't think it's that. It's more Renjun is kind of in his own world. He's like that with everyone. But he feels close to you guys."

Y/N was impressed.

"What about Jaemin?"

"Jaemin's like your total opposite. But you guys get each other. I like him. He's a good guy."

"Yeah he's a virgin." Y/N joked.

"He's a good looking guy! Heck, if I was a chick I'd go after him man!" Lucas said, his eyes expressive as always.

"Well, he's a good guy. I've never seen him bring a girl home."

"Come on man, when it comes to hormones, even good guys turn bad."

Lucas was driving her home when she got a call from Jaemin.

"Wassup?"

"Are you alone?" Jaemin asked. He sounded strange. "I need help."

"Are you ok?" Y/N asked. "I'm with Lucas. Where are you?"

"Oh. I'll call someone else..."

"Don't be an idiot, Jaemin. Where are you?"

"Hospital." he said. "Can you come? Just don't tell anyone anything. Not even Lucas."

She found him in a bad state at the hospital. Sitting in a daze, blood stains on his crumpled shirt. Y/N had never seen Jaemin look so small.

"Hey" she half whispered. He looked up.

"I can go now. I got an x-ray done. My nose is not broken. And it's finally stopped bleeding." he said. "I already collected my medicines. Mostly painkillers."

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't want to talk about it." he said.

"Let's get home and get you out of these bloody clothes. And then you can tell me after you've had a good night's sleep."

"Can i sleep in your room tonight?" he asked. It was an unsual request. "I'm feeling quite shaken."

"Yeah. Sure. Let's do that."

It was 2am and he still couldn't sleep. She could feel him toss and turn next to her.

"Jae."

"Sorry."

"No, I can't sleep either."

He sat up.

"I need to get my ID card back. Can you follow me tomorrow?"

"Your ID card?"

"I was fooling around with a first year chick in her house. Her parents came back and caught us. Her dad took my ID away, said he was going to lodge a police report against me for tresspassing his house and taking advantage of his daughter. Well, that's after he beat me up."

Y/N sat up. This was interesting, she thought.

"She's 18?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"18 is legal you dumbass." she slapped her forehead.

"I thought it was 21.."

Y/N groaned. "I can't believe you're so stupid."

"But the trespassing thing?"

"They don't have a case Jae. I'm sure you can prove you were invited there. Even if she lies and said she didn't invite you. They can't prove it beyond a reasonable doubt."

"I'm so glad you're studying law."

"And Jaemin?"

"What?"

"It's illegal for him to detain your ID. YOU can report him."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"Can you go sleep now that you know you're not actually in trouble?"

"Yes. Thanks Y/N." he said, turning to face the opposite side.

But Y/N couldn't sleep. Her mind was running a million miles a minute. Jaemin made out with someone. What was he like when making out? Was he gentle? Was he sweet like he always was to everyone? Was he a dom or sub? What did he do with the girl? Did he have fun?

Her own thoughts made her sick. Feeling a stir in her stomach made her sick. This was her best friend she was thinking of. She had to stop. Maybe she needed a shower.

Taking a towel with her to the bathroom, she shut the door, stripping quickly and getting under the hot jets of water. Damn it, Y/N, she scolded herself. Not Na Jaemin. What happened to your thing for Chinese guys?

She soaped herself trying to escape the mental picture of Jaemin, between the girl's thighs, lapping on her clit mercilessly, his eyes twinkling like they would whenever Jeno or Haechan said something witty. Suddenly, she was thinking of him between her legs, lapping at her core.

She brought her fingers to her clit, rubbing them from side to side. She leaned against the bathroom wall, moving more aggressively. She was wet. Biting her lip she pushed two fingers into her pussy, thrusting them in and out, the sound of the shower masking the wet noises as her fingers moved.

The muscles in her stomach were tightening. She could no longer hold back, thinking of Jaemin thrusting into her, looking at her with an intense gaze. She wanted him bad.

Slowly she came undone, as she moaned into her hands while cumming.

Suddenly, someone was knocking aggressively on the bathroom door. Y/N froze.

"I need to pee!" Haechan shrieked. "Hurry! I need to go back to my game!"

"Give me 2 minutes I'll be done." Y/N said, drying herself with her towel and getting dressed, mind still dazed from thinking about Jaemin. She knew their friendship was never going to be the same ever again.

She was just wondering how easy or hard it was going to be, to get Jaemin to join her on the other side.

[imgonnaragnorockurshit]

Annihilation Day: Chapter 1

Chapter warnings: 18+ minors DNI, language, foggy being a G

word count: 1.2K

a/n: wooo first chapter!!! it’s kinda short but I hope you guys like it :) I did proofread this but I’m fucking illiterate so I apologize in advance for any typos that slipped through. Also Foggy is bi and you can’t tell me he’s not. 

Series Masterlist

Annihilationism was a concept with which Matthew Murdock was more than well acquainted with. Being a Catholic left little room for grace towards himself and far too much room for the overwhelming pessimism of what hell was going to do to him, when the devil, the real devil, would finally sink his claws into him.

To say Matt was comfortable in the company of misery would be an understatement. He would work himself into the ground during the day and then work himself into the early grave he may as well have dug for himself during the night. It was a miracle he was able to keep his secret hobby, well, a secret. With how many bruises and minorly broken bones he’d endured from his nights out, he thought for sure Foggy and Karen would’ve caught onto him by now.

But Matt had always been good at lying. He didn’t necessarily enjoy it- yaknow catholic- but he had convinced himself that it was the only way to protect the very few people in his life that he cared about. It was safe to say that Matt made his peace with dying a long time ago, it certainly made his job of keeping Hell’s Kitchen safe a lot easier.

But all of that changed when he met her. She coaxed him out of his personal hell fire with her soft touch and warm smile and back into his own present body for perhaps the first time in years. After her, Matt no longer concerned himself with the concept of inevitable annihilation. No- because she made Matt feel alive, and more than just the feeling he got when he would miraculously thrash back into consciousness from the brink of death. She made him want to live.

He decided that she was far too good for annihilation, and maybe he could deserve to be too, by her side. His own personal St. Helena. 

☆☆☆

Hell’s Kitchen was usually hot during the spring into the summer, but today it was really living up to its name. The walk to work was not nearly as relaxing as Matt hoped it would be. Tugging at the tie around his neck in barely masked irritation, he thought about how much he’d grown to hate wearing these suits. He loved his job- he really did. But sometimes he shamefully doubted his capability, and well- the entire legal systems’ capability to really protect its people. 

But he tried not to dwell on that thought. 

Which is why as he rounded the final corner to the newly christened Nelson and Murdock he straightened his shoulders, adjusted his glasses, and plastered his typically friendly grin that he sincerely hoped would throw Foggy off the scent that something was wrong. 

Of everything, Matt felt the worst about lying to Foggy. He was the closest thing that Matt had, or may ever have, to family. And lately Matt was lying to him and dodging his attempts at quality time that wasn't well- work, more and more. 

As he stepped through the front doors of the rundown building where the office was housed, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. The sensation of the AC, while poor, was greatly appreciated in contrast to the thick, suffocating heat outside that only made his head spin more than it already was. From here he could smell the coffee that Karen had brought in, and could hear the faint echoes of the friendly morning conversation she was having with Foggy. It made him smile. To be reminded of the friends he did have, and that was enough for him. As he pushed open the front door to the office Foggy was up to greet him immediately.

“Matt! You’re-” he paused to look at his watch for dramatic effect, “exactly 46 seconds late.” Despite the nature of the jab, Matt could practically hear the big smile that his best friend wore.

Matt raised his hands in defense, playing along with a smile of his own. “My deepest apologies, Foggy, please forgive me, I’ll do anything.” Foggy gave a laugh while Karen stifled her own as Matt folded up his cane and tucked it under his shoulder. 

“I’ll tell you how you can make it up to us.” Foggy continued as he followed Matt into his office. Matt sat down in his chair and pulled his meticulously organized files out of his briefcase, spreading the brailed paper over his desk in the way he remembered leaving off the night before. 

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” Matt responded, raising an apprehensive eyebrow as his fingers settled over the brail. 

“You, my beautiful, annoying, friend can come out to Josie’s with me and Karen tonight.” Foggy spoke with vindication in hopes that Matt wouldn’t put up a fight. But as Foggy had said many times before, Matt was annoying. He breathed a regretful sigh as he brought his hands back to his lap, his full attention now on his friend as he was mentally preparing another horse shit lie about why he couldn’t go out tonight. 

“Look Foggy I-” He didn’t get any further before Foggy cut him off with an annoyed groan of his own.

“No ‘look Foggy’ Matt! You haven't been out with us in weeks, and you’re working yourself into the ground, and not in the hot way.” Foggy persisted, “Come on, you deserve a night off.” He gently clapped Matt on the shoulder in encouragement. “Plus you kind of left us high and dry on the last case so-”

“Hey and I apologized for th-” Matt attempted to defend himself before Foggy cut in again.

“Ah ah ah Matthew let me finish.” He scolded playfully. “What I was saying was you kind of left us high and dry on the last case, which you are forgiven for, but consequently I had to outsource for some extra help while you were doing whatever you were doing. And I want you to meet her seriously, she’s become a quick friend. Plus Karen loves her, and misses you, we’d both really like it if you came out with us tonight.” Foggy’s tone turned serious, he just wanted Matt to relax a little. He honestly had no inclination as to what the hell Matt got up to at night, or why he had virtually disappeared from the office for the past week and a half. Spoiler alert: it was broken ribs, but Matt had told everyone he had the flu, and refused any offers for soup and home visits. But Foggy didn’t find much pressure to look too much into Matt’s behavior. Matt was his best friend, and even best friends had their own private secrets, and Foggy was okay with that. As long as he knew Matt was okay, he could let him have his own space. 

Matt was very grateful for that. 

And so he bent, and gave into his friends’ request. “Yeah. Yeah okay, I’ll go, you’re right.” His head fell back as he raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“Yes! We’re going after work, you won’t regret it.” Foggy rejoiced in his small victory. 

Matt couldn’t help but smile as his friend left his office with a celebratory “He said yes!” followed by excited cheers from Karen. 

He didn’t realize it at the time, but he really wouldn’t end up regretting taking Foggy’s offer.

Taglist💗: @freshabogados

[shhh-no-ones-home]

heavy cross to bear* matt Murdock x reader

+++++++++ Request @juniebugg: reader and Matt are in a very serious relationship (could be married) but then when reader actually sees Elektra, whom she already knew about but has never seen because she was "dead," she gets really insecure and tells matt that he deserves better or something and he reassures her. Angst and smut"

hopefully its not too ooc this is my first MM smut so i hope you like! and thanks again for the request!!

* - you asked for smut and that really is all this is lol, little bit of story. 

Song: wasted time by skid row

tag list: @cynic-spirit @juniebugg

+++++++++

i sat at the table sipping coffee and thinking. it was almost nine at night and i knew i should be getting ready for bed but my body wasn't quite ready to move yet. when matt disappeared into our bedroom i figured he'd be changing into daredevil for the millionth time but when he emerged in his pajamas i was a little surprised. and then it hit me. maybe he knew. hell, he always knew.

but maybe it was just that something was off, that i needed him to say it again, to stay with me and make sure i knew. but then there was her. she had showed up out of nowhere and took me off guard more than anything else up until now. one more doubt at the forefront of my mind. that i didnt believe him when he said he loved me despite being married for a year, despite having dated for three before hand, and despite everything he has done to keep me safe. because he loved her first and it felt like the biggest lie ive ever been told. even after a couple days of sitting on it and hoping it would go away. still it was there. in the back of my mind:

"matt i dont know if i can do this anymore."

his head tilted to the side and he looked confused.

"do what?"

he asked almost worried, moving slowly to the table and sitting.

"this, us. i just- you deserve so much more, so much better than- well, than me."

he was quick to scoot his chair closer to my own, his hand coming to rest on mine.

"hey, dont even say that. what would make you think i would want anyone but you?"

now he absolutely sounded worried.

"i saw her matt."

"saw who?"

i shook my head.

"that woman, your ex. you said she was gone."

"elektra?"

he sounded a little broken.

"shes something else ill give her that much. i see why you like her."

he swallowed hard.

"elektra is dead."

i shook my head.

"then why was she here? looking for you. saying your name with such... god i dont even know how to explain it. matthew."

i repeated it exactly as she had said it and it felt wrong. like i was acting. saying someone elses emotions and intentions. they were no longer mine. or at least it seemed like it. There was a long silence and I just stared at him.

"She was here?"

There was hope in his voice and I figured that was it. It made me angrier than it probably should've and my only response was to stand and walk away. I got half way across the living room before he caught my arm.

"Y/n, that doesn't matter. I-"

He swallowed hard and I tried to study his face.

"You mean more to me than anything. Yes I love, loved, her but I married you. I chose you. I want nothing more than to be with you. For better or for worse remember?"

He bargained and I sighed heavily.

"How can I be sure you mean that? What if she comes back? again."

He shook his head, taking both my hands in his and stepping closer to me.

"Let me prove it to you. If she really is back then it doesn't matter. I'm with you, I love you, and I'll always chose you."

I closed my eyes, feeling him get closer and closer until his forehead was against my own.

"We belong together."

He whispered before kissing me gently.

"I only want you."

He kept just as quiet, kissing next to my mouth once, then twice, making his way across my cheek and to my jaw.

"Matt."

I breathed out and he paused. I licked my lips lightly before opening my eyes and looking at him. He really did seem like he meant it. He was trying so hard to keep it together.

"I can't lose you."

He sounded so broken.

"Do it."

He drew his brows and I brought my hand up to touch his face gently. We were still so close I could feel his breath fanning my neck.

"Show me you mean it."

I said softly and his Expression changed.

"I love you so much."

He said before kissing me harshly, releasing my hands and pressing his fingertips into my hips. I hummed against him as he walked us backwards. We stumbled along as he pulled my shirt up, tossing it to the floor.

"Matt."

I moaned, pulling his shirt up next. It was gone in a second and he was back, kissing me and moving quickly to get my pants down. His hands roamed my body just as much as mine roamed his. I traced my fingers slowly up his torso, grazing over his scars before wrapping my arms around his neck. I gasped when he picked me up. There was a soft laugh that escaped him and I was relieved to see him smile even if it was just a second. He knew it would take some convincing and he was right. I needed to know he meant it. That Elektra wasn't gonna be a problem.

"I need you."

He whispered again, laying me gently on the bed and situating himself between my legs.

"I need you to know how much I mean it."

He kissed my jaw slowly, then down my neck and across my collar bone.

"Prove it."

I challenged, my breath hitching in my throat as he ripped my bra open from the front, his lips grazing my nipple before taking it into his mouth. He hummed against me, his finger tips down my torso and into my panties.

"Matt."

I moaned, dropping my head back as he ran his finger up me and against my clit. i closed my eyes, pushing my head back into the bed as he stroked me, kissing his way back up to my exposed neck.

"i love you."

he repeated against the heat of my skin. when he resituated i could feel how hard he was already.

"i need you."

i breathed out, pressing my hips up into him as he continued to finger me.

"matt."

i whined, him removing his hand long enough to pull my panties down. i looked up to him with lust blown eyes, watching him intently as he got rid of his boxers.

"youre still okay with this?"

he asked and i nodded quickly, pulling his face to mine and kissing him deeply.

"please."

i moaned, inhaling deeply before he kissed me again, pushing his hips into mine. my breath caught in my throat as he pushed all the way into me, catching my bottom lip between his teeth as my mouth hung open.

"i wanna hear you."

he said softly.

"feel you."

he moaned against my shoulder, dropping his head to the crook of my neck as he placed his large palm over my heart. it was already banging at my rib cage begging to be let out but i could have swore it did when he started moving. he pulled out of me slowly before slamming back into me and i moaned so loudly i was surprised at myself. and then he did it again and again, getting a good rhythm. it was long, and hard. nothing like our nights prior, even on his worst of days when he's frustrated and in need of release. no this was different. purposeful.

"matt."

i held onto him for dear life, pressing my fingertips into his shoulder blades as he continued to pound into me in long drawn out strokes.

"tell me. tell me what you want."

he grunted out, trying to sound as steady as possible.

"i want you. god i only want you!"

i cried out as he thrusted upward harshly. then he did it again and i saw stars, my mouth falling open as i moaned.

"thats my girl."

he praised, trailing his hand down my torso and pressing his finger in circles against my clit.

"youre almost there."

he coaxed, building me up. i could feel the tightness building, pressing my hips up to meet him as he kept his pace.

"im so close."

i panted, pressing my finger tips harder into his bicep as i gripped onto him.

"do it, do it for me, let go."

he said softly and i snapped. my orgasm racked through my body and my vision went blurry. i was breathing hard as he rode out my high, still chasing his own.

"im almost there."

he said, squeezing his eyes shut. he moved to pull out but i wrapped my legs tightly around his waist.

"y/n?"

he asked surprised and i leaned up to kiss him.

"just do it."

i said, pressing a hard kiss to his neck. he kept going, knuckles going white against the bedsheets as he came in me with a loud groan.

"oh my god."

he panted, slowing his thrusts.

"i love you oh my god."

he said, dropping to his forearms, trying not to put his full weight on top of me. my legs were still wrapped tightly around his torso as we both calmed down.

"i love you too matty."

i said softly, feeling him nuzzle his nose against my neck. it made me giggle a little bit and i could feel him smiling against my skin before kissing it gently.

"you have no idea how relieved i am to hear that. youre the only one for me. always will be."

i sighed softly in content, kissing his forehead and dropping my legs.

"im sorry i doubted you. i just. i need a reminder every once in a while i guess."

he kissed my chest before pulling out of me and dropping to the bed beside me.

"i will give you as many reminders as you need, as long as we both shall live."

he said, taking my hand in his and kissing the back of it.

"thank you matt. thank you for everything. especially knocking some sense into me."

he raised a brow, a half smirk on his face and i immediately wondered what was going through that mind of his.

"after tonight sense might not be the only thing i knocked into you."

i couldnt help but laugh, him matching it as i rolled onto his chest.

"i know you want nothing more than to tell the father we're finally starting that catholic family with lots and lots of beautiful babies but i still have my iud."

he let out a short laugh sigh before i kissed him quickly.

"but that doesnt mean i couldnt be persuaded into getting it taken out."

he raised an intrigued brow.

"oh?"

i laughed lightly.

"ill think about it. right now i just wanna live in this moment with you."

i said the last bit through a yawn, resting my head against his chest and hearing his heartbeat.

"i love you."

he whispered, earning a hum from me as i dozed off.

[buckleyblueyes]

buddie + faith

(send me a ship and a word and I’ll give you a head canon)

So obviously Eddie is a lapsed Catholic, and there’s probably some religious trauma and repression that I could Unpack here, but honestly? I just don’t have the energy today to give that discussion it’s proper dues. So I’m gonna go easy on myself and talk about a different kind of faith.

Because the Buckleys have big WASP energy, but don’t strike as particularly devout or anything. They celebrated Christmas and Easter and stuff, but probably didn’t go to church. Especially after Daniel died (hard to have faith when something so tragic happens). So Buck has never really had faith in any kind of higher power. Not in a depressing way, just in a very American, raised culturally Christian but never really thought about in any real way. The closest he’s come to religion was dating a wiccan for a while in his early twenties.

Eddie believed in God once, maybe. But going to war and losing his wife and realizing he’s not straight...It all kind of put a damper in the whole thing for him, to put it lightly. He wears his St. Christopher medallion, but it has very little to do with the saint named Christopher and everything to do with the little boy named Christopher waiting for him at home. So, his faith in a higher power isn’t much better than Buck’s.

But the one thing they both always have faith in? Each other. From the minute Eddie said “you can have my back any day” and Buck responded in kind, they have always always had an unshakable faith in each other. Every time they run into a burning building or rappel down the side of a cliff, they both know without a shadow of doubt that the can rely on each other. Every time they work different shifts, whoever isn’t working has to have faith that the other will fight to come home. Every time one of them has to deal with a trauma (whether it's Shannon dying or Buck's parents coming to town or the shooting), they know they will support each other.

So yeah, they might not believe in god, or the universe or whatever, but they sure as hell believe in each other.