#and also just me saying how hot he is and all the disgusting things i'd let him do

[allfearstofallto]

hii! can i make a request?

I've been thinking about angsty things a bit. say if, reader got pregnant, would she hate it? how would scara/childe react? in my opinion, id like to think that scara thinks of this as a way to tie her down to him more, plus its canon he likes kids!! and as for childe i think he'd be very very happy since he has soooo many siblings, (maybe he wants a lot of kids too??)

and..what if reader miscarried? i have this thought of where scara would still be cold to her but give her breaks and more space than usual, but what if reader completely locks herself in and then when he confronts her about it they get into a huge argument, how would scara tackle that, would he resort to abusive tactics and would it increase readers hatred & distance more?

just a brainrot, you dont have to write about it if you're not comfy^_^

This took me so so so long!! I'm so sorry if you were waiting for it!!

I don't typically write for things like pregnancy because it makes me uncomfortable, but I'd be lying if I said I do not absolutely fucking adore angst and hopelessness.

Parasite

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: 18+ MDNI, Dark Content, Forced marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Mentions of Dub/Non-Con

A week late turned into two. Two turned into a month. A month turned into three. And three turned into unusual cravings for foods that didn't go together. Sickness and vomiting clouded the hours of your mornings. Dread filled your body the second you realized what this was. Stress makes your cycles late, you told yourself, stress makes your entire body change, and this was a stressful situation, but stress wasn't causing this, was it?

Scaramouche could tell the changes in you immediately. As someone who constantly kept tabs on your life, it was only fair to assume that he'd noticed your slight fluctuation in weight and lack of asking for your monthly cloths. When you were called into his office, you felt a hot flash all over your body, you assumed it was fear, but it could've also been nausea.

His office was a place filled with dread. The air in the room was too thick and worst of all, he was there. The room made you feel small, the only good thing about it was that he was usually too focused on his mile high stacks of paperwork. Except today. Today his razor sharp gaze was focused on your trembling form as you bowed to him, his eyes following down, then back up.

“Answer me honestly,” he began, hands planted on the wood in front of him, “Are you with child?”

If you could throw up again, you would. Of course, you knew all this time, but you never wanted to say it. You hoped, just hoped and prayed that maybe if you never acknowledged it, it would all go away. It would all be a bad dream. But it was true. There was something disgusting living inside you. And it was his.

“I believe so, my lord,” the words couldn't even completely fall from your lips before you were a blubbering, sobbing mess of anguish and fear. Despite the fact that you were completely breaking down before him, he had a small smile on his face, like he was proud of what he'd done to you.

“That's good,” he said calmly, wiping away your tears and planting a forced kiss upon your face. His touch felt cold as ice, but his hands against you made you want to melt your skin away.

The reaction to the “good news” was immediate, whether that was good or bad was up in the air, but everything changed. The tight obi of all the kimono you owned would put too much pressure on your budding stomach, new one's were ordered to be ready as you grew more in size. Your diet was changed completely, less of the Inazuma raw delicacies and more lean meat and vegetables. Daily classes of calligraphy and tea ceremonies were switched to resting with your feet up or light stretching, everything to keep you happy and healthy during your pregnancy.

The biggest change was Scaramouche himself. A man filled with so much hatred and disgust, was suddenly being kinder. Or trying to at least. You watch him open his mouth to make a comment, only to shut it again in favor of saying something still rude, but less insulting.

The Scaramouche that believed that he could take your body whenever he pleased was long gone, even though that was what got you in this predicament in the first place. He'd taken to leaving you in the middle of the night and going to the bathroom to sate his urges. He'd come back with cold damp hands and lay next to you, a protective hand over your stomach as he kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you.

The day you saw blood between your legs and felt an aching pain in your stomach was a joyous one indeed. A part of you wanted to scream out in glee, but you didn't want to wake your already on edge husband. The blood that coated your fingers could only mean one thing. One good thing. It was gone. You were free of it. Almost immediately, the dark air that seemed to linger over your body vanished and you let out a sigh of relief.

Scaramouche was informed shortly before breakfast that same morning. You relayed the information to a maid, who then told him, whispering the words in his ear so quietly, it sounded like she was speaking gibberish. His face, his expression, changed to one shock, then horror, then pain. You didn't even know he could make such a face, yet there he was with tears in his eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” There was that tone again. The one you were used to. The anger and distaste for you in his voice. He slammed his fist down on the desk, turning his head away from you as his voice became high and breathy, so desperate for answers, “What did I do wrong?”

You stood in his office awkwardly, even this display from a person you hated, this display of agony was hurting you as well. You thought it would be funny. Seeing the man who pulled you from your home and forced you into marriage in pain was supposed to make you happy, but you felt your own chest clenching, felt your hands tremble.

“I-i suppose…I was stressed, my lord,” you muttered, his already labored breaths hitching at those words. The few months you were carrying that thing inside your body, was when he asked for less from you. He expected you to laze around all day and relax. For your body to fall into a daze like trance of naps and delicious food. He wanted happiness for both you and his child that you carried, yet you were still the most stressed you'd ever been in your entire life, knowing that he had something inside you. Something that would continue to fester and grow, until it eventually ate you alive.

He sat back in his office chair dejected, hurt, and empty. Scaramouche's normally sharp, glaring eyes were wide as he stared at the ceiling, body limp as he bit his lip, “Leave me,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. Had it not been for the quietness of the room, you wouldn't have heard him.

Leave him you did, closing the door as silently as possible and not lingering behind. You felt yourself finally stop tensing, telling yourself that all your woes were over, for now. The thing was gone. You were happy. For once, even if unintentionally, you'd won over your captor.

#mai<3 answers #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #tw pregnancy #mdni

[doe-eyed-fool]

First of, I love ur writing second I'd like to ask for a lucifer morningstar x reader request where lucifer is sick and the reader cares for him but somehow ends up getting sick too so they just both are sick now?

Can be fem reader or gender neutral I don't mind either way. It would be very nice if you would do that if u have time for it and of course if u feel like u want to write it. If u don't want to that is fine too, either way I'm gonna wait for any new story u write.

Hope u have a great day

Sick Day

Lucifer x gn!Reader

Warning(s): None

Thx I hope you have a great day too! Enjoy~

"I tried to warn you."

Lucifer lays in bed, groaning as he hugs one pillow close to him. He had recently kicked the covers off himself after getting too hot, but now, he felt a terrible chill run through him.

The king was unfortunately sick, and he felt like garbage.

"I told you that overworking and not taking proper care of yourself would lead to this." You sigh as you sit in the empty spot next to him. "Ready for the next dose?"

Lucifer would have made a break for it after hearing that question. However his body betrayed him, feeling as if someone had tied boulders to his arms and legs.

He groaned again and hid his face in the pillow. "I'd rather suffer." You roll your eyes at his childish behavior. But you couldn't blame him. The medicine tasted god awful, and it was thick too, making it harder to down in one shot.

"Well, I don't want you to suffer." You say, placing a hand to his head. "You'll feel so much better if you take it, Luci." Lucifer looked up at you with a pitiful gaze. "I promise." You add.

Lucifer sighed. "I can't believe I got this sick. I also can't believe how much it's wearing me down. My body hasn't ached this much since I fell from Heaven." He sits up, wincing as he does so.

"Yeah, getting sick is a bitch." You chuckle. "It's a good thing you have special doctors just for you. I don't think I'd trust just anyone here giving you any type of medicine. Now, please." You hold the small cup of dark purple liquid to him.

Lucifer inhales deeply. "Ok." He takes it and actually manages to get it all down in one go. He holds back the urge to gag, a shiver runs up his spine. "How can something so disgusting help you feel better?"

You shrug. "I don't know, but it does." You place your hand on his. "And it will. Trust me."

Lucifer cracks a small smile. "I do trust you. But, you really should get going don't you think? I don't want you to get sick because of me."

"Luci. I'm not leaving, until I know you're better." You say with a smile. "I don't care if I get sick."

Lucifer blushes a bit. "Y-You should!" You chuckle before handing Lucifer a glass of water. "Shh, just relax. I got you."

Lucifer takes a sip, grateful that the awful taste was fading from his tongue. "You're too good to me." He mutters, blush still present on his face. You smile before taking a cold rag and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Only the best for you." You say softly.

...

"I tried to warn you."

You frown at Lucifer's words before a string of coughs left you. "Shut it." You say with a scratchy voice. Lucifer hands you that terrible medicine.

"Don't worry, love. Just relax, I got you." Lucifer tells you. You couldn't help but smile. "Thank you Luci. And sorry, I should have listened."

Lucifer shrugs. "Eh, it's not so bad. Now we get to spend all day in bed, watching terrible sitcoms. What could be better than that?" He snuggles up next to you.

You lean into him and sigh softly. "Maybe if we weren't sick." You joked. Lucifer rolls his eyes. "I guess so. But then we would have to make up an excuse to be lazy in bed."

"Any excuse to spend more time with you is a good excuse." You grin.

Lucifer's face heated up, he cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. "Man this show is awful isn't it? How do people watch this?"

"You're blushing." You say teasingly. "I-I am not! My face is just hot!" Lucifer huffs.

You laugh lightly. "Whatever you say, Luci."

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin lucifer x reader

[fuckmyskywalker]

also i just thought of what if you had a gangbang w all of hayden’s characters…

🫧

This is elaborated, disgusting, obviously 18+, selfish (because I imagined me), too long to be real and... maybe tmi.

Up first, Anakin would the jealous one. He wants to go first and he claims he has the right. He wants to be the first one to fuck my pussy and I'm not even mad about it. Going all the way just to give a very unnecessary show about how good and how hard he can fuck. He isn't thrilled about the whole thing but if he has to do it, he needs to show everyone (and by everyone I mean men who have his literal fucking face...) and makes sure to come inside. What a fucking brat he can be.

We all know I have a soft spot for Clay Beresford. He isn't exactly happy about the whole sharing thing but if I'm happy, he's happy ;) Most likely to fuck my face while Anakin fucks me. Maybe I'm being too disgusting but oh well, who cares. He is sweeter and definitely the ultimate soft dom. That doesn't mean he's not going to fuck my face until I almost pass out and make a mess of spit and tears on his thighs. He's the type to come on my face.

Sam Monroe... well, he is the impatient one. Always bitching and whining "when's my turn?", until Anakin snaps and smacks him. He'll get hard as fuck from just watching— he is the voyeurist type and you can't change my mind— and will ask to fuck my face or my tits. He could go down on me but I can totally see him saying that if he does it, he's going to taste Anakin's cock and that would be a little gay. He wants me to swallow (secretly wants me to spit it in his mouth, which is a little gay, Sam).

James Kelly... uh, well he gives me the vibes of being into anal, I'm not particularly interested in it but if he wants to, then I want to. I just can't say no to that man. He'd be gentle at first, then gradually fuck faster and harder and he looks like he gives slaps so fucking hard I wouldn't mind a sore ass tomorrow morning. Also the type to come inside.

Scott Barringer— definitely the shy one. Jerking off just by watching and he needs to be guided. I personally think he wouldn't feel prepared for 'fucking' so he's happy with a handjob and maybe a little blowjob <3. He is the whiny one too and he also wants me to swallow... and a little appreciation kiss after he comes.

Lorenzo, okay, okay. He wouldn't mind at all to eat me out after Anakin fucked me because he is just that hot. He looks like he knows how to eat pussy and he is the handsy type, touching, groping, slapping and pinching every inch of skin available as he makes sure to clean Anakin's mess and make me even messier. Maybe, just maybe he's the one who offers 69 because he is just that guy (also not a big fan of it but for him... anything).

A.J. and fuck, he can do whatever he wants. I think he'd pick blowjob and then cowgirl. He likes to see me do the work, and he is a tits man so expect tit slapping...

Which brings me to Billy Quinn who will most certainly use the opportunity to fuck my ass while A.J. fucks my pussy— bonus points for this combo because Billy looks like he'd pinch nipples while he fucks from behind and A.J. is fucking amazing at dirty talk (plus he's the only one I could talk Spanish with so... that thought alone makes me die). Both would come inside.

This is biased but David Rice would fuck my pussy (at this point how am I not dead) while I'd totally suck Stephen Glass' ass (not the fucking rhyme). I'd even stroke his cock while I do that, multitask queen. David gives me the vibes to come on my back, I don't know why, and Stephen wouldn't last long because he loves to have his ass eaten... we all know that. He would probably cry if I start fingering him too, pretty boy.

Obviously everything is raw and nasty, they all took multiple STDs tests (Lorenzo took like 6) and there isn't a particular order after Anakin but he just wants to make clear that he owns me and blah blah— also most likely to fuck me again after it's done just to make his statement clear.

Or they can all get me on my knees and jerk off on my face and shower me with cum 👍🏻🥳 party!!!

I can't believe I wrote this. I hope it's not too nasty... and if it is, then you are in the right place.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers! #🫧 anon #anya's confessional #anya's first gangbang!!!

[bigfatbimbo]

AHHHHH THANK YOU FOR SAYING MY WRITING ABOUT VELVETTE WAS IN CHARACTER :))) YOU GORGEOUS BEAST. Oh yeah. Yes. 🫶 anon is me, I am 🫶 anon. Here with some fresh baked goodies (art I finished the second you responded to my ask) I'd like to share with The Public™ !

Before that though, thank you, and I mean THANK YOU for being so kind to my mid writing! You're a real angel, thank you truly. And also thank you for disregarding any appaling spelling mistakes I may or may not have made, I started learning english 4 years ago ahaha x-)

I just had to get out of anon so I could share my abominations (art) with you! Calling whatever I'm making "art" is still a bit of an overstatement considering how. Uhmm. Well, not good I am at that, but, never the matter! All of this preface is irrelevant.

I am ecstatic to hear that you'd like to hear my thoughts on Lucifer, however. Because I drew about precisely that.

Not my proudest work, considering it was made in like 20 minutes with my fingers at the end of my shift, but I had to do something about the thoughts festering in my brain about him after I started reading your blog. I made it a point to not crop the fact that the reader is kneeling to his height, I found it to be a fun little addition.

ANYWAYY!! I have a few words about this piece, as always. Wait. Well, not always this isn't routine yet. You'll be bombarded by my artwork on a practically daily basis from now on ahaha :))

Anyway².

It was always a maddening feeling for him, when you pulled him into the nearest unoccupied room in your line of sight. The way that his breath would get heavy and uneven, he felt overwhelmingly hot as you nearly kneel down to his height, sliding your hands over his body like you owned it. Owned him. He'd grab onto your thigh for support since his own legs betrayed him and started to get all wobbly, he couldn't trust himself to stay standing in his current state.

Whenever you decided to do these things to him he'd feel like it was the first time all over again, his mind would go blank; it was always so exciting, he was practically losing his mind already, really. All of his confidence built up by the both of you due to your insessant reassurance and praises that allowed him to tease you when he felt particularly bold (having now the knowledge that you wouldn't leave him if he weren't "perfect", whatever perfect may mean to him, anyway.) quickly drained out of him, all he can feel is this...desperation to feel you more, no matter how close you two already were. He needed you so terribly much, the way he couldn't keep his own noises down got a giggle out of you. It made the strain in his pants ever the more noticeable for him.

Were he any more coherent, he'd probably try to shut such thoughts down, they would have made him feel like any other cheap sinner he'd openly look down with disgust upon. He was, still, the king of pride, the feeling was so completly alien to him, this.. lust? He couldn't attach a word to his thoughts in these moments. Don't ask so much of him! He was never so overwhelmed by (what we both know is) love, not with his ex-wife, at least. It enticed him equally as much as it terrified him.

"Ex-wife". A title that permeated through your brain as you got a hold of his hand and gently slid the wedding band off his ring finger. You mindlessly throw the sign of his hold on the past across the room, a sharp metallic noise is heard as it hit the wooden floors. He flinched at the noise, but not once did he look away from you. In fact, he leaned back on you further after you had thrown the ring onto the floor, bright, glowing eyes looking into yours with palpable anticipation. A clear solidification of your victory, according to yourself.

You won! You can't help the grin that grew on your lips as you tugged on his pants, the friction of that movement earned a yelp from him.

Oh yes.

You should be proud of yourself.

This was going to be a long, long, long night.

AHAHAHAAAA! I LOVE HIM. I am the Anne Boleyn to his Henry the VIII sometimes. Oh yes, in case you were perhaps wondering, the piece I had previously made inspired by your works was relating to the post where his wings and horns came out during sex. A lovely mental image, that post earned. But, that abomination is too horrifying to be unleashed onto The Public™. Your stellar writing also forced me to learn how to draw Vox, so, be proud of yourself for that one!

About trying to get you to post about adam; don't worry! Or do, who knows what your goal is, but I will talk about him in your asks like a maniac and attempt to appeal to whatever in your brain makes you like a pathetic man. I want to eat him, like, actually cut him open and eat his heart and gnaw on his bones. (Whats up with cannibalistic ace/aros? Me and alastor twinning on occasion fr.)

About literally everyone else; I must inform you that sir pentious drives me nuts. Woe the snake flood be upon ye. You're about to listen to me talk about his 2 dicks insessantly.

I await your response! I would adore to hear your thoughts. Your reactions to my last ask tasted of a pâte sucrée tart with vanilla custard and strawberries for the filling. (By the way this isn't like a joke or anything? I taste and smell words, feel textures when listening to music and attach colors to textures. Like, this is actually what that felt like to me. I hope you are aware of that.)

Signing off from another abhorrently long ask,

-🫶 anon, now revealed to be a coquette coded woman.

AAAAAAHHSJDJDJDKKDJ

Let me compose myself because OH MY GODDDDD.

This reveal is absolutely crazy omg HIIII👋👋

ALSO THE ART IS INSANE YOU DID THAT IN 20 MINUTES????? WITH YOUR FINGERS????????

I’m going nuts over here. Thats actually amazing from the way that Lucifer looks to the lighting of the scene. I’m absolutely awed.

Also the little drabble you wrote had be gagged like I so didn’t expect it to hit that hard what?? You’re a really good writer to be honest, oh my god!

Oh and… if you wanna message me that one piece of art inspired by the pegging Lucifer fic… actually let me rephrase. PLEASE message me that one piece of art inspired by the pegging Lucifer fic.

“Your reactions to my last ask tasted of a pâte sucrée tart with vanilla custard and strawberries for the filling”

By far my favorite compliment yet from you. They just keep getting more creative HELP I LOVE THEM.

Oh and, lastly, I am SO looking forward to more artwork from you. You’re truly amazing!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #inbox open #dom reader

[pablitogavii]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is really shy and anxious but she’s a literal angel, and Gavi just thinks she’s the most adorable human being ever and is very protective over her? Maybe Gavi introduces her too his teammates?🫶🏼 You don’t have too of course, but if you do thank you!❤️

Figther

Pablo's POV

The moment we arrived to the bar that guy was eyeing her down like a piece of meet which clearly made her uncomfortable and made me furious. Hijo de puta!

My girl isn't one for confrontations since she is very shy and often stays quiet when she feels uncomfortable. It's that fact that makes me want to protect her from everything, and that awakens my short fuse.

"Nice dress, nena!" he said as we walked to the bar to order our drinks and I noticed her shift uncomfortably and pull her summer dress down while reaching out for me like she was asking for protection..my precious girl!

I wrapped my arm around her waist protectively and she leaned into my touch ignoring the asshole and focusing on the menu in front of us instead. She was very short and tiny so with my arms around her people could barely see her.

I hoped that when he saw that she is not alone, he would just let go off inappropriate comments so I didn't react the first time.

"What would you like anjo?" I said while she was looking through the menu with her head laid on my shoulder so preciously.

"Um..can I have a lemonade please?" she asked and my heart melted at how freaking cute and precious she was all the time!

"You can have whatever you like mia preciosa" I said and she blushed looking up at me and I leaned down pecking her lips.

Everything was perfect until we heard his snarky "fucking hot!" in the background and she became anxious and uncomfortable right away. That's it!

I was ready to react but she stopped me, placing her small hands on my chest and looking up at me with big eyes. Fuck I couldn't resist those adorable eyes!

"Please don't Pablo..for me" she said an i nodded kissing the top of her head before ordering us the drinks we choose.

Luckily, he was quiet for awhile until she went to use the bathroom and I joined my friends at the bar stools where he also sat.

"You guys are seriously the cutest couple" Cristo said and I smiled showing him the picture we took last night with the sunset in the background. She looked so cute with my strong arms wrapped around her and her curls falling over them. She was wearing a cute pink bikini and a summer hat...so adorable.

"Joder! The things I'd do to her in that bikini!" he said and since she was nowhere to stop me, I've had enough putting the phone down and charging towards him.

Your POV

"What the fuck did you say!? Hijo de puta!" Pablo was in the man's face when I came back from the bathroom feeling anxious as to what had happened while I was gone.

"I said I would do so many things to her!" man replied and my stomach twisted in disgust and then Pablo's fist met his jaw as he fell down from the chair and Pablo's friends were pulling him backwards.

"Hermano, you gotta relax!" it was Cristo who tried calming him down together with Ale but Pablo was way too charged up to stop himself anymore.

I knew he had short fuse..and whenever someone dared disrespect or make me uncomfortable, there was no stopping Pablo's reactions...well, unless I ask him to stop.

The fight unravelled in front of my eyes and I screamed while people tried separating them as my anxiety reached it's peak..I hated violence and it always triggered me.

"Vamos, amiga! Let me take you home!" Cristo pushed through the crows helping me into the car even though I didn't want to leave without Pablo. He reassured me that Ale and Mario will stay behind and get him home in one piece.

Another hour passed before Pablo finally made it home knocking on our bedroom door before walking inside with a bloody lip and a few bruises on his chest. That sight was enough to make tears fall down my cheeks.

"Shh shh preciosa..I'm alright..come here" he sat down pulling me into his arms and holding me tightly against his warm chest. We stayed like that in silence for a few minutes before I finally spoke again.

"I don't like you getting into fights because of me.." I said and feeling his heart racing against my chest and I finally look up to meet his eyes.

"I was just sitting with my friends..and that asshole started to talk about things he would do to you" Pablo explained and I gulped knowing that he had a reason to react but also hating the fact that it turned into a fight that could throw shade on his career.

"So?" I said and he raised his eyebrows pulling me closer and making me straddle his lap while his hand moved my hair to the side and he left hot kisses on my neck and shoulder.

"So..I told him I've already done all those things" he smirked knowing how shy I become when he dirty talks to me. He kissed my lips wincing a little feeling a sting from his cut.

"Your lip is bleeding..and you have bruises" I said touching his chest while he was breathing heavily. I thought it was because of pain but later I started to realize it was more from excitement.

Pablo's POV

Every guy in this world dreams about his girl tending to his wounds especially if he got into a fight for her..I was certainly living my dream now as she was inspecting my bruises carefully.

"Do they hurt cariño??" she asked adorably and I nodded my head seeing her blush bright red while leaning down and leaving sweet kisses on my heated skin. Fuck! I loved her innocence so much but even more when she was naughty only with me.

"Thank you for protecting me cariño..te..amo" she said in between kisses moving all the way to my face and kissing my cut gently while looking at me with those innocent eyes.

"Sempre mi amor.." I said moaning a little when she started to suck on my neck..looks like my angel was enjoying being naughty right now.

"You want to be bad anjo?" I smirked and she looked at me with completely red face and big eyes while still kissing my neck.

"Mhmm" she said and I smirked twisting us around so that I was on top of her trapping her small body underneath mine and kissing her lips passionately.

There is nothing better than having an angel in the streets..and bad girl in the sheets...;))

Hope you like it :))

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #fc barca #fc barcelona #fc barça #gavi #gavigif #gavi x reader #gavi x vini #gavi x yn #gavi x you #gavira #pablo gavira #pablo martín páez gavira #pablogavixreadersmut

[beansnsoup]

hello, bean, me again! just wanted to first of all say than you for the luigi headcanons i requested!

secondly, i would like to make a request about dating movie!donkey kong, does he show you off? domestic stuff? love languages? dates?

i'd love to see your hot takes! thank you and happy writing!

YALL KILLING ME WITH THE DK STUFF, BUT HEADCANONS COME EASY

☆

Donkey Kong Headcanons

Warnings: Bragging, fluff, gn reader

This man treats you like a prized possession, not in a bad way, in a praising way.

He will brag to friends and even his dads army about how amazing you are.

You'll get to sit front and center next to his dad when you watch his fights.

He has a very discreet love language, he might brag about you but he's very distant. In an awkward way.

He'll call you names, but you know that just his way of saying he loves you, it's like his own version of "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

When he takes you out, it's almost always a picnic on the beach. He likes to show off his skills next to the water.

He also eats up anything you do, too. If you're showing him a new outfit, sometimes he'll be painfully honest, but other times, he'll be on his knees worshipping you.

His dad wasn't too keen on you at first, but over time, he began to enjoy your company.

You have multiple different karts, too, for fun, you and DK will customize different ones. One time, you made him give some of them away to younger Kong residents during the holiday season. He was against it, but on the inside, he loved how thoughtful you were.

You like to talk about the two of your futures together, DK acts like he's disgusting with getting married but in private he's already secretly planning your guys' wedding.

Because his dad has warmed up to you so much, he likes to watch you boss around his army. He thinks it's the funniest thing ever.

You like to smother his face in kisses before he goes into the ring, it's his good luck charm.

He may have a big "idgaf" attitude, but as soon as someone says something about it, it turns into a "igaf" attitude.

You comfort him a lot when his dad doesn't give him the recognition he deserves. You listen to every word and complaint he has.

He's a petty lil guy

Other than all of that, he's an amazing boyfriend who's would do anything for you even though he acts like he isn't whipped.

#donkey kong super mario bros #dk x reader #dk #donkey kong x reader #donkey kong #super mario bros #the super mario bros movie

[clara-maybe-ontheroad]

Random thoughts about Sand/Ray (Only Friends ep 1)

Rewatched the first episode of Only Friends and I have a few (many) random thoughts, here are just the ones about Ray and Sand because they deserved a whole post (everyone else is in this other post) :

Ray mentions his dad in the first scene we ever see him in, getting mad at Sand who told him not to be a burden on other people and replying "are you my father ?"... Foreshadowing much ?

The first interaction between Ray and Sand ends with Sand telling Mew to take care of his friend, and you believe that's what Mew is doing but then next party he abandons him

Ray throwing up and his friends immediately letting him go and pushing him away is... funny in the context of the scene but again I think telling us something about how they're all going to treat him

(Sand/First opening and closing the intro is *chef's kiss*, he's not the main character clearly but as an outsider and a "morally straight" guy he's going to be a force to shake things up I'm sure)

Sand and Ray's second interaction immediately revolves around once again Ray being a burden but also Ray's friends not being present enough for him and Sand disapproves of both

Did Ray already drink and drive before this ? Did anyone stop him before?

Ray's throw up sound in this episode are truly awful and make me quite uncomfortable. Good acting though

Him immediately passing out on a random man's shoulder after being taken to this stranger's place does imply a worrying lack of survival instinct. Baby he could steal your livers ! or what's left of it

(The owner of YOLO bar is Yo, as reiterated many times by Ray and Sand, and given how often he's mentioned he must have a role in the story, but he's hasn't shown up yet ?) (Edit : didn't know Yo was played by Jennie so we have actually seen her around, just haven't gotten a proper scene with her, looking forward to really meeting her !)

Ray becoming aggressive and accusing Sand of stealing his stuff only after Sand says he didn't sleep with him and didn't even consider it seems to indicate that Ray truly thinks people can only take an interest in him for sex or for money. Arf this continues to get more sad

The fact that Ray actually checks his pockets when Sand gives him back his clothes is so indicative of what's actually important to him : not his safety or consent but his material possessions and external signs of wealth

Ray complaining to Mew that he got kicked out by Sand for no reasons is so rich, but again I think Ray truly doesn't realise how what he said was offensive because he's so closed in his own bubble

But Mew saying he thought Boston was taking care of Ray when he literally just asked Ray how he got home last night and knew that Boston refused to take care of Ray is so hypocritical ?! And goes to show he wasn't really bothered to make sure Ray had a way to go home safely. He assumed he'd be fine on his own and didn't care that much

Ray sad that his crush is talking to someone else and driving home alone in his fancy car in a tee shirt that says "Poor Boy" is High Comedy

Boston asking Ray why doesn't he just become Mew's boyfriend was such a dick move, but also Ray is so convincing at denying he would be ? Is it because he's so used to lying about this, or because he doesn't think he's worth Mew's affection so he doesn't even dream of being his boyfriend ?

Ray does have a habit of just exiting the situation for something that his friend all excuse as being one of his addictions (drinking, smoking) and they don't even try to stop him

Sand tells Ray he has his lighter because he got him drunk and stole from him with such confidence I don't care that he's joking he could be telling the truth and I'd find it hot

The moment Sand actually gets visibly angry is when Ray tells him that Sand caring is "boyfriend behaviors" and that's telling on how Sand is disgusted with the idea of being his boyfriend but also resents the fact that caring about being respected is something only boyfriends do... when in fact people who are only friends can too ! (see what I did there)

That dialogue between them does illustrate the power of not just saying sorry, but saying thank you. Which is an actual thing I try to apply in my own life so I thank the show for reminding me haha

the softness in the voice of Sand when he then says "obviously" and agrees to give his lighter to Ray made me melt

Ray's eyes during the whole scene are truly so seductive, Khao does know his fuck me eyes very well

There's no conclusion except to say Sand is going to get fucked by Ray in more ways than one and I'm looking forward to it

#ofts random thoughts #firstkhao #sand x ray #only friends the series #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #bl shows #thai bl #current watchlist

[piripaprika]

kazuha nsfw alphabet

i was going through my drafts / planning document for the alt route of the kazuheizou x reader threesome and i realized i posted the heizou nsfw alphabet but didn't post the kazuha one??? anyways, enjoy

~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Honestly, Kazuha seems like the type to flop down next to you after fucking you so well you'll cry. He definitely feels inclined to wipe the tears off of your cheek. After laying down and cuddling with you, if you express discomfort or exhaustion then, after a tender kiss, he'll get up to go get you something to drink and a damp washcloth.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kazuha likes kissing and peppering bites all over the skin. I can see him being the type of guy to open your thighs and rub them ever so gently though. I think he likes thighs and skin.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Kazuha probably likes cumming inside with a long term partner, tbh, although I can understand the idea that he'd be quick to pull out because he doesn't want to settle down anywhere. I also have to acknowledge that he wouldn't want to be an absentee father. If he were with a wandering long term partner then I'm sure he would come to possess a birth control herb / tea.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Panty sniffer. Enough said. I have no doubt that he can smell arousal (he's just like me fr). Okay, this might be a hot take on my behalf, but I believe that a part of him would be partly disgusted but also partly intrigued if his partner came so hard they either squirted or peed a bit. I don't believe he gets off on omorashi, but it would definitely be something that stuns him in the moment.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mildly experienced but definitely not a lady killer, uses his senses and keen observation to determine what is good more than anything else. Even if a scenario unfolds apprehensively and he isn't the CEO of sex, he would most definitely get the hang of how to proceed as the seconds tick by.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary and the one with your back to his chest. Imagine reverse cowgirl but he's sitting up instead of laying down.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I feel like Kazuha would be a bit goofy, but sometimes he gets really into it and wouldn't think of cracking jokes. If he were to be a tease, though, I think we can all agree that he would make the world's worst puns and cheesy haikus.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I'd figure Kazuha doesn't trim bc it doesn't seem like his type of thing, but he doesn't grow too much hair to begin with so he isn't extraordinarily messy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Beyond intimate. Kazuha is nothing if not thoughtful and considerate, so he would be so keen on putting his sensitive senses to use. He might even have a hard time getting lost in the pleasure because he's so aware of his partner's presence and his energy is focused on them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I feel like Kazuha doesn't get aroused for shits and giggles and that something instead has to happen. The ronin probably gets horny when he drinks or reads a scandalous poem. I might be so bold as to insinuate that he...jerks off...to erotica...hah.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dear god

Body worship no doubt. Shibari. This sweet sweet boy probably likes having his face be sat on. He gives me service top vibes. I believe that he would also be open to the possibility of a threesome or an orgy. If I were to diagnose him with something a bit out of the box, though, I'd say that he could be a bit into breathplay and and into experimentalism. Look me in the metaphorical eye and tell me that Kazuha wouldn't read some super out of pocket but intriguing shit and then tell his partner: "I learned something interesting today...".

L = Location (favorite places to have sex)

Somewhere comfortable and secluded when sober, somewhere risky when drunk.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Foreplay, teasing, sexual tension building up, yearning after going a while without seeing his partner.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I can't see Kazuha being into causing his partner physical pain, such as with discipline paddles or welts or open wounds.

I also think he isn't into explicit degradation/namecalling. I really can't imagine Kazuha calling his partner a 'good for nothing bitch slut' regardless of whether he's inebriated or not.

(Side note, if he were drunk, I could totally see him being mocking about his partner being needy. Shout out to that once fic where he calls the reader his 'darling whore' after some drinks. This is the fic!)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I believe Kazuha prefers to give, and when he receives I feel like he guides a lot. I believe that it isn't difficult to get him off at all, and that once he gets the hang of what his partner likes he adapts to what they need and encourages them to be vocal about what they want.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sensual, starts off slow and speeds up a bit but miss me with that "thrusts into you at an inhuman speed" shit. I feel like he keeps a steady pace and instead focuses more on other parts of the body to threaten overstimulation :3 Once he's made up his mind about when his partner can cum nothing will stop him from getting there, with consistency and a rhythm being his deadliest weapons.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I don't think he'd be into quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Kazuha is definitely keen on experimentation, as I mentioned before. I feel that he would also be into risk taking because of the thrill involved. I truly believe, from the bottom of my heart, that Kazuha's mischevious.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think he has a short refractory period, so with this he can probably cum 3 times in a session if he takes breaks. I can only really see him getting physically sore if he's fucking a partner in a position where he has to bear all of their body weight in his arms.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

There is absolutely zero doubt in my mind. Listen, the general rule of thumb is that the more someone reads / the more flowery and artistic their nature is, the kinkier and more curious they will be in all facets of their life. Kazuha seems like the type to enjoy collecting little trinkets and delicate things, so I don't really see how this wouldn't carry over to sex.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The blond's only a tease when the partner is being a brat, but he eventually does give in. He relishes in his partner's satisfaction rather than the control had over them.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Prefers to moan into his partner's ear and be very close to their face. Kazuha will definitely try to keep himself silent by biting into a part of his partner (like the shell of the ear, the neck, even the cheek). I don't believe that he's the breathy type.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This might not be particularly horny, but I have a feeling that Kazuha is peak 'inappropriate use of vision'. He wouldn't just use his vision in battle; he would, instead, use the wind's grace to get you a fruit from a tree for example. I can also see him being an absolute perv and summoning a gust of wind to upskirt a partner.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Very well sculpted but not ripped. As beautiful as a statue carved from marble. Perhaps from being in the sun, he'd have freckles on his arms and a sunkissed face. Slightly above average dick that, I think, curves to his left. Very sensitive balls--- Kazuha's the type of guy that cries if you lick his perenium and nutsack while you give him a handjob.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

On a scale from one to ten I'd give him a solid six, since there is nothing about him that screams 'WHORE' but there is also nothing about him that leads me to believe he wouldn't be interested in sex. Poets, and creatives in general, are always on the hornier side.

I feel like he can be horny, especially in the morning if he had a hot ass dream, but if the partner is walking around in short ass shorts he won't fuck them on the spot. He would, instead, just step behind them and kiss their neck while hugging them around the waist. After kissing and foreplay then he is ready to go. Kazuha is definitely bolder when drunk but when he drinks too much he just gets sleepy instead.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I think Kazuha's partner falls asleep first because he stays up thinking about what happened and just admiring their beauty.

~

i hope you enjoyed + feel free to send a req / ask! thank you for reading :)

#kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader smut #kazuha #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin smut

[dovahkinniez]

You're resurfacing my old Skyrim crushes omg 😳

I'd absolutely love to read any nsfw you have for Brynjolf, alphabet or otherwise, but do not feel pressured at all !!!

` 𖤓 . . . NSFW ALPHABET: BRYNJOLF.

Omfg, I'm glad. That's the aim, let everyone be obsessed with their skyrim favs. <333 for the amount of love I have for Brynjolf I never seem to write him. So I'm excited for this.

Most likely wont proofread - im lazy xoxo. If there's any mistakes, just tell me and I'll change it.

18+ only!! Sexual content ahead, minors dni!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He isn't a young man, he's lived a life before you and over the years he's learnt the art of aftercare. He's loving, gentle, tender, all the things you wouldn't expect him go be due to his occupation and reputation. He's especially more caring towards you as he loves you, he gives you everything you want and more.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: his mouth. It's skilled, it makes you feel good and it allows him to say things that makes your toes curl with excitement, so naturally he likes his mouth due to what it does to you.

You: ass. I see him as an ass man. Loves to lay his head on it, grab it, smack it. Everything and more.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Likes to cum inside you. Likes to fuck it deeper too as he tells you to take it like a good little pet, and you do. Obviously!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's usually dominant but he's has multiple fantasies of you domming him, and being pretty mean about it too.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot. As I said, he isn't young. He knows what he's doing. His fingers aren't just good at picking pockets. ;)

He's good and he knows it, he can be quite smug about it at times but it makes it hotter tbh.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

Doggy, reverse cowgirl, anything where he can see your ass and take a good grab at it. This man loves to smack it until its red, watch it bounce as he slams his cock back in you. Yeah, any position he can see your ass.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Eh, nah. I don't think he's that goofy. He isn't exactly serious but he isn't a comedian in bed either. If something funny happens you both laugh and then continue like it didn't happen.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He's a hairy man. Like body hair, yes. I'd say he wouldn't leave it until it's like a literal forest but he doesn't take much thought on it tbh. He's got better things to do than worry about something as natural as hair. He views it the same way with you, you could have longer leg hair than he and he still wouldn't care.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He's more intimate during the aftercare part, and during foreplay if he's feeling sentimental. In general he just likes to rail you, as he should.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does it, but not too much. He has you, he doesn't feel the need and it's not like he's always horny anyway.

When he does he likes to watch you, loves when you masturbate with him, makes him feel closer to you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Degradation: his voice is like literal honey and if you thought praise sounded hot, wait till he degrades you as he fucks you into the sheets. Damn.

Impact play: he loves to see your skin mark up as his hand smacks against it, he's never too rough. But enough to see a mark, for you to groan out. Its hotttt.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He'd definitely love to fuck you in the houses of those you steal from. Taking all their valuables AND fuck all around their houses? Beautiful.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Not related to you, after a good job. It peps him up, and he'll use that energy out on you. Related to you, when you touches places like his neck, his thighs. That sorta thing. If you start kising all over his neck he's ready.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing involving seriously hurting you, he'd never actually want to see you in pain, even if pleasure mixes. He'd feel too guilty.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Personally, I think he'd prefer to receive it. Not saying he doesn't like giving, he just loves watching you play with his cock and balls, watching you suck and lick. He loves it. When he goes down on you he loves when you sit on his face. He can grab at your ass and just zone out and enjoy it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and a mix of fast and slow. Depends on the mood, how he wants to fuck you, how you want him to fuck you. He likes it either way but he loves to pound you either way.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not too keen on them, he doesn't like to rush perfection, if you're fucking he wants actual time to do it.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

To fuck you in the cistern while everyone is asleep, seeing if you can fuck without waking anyone up.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Depends really. He can't go many rounds, he's not as young as he looks. But he can last a while, yeah.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He uses them, yes. Sometimes he'll steal them from shops and surprise you with them, he likes to make you feel good and if you enjoy toys he will love them too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be, yes. He's a natural tease, loves to talk you into a orgasm just to pull away, just to watch you beg for release. Boosts his ego.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not too loud. He grunts and groans but beyond that he doesn't moan very loudly.

W = Wild Card

Would break into your exes house just to fuck you on their bed as a silent 'lol they're mine now xoxo'

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Thick. Meaty. Big. Curves upwards. Juicyyyyy. LMAOOO.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Notttt too bad. He loves sex but he's a busy man, rile him up and he's ready to go.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Bro sleeps like a log. After he knows you're both relaxed he's dead asleep. It's kinda funny how fast he drops off.

#skyrim x reader #elder scrolls x reader #skyrim headcanon #skyrim scenarios #skyrim x dovahkiin #elder scrolls skyrim #skyrim #elder scrolls #skyrim farkas x reader #farkas x reader #farkas x dragonborn #skyrim farkas #farkas

[intheorangebedroom]

Hey orange besties 🧡

Here's the one thing none of you asked for but I'm giving you anyway!! Listen, Halloween is my favourite holiday and I'd do just about anything rather than start working on my WIP because it terrifies me.

So here's the most indulgent headcanon EVER, please feel free to scroll past this nonsense of a post, but not before I could wish you all a very spooky Halloween 🧡

Yes, I have no shame.

Explicit HC below the cut 🔞

This Halloween, you've convinced Frankie to host a party at your place. He was really the first surprise, you're not exactly the party type, yet here you are.

You’ve been on Pinterest looking up aesthetics and recipes since August, basically, you've spent an inordinate amount of money on fancy decorations, stocked up enough candy to give all the kids in the tristate area a stomach ache of biblical proportions, and it's finally happening, today is the day, this is your version of the American dream.

But what will you and your friends dress up as???

Rosie

For years, the two of you have had an ongoing argument about what constitutes a proper Halloween costume. To you, it’s either crafty and creative, or spooky if not disgusting. To her… Let’s say she’s explored all the slutty options out there.

This year, the debate resumes as early as September. Only this time, you outsmart her, challenging her to look sexy despite a plain horror get up.

Never one to retreat, always one to excel, Rosie chooses to dress up as Candyman. With the fur and the hook and the scarf, down to the fake bees painted on the left side of her face. And yes, she still is smouldering hot as all hell.

Will

Will? Dressing up? Fucking hell, why are you doing this to him? He’s a grown ass man. He was a warrior, for fuck’s sake. He’s not gonna go around and spend money on a fucking costume!

But. He’ll be damned if he’s the only one who doesn’t play along. He can probably whip up something with whatever he’s got in his closet, anyway. Like…. Motorcycle gang leader, for example.

(at this point, orange besties, I’m cackling in French).

Yovanna

Yovanna. Understood. The assignment. Obviously because she’s hands up the smartest one of all the TF bunch.

She dresses up as the Corpse Bride. Your jaw drops to the floor when you open the door. She's stealing the show and it is fine. You’ve no idea how she can look this at ease with all that heavy makeup covering her skin, but she looks like she's having a hell of a good time, oh and also SHE'S FUCKING STUNNING.

Pope

Pope could have made an effort and go as Victor, right? He should have. Did he, though? No. No he didn't.

Pope dresses up as Miguel O'Hara from Across The Spider-Verse, so he can slither into this tight af costume and strut his butt like a Spidey slut.

Tom

Kidding. Tom's not invited. But if he were...

Benny

Sweet, sweet Benny, our sunshine boy, our precious blond gem of a baby man…

Benny considered not coming at all. Not that he's not over you yet, come on, let's be serious, it's been over two years. He's totally over you. He’s slept with at least a dozen different women since you broke up and his friendship with Frankie is on the mend, so yeah, over you and beyond, thank you very much. Ok, he'll go, then. Besides... he wants to see you. Just to make sure he’s really over you. What could possibly go wrong?

A horror classic connoisseur, his first idea is to dress up as something overly sublte. Say… Tom Conway in the 1942 Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People, for instance. Only because it would be obscure enough for people to ask him about it, which would give him a good opportunity to show off his impressive... cinematic knowledge. Not at all because you and the director share the same last name. Of course not. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’d probably be the only one in the room able to identify the costume. Argh fuck, he can’t go as Tom Conway in the 1942 Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People, can he? 

Fine. He’ll play it safe. Mainstream. Mike Meyers. But Mike Meyers with a twist: the kid version. 

What he does not anticipate, is how many times he gets asked if he’s that stupid Pennyclown from It. Doesn’t anyone have any fucking classic culture?? It’s winding him up real bad and he’s starting to think he’ll leave early, until you walk up to him with a shy smile and a tall glass of beer. 

“You make a real good baby Meyers, Benjamin,” you whisper, and it's the first words you've spoken to him all night. Of course you knew, of course you’re the only one who guessed, and he wants to say something smart but he can’t, he’s riveted to the floor, melting under your soft gaze. You lift your arm, as if reaching for him and for a split second, he thinks you’re gonna run your fingers through his hair like you used to, and his heart does this lurching thing, like it simultaneously shrinks and explodes in his chest, and fuck him. He’s not over you yet.

(maybe I’m not over him either 👀)

Meanwhile… Meanwhile, Frankie's watching the whole scene from the kitchen. Ticking jaw, sucking on his teeth, vein popping in his neck. 

But what did Frankie dress up as, you ask. If you're still reading this, that is.

Frankie

Well, Frankie’s not exactly big on Halloween. For one, he grew up in a household full of ghosts. The candy sure was a perk, as a kid, but he’s always enjoyed savoury food more than sweets. Later, Izzy would let him tag along to the parties she went to (not that her mother left her much choice, anyway), and those were fun, admitedly. There was always alcohol, but most importantly, ✨girls✨ Girls who would never fail to find Izzy’s baby brother oh so cute with his soft curls and his golden skin and his lovely dimples and he’d spend the entire evening passing from one set of arms to another set of hands, which suited him juuuuust fine.

However, the man now has an actual body count, so he’s not too keen on the notion of the dead coming back to haunt the living for one night…

But thewhole thing makes you so damn happy. In the end, it doesn’t matter if he has to fend off an entire army of undead.

Unlike Pope, whatever your choice of outfit may be, he’ll get behind you. You wanna be Lydia Deetz? He’ll be your Beetlejuice. He’ll be the Gomez to your Morticia, the John Bartlett to your Patricia Bradley. 

This year, you announce most enthusiastically, you want to be Frankenstein’s Bride. 

Alright, baby!

And let's just say this: he makes it very, very difficult for you to be a good host to your guests. How on god’s wretched earth can he be this incredibly sexy as Frankenstein's creature??

Not only is he good with the kids, patient and gentle and cracking dad jokes with each group of little monsters and Elsas and cowboys eagerly standing on your doorstep, but that jacket… That damn jacket he got himself, three sizes too small, fuck, that poor jacket is working hard ALL NIGHT trying to contain his breadth, the seams just as strained around his shoulders as your poor clenching cu– 

Oh and you’ve no idea where he found that headband with the bolts on each side, but you don’t really care because he’s slicked black his hair and it's curling thick and luscious on his nape and you can’t wait for every one to get the hell out of your place. 

You’re gonna go down on him the minute the last guest leaves your house, take him down your throat and show him just how grateful to him you are for playing along so well. Watch that handsome, pretty, pretty face, that the green makeup and fake scars can't even spoil, go slack when you suck on his balls and swallow his spend. 

And you almost get to do it. If it wasn’t for that tiny little misstep. The sultry teasing words you pour into his neck, halfway through the party. When you tell him that what you truly wanted to dress up as was Margarita at the Midnight Ball. And Francisco’s eyes grow dangerously dark and wide and wild, pupils shot open with lust, because he knows what this means. And what this means is stark naked. 

And sure enough, he has barely closed the door behind the last guest that Frankie turns around and orders you to "Take off those fucking clothes. Now."

His tone brooks exactly zero argument. You comply at the speed of light before he shoves you onto the couch and kneels on the floor between your spread thighs, and it's very obvious, very fast, that you are his Halloween candy.

He keeps your ass balanced on the edge of the sofa and your back pressed into the soft cushions, thick fingers digging into the dips of your hips to hold you still with a welcome, bruising hold. 

His mouth feels like lava, liquid and hot as he licks into you like a starved man, broad sloppy stripes through your dripping folds, tongue dipping to feast on your slick like his sole purpose down there is to drink you dry. 

And when he wants more, because it’s never enough, he fastens his plush lips around your pulsating clit and plays it with the curled up tip of his tongue, two fingers hooked inside your cunt and pulling on that fucking spot with the same deftness with which he used to pull the trigger, and you give him more, give him everything he wants, you leak straight into his mouth, you’ve lost track of time somewhere after your third orgasm. 

There’s green makeup smeared all over your inner thighs, rivulets of black tears streaking your once ghostly pale cheeks. Sweat’s pooling in the small of your back and damp locks of hair are glued to your temples and forehead. 

You're a writhing mess, nearly slipping out of consciousness when he grabs your waist and flips you around, rough and urgent. 

With that easy strength that makes you light-headed, he pulls you downward, kneeling you down between his folded legs, your back flush to his chest, you’re moulded into him, and by the time you register the change in position, he’s already lining himself up. 

It’s no longer than a split second before he all but impales you on his length. It’s too sudden and the stretch downright painful, and you cry a strangled cry of his name but it's soundless, there’s no more air in your lungs, he’s fucked all the oxygen out of there. 

“How are you so fucking tight,” he says, his voice sounds strained, and he starts fucking up into you, absolute, merciless, the pace is punishing and you’ve gone blind with the stretch. 

It’s too fast, too deep, too fucking thick. Your spine goes stiff as a metal rod as you try to get away from it but you can’t, one hand is clutching your throat and his other arm’s banded around your waist. You’re helpless, nails digging into his flesh, crushed against his sweaty torso and he keeps sliding your rigid body down onto his impossibly thick cock at this impossibly fast pace, hips hammering your ass, lewd and loud, slap slap slap. 

And he knows, he feels you trying to recoil. The flat of his tongue licks up the column of your throat and it’s a sharp bite on your earlobe, and a low grunt in your ear, “I'm not gonna last long,” and you relent, you slump down into his hold and let him give you what he needs you to take. 

“Good girl”, he pants, and what do you know? You feel another one coming. 

Oh but this one’s deep and violent, it’s building tense and heavy into your core like a burning fist gripping your insides right behind your navel, and if it wasn’t for his own grunts, you’d hear the pathetic mewl you let out when it explodes in your breasts. 

The frantic clench and clutch of your cunt around his length is more than enough to tip him over. He rams his pulsating cock into you one last time before he starts to grind, so forceful his hipbones are biting into your ass, pushing further inside you to bury his come as far up your body as possible, up to your fucking cervix, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his rumbling growl. 

When he stills, finally, he doesn’t unwrap his arms. Doesn’t loosen his embrace. Instead, he draws your body with his when he slouches backward, his broad shoulders hitting the coffee table.

Limp, spent, blissfully used, you lay on top of him, his length sheathed inside your warmth, your chest heaving along with his chest. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. 

He nuzzles the crown of your hair, gentle again. 

“Happy Halloween, baby.”

****

HAPPY HALLOWEEN ORANGE BESTIES!!! HAVE FUN WITH THE DEAD AND STAY SAFE 🎃💀🧡

#the pilot™️ #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #pleased to meet you #HAPPY HALLOWEEN #pleased to meet you headcanon #yovanna #benny miller #ben miller #will miller #william ironhead miller #santiago pope garcia #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #adria arjona #rosario dawson #garrett hedlund #charlie hunnam #oscar isaac

[seeingstarks]

Stroke Daddy Knows Best

summary : You find yourself getting hot after watching one of Ricky's famous promos and he gives you something to suck on- pairing : ricky starks × afab!reader cw : mature, 18+, smut, fluff, oral (m!receiving), daddy dom kink if you squint a/n : It's been a long ass time since I wrote anything so please take it easy on me. 🖤 My writing is definitely not the best, but I hope some can enjoy it all the same. 😊 This is also my first time writing wrestling fanfiction. Reblogs are very much appreciated! No stealing my work! word count : 1,275 words tag list : @josiewrites gif credit : @allelitewrestlings

You watched Ricky Starks from backstage while he roasted Jericho on his promo. Tony Khan made you be Ricky's assistant for the time being, no matter how many times you told Tony it wasn't a good idea because of the the sexual tension which seemed to build between you and Ricky recently.

Tony had told the two of you that you would make for a cute couple but you were always shy compared to Ricky, so he had you work together and your confidence seemed to boost the more time you spent at AEW and with Ricky.

Sitting upon a crate backstage in the catering area, you crossed your legs while opening up bottled water.

Taking a big sip from the bottle, you looked up at the tv screen a few feet away.

Some of the other talent sat around eating, one person in particular took a seat next you but you couldn't really make out who it was just by glacing from the corner of your eye.

While watching Ricky's promo, you were used to his usual antics but when he tugged at the Gucci belt and said, 'But if you're looking for something to suck...' Your cheeks went from their usual shade to a pink hue.

A chuckle fell from your lips when watching JAS look disgusted, but your reaction was the complete opposite.

You spit the mouthful of water on the person sitting a few inches away from you who turned out to be MJF, soaking his suit.

This caused you to laugh even more but your cheeks were still flushed all from Ricky's promo who managed to get you all hot and bothered.

You splashed some of the water on your face but it only made things worse. To make things even more worse, Ricky was wrapping up his promo and he would be back any moment now.

MJF seemed a bit mad about his suit being soaked but also wanted to make fun of you, "Oh, poor Y/N. Spitters are quitters, you'll never have a chance with Ricky." He remarked with a scoff.

The New Orleans Native made his way toward catering. Taking a few breaths you managed to look less pink, but your cheeks still had a slight tint to them. You and Ricky had made lunch plans today, wanting to grab a bite to eat soon.

Your stomach began to grumble when walking away from MJF, thinking a few bites of food wouldn't hurt. Before you even made it to the catering table you felt yourself being grabbed from behind.

"Let me go before I give you a low bl-" Not having the chance to finish your sentence, you heard an all too familiar voice. Ricky. "Low Blow, Hm? So you did watch my promo then?" He teased, lifting you up off your feet.

You punched Ricky playfully, "Maybe."

"What can I say? You look absolutely stunning all dressed up. I'd love for you to tie me up with that Gucci belt of yours and fuck me relentlessly." You whispered in his ear, "Of course after I suck you good, my appetite is quite big."

Ricky licked his lips, "Y'know what else is big too, babygirl?"

You bit your lower lip, "Stroke Daddy's dick?"

He nodded, "Shall we take this back to my locker room and then go for lunch afterwards?"

"Of course, handsome."

One of your arms wrapped around his waist and the other gently rested on his neck.

"I never actually imagined this happening between the two of us. Even our own boss joked we would make for a cute couple. To think a year ago I was nervous to even say hi to you and now I'm hardcore crushing-" The words spilled from your lips.

"I'm so happy you decided to come over to this company, Y/N. You brighten everyone's day with your smile. Especially mine. I know you were hesitant of working with me at first but I'm happy to hear you have a crush on me - gosh, we sound like kids in junior high. Y/N, I have eyes for only you." He looked into your eyes before placing a kiss upon your cheek.

Moments later, the two of you reached his locker room and he set you down on your feet gently.

He locked the door and made sure you were comfortable before doing anything at all.

You were the first to slightly open your mouth and taste his lips with your tongue, encouraging him to let you in. Ricky opened his mouth soon after, as his tongue began to explore your warm mouth.

He sent shockwaves through your body, oh, how this man could make you feel such things from a kiss, was beyond you, but you loved every minute of it. Feeling a little bolder, you moved your hands from around his waist and began to take off his shirt which was tucked into his pants.

"Haven't you heard of the term, ladies first?" Ricky questioned with a smirk before pulling at the ends of your t-shirt, "May I?" With a swift nod of your confirmation, Ricky gently pulled the shirt over your head before peppering kisses along your neck.

Ricky's long sleeve shirt was discarded on the floor, revealing his muscular chest.

Ricky had revealed your extremely lacy bra, he licked his lips when seeing your nipples strain to tear out of the fabric. His face lit up when you stepped out of your shorts, revealing a matching thong.

The New Orleans Native wanted to put on a small show for you so he told you to take a seat on his sofa. With a gentle chuckle you closed your eyes for a brief moment and upon opening them you came to see Ricky doing his signature pose in boxers.

"You're such a goofball, but that's why I like you."

He grinned before walking over and pulling you into another kiss, "I like you too, Y/N. So much."

You both briefly took a breath of air before kissing again, then looking up at Ricky with seductive eyes as he gave you a gentle nod of permission.

You were quick to move your hand lower on his body, then finally cupping his growing erection.

"Oh", Ricky let out a moan as he bit down at his lower lip, to keep from being any louder. You slowly licked down his chest to his stomach and then lower, getting down on your knees. 

Looking up at him with hooded eyes, you hooked your fingers at the hem of his boxers and slid them down freeing his erection. Looking up in his eyes the whole time you lowered your mouth onto his cock. Ricky watched you wantonly and took a large gasp when he felt the velvet warmth of your mouth surrounding his cock.

His hands entangled into your hair, as he let out an unexpected moan while you took his entire member in, sucking on him lovingly. 

Ricky began to pant in pleasure as you continued to suck his length, making the 'pop' noise each time you would bob your head up and down on his cock.

You could tell Ricky was getting close just by the sheen of sweat covering his body as you moaned around his cock. You gagged on his length just to tease him which threw him over the edge.

You looked up at Ricky as he came in your mouth, swallowing soon after, and sticking your tongue out. Ricky then pulled you in for one of the sloppiest kisses ever, mumbling against your lips, "Now it's time for Stroke Daddy to please his queen."

#ricky starks #mjf #ricky starks x reader #ricky starks x female reader #ricky starks x fem reader #all elite wrestling #aew #wrestling #stroke daddy #wrestling fanfiction #ricky starks smut #ricky starks fluff #aew smut #aew fluff

[imsailorpluto]

True Beauty: Kang Sujin character reconstruction

They did out bestie so dirty in this drama, it's time to clean up writer's mess. I don't think Sujin ever deserved such overkill. Turning her into a villain way after the opportunity window closed was so pathetic. Massacring this heroine in such a cliché way calls for serious damage repair, so let's goooo.

Disclaimer: I'm not a writer and this is my first fic ever. English is not my first language, sorry for eventual mistakes. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.♡ the story sounds better in my head but what can we do Thanks @youlookprettywithoutmakeup for sending in a request for Seojun x Sujin content. Also a big thank you to the gifmakers who blessed us all with this inspirational seojun x sujin perfection!

TW: angst, losing friends, mentions of bullying, verbal violence and family abuse

Seojun x Sujin angst

After Sujin moved to the States, the real truth behind that bullying video came out. It was never Sujin's doing, but she left all her friends believe what they wanted. Her life was pretty much crumbling down from the abuse back home and her parents' divorce lawsuit. It felt like the whole world turned its back on her. The final blow was when Seojun accused her of posting that bullying video of Jukyung. Then Jukyung facing her about it, too. Being the only one who's always had her friends' backs, she was hurting more than ever.

- Fine, Seojun, let it be me. Does it even matter? I'm the bad guy. Nobody trusts me. Not even you. I could bend over backwards defending myself for something I never did and it won't change a single thing.

- Something you never did? Get over yourself, Sujin. I know how you feel about Suho.

- Wait, do you seriously think I'd do something as disgusting as that because of a guy?

Seojun smirked hearing those words, shaking his head in disbelief.

- And since when do you think I have feelings for Suho??? Don't you know me?

- Obviously I don't.

They stood there, staring at each other in silence. Sujin's heart was breaking into a million pieces, but she wasn't showing any emotion. Seojun was cruel, even if he didn't mean to be this way. His constant hot and cold behavior towards Sujin confused her, but after he started showing interest in Jukyung, she gave up on him.

-Sujin, I went to Yongpa High, none of those girls knew a thing about the video.

- Wow, congrats! You must be proud of yourself. Trusting Jukyung's bullies... Seriously?! Like you don't know their queen bully is into you.

- Just like you're into Suho. I saw you two hugging.

- You saw that?!

- Yes! I did!

- Then you saw me crying like an idiot too. Great.

- Wait... What?

- I quit the music academy, okay?

- Are you crazy? Why would you do that?

Seojun stood there, his eyes wide in confusion. He couldn't believe his ears. How could she not tell him any of this sooner? After all they've been through. After all those moments she helped him get over their friend's death. Weren't they close enough now, why wouldn't she confide in him?

- You don't know everything, so don't act so smart. Besides, Suho isn't even my type, you pabo. He just saw me crying at the staircase.

- Then explain one thing.

All she could think about was how did she end up in this mess. Now all of a sudden he wants to talk to her? And he's acting all innocent about it.

- I have nothing to say to you, Seojun. Even your lousy accusations can't touch me. If anyone ever did anything bad then it's you chasing a taken girl.

- I wasn-

- Let me know when you stop projecting your problems on others.

- No, you got it all wrong, I don't have feelings for Ju-

- Stop it. I'm tired of this. I don't even care anymore.

He looked at her in silence, heart hurting as well. He couldn't admit his feelings to her like this, not now. He knew he did so many stupid things to catch her attention, but he didn't think it would backfire like this. He also knew something wrong was going on, but her stare was hurting him. He couldn't read her face at all. She looked cold. Serious. He felt like her eyes were literally piercing him.

- I did it. Okay, Seojun? I did all of it. Go spread the word. Oh wait, you did that already.

Frustrated and disappointed, she confirmed the rumors. She didn't want to fight back anymore. It was the first time in her life she considered giving up for a change. Like it mattered, she'd be moving to the States soon. She has already lost everything and everybody she hold dear. This was the last time two of them talked before she left Seoul.

She never told Seojun about her father beating her, she was ashamed of that. She also never told him her father was against her attending the music academy, she was scared that if she ever started talking about it she'd end up telling him everything. Suho was the only one who knew about her family situation, but only because he saw her bruises one time and asked her about it. He promised to keep her secret and she never confined in him again after that. All three of them have been friends since early childhood and she didn't want to do something that might push either of them away.

Sujin was always an artistic soul. She was great at pretty much everything once she set her mind to it. Her singing skills were always advanced, even before she started classes at the music academy. She outperformed almost all of her seniors. No matter the talent, she had to quit singing. Father's orders.

"Singing won't get you to medical school, you're only worth as much as your grades, don't show up home until you come to your senses and quit that idiotic nonsense of yours."

So she quit at the time only to save herself from unnecessary pain. She was done with covering her face full of makeup for school and popping painkillers like candy. It was much easier to quit, at least until her mom got them both out of that mess finally.

Her mom managed to get a divorce eventually. She swore she'd take care of her daughter properly this time, so winning the lawsuit against Sujin's father played a crucial role this time. And she won, which left her with their huge family mansion worth billions of dollars. Sujin's father got a restraining order from court, and after the lawsuit they never heard from him again. Her mom sold everything and they both moved to the States, where Sujin enrolled in music academy once more. Their life was pretty much comfortable, but they've always stayed humble.

Sujin knew she had to go back to visit her friends at Seoul at some point, especially since she was getting so many texts and calls from her two ex besties ever since she left. News on what actually happened and who was behind the video incident spread like fire and cleared all guilt off Sujin. Yet she couldn't get over the fact that all of her friends judged her so quickly. Sooah disappointed her a lot, she never backed her up, not even once. While Jukyung surprised her more than anyone. She was the only one who never believed Sujin did anything wrong, not even when Sujin directly told her it is her doing.

Even though she wanted to spend hours on the phone with Jukyung, and let her know about everything what happened, cutting everyone off seemed rational for the time being. Everything was still too painful for her and she needed more time to heal from the chaos. Falling into unhealthy patterns was no longer an option. Sujin's habits have changed drastically ever since she moved to the States. Volunteering as a math tutor and martial arts teacher was all she did when she wasn't studying. Her taekwondo classes took place in the early mornings, and math classes in the evenings. Slowly, it got her thoughts back in order.

It wasn't until Seojun texted her a whole month after moving that she felt that pit in her stomach again.

Seojun: I'm sorryx Sujong I shoudlvew known

- What's with this pabo? Ah, he's drunk again.

Sujin: Hey Seojun, I hope you're good. I know you've sent me that txt accidentally. Stay well and take care. Don't drink and ride that Ninja of yours, ok?

A few days passed until he finally responded back.

Seojun: Where r u, I need 2cu. Sujin: I'm out of the country, actually. Let's catch up over a video call one of these days, ok? Seojun: Naah, txt me whn u get back :P

She wanted nothing more than to talk to him, to hear his voice. She needed him to be there for her, just like she used to be there for him long ago. If going back there was ever an option, she needed to get better fist, on her own. Thoughts of being back in the city where it all went downhill made her extremely uncomfortable. Besides, her feelings for Seojun confused her, it was too much all at once. This time, she decided to let him go for good. Maybe next time their paths cross, things turn out different.

#true beauty #kdrama #seojun x sujin #true beauty seojun #han seojun #kang sujin #jujin #kdrama fanfic #true beauty x reader #true beauty fanfic #true beauty imagine #hanseojunxkangsujin #true beauty angst #omo i don't know tagging this thing like is this enough? xD #imsailorpluto

[izzy-stradlins-harem]

Okay, so ... I wrote the best ask and then my phone died and I lost all of it. Damn! (Pay attention! Wake up! Stop drooling!)

I cannot ask anonymously for whatever reason. (Shells says it's turned on, but maybe I have to be a mutual in order to ask anonymously or something?) So, it would mean a lot to me if the harem sisters (or bros) would not reblog this and let it remain in the harem. Thank you so much, friends. ☺️🩷😆

So here goes.

I've never thought about guys' balls before. I mean, they're just there, you know? And the hope is they're not funky.

But when it comes to Izzy, I would gladly teabag the hell out of those balls and enjoy every damn second of it. I know he's enjoyed some hot tea before ... so I'd teabag 'em while he drank some hot tea for breakfast. I don't know what he likes when it comes to his balls, but I would fondle, kiss, cup, lick, or suck the hell out of them.

Yes - I'm sick. Very sick.

Am I the only woman who thinks about Izzy's balls and wants to see them, touch them, and put them in her mouth? Am I the only woman who sees Izzy's package and thinks his balls are probably big? Am I the only woman who is so nasty that I'd put them in my mouth after he got done boogie boarding and skateboarding and was a sweaty mess? Or came offstage - drenched and funky - after wearing super tight nuthuggers?

Am I the only woman who somehow, instinctually or anthropologically speaking, in the back of my mind, somewhere in the deep recesses, must think big balls equals virile or masculine or horny, or like, 'This man must have more testosterone or a higher sex drive than other men'? 'This man must have huge balls full cum that needs to be shot all over me or deposited inside me?

On a scale of 1 - 10, with 10 being the most sick, dirty, disgusting, 2.00 crackwhore that actually enjoys her job - how sick am I?

If I wrote a fic, I would be the raunchiest, nastiest female fic writer in the business. I'd be transferred to one of those insane asylums they used to put women in back in the 18th and 19th centuries. They would reopen them for me.

Okay, it's settled. I will write a disgusting fic based off of this ask. But you might never see it or read it. Because I might be banned for indecent speech, and impure, demented thoughts. It's probably catching, you know.

Oh honey...

I think we have drawn very different lines according to our beliefs on perversion.

I would get down on my knees and happily suck a pair of sweaty funky balls if Izzy said it was my ticket to getting to look at his. Let alone how I would fuck that old man up if I got my twisted debauched hands on him.

I would ruin him. I promise that this girl would show him some tricks his old rockstar ass has never even dreamed of.

Then we could also get into all the things I would let him do to me. I have a list of kinks longer than I am tall (5'10") and therapists who can't help me 😜😈

So no I think you are very healthy in your desires and express them admirably.

Anyone else want to weigh in? Let's start a convo.

#izzy stradlin #izzy my beloved #izzy’s harem #jeffrey dean isbell #sweet izzy #submission #this man owns me

[sesamestreep]

there's something fiction about the way that reality's going

(read on AO3)

SUMMARY: It's bad enough that Foggy has to spend his Saturday morning giving bad news to some overly-ambitious campaign manager. It's unforgivable that he turns out to be hot, of all things. [AKA - The West Wing AU] A/N: here's part 1 of that west wing au i've been talking about writing for months. I put copious notes (including a mild content warning for the 90s as a time period in general) on AO3, so I'd recommend reading there if you want more info. big thanks to @firstelevens for talking me off several ledges during the writing, editing, and posting processes for this fic!

“You know what’s sick, Karen?” Foggy asks, as he rounds the corner of her desk.

“Sick like bad, like the flu?” she asks, not looking away from her computer. “Or sick like good, like a skateboard trick?”

“Sick like disgusting and perverted.”

“Ooh, I am not sure I want to know.”

“Too bad,” he says, as he tosses his duffel bag into his office. It collides with a filing cabinet, but doesn’t knock anything over, which is pretty good from this distance. “I have reached a new level of depravity.”

“Congratulations?”

“Thank you. Ask me how.”

“Must I?”

“Yes.”

Karen sighs. “How did you reach a new level of depravity?”

“I found myself thinking, while flying with the President on Air Force One, ‘god, this sucks!’”

“That’s your new level of depravity?” she asks, unimpressed.

“Karen, I’m telling you I’m bored of flying on Air Force One! The President’s private plane is boring to me. The novelty—of Air Force One—is gone!”

“And that’s all?”

“‘That’s all’?! Karen, I—”

“I heard you the first twelve times," she says. "You’re a real sicko, Foggy, I get it.”

“This revelation means less to you than I anticipated,” Foggy says, idly fiddling with the things on her desk. 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she says, filing something. “I kind of thought you picked up a new, exciting fetish while in Pakistan.”

“Unfortunately, no. At least, not that I’m aware of.”

“There’s always next time,” she replies. “Did you bring me back anything?”

“Also no. In my defense, you didn’t tell me you wanted a new, exciting fetish while I was there.”

“A good boss would know without having to be told.”

“Oh, no. They’ll take away my ‘world’s greatest boss’ mug for this!”

“You don’t have one of those,” she says, frowning.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Looks like we’ve both got some work to do,” she says, turning her attention back to her computer.

“Speaking of that, what are you doing here on a Saturday?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Almost always, but in this case…”

Karen looks at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “Foggy, you have a meeting.”

“I don’t schedule meetings for Saturday mornings,” he says. “And certainly not after I’ve been away in Islamabad with the President for three days and on a plane for 15 hours.”

“Yes, but this is Marci’s meeting,” Karen says. “The one you promised to cover for her, since her cousin had to move her bachelorette weekend up two weeks to—”

“This weekend. Fuck!” Foggy closes his eyes. “Oh, I should not have agreed to this! This was so stupid. I’m so jet lagged right now and I’ve been wearing the same suit for like two days.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Ew, why?”

“I packed in a hurry and I miscounted—you know what, forget it! I would still smell like airplane, regardless.”

She steps around her desk to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not even that—Good god! That is not what airplanes are supposed to smell like!”

Foggy sniffs his shirt and winces. He was kind of hoping he was just being dramatic. “Pakistan is a very populous country,” he says, weakly. “And we were in the capitol, so lots of people, in close quarters…”

“So, unless this guy has a sinus infection, he’s going to be able to smell you from down the hall.”

“Karen, please! I am begging you…”

“Do you have another suit?”

“Not one that smells better !” Foggy exclaims. “Do I have time to go out and buy a new suit?”

“Your meeting is in 30 minutes, and I’m guessing you still need to read the briefing packet Marci left you, so you know what this guy wants to talk about.”

“This is the guy from the Bryant campaign? Mitchell…something?”

“ Matthew Murdock, yes.”

“I know what he wants to talk about,” Foggy says, waving a hand at her.

“Oh, just read the damn packet!”

“I need to find something to wear that doesn’t smell like I walked here from Islamabad, okay?”

“I’ll ask around,” Karen replies. “You prep for the meeting.”

“You’re going to ask around ?”

“Yes."

“To see if someone in the building has a suit I can borrow? 

“Foggy!”

“I feel like you’re vastly underestimating how weird of a request that is!” 

“Not all men are as suspicious as you.”

“Most men are more suspicious than me, firstly,” he says. “And secondly, even if you found someone in this office to accept this absurd request—on a Saturday, no less!—suits are supposed to be tailored. I’m going to look weird in someone else’s suit!”

“What’s worse: looking weird in an ill-fitting suit or smelling weird in this one?”

“Maybe he will have a sinus infection,” Foggy muses.

“Yes, because praying for that is less weird than my plan,” Karen says, with an eye roll. “Wait, you have a gym bag!”

“In my office? Yeah…”

“And last week, that budget meeting got rescheduled and you couldn’t go to the gym after work because it was already closed when the meeting wrapped up!”

“Yes! Why are we excited about this?”

Karen’s practically bouncing on her feet. “Because if the bag is still here but you didn’t go to the gym, that means the clothes are clean!”

“You want me to meet with the manager for a congressional campaign in my gym clothes?” Foggy asks.

“Your clean gym clothes!”

“I can’t meet him in my gym clothes!”

“Why not?”

“It’s unprofessional!”

“It’s Saturday! You’re…laid back! You’re chillin’!”

Foggy shakes his head at her, because it’s extremely clear to him that she’s never said that word in another context before in her life. “Just chillin’ at the White House! Now there’s a TV show I’d watch!”

“ Foggy !”

“It could be like this President’s version of FDR’s fireside chats! You’re a genius, Karen!”

“I’m being helpful and you’re being such a dick about it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re right,” he says, putting his hands on her shoulders in a conciliatory gesture. “And I appreciate it. But I can’t wear gym clothes to this meeting.”

“It wouldn’t be that weird! You could come up with an excuse—”

“No, I understand. It’s just—I barely look good in a suit. I can trick people into taking me seriously in a suit. If this guy sees me in basketball shorts, he’ll never take me seriously.”

“You look good in a suit, no qualifiers,” Karen says, firmly. “And honestly, it would probably be charming to him if you were in gym clothes. And lastly, you are the deputy chief of staff at the White House, Foggy. People take you seriously. You are serious.”

“That was wall-to-wall bald faced lies, but I do love you for it,” he says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “And if I’m being honest with you, I’m nervous about the optics of dressing casually for a meeting where I know I have to give someone bad news.”

Karen frowns. “What’s going on?”

“The campaign this guy is running, it’s Bryant’s campaign in the 21st district in New York State. It’s a district that, historically, a Republican always wins. From what I know, and what Marci’s told me, this guy wants more help from us, and more funding from the DNC, to get Bryant elected instead.”

“But we’re not going to do that?” Karen asks.

“No, we’re not.”

“Why not?”

“Because Bryant sucks,” Foggy admits, with a small, mirthless laugh. 

“Worse than the Republican who’s running?”

“He’s the incumbent and we know what to do with him, at least.”

“Still,” she interjects, frowning deeper, “it’s not…great…”

“It’s political maneuvering to be sure,” Foggy says, “but that’s the business we’re in, like it or not.”

“Yeah, so…”

“So, showing up to this meeting looking ready for an aerobics class and then telling this guy he’s up a creek and the DNC isn’t going to throw him a paddle might be a bad look. At least if my suit’s wrinkled and I smell bad, he can write it off as me being an overworked staffer.”

“Which, you are.”

“Exactly!”

“Yeah, okay. I get it,” Karen says, moving back to her desk. 

“I have a few minutes?”

“Yeah, read the thing on your desk.”

“I don’t need to—”

“Marci wrote it so you could—”

“Marci’s secretary wrote it, and you know that.”

“And Marci’s secretary’s work has less value than Marci’s because…?”

“Ah, okay,” Foggy says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll read the thing.”

“Do you need coffee?” 

“Desperately.”

She nods. “Okay, I’ll get you some, so you can read.”

“Thank you. And while you’re at it, see if Jeri’s secretary is in and ask—”

“Excuse me,” a voice behind them says, and they both startle.

“Hi, can I help you?” Karen asks, automatically and politely, as she turns to face the man.

“I hope so,” he says. “I’m looking for Karen Page.”

“Then I can definitely help you,” she replies, cheerfully. “That’s me.”

“Oh, excellent,” the man says, offering her his hand. “I’m Matt Murdock, from the Bryant campaign. I have a meeting with Mr. Nelson at 10.”

“You’re…from the Bryant campaign?” Karen asks, hesitantly. 

Foggy knows how she feels. Absolutely nothing about this guy says ‘campaign manager’ except for the quality of his suit. He’s so glaringly handsome in a professional-athlete-who-also-gets-modeling-gigs kind of way that it takes Foggy a full minute to clock that he’s wearing sunglasses indoors (something a professional athlete/part-time model would do) and carrying a white cane. Bryant’s campaign manager is blind. That’s almost as unexpected as him being hot.

“Yes, I know. I’m a little bit early,” he says, either willfully or obliviously attributing Karen’s surprise to the wrong thing. 

Karen recovers quickly, though. “Not to worry,” she says, finally taking his hand and giving it a polite shake. “We appreciate your punctuality.”

“Well, I appreciate that handshake,” Matt offers, charmingly. “Very commanding, very firm!”

Much to Foggy’s amusement and vague annoyance, Karen lets out a hopelessly charmed laugh at that. “Thank you, I—uh, I do my best.”

Foggy gives her a wide-eyed look, and she gives him a helpless and slightly embarrassed one back. He shakes his head before inclining it towards Matt, who either hasn’t noticed him or is avoiding acknowledging him, for whatever reason.

“Would you be so kind as to let your boss know I’m here?”

“That, uh, won’t be necessary,” she says. Karen never stammers. This is so funny. “He’s, um—well, he’s right here! Foggy, are you ready for Mr. Murdock?”

Foggy does his best to hide his smile. “Am I ever!” he says, gamely, and steps forward to shake his hand. “Franklin Nelson, at your service. Everyone calls me Foggy, so you should too!”

This, somehow, catches Matt off-guard, which given his otherwise smooth and unflappable exterior, is kind of impressive. He very clearly expected to wait to be seen, and possibly hoped to have more time to flirt with Foggy’s assistant, judging by the looks of things. 

“Hello,” Matt says, stiff with awkwardness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” Foggy replies. “Delighted to make your acquaintance! I am holding out my hand for you to shake, for the record.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry,” he says, as he hurries to take it. 

There’s an awkward moment as he sort of guesstimates where Foggy’s hand is before making contact and Foggy’s left to wonder if he could have made that less weird somehow and feel slightly embarrassed that he doesn’t know the protocol for this situation. And he’s already feeling pretty embarrassed that he smells like a 15 hour flight in front of this very handsome stranger, who can probably smell him even more than the average person. Unless that stuff about depriving one sense making the others stronger is bullshit, which it might be. Foggy’s tempted to ask but that seems likely to make the situation more awkward still.

Matt’s palm is a little rough in places, which is kind of nice. Foggy’s is, he knows, not even a little bit rough. He’s got the smooth baby soft hands of someone who has always been an indoor kid and then grew up to be a lawyer. No calluses to speak of whatsoever. It makes him wonder where Matt, likely a lawyer himself, got his from. And now he’s been holding this hot guy’s hand for too long. Perfect.

“Well, why don’t you step into my office?” he asks, dropping it quickly.

“You’re sure? I know I got here before our appointment.”

“No trouble at all,” Foggy says, with more enthusiasm than he feels. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, yes,” Karen pipes up. “We have coffee, tea, soda, water—”

“I’m good,” Matt says, with another charming smile in her direction. Foggy’s still waiting for his. “Thank you, Karen.”

“Yes, thank you, Karen,” Foggy says brightly, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Actually, Foggy, could I borrow you for a second?”

“Absolutely.” To Matt, he says, “You can go right in and I’ll be with you shortly. There’s a chair in front of the desk, where…chairs normally are in an office.”

This, for whatever reason, makes Matt snort in amusement, which is somehow better than getting a smile out of him. “Yes, I think I can manage,” he replies, and moves towards Foggy’s office.

“Great. Be right there!” Once he’s gone, Foggy leans in close to Karen. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to point out that you should have listened to me and worn your gym clothes after all,” she says, flipping through a file on her desk disinterestedly.

“Yes, yes, I know. Karen Page the Wise, let her instincts never be doubted again,” Foggy says, miming genuflection.

“Do you still want a coffee?”

“I’ll grab it when I’m done. Hopefully, this won’t take long,” he says. He leans in even closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “By the way, is this guy a real campaign manager or is he just auditioning to play one on TV?”

“ Foggy ,” Karen exclaims, with an eye roll. 

“I’m sorry, but he’s, like, stupid handsome!”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she sniffs, feigning disinterest.

“Uh huh,” Foggy says, unimpressed. “Well, he noticed your firm handshake, that’s for sure.”

“You really are more perverted than when you left, aren’t you?” Karen says, amused. “Now, get in there and disappoint that beautiful man.”

“Lucky for him, that is something I’m very good at.”

Karen snorts at that, and returns to her work. Foggy goes back to his office and is pleased to see that Matt has managed to find a seat.

“Sorry about that,” he announces, as he settles into the chair behind his desk. “We’re a little bit scattered this morning. I just got back from Islamabad about twenty minutes ago.”

“Well, I appreciate your time.”

“Don’t mention it. Listen, Michael…”

“Matthew,” he says, surely seeing through the power play but not pointing it out. “Matt, if it’s all the same.”

“Right, sorry. Hey, at least, I knew it was one of the gospels from the Bible, right?”

The unbothered, generically pleasant expression on his face doesn't falter as he says, evenly, “There is no gospel according to Michael in the Bible.”

“Maybe not in yours,” Foggy replies, hoping he covers his nerves well enough that Matt can’t hear anything in his voice. “There’s a Saint Michael, though, right?”

“Yes,” Matt says, cracking a barely-there smile. “He’s an archangel, too.”

“An angel and a saint? Sounds like a lot of work. What’s his deal?”

“His ‘deal’?”

“Yeah, like what’s he the saint of?”

“Oh, like his patronage?”

“Yes,” Foggy says, snapping his fingers. “Like is he the guy to pray to when I’ve got a hangnail or a flat tire?”

“No,” Matt laughs, shaking his head. “He’s considered the patron saint of police officers, the military, paramedics, the protector of the Jewish people and the Vatican, as well as Germany, the Ukraine, and Brussels.”

“Wow, can you do that for all the saints?”

“A good amount of them,” Matt replies. He shrugs before adding, “I went to Catholic school.”

“That must come in handy.”

“You’d really be surprised how little it comes up,” he says, drolly. 

“Really?" Foggy asks. "Not even when you have a flat tire?”

“I would probably call AAA first, in that scenario. The saints tend to take their time.”

“Solid point.”

“Listen, Mr. Nelson—”

“God, please, like I said: call me ‘Foggy’. I’d do the classic ‘Mr. Nelson is my father’ bit but I’m pretty sure no one calls him that either.”

“‘Foggy?’ Really?” Matt repeats, incredulously. 

“Yes, it’s—not important why. It’s just—it’s what everyone calls me.”

“Fine,” he says, leaning forward in his seat. “Foggy, then. As much as I appreciate the opportunity to show off the benefits of my Catholic upbringing and education, I didn’t come here to talk to you about the patronages of various saints.”

“Yes, I knew that, actually. I’m sorry. I was stalling.”

Matt slumps back in his seat at that. “You’re going to tell me you can’t help me.”

“Listen, if this had been my meeting from the start, I would have told you not to bother coming down.”

“In your colleague’s defense, she did tell me that.”

“Well, then, I’m surprised you did it anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be, if you knew me better,” Matt replies, with so much confidence it borders on cocky. He gets five percent hotter in Foggy’s mental estimation from that alone. 

He clears his throat. “Your candidate is running for a seat in New York’s 21st district. Democrats never win in the 21st. It’s simple math.”

“Yes, historically, this district goes red in elections, but that doesn’t mean, with the right democrat and proper funding from the DNC—”

“That’s true,” Foggy allows.

“So, what’s the issue?”

“You don’t have the right democrat.”

“I…what?”

“I’m saying, Bryant isn’t the democrat to flip the 21st.”

“According to whom?”

“According to me.”

“Is there anyone else I can talk to, then?” Matt asks, clearly keeping his patience on a very tight leash if the state of his jaw is any indication. Not that Foggy is admiring his jawline at a time like this.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Foggy, I came down here—”

“A waste of time, as promised, but hey, at least you made a new friend!”

“You and I are not friends.”

“I meant you and Karen," Foggy says, blithely, "but ouch.”

Matt's jaw somehow clenches even tighter. “I want to talk to someone who’s going to take me seriously!”

“You are talking to someone who’s taking you seriously,” he says, earnestly. “Trust me, Matt. It’s not you, it’s your candidate.”

“Well, that’s a new one,” he says, deflating.

“Bryant is a centrist—”

“It’s a Republican stronghold!” Matt exclaims. “Who else has a chance to flip the seat? Do you want to put a diehard socialist on the ballot instead and see how they do?”

“More than anything in the world, yes,” Foggy replies. “But this isn’t about what I want.”

“The incumbent is a right wing clown and he lends legitimacy to their rhetoric. I think the country would be better off with him out of a job. I’m sorry that the White House and the DNC disagree, but—” 

“You’re right.”

“I’m right?!”

“You’re right,” Foggy says. “With an asterisk.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Just a tiny footnote, really. He is a right wing clown, and he should be voted out of office, but he’s also a boon to the DNC.”

“How exactly does that make sense?”

“Every time he opens his mouth, the DNC pulls a quote, puts it on a direct mail campaign, and raises tens of thousands of dollars off of their members’ outrage. As long as we keep him in front of a microphone, we can basically print money for ourselves.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “What a reassuring thing to hear from a representative of my government.”

Foggy laughs, unexpectedly, which just makes Matt glare in his general direction. “Technically, we are the only ones who should be printing money, but that’s beside the point.”

“Are we at least approaching the point sometime soon?”

“You’re familiar with the phrase ‘better the devil you know…’”

Matt sighs. “‘Than the devil you don’t’. Yes.”

“Bryant’s the devil we don’t know. Dashwood’s the one we do.”

“Bryant is a democrat, Foggy.”

“Barely, and I don’t want it to be my job for the next six and a half years to make sure he’s not going to be the swing vote on every measure we want to get passed through the House. And it will be my job, Matt.”

“Well, if you keep selling out viable democrats like this, I don’t think you can count on re-election as a matter of course like you just did, so let’s call it two and a half years to be safe.”

Foggy leans forward onto his forearms. “Sweetheart, you don’t have a viable democrat on your hands, and that’s the nicest way anyone in this building is going to put it, so let’s quit while we’re ahead.”

“Easy for you to say,” Matt replies, standing. Foggy mirrors him. “I appreciate the condescension, by the way. No one’s called me ‘sweetheart’ in a long time.”

“No trouble at all,” Foggy says. “Feel free to stop by anytime you need your ego stroked.”

Matt laughs, or really huffs, putting his hands on his hips. He’s either getting a second wind on this argument or they’re about to get into a fistfight. He might have made that last retort too flirty. Some guys, by which he does mean most straight guys, will really take any opportunity. Luckily, a knock at the door cuts their standoff short.

“Foggy, the President wants anybody who’s available in the Oval Office in five,” Marci says as she barrels in without waiting, before her eyes land on Matt. “Oh, sorry to interrupt.”

“Marci, this is Matt Murdock, from the Bryant campaign,” Foggy says, begrudgingly. “Matt, this is Marci Stahl, deputy communications director. I believe your original meeting was supposed to be with her.”

“Yes. Hi,” Matt says, cheerfully enough, but the set of his shoulders remains tense.

“Matt, so nice to meet you,” she trills, giving Foggy a wide-eyed look over his shoulder as they shake hands. Of course she immediately clocked how attractive he is. Sometimes he thinks that an unfortunate side effect of them dating and then staying friends for so long is that they basically have the same brain. “I’m so sorry for sticking you with Foggy here. There were some scheduling issues with my calendar.”

“Not to worry,” Matt says, tightly. “Foggy’s taken excellent care of me.”

Marci purses her lips in amusement. “Isn’t he just the best?” she says, grinning at Foggy sadistically. “If I had my way, I’d foist all my downer meetings on him, because he always handles people so gently. Not my strong suit, I’m afraid.”

Foggy rolls his eyes, but Matt beats him to the punch. “‘Downer meetings’?” he asks, deceptively pleasant.

“Yes, well, it’s a pity about Bryant, but you’re young, as I can now see. You’ll have other campaigns, ones you can actually win.”

“We haven’t technically lost this one yet.”

Marci gives Foggy a look, before shaking her head. “So true,” she says, giving Matt’s arm a squeeze. “Anyway! Safe travels! Foggy, like I said, five minutes.”

“I’m in the middle of a meeting,” he replies, annoyed.

“It’s the Cruz case.”

“That’s going to—”

“It came back 5-3 against,” she says, cutting him off with a significant look at Matt. “That’s why I canceled my trip. We’re all hands on deck.”

Foggy sighs, but only because it would be inappropriate to swear. “Okay.”

“Five minutes.”

“I said, ‘okay’.”

Marci nods and departs in her usual cloud of Chanel perfume and hyper competence, her heels clicking down the hallway until the sound fades completely. Foggy rubs his face, thinking miserably about how this is just the beginning of what will most likely be a very long, bad day. He’s going to need to send Karen to his apartment to get him some clothes. He’s going to need twelve coffees, ideally right now, but he’s got to deal with Matt first. When he looks over at him, he’s standing there, shell shocked.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, because he honestly is. “She’s—it’s not always like this.”

Matt seems to spring back into action like a spell has been lifted. “It’s fine,” he says, picking up his briefcase and his stick. “You have to get going.”

“It’s not—”

“Don’t say it’s not important, for my benefit. It sounds important.”

“I can walk you out,” Foggy says, coming around the desk towards him.

“I can manage on my own,” Matt says, not unkindly but not meekly either. The implication that he wants to end this interaction sooner rather than later is barely implied. 

“Of course. It was, uh, lovely to meet you.”

“Sure,” he replies, not reciprocating the sentiment but extending his hand as they pause in front of Karen’s desk. Foggy takes it and gives him a firm handshake. 

“Karen, could you—?"

“I’m fine,” Matt interrupts. “Thank you, though. Karen, a pleasure.”

“You too,” Karen offers. “The hallway behind you leads right to the exit. You’ll need to sign out with security.”

“Thank you,” he says, and departs without further fanfare.

“How’d he take it?” Karen asks Foggy, once he’s gone.

“Super well,” Foggy chirps. “In fact, we’re thinking this summer for the wedding.”

“That’s fast,” Karen says, barely hiding her smile.

“What can I say? When you know you know.” He sighs deeply. “Marci told you about the Supreme Court thing?”

“Yeah. You want me to go grab you a change of clothes from your place?”

“Yes, please. You need my keys?”

“I have your spare still,” Karen says, as she gets up and puts on her coat. “Need anything else while I’m out?”

“The world’s largest coffee, with as many espresso shots as the law allows.”

“Got it,” she replies with a nod. She’s already on her way out when he grabs her by the elbow to stop her.

“Am I, like, the world’s biggest asshole?” he asks, earnestly. “And be honest, because I feel like the world’s biggest asshole right now.”

“You’re not,” Karen says, immediately, squeezing his arm. “You’re the best person I know, but you’re jet lagged and overtired and stinky and now you have to spend the rest of your day talking about the death penalty. That would put anyone in a bad mood.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says. “Thanks.”

He lets her go, then, because they’ve all got work to do, but her words don’t reassure him like they usually would.

Foggy waits on the sidewalk out in front of St. Patrick’s the next morning with ten minutes to spare before the 10 AM mass gets out. He finds himself wishing he had cigarettes, which he only ever wants when he’s nervous and needs something to do with his hands. He’s complained about this before, unwisely, with his mother in earshot, which had led to her snapping at him to take up knitting if he needs something productive to do with his hands. The worst fight he can ever remember having with her was when she found cigarettes in his room when he was home from college once. What is it about being within spitting distance of a Catholic church that brings up all his repressed guilt like that?

He probably could have brought coffee, but he’s not sure if Matt declined yesterday to be polite or if he genuinely doesn’t drink it. Either way, Foggy couldn’t begin to guess how he’d take it, so it’s probably better to just skip it entirely. He doesn’t need to bribe him, and he doesn’t need anything to occupy his hands. He’s senior staff at the goddamn White House. He doesn’t need to be nervous.

Over his shoulder, he hears the sound of voices starting to drift over from the doors and of footsteps on the stairs. When he glances over, he sees crowds starting to form at the entrance. He remembers, suddenly, from a few christenings he was forced to attend for various cousins, how much people like to stand around and gab after mass and hopes that, by virtue of not being at his own church, Matt won’t be stuck talking to a bunch of old ladies for too long.

Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes later when he emerges from the crowd, easy to spot with his glasses and his stick, head down and separate. Foggy hesitates for a second, worried this will be an intolerable intrusion on something, well, sacred, but he did go out of his way to talk to him. It will be even less excusable if he doesn’t go through with it.

Matt’s head swivels in the correct direction when he hears his name called and Foggy would guess he’s good at identifying voices, both in general and in his line of work, where schmoozing and networking are so essential. Matt’s already at a disadvantage, not knowing people by sight, so he can only imagine he’s found a way to compensate for it. He’s guessing he knows who it is before Foggy even says, “on your right,” and approaches him.

“Foggy?” Matt asks, and he’s not sure if he’s guessing or just expressing surprise.

“Hi,” he says, and it comes out weirdly shy, because of course it does. Matt’s still dressed nicely, like he was yesterday, though he’s ditched the tie and thrown a sweater over his dress shirt instead. It’s like he knows about Foggy’s childhood crush on Mr. Rogers. 

“Hi,” Matt says, with a laugh. “Did we—don’t tell me this is your church.”

“Yes, I moonlight as an organist at St. Patrick’s. Just for the tips, though.”

“I—what?”

“Sorry, I’m kidding. I don’t go to church here. I went to see you at your hotel, I was hoping to catch you before you checked out, and the receptionist said I’d just missed you and that you’d gone to church.”

“She told you where to find me?”

“No, I guessed. I mean, St. Patrick’s is the closest Catholic church—you mentioned Catholic school yesterday, so I figured it was the best bet—and of course, it’s, you know, historic and beautiful, with all that stained glass and the, um…”

Matt tips his head to the side, considering him as he fumbles for words. He looks amused, at least, and not deeply offended, which is probably a good sign. He also looks like he’s waiting for Foggy to admit defeat, which is never going to happen.

“The acoustics are probably also good,” he finishes, pathetically, and Matt laughs, not like he did yesterday, all guarded and cynical with disappointment. He laughs big and unrestrained and maybe even delighted. Foggy gets the sense that he’s a little surprised by it himself.

“Yes, the acoustics were wonderful,” he says, and his eyes are crinkling attractively at the corners.

“I’m an idiot,” Foggy says, in the direction of his shoes. He doesn’t need to hide a blush from Matt, he figures, but he does it anyway.

“No, that was…” Matt takes his time searching for the word, and Foggy’s heart races. He shakes his head, helplessly. “‘Acoustics.’ You're cute.”

“I…” Foggy has fully lost his train of thought. He tries to remember a single time he has said something coherent in his entire life and fails. His brain has shut down, possibly permanently and forever.

“Sorry, that came out wrong," Matt clarifies, after a moment's pause. "What I meant was, that was a cute thing to say.”

The part of Foggy that was wondering if it would be weird to ask a guy who just got out of church if he was, perhaps, a friend of Dorothy immediately withers and dies on the spot. That was the straightest point of clarification he’s ever witnessed in his life.

“Well,” Foggy says, remarkably normally after the emotional journey he just went on, “you don’t know this, since you can’t see, but you were right the first time. I am adorable.”

Matt, thankfully, laughs at that too. “I’ll defer to your expertise on the matter.”

“I appreciate that.”

“So, you were looking for me at my hotel?”

“Yes!”

“Can I ask why?”

“I—right. That is the sort of thing that requires explanation.”

“Yes, it is,” Matt says, patiently.

“I wanted to…apologize for yesterday,” Foggy says, letting the words flow out on an exhale. “You didn’t catch any of us on our best day, and while nothing I said to you was factually incorrect or inaccurate to our position, I feel like you weren’t treated with the respect you deserve and I really regret that. None of that is how we do things, and it’s not who we are. I hope, at my best, it’s not who I am, either.”

Matt doesn’t bother to hide his surprise. After a moment, he says, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t worry about it. I fully acknowledge that I ambushed you—at a church, of all places—so I’ll just…”

“I appreciate it,” Matt says, suddenly. “The apology, not the ambush. Although, I guess they’re sort of intertwined at this point…”

“Sure,” Foggy laughs.

“You really didn’t have to—”

“I felt bad. It was badly done, and I wanted to try to make it right.”

“Still, I’ve been in professional politics for almost a decade now, and I can count the number of heartfelt apologies I’ve received on one hand. It’s not the sort of thing everyone does.”

“Well, it’s a thing I do, when I’m wrong. And I was. I’m genuinely sorry.”

Matt acknowledges this with another tilt of his head. “You weren’t wrong about everything, unfortunately.”

Foggy frowns, trying to parse what this means. “I’m not sure I—oh my god! Matt!”

He winces. “Do not gloat!”

“I’m not!” Foggy practically shouts. “I won’t. I promise! But, if I’m understanding you correctly, you know?”

“About Bryant? Of course I do! I work for him!”

“That begs the question of why?”

“Why do I work for him?”

“Yes!”

“I’m not in politics just for the love of it, Foggy. I’m a professional political operative, I need the work!”

“Yeah, but Bryant?”

Matt makes a face at him. “Do you imagine there’s a seller’s market out there for blind campaign managers?”

“No, but—” Foggy pauses and really considers this. Matt keeps things upbeat, from what he can tell, brushing off references to his disability easily enough by all appearances, but it must actually be brutal out there for him. “No, you’re right. It’s got to be tough. Even for someone as good as you.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it to flatter you. Considering you’re working in a district that virtually always votes red, and you’ve got a dud for a candidate, your numbers are very impressive. I mean, unless you’re handing out headshots at campaign stops, I don’t understand how you’re doing it at all.”

“Headshots?” Matt asks. “Of me?”

“Okay, don’t you dare try some sort of aw, shucks routine with me. I know you know you’re handsome.”

Matt laughs, tucking his chin in a remarkably shy gesture from such a confident asshole. “That’s a good one, though. Headshots. I’ll have to write that down.” 

“Maybe the 21st district will flip after all.”

“Okay, I know I’m not that handsome.”

Foggy wants to argue the point, but he’s also done enough embarrassing himself for one day and it’s not even noon yet. He’s got to stick to the matter at hand. “Listen, what I said yesterday—”

“Consider it forgotten. Really.”

“No, uh, what I said reflects the opinion and the decision of the White House, even if the delivery left something to be desired. But the administration, specifically the President, wanted me to be clear with you that, Bryant aside, if you ever found a viable candidate, we’d get interested in a hurry. We remain very impressed by your work, if not your candidate.”

Matt appears intrigued by this. “Did anyone happen to specify a better candidate by name?”

“Well, the suggestion was raised that you might fit the bill.”

“Raised by whom?”

“That I couldn’t say,” Foggy demurs, and Matt does that little head tilt again, so he mimes locking his mouth and throwing away the key before he realizes Matt can’t see or appreciate it. It’s also a very dorky thing to do, so that might be for the best. 

“You want me to run for office?” Matt asks, instead.

“It’s just a suggestion,” Foggy says, putting his hands up defensively. “Something to think about for the future.”

“The distant, distant future, maybe…”

Foggy shrugs. “Sure. Either way, you’ve made some friends in D.C. this time around. Your next campaign will be easier, I promise.”

“Well, I have to make it through this one first,” Matt says, grimly, running a hand over his jaw in distress. God, even distressed, he’s still ridiculously handsome.

“Hey, if all else fails, you can always pray to Saint Thomas More.”

Matt gives him a baffled look. “What?”

“You know,” Foggy says, putting his hands in his pockets, casually, “the patron saint of statesmen and politicians.”

Matt’s smile of delight and comprehension is like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, which is a sentiment Foggy would have dismissed as overly and unnecessarily poetic and saccharine probably twenty minutes ago. His words to Karen yesterday— when you know, you know— come back to haunt him and it is so unfair and yet completely expected that this would happen to him, of all people. He’s known this guy for probably thirty minutes total and still, he knows Matt is special. That this is the beginning of something, even though it probably isn’t going to be what he wishes it could be. This is, bizarrely, a talent of his. He knows when someone is going to be important to him, usually right from the start. He knew it with Marci. He knew it with Karen. He knows it now too. 

Son of a bitch, he thinks. This might hurt.

“Where did you learn that?” Matt asks, his voice gone kind of breathless around his smile.

“Not to brag, but I have access to many things in my line of work,” he replies, trying to stay casual, despite the revelations, “including several volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica.”

“Fancy,” Matt says, with a laugh. “I appreciate the tip.”

“I couldn’t find the saint to pray to specifically for car trouble, but Saint Christopher or Saint Frances of Rome are the patron saints of drivers and Saint Catherine of Alexandria is the patron saint of mechanics, so any of them would do in a pinch. In case you were wondering.”

“Saint Christopher,” Matt replies, “is the patron saint of all travelers, actually.”

“Show-off!" Foggy exclaims. "You didn’t even have to look that up!”

“Every Catholic household has a medal or something for Saint Christopher kicking around,” he says, with a smile. “You didn’t stand a chance, I’m afraid to say.”

“What gave me away?”

“Oh, everything. I can spot a Protestant at fifty paces, especially the Christmas-and-Easter variety. It’s like the first thing they teach you in Catholic school.”

“Sure. I mean, what else are they going to do with all that time they’re not teaching you how to put condoms on bananas?”

Matt laughs another one of those big, unexpected laughs, almost staggering back with the force of it. “Yeah, abstinence only makes for very short lesson plans.”

“I’m guessing you all managed to figure out the basics anyway, just from the CDC data I’ve seen,” Foggy says, fully blushing all over with the pride of making Matt laugh and his own stupidity at bringing up Sex Ed in a moment like this. Sometimes he just truly cannot stop himself. 

Before Matt can confirm or deny that he knows how to use a condom (seriously, what’s the matter with his brain?) Foggy rushes to add, “Also, thank you for giving me the credit of going to church on Easter. My mother will be pleased to know I’m fooling people into thinking I’m a nice young man, rather than being obvious with my true heathen nature.”

“You are a nice young man,” Matt says, softly, with the appearance of having sobered slightly. Maybe Foggy shouldn’t have called himself a heathen. Maybe he was being too obvious, the coded aspect of the code word too unfortunately crackable. Oh, well. “At least, I assume you’re young? I’m guessing, from the sound of your voice.”

“I am. I mean, I guess I am. Is 34 young?”

“For the deputy chief of staff for the White House?” Matt asks, eyebrows raised. “Yes! Are you serious?”

“Well, then.”

“You’re my age.”

“And?”

“You’re very successful.”

“I got lucky," Foggy says, with a shrug. "I was in the right place at the right time. That’s all.”

“Yes, because being in the right place at the right time is something to scoff at in our line of work,” Matt says, looking unimpressed. “And definitely completely negates the fact of you being good at your job.”

“I don’t know if I’d call that a fact, per se…”

“I’ll settle for it being my professional opinion, then, and people generally pay me good money for that kind of thing.”

“Well, I left my checkbook at home, unfortunately,” Foggy quips, and is rewarded with a sharp, almost shark-like smile from Matt. “All I can offer you is my gratitude. I mean, unless—?”

“Yes?” Matt asks, when he doesn’t immediately finish his thought.

“Well, you probably have to catch a flight or a train or something soon, right?”

He nods, brow furrowed. “Yeah, my train is out of Union Station at 1:30. Why?”

“Nothing, I—I’m sure you’ve got to—and I should, probably—”

“You should probably just say whatever it was you were initially going to ask me,” Matt says, head tipped, once again, with interest.

“Right,” Foggy laughs. This is so, so stupid. “I was going to say, if you had time, I could buy you a cup of coffee, to complete my apology for yesterday and to chip away at your consulting fee.”

Matt visibly hesitates, which, of course he does. Foggy made the world’s worst first impression and insulted him yesterday. He apologized for that, sure, but Matt’s still probably not pleased about the DNC’s decision and this wasted trip to D.C. to talk about it. One pleasant conversation doesn’t make them friends or anything. 

“That's not necessary," he eventually replies, though not with a great deal of conviction, which is strange. With anyone else, Foggy would assume they wanted him to insist, but somehow he has trouble imagining that's the case here. "I'm sure you'd like to get back to your Sunday plans."

"My Sunday plans are this conversation and going into the office to debate the finer points of the death penalty. You have a pretty low opinion of yourself if you think your company ranks lower than that."

Matt seems to relax at that, oddly enough. “So," he says, with a self-deprecating smile, "this is probably the part where I should admit to an unhealthy amount of curiosity about where you’re at with the Cruz case.”

Of all the things he expected Matt to say, that certainly had not occurred to him, which means he blinks in surprise for what turns out to be a little too long.

“Sorry,” Matt says, mistaking Foggy’s pause for something it isn’t and wincing in apparent embarrassment, “I heard about it on the news. The Supreme Court’s decision, I mean, and I’ve been following the case for a while. When Marci mentioned it yesterday—I shouldn’t have said anything, but—”

“No, not at all,” Foggy says, hurriedly. “I’d honestly love to get your opinion.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I mean, you just admitted to following the case, and you’re a lawyer by training, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“Right, so that, and you know the political landscape we’re situated in at the moment as well as anyone, running this campaign, dealing with the DNC. Even if you want to give me your opinion as a Catholic, I’ll take it. It’s…we’re basically taking all bets, at the moment, if that’s not insulting to admit.”

Matt laughs lightly. “Not insulting. I think on average there was a majority of flattering sentiments in there.”

“Good,” Foggy says, sighing in relief. “That’s how it was intended.”

“I take it the President hasn’t made a decision on whether to stay the execution or not?”

“No, that’s why I’m heading into the office on a Sunday. We’re all trying to figure out our options.”

“Well, I have thoughts.”

Foggy laughs this time. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“I will, however, defer to you on the subject of where to get coffee in this neighborhood,” Matt says.

“Oh, right. Well, actually, if we cross up here—”

Foggy steps forward to gesture in the direction he means before he remembers that it won’t do much good. At the same moment, Matt steps forward too, towards Foggy, and holds out a hand in what looks like a conciliatory gesture. Foggy pauses, waiting to hear his objection or question, and not thinking too hard about how close they are now.

“Could I—that is, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, as we walk, could I hold onto your arm?” Matt asks, and he doesn’t sound embarrassed so much as tired. Foggy gets the sense that he doesn’t like asking for help or relying on people very much. “It makes navigating the sidewalks and everything easier. If not—”

“That’s fine,” Foggy interrupts, feeling only slightly bad that he’s this eager to comply. He’s mostly doing it to be nice, but there is a small part of him that’s excited because a cute guy will be touching him, which feels sort of bad. “I mean, I’m happy to—”

“Thanks,” Matt replies with just a small quirk of his mouth. If he’s noticed Foggy’s eagerness, he’s not calling it out, which is kind of him.

“Do you…know where my arm is?” Foggy asks, like a moron, making Matt laugh.

“It’s, well, it’s in this general vicinity, right?” Matt’s middle finger ends up jabbing into Foggy’s stomach, which is ideal, of course. Now Matt knows he doesn’t have abs of steel, a thing he was definitely going to pretend to have until directly contradicted. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Foggy says, and just grabs Matt’s hand to get it over with. It’s not important or monumental in any way—they shook hands yesterday, so it’s not even the first time they’ve touched—but his pulse starts to race nonetheless. He places Matt’s hand on the crook of his elbow as quickly as he can without making it weird. Except that now he’s trying to remember the last time he held hands with someone and upon consideration, he thinks it’s been a while, which makes him sad to think about. 

“That’s my elbow,” he says, stupidly, because anything else he could say at this moment would somehow be more embarrassing, which is impressive.

Matt laughs, just a little huff of amusement, but his eyes crinkle adorably again and that’s good enough. “I figured that out,” he says. “Thank you, though.”

“Right. Um, so as I was saying, if we cross the street here, I know a place only a few blocks away. Hopefully, it won’t be too busy on a Sunday morning for us to get a table.”

“Okay,” Matt says, nodding. “I’ll follow your lead.”

“Great,” Foggy says, but doesn’t move. He stands there awkwardly for a moment, not sure where this temporary immobility is coming from. “I, uh, I’ve never done this before.

“Gotten coffee?”

“No, uh, that I’ve done, actually, if you can believe it," Foggy says, with a laugh. "I’ve never led someone before? I just don’t want to make you trip or anything.”

“It’s just an extra precaution,” Matt explains, calmly. This is probably something he explains a lot, Foggy realizes with some amount of shame. “I can get around fine on my own, but especially someplace new, this helps.”

“Should I point out obstacles or something? Does that help at all?”

“You’re taking this very seriously,” Matt says with a smile that might be at his expense. In which case, Foggy thinks, it is fully worth it. It’s a good smile.

“Yeah, sorry, I just—”

“You can point things out, that’s fine, but I trust you won’t lead me into any open manholes or anything like that.”

“That’s a lot of trust, man,” Foggy says, and Matt laughs. “I mean, you’re talking to someone who loves some Looney Tunes shenanigans.”

“Well, then I guess if someone paints a wall to look like a train tunnel, we’re both in a lot of trouble.”

“I’ll try to be strong,” Foggy says, “and vigilant.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Foggy realizes this is probably the moment they need to actually start walking, otherwise they’re just two guys who have linked arms outside of a church. He moves hesitantly in the direction of the crosswalk, tugging Matt gently along with him, and it doesn’t feel anywhere near as awkward as he was expecting. It just feels nice.

“You see?” Matt asks, leaning against his arm. “It’s just like walking with a person!”

Foggy digs his elbow into Matt’s side in retaliation, which just makes him ping-pong away from him before bouncing back, already laughing. “Have all the fun you want,” Foggy says. “Just remember, your life is in my hands.”

“And how very capable they are,” Matt says, mildly, still grinning. 

Foggy feels himself blush and he’s very thankful at this moment that Matt probably can’t tell. It’s the only advantage he has in this situation. Naturally, of course, he decides to cancel out that advantage immediately by saying something stupid.

“By the way, this is what I normally smell like,” he says, as they wait for the walk signal.

Matt raises his eyebrows at him. “Oh?” he says, while giving nothing away, like a total bastard.

“There’s a lot of good reasons not to take a meeting straight off of a fifteen hour flight, it turns out,” Foggy says, trying not to die of embarrassment. Maybe Matt hadn’t noticed. He thought he’d just been too polite to say anything. “I want it on the record that I, you know, shower regularly and wear deodorant and everything.”

“Noted,” Matt says with another cryptic smile. He might even inhale a little bit deeper, though Foggy might be imagining that. 

“Fine, I might even smell a little better than normal. But that’s all you’ll get out of me!”

So what if he had put on cologne that he usually forgets to wear? It was a drop if it was anything. And he only did it because of what a clusterfuck yesterday had been. He’d felt he had something to prove to Matt after that conversation went so poorly. 

Matt, of course, seems to be enjoying himself immensely. “I’m impressed,” he says, as they cross the street. “If you’re willing to go to these lengths for the likes of me, I can only imagine what you’d do for someone important.”

He doesn’t mean it like that, Foggy reasons. It wasn’t intended to make him sound like, well, a bit of a whore, but it lands like that, for whatever reason. Like he’d been strategically deployed by his superiors to smooth things over, to butter Matt up to avoid burning a bridge they might want to cross someday. But, as much as he’d love to slather him in butter right now, that is not the case and, unfortunately, it’s also not a way that Foggy’s allowed to think about this person.

“You’re important,” he says, after a moment’s pause. “We’re fucking democrats, Matt. Our whole thing is that we think everyone is important, right? And, even if you somehow weren’t, I’d still be here. Even if no one asked me to be.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Of course not,” Foggy says, more breezily than he feels. “But my point still stands. I know all this stuff with the DNC is discouraging, but don’t let it sour you on all this. You could very well be the future of the party.”

Matt laughs, nervously. “I don’t know about that.”

Foggy shrugs, which he trusts Matt can feel. “I’ve been told I have good instincts for this kind of thing.”

“Now that I can believe,” Matt says.

When Foggy turns to look at him, he finds Matt already regarding him with interest. He thinks again of his conviction from earlier that this is no irrelevant run-of-the-mill meeting—one of dozens he'll take this week, and hundreds he'll take this year—but rather the beginning of something important. He feels certain that this won't be the last he sees of Matt Murdock and wonders if the same thing is going through Matt's mind too as they walk together. If he's willing to be honest with himself, he can admit that's not just something he suspects will be true; it's something he hopes will be true too.

🏳️‍🌈 💖

#i don't enjoy formatting fic for tumblr but it's part of the posting process for me #in case some people prefer to read here #anyway please enjoy and happy pride to whatever these two got going on #daredevil #foggy nelson #matt murdock #karen page #matt x foggy #mattfoggy #ship names remain my mortal enemy when it comes to tagging #whatever yall call it...it's them....the BOYS #the west wing au #this is my first non-prompt fill fic in literally so long i've forgotten how i format this stuff normally #homelywenchsociety #that’s my writing tag! don’t worry about it! #series: a more perfect union

[maybebecomingms]

a dangerous existence

January 3rd, 2024

"I saw her and I said to myself, 'she's a loaded gun.' Tempting, but can destroy your whole life in a second."

He wasn't talking about a seductive woman approaching him at the bar (though they tell stories like that, too). He was talking about a young college student running near campus. They didn't interact. He was driving.

He also wasn't someone I knew well to be talking so openly about his urges and threats to his marriage. He and his wife were the small group leaders, and it was my first or second visit to their home to check it out.

I was 23 at the time - not too far removed from college myself - and had somehow just lost 40 pounds. If there was ever a time in my life when I was "hot," it was then.

Is this directed at me? Am I the loaded gun? Does this mean I should stop coming here?

I didn't flirt with him. I didn't have bad intentions. I just wanted to get to know some new people. I don't think I kept going to the group for long, but I did hit it off really well with his wife - in fact, I still do. I would still go to their house regularly for our "book club" of two and hope I didn't see him. I always felt dirty and guilty after that.

But this type of thing didn't throw me off enough to walk away, because I'd heard it so many times before. Men were always telling stories like this from the pulpit - having to avert their gaze and avoid attractive women to protect their wives and families. Sometimes, their stories were about loose and wild women throwing themselves at them, seemingly not caring that they were married. Other times, the story was about refusing to acknowledge an attractive woman even when she was being completely respectful, because you never knew when she'd turn on you and lie to your wife about you behaving badly.

It definitely always struck me as odd, though. I've encountered attractive men while in a committed relationship plenty of times and... it was not life changing? I've never felt powerless against an overwhelming urge to blow up my entire life because a good-looking man exists and I saw him. I wouldn't even say I felt that way after talking to one.

But we were told that women and men were fundamentally different, and I never thought much about it til now, really. That kind of messaging really fucks with you as you're entering adulthood within a feminine form. If I go for a run and you see me out in the world running, I'm an imminent threat to your wife and family? And I don't even KNOW you? That's a huge and impossible responsibility, not to mention a massive threat to my safety.

Several years ago, I befriended a colleague I worked with frequently. We're still friends, though we don't interact through work anymore. One year, he invited me to his beautiful, sprawling home in the country around Christmastime. He and his husband go all out, with multiple decorated trees and carefully arranged lights inside and out. They wanted to show off their efforts. We had the best time drinking wine and laughing. We hugged and said "I love you" when it was time for me to go home.

For many years, I could not figure this out. Why would gay men want to spend time with me? They're obviously not sexually attracted to me, so what could I possibly have to offer? Because of the messaging I got from the church about how simultaneously vulnerable and out of control men are, I really thought that I had no value whatsoever beyond being sexualized. Isn't that sad?

For how much churches claim to promote sexual purity, they sure do know how to make you feel dirty and disgusting for merely existing.

#exvangelical #ex christian #spiritual abuse #purity culture #misogny

[pansexual-opera-house]

Kinda upset at Transformers: Rise of the Beasts... Spoilers Ahead, be warned. (Edited bc I'm dumb and forgot the mid-credits scene.)

Firstly, we got very little "beast" action compared to the Autobots. They were there and cool as hell, but we didn't see much of them in their other forms, or fighting, they just helped the plot along. It sucks because they had so much potential, yet we got "they're animals but ooh here look at Optimus, he's got explosions!"

Secondly, I spotted WAY too many Transformers: Prime "references". The giant spire that summoned unicron looked nearly IDENTICAL to Darkmount, the spire that Megatron erected in TFP. It was way too much to be "inspired by" to me. Also, Bee dying trying to save Prime and being brought back by some mystic energy which nobody knew was possible is another thing. (I'm less picky about that on its own but added onto the other things, it was too obvious to not call out.) There were a few more I can't remember, but I knew about halfway through the movie how it was gonna end not because it follows a timeline or was from Micheal Bay, but because it was a mix of both Transformers Prime movies.

The main human character, Noah, wears a fucking CORPSE, which just made me unsettled. Mirage dies giving Noah a suit made from himself. I thought maybe Noah would find a way to bring back Mirage or Mirage's spark would still be alive considering the suit HAS POWER. It still fires the guns and has a jetpack! It was even able to come off easy! I understand Mirage wasn't in the next chronological movie in the timeline, but that felt really cheap and just disgusting to watch. He literally was walking inside a corpse, and when I saw him pat the suit at the end, both I and the people I went to looked at each other in what I can only call shock.

Edit: I was wrong, Mirage wasn't dead, he was alive and I forgot about it. I'm gonna keep that part in because

1. It isn't revealed Mirage isn't dead until the mid credits scene so for a hot minute i was still really weirded out. And 2.I'm bitch enough to admit I was factually incorrect.

He was still wearing a fuckin' coma patient! (Though that's a little better than a corpse.)

The first time Optimus Prime fights Scourge, he gets his ass handed to him. I mean, he gets his ass beat so bad he can't even get up to save Bee. Then in the last fight sequence, he beats Scourge nearly flawlessly. I understand that he was injured because of Noah and Mirage and they both did some damage before Prime got there, but if I told a master of Tai Chi to only use one leg to stand on and let me punch him a few times but to still fuck me up, after I'd hit him, I'd STILL be on the ground in four seconds flat. And Scourge was still able to use his foot (although limited), so there's no excuse other than "plot convenience" and less-than-okay writing. It was messy and felt weak.

And the last twist, the G.I. Joe inclusion... I understand that maybe it was an answer to the question "Where do all the people go after the Autobots don't need them or they move on?" It's not my thing, but it's a nicer explanation than "They go on with life." But if they try to bring G.I.Joe and Transformers together, good luck. I'm into crossovers but that's a lot, and I don't know how much I'd be up to watch that. Maybe I'm in the minority (because the person I went with immediately looked at me with a gaping jaw excited as all hell) but that's gonna be hard to pull off. And given the past few movies, I'm not sure how well that's going to work out.

That being said, I liked a few things.

They make Wheeljack a Hispanic Nerd, which was a nice change compared to the "Rooty Tooty Aim and Shooty Badmouths" that we get a lot of in Tranformers. He was witty and a nerd and a damn "hippie van" and was just overall really cute.

Acree was a strong, independent femme bot who don't need no man. Not trying to point out "feminism shit" to make people mad, just trying to say usually Arcee is pictured with Optimus or some other mech, and she held not only her own, but Wheeljack's as well without seeming aggressive or spiteful about it. She just seemed like a bot who was bright pink, which I enjoyed.

In all, I give the movie a solid "Don't ever do that shit again" 5.5/10. Writing this I've changed my rating from 5 to 6 about four times so that's why it's got a .5.

#transformers #transformers rise of the beasts #tf rotb #optimus prime #mirage #arcee #bumblebee #bee #wheeljack #the opera rates #the opera writes #not impressed AT ALL #mostly dissapointed at all the TFP ripoffs