#hawkeye’s trying to fuck the priest again

[caffiene-fueled-fuckery]

psst hi as a newcomer to mashblr i've been stalking your blog and i just!! love your vibes!!

as one em to another, here's some questions for the mash ask game✨

3, 13, and 19 if you'd like!!

anyways, thanks for being just!! cool!!!

Omg hi!! Welcome :) I’m still fairly new myself, I only started mashposting back in like… June? So I’m pretty fresh as well compared to some of the veterans around here haha. But anyway I’m so so happy that you like my blog and the vibes, though it does make me curious what caught your attention lol. I’m pretty chaotic and have posted a variety of things so it just made me wonder is all lol.

Here’s the answers to your ask!

3. Okay there’s a few continuity errors that bug me, but the one that frustrates me the most as a fic writer (specifically as someone who writes for Father Mulcahy a lot) is his name. Originally is John Patrick Mulcahy, then it’s Francis John, or John Francis, or whatever tf. By the end he goes by Francis and he says that’s what Kathy calls him… but he tells Gail to call him John. Some people he tells to call him John and others to call him Francis and it just makes no sense to me!! Writers please explain 😭

Another one that bugs me is Henry straight up forgetting he has a son at some point, but people forgetting about family members is a whole other issue. I could talk about that forever.

13. In the earlier seasons I loved Henry and Radar’s dynamic. Anything with Radar being psychic always made me laugh. But I also really loved whenever Hawkeye and Trapper/BJ see Frank and they just say “hi Frank” and he normally has some stupid response it just makes me giggle. BJs name is a good one, too.

In the fandom specifically, the running gag of “oh no, Hawkeye is flirting with the priest again” always gets me. It’s just too funny.

19. Okay this is so predictable of me I’m so sorry but Kathy Mulcahy. I Just… I have so many headcanons about this woman, my God. She and Mulcahy seem to have a good relationship and it’s the only positive familial relationship we hear him talk about ever, plus she just seems so cool!!

I’d also love to see Peg and especially baby Erin.

Thank you so much for the ask!! Sorry I rambled so much 😅 I just have so many thoughts and not many people to share them with haha. Again welcome to Mashblr, I look forward to seeing you on my dash!! :)

[t00thpasteface]

How do you like the mash movie?

I saw the series first, my dad is a fan and we used to watch it together, and was surprised at its more serious tone. Frank Burns also struck me as also a pathetic idiot but in such a different way and also has these evil vibes. Because of you I discovered the books, got them, and im having even more shocks!

i fucking LOVED IT. i was absolutely HOWLING the entire time. my favorite bits were:

the opening where you see the dangling arms of the bodies in the choppers??? oh my god. i was like GASP. the insane blood and gore was awesome and really drove home how petty and wacky everyone's being

hawkeye's stupid tinted glasses and bucket hat <3 sooo 70s.

mulcahy getting immediately ignored the second he's introduced. mulcahy basically acting like a frightened mouse in every scene he has. he is so sad. he's really not cut out for this

frank being introduced as an aggressive bible thumper (very funny contrast to the likeable and shy priest) so him cheating on his wife with margaret, who is also married, is even funnier

radar(!!) being the one who puts the mic under frank and margaret's bed

mulcahy hearing them bang, leaning in bc he thinks it's a radio program he enjoys, and going D: when he Realizes

suicide is painless. holy shit. did you know a 14 y/o wrote the lyrics? his dad said "i needed the lyrics to be extremely stupid, and 14 year old boys are masters of stupidity." mom just learned that and has been telling all her 50-60 y/o friends. also both versions in the movie are sung beautifully (and thus hilariously)

the unbelievable fruitiness of hawkeye and trapper at all points but especially in the golf related scenes

trapper spawning the olives out of nowhere. player.placeatme olivejar 1

bring me the sultry bitch with the fire in her eyes! (dramatic zoom)

RADAR STEALING HENRY'S BLOOD??

hawkeye's entire interaction with painless just SCREAMING "chaotic bisexual who's been out the longest of anyone in the friendgroup and will forcefully yank you out of the closet the second you start questioning"

racists do not get dignified with a response. racists get shoved out of their chair

DON'T LET HIM KISS YOU HAWKEYE!

frank getting carted away in a straitjacket and never seen again

margaret hating the idea of football until the general wants it and suddenly she's a cheerleader with pigtails bc she's completely spineless. god she's so evil in this i LOVE horrible evil women. full agency at being the worst person ever <333 i support women's wrongs and i love watching chicks who are just slow-motion car crashes

"i was thinking we should have some plays, cause yknow, football teams always have plays" "actually i took the liberty of drawing about seven or eight plays for us to try ^_^" "great! ...what do these arrows mean?"

MASH EM! SMASH EM! KILL, KILL, KILL!

OH MY GOD THEY SHOT HIM!!!

hawkeye suddenly not wanting to leave once he's actually able to 🥺

end credits being read over the loudspeaker like the other movie night announcements. so. cute.

okay sorry. good movie. i had fun and cried laughing ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H - Season 8, misc. notes

Welcome to March M*A*S*H-ness, the season in which I finish M*A*S*H

Here are some reduced notes from S8, I hadn’t forgotten! No approach this time, just whatever made the cut.

Oh you know actually there is a theme it's thighs???

— — —

Start of this season gotta be the collective skinniest this cast has ever been, babes what was going on in 1979! Mike Farrell has always been a sapling, but Loretta Swit seems to have gotten even tinier this year, Alan Alda rushed into a frame partly undressed looking markedly thinner than the last time I saw him, and when Gary Burghoff comes back?! Positively a shadow of himself!

The other notable thing is that their doctors coats are now fully "blush." [Elliott Gould voice] It’s fine by me.

I appreciate that we simply all dislike Zale

The slipshod “Previously On”s they do for the two-parters finally worth it for the implication that Hawkeye hurting his finger is going to be just as emotionally impactful as anything else going on.

Sitting Awards. And in the pink shirt.

The company clerk job going from Radar to Klinger is like a reverse Henry Blake to Sherman Potter, huh. I confess to being a little stressed.

Ohhh okay okay, I can see it, oh boy okay I can see how we pull this off: Klinger CAN be a good clerk, he just has to be a totally different kind: a renegade little rascal. Radar is like a London cabbie with the Knowledge: knows the entire map of the war and every rule and person in it. Klinger can be an improv artist, a con artist, schemes upon schemes. Oho, I would like this! Ed. note: hey I was pretty much on the money!

Okay don’t make me cry….. ah too late

Hoooooooooooo all of Hawkeye’s boyfriends simply have to kiss Radar and tell him to pass it along, huh. WHAT a way to reference when Trapper left…. !

Hey gang we’re still crying! :(

The most impactful way they could do this bit with BJ’s toddler thinking Radar was her dad is if it isn’t commented on again, we just have this wordless moment where he’s so visibly stricken by the fact that his child doesn’t know who he is.

Ah never mind, it’s the whole episode.

Y’know, when drunk BJ smashed up the still and hit Hawkeye, I thought well this is a lot to deal with, but it’s him later sobbing to him, quote: “I’m so torn up with envy I almost hate him! And I feel the same way about Trapper, and I never even met him. But he built that still with you, and…” that had me staring wild-eyed, repeating a strangled “Pause pause pause pausepause” while my hands search blind & desperate for the remote to give me a fucking MOment---

Just, the DARK GALAXY BRAIN, M*A*S*H, to go hey, how about BJ got violent because he’s jealous of your ex

...God the absolute nuclear event this episode would have caused if it aired during the Internet….we all would have aged 10 years.

“Well what else am I good at? Being a malcontent? Silliness? Booze?” The three Graces.

“Colonel, you wanted to see us?” “Not really, but it’s the only way I can talk to you.” Hahaha, Potter like, I’ve seen enough.

Whoa! Transition alert! I don’t even know how to describe this, it was like an in-camera PowerPoint wipe? Jaunty!

BJ grabbing his hands to get him to stop doing CPR, and Hawkeye just letting him hold them while he gets his own breath back. See, and now you do this…and I just…..!

Ah, I know exactly what you mean, Father. Hawkeye would ‘make a fine priest’ in the sense that he could write a good sermon. And he could write a good sermon in the sense that Danny Boyle, M. Night Shyamalan, Martin Scorsese—they were all on their way to seminary school before veering off into filmmaking. Because: they liked the storytelling. They liked getting at meaning, at feeling, through words delivered a certain way. Commanding an audience, and trying to get them to understand. Who does this apply to most in camp?

Line delivery of the episode once again goes to David Ogden Stiers, for “What is your name?”

I want to be playing poker in the sunshine with Klinger, Hawkeye, BJ, and Margaret with her sleeves pushed up her shoulders.

The way Klinger comfortingly trilled a little “Brrrr” to freezing Hawkeye as he pulls a blanket around his shoulders has gone right to the cockles of my heart. You sweet weirdo I love you!

INCREDIBLY dynamic of them to take five minutes from us for the commercial break, I yelped

Oh, SOLID Potter impression, Jamie Farr!

I like whenever they make grim jokes about this being a “police action,” not a war. Can you believe we were doing this shit all the way back in the ‘50s…. Potter, in his lil lilting gravely grandpa voice: “Believe me, boys and girls: this is a war.”

Father Mulcahy’s sad war song: it moved this reporter

Big ups to Kellye teasing Hawkeye behind the bar at Rosie’s in the most gender way possible

“Hawkeye, you’re really cute, and probably a wonderful dancer—” thanks, Scully

What does PDQ mean, Potter

Hawkeye is spelling “theremin” in Scrabble

With Radar leaving, Charles has probably taken the mantle of funniest character on this show per minute. He kills me. <3 His silly presh baby chatter, then segueing into “I talked to everyone in camp, which, by the way is a first for me—”

To everyone else they’re Class A’s, to Pierce they’re “Sunday go-to-court-martial clothes”

Uuuugh the loosened ties and unbuttoned cuffs of an off-duty Class A….

Are they using the Officer’s Club a lot more this season, or is this just me

Image set idea: every group shot where Hawkeye is half horizontal on some surface half asleep

Loretta Swit wins first actor on this show to feel for an elevated temperature correctly: back of the hand

Sometimes I wanna get at Alan Alda with Glossier ‘Boy Brow’ and just see what happens. I mean by all rights this man should have eyebrows

Wait, it’s MAXWELL Klinger. Maxwell Q! Quentin? Quincy? Quinn??

I like night in the camp when everything is quiet

Kind of appreciate that by this point putting Captain Pierce in charge is just routine. It’s only the third time but Potter’s like, it’ll be the charm. And then he’s right, it’s entirely uneventful.

I know I’ve cried at the last two episodes in a row and yet already can’t remember much of them. Truly this season is so odd.

The return of Alan Alda’s actual dad, and the emergence of Loretta Swit’s BIG HAIR. A lot to take in in one episode.

Oh and naturally EVERYONE’S FREEZING, ALANNN

That was his bROTHER????!?! Other Alda????!!

I mean we really need to bring the drag back because so far Klinger’s whole experience as the new company clerk has been essentially “god forbid women do anything”

At least Sidney’s here :)

I’m already so into the COLD & DREAMS episode and we haven’t even hit the DREAMS

AH HERE ARE THE DREAMS

Oh Klinger that’s brilliant. Warm up the blood against the bodies it wants to be back in.

The sense of spatial arrangement and time and perspective all so mutable…it’s really, really good. Most cinematic dreams are fantastical but overall too sequential—this nails that “and now this is happening” quality.

The bit where as Father Mulcahy nods off this soldier's words become nonsense?? So neat and so effectively rendered!!! Huge commendations to this actor’s seamless transition, god I loved the sensation of watching this.

Ohhhh this is not what I though Hawkeye’s nightmare would be like, and ho-ly shit

Very rare that you actually see someone in the real life swallow convulsively—5 narrative fiction points to Alan. No you know what: 7

Smitten with her deep voice. I have as the kids say, a crush.

“This is BJ, the doctor that put you back together, and this is Hawkeye, who uh, seems to be falling apart.” She’s so clever and so fun, hell yeah Mike.

WAIT “LET ME SHOW YOU MY ETCHINGS” HAS BEEN A JOKE SINCE AT LEAST 1980?? What is this from!!!!! I thought my theatrical design friends made this up in 2009!! Update: WOW! We’ve just all been making this same inside joke no one knows the origin of for over 100 years!!

I know I’ve had two hot toddies but all I want is to spend the night with Margaret and Aggie and just talk into the night while lotioning our arms, maybe flirt a little, who knows

Charles: “Klinger, as the poets would say: [lowers three inches] hubba hubba.” This episode is the most fun I’ve had all season.

Huh. Oh huh. It’s Hawkeye’s comment about how the war threw Aggie and Scottie together and now they care about each other, that cracks it for BJ. Now he can pin his feelings on the war. You gave him an out—both a way to reframe it and a tool to end it. I half-think you knew what you were doing, too.

“Everyone knows the civilian M.D.s pack away the dineros.” Excuse me?? Is ‘De Niro’ a homonym for money?? Is his name Bobby Money???? Update: Spanish for an old Roman coin. Incredible.

Just started chanting “Math! Math! Math!” through a mouthful of cake. Okay, average of 7 bowel resections a week, for 546 total = 78 weeks. Hawkeye has been there 1 and a half years. In Season 5, it was already 2 years. This has been: the Jeremy Bearimy Corner.

Potter: “Pierce, you’re like an unbroken colt, and all I can do is give you reign until you wear yourself out.” Help that’s astute.

Okay I still need to figure out what PDQ means, Sherm….. Oh hey it means “as quickly as possible,” but why...? PRETTY DAMNED QUICK ! Fuck this is going in my vocab immediately.

BJ grinning to himself at learning Hawkeye has squirreled a Jeep away somewhere as part of his “payment,” and receiving a warm conspiratorial grin in return, then later slyly stealing another Jeep for him—this is what I love.

Aaah yay they’re doing it again! Charles was eventually proven to be wrong and immediately starts apologizing and complimenting them and shaking their hands. This is very consistent!

Whaaaat we never shoot the tent from this angle??

Whaaahahahahaat is THIS ANGLE ALSO

Get your camera out from between his legs, this man is a father!!

Oh and in closing, the numbers on this season: - 3 episodes written & directed by Alan Alda - 2 episodes where they’re all so cold - Venn diagram is a completely contained circle

In the third one he wrote & directed Hawkeye still ends up under a blanket being doused in ice, and another he just directed someone else's script—and put everyone in jackets and turtlenecks. I still don’t know what this means, but by god it sure is important. To me.

— — —

Season Viewguides

These

[mash-rated]

S11E16 "Goodbye, Farewell and Amen”

Synopsis: Sidney helps Hawkeye work through some trauma at an institution in order to send him back to the 4077th in time for the end of the war, meanwhile BJ gets orders to go home that are later rescinded and Klinger realizes he’s too in love with Soon-Lee to let her go looking for her parents alone

Rating:

Jokes: 5/5

Seriousness: 4/5

Plot: 4/5

Queer subtext: 5/5

Margaret's characterization: 5/5

My thoughts: there are way too many things that I want to say about this “episode” (which is really a movie), so I’ll be putting my real-time (aka unedited) reactions under a read more if anyone is interested. But suffice it to say that this is the best sendoff M*A*S*H could have even if it leaves us still wanting more. I suppose I’ll have to track down After M*A*S*H now, though I’ve heard it’s not as good

I love how you can tell everyone loves Hawkeye so much even though this phonecall is painful to listen to

A peace talks announcement this early in this episode is clearly a fakeout

Klinger is so adorable when he's in love

I forgot about Charles' musician friends!

Where did BJ get the motorcycle? Is it the one that the reporter broke? The story is unclear

Poor Sydney looks equally as tired as Hawkeye

Oh boy here we go

Wait, not there quite yet

BJ, honey, you're not going home yet

Father Mulcahy my beloved

I forgot that he damaged his hearing doing something heroic

Chickens… oh no. Now here we go

Why do they keep cutting away from Hawkeye? 

Oh yeah I forgot BJ visits Hawkeye

He can't tell him he's going home...

Wait did Hawkeye just reference the movie where gaslighting gets its name from? 

"There might be something we wanted to say to each other before we left" 😭😭😭

Oh fuck the chicken is back

This scene breaks me every time

Damn they sent Hawkeye back to work way too quickly

(And Sydney's explanation is BS)

"I've gotta leave a note for Hawkeye" 😭😭😭😭😭

Oh Charles just admit you care about BJ

Colonel Potter you wily, sentimental bastard

Is Charles actually trained in conducting or is he just a pretentious ass? 

Why are they dragging up old arguments between Charles and Margaret? 

Oh god oh fuck Hawkeye just found out BJ left him the same way Trapper did

There goes Klinger again, having one of the biggest character arcs in the entire show

Colonel Potter trying to explain to Sophie that he cant take her home is absolutely devastating

Oh shit yeah the wild fire, I forgot that's why they bug out

It's scenes like the bug out when I realize how much of the camp we never see

BJ MY BELOVED

Boys, kiss and make up already, the bitterness is killing me

Klinger and Soon-Lee really are a beautiful femme for femme couple (not my joke but it bears repeating) 

Is that Margaret in a Hawaiian shirt? My gay heart can't take it

Oh Hawkeye...the reminder that BJ has a domestic life to go back to must be part of his fear of kids 

The war is over! You know, the 3 year war that lasted 11 years

But it's not over for the doctors or the wounded

The return to the burned out camp is so sad

Sydney helping out in OR warms my heart though

"There's nothing here I'm gonna miss... except you" FELLAS

Oh fuck one of Charles' musician friends

Scratch that, all of his musician friends

"What good is a deaf priest?...Are you [god] deaf too?" Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

And there it is, the ceasefire is official. But again, the doctors' work goes on for awhile longer

Nurse Kellye my beloved

Hawkeye indirectly calling Portland a big city is the most Maine thing I've ever heard and also hilarious

KLINGER YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN

I love how he went from trying anything and everything to get out of Korea to staying after everyone else goes home

Why are Colonel Potter's goodbyes always the hardest to watch? 

I hate goodbyes so much and there's so many to sit through

The Hawkeye/Margaret kiss is comphet in action and they deserved a much better scene since they've been through so much together

Babes this doesn't have to be the end for you

Hawkeye that's gay

BJ that's even gayer

But damn, he did leave a note

[crashdevlin]

Succubus 1- Caught

Succubus Masterlist

Author’s Note:  Posted to Ao3 (this is an edited and improved version) and was once posted here when I was a much smaller blog…and I got some shit for the content. So heed the warnings!

Summary: When Y/n goes looking for something in Stark Tower, she finds more than she bargained for.

Pairing(s): Tony Stark x Reader, Clint Barton x Reader 

Word count: 4556

Story Warnings:  18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, unprotected sex, cheating, sex-pollen-esque powers, mutant reader, noncon, forced cheating, oral (fem rec), mentions of noncon of an underage girl by men in power (teachers, policemen, doctors, priests)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walk past the line and straight up to the bouncer, who takes one look at your tiny tight-fitting dress and stripper-high platform heels and lets you in without a word. You don't even have to use your mutant ability on him. Oh, this night is going to be cake. You snake your way through the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, careful to not use your power on any of the people in the crowd. The passion and lust rolling off of them as they bump and grind against each other is delicious but you don't have time to stop for a snack. You're on a mission and you're here for a meal.

You walk up to the VIP room and smile at the tall, broad-chested man standing at the doorway. He stops you, putting a hand on your bare shoulder. Mistake. "Sorry, ma'am. Mr. Stark requested...privacy." He trails off a bit at the end as your power starts its work on him and his eyes dilate more than the dark of the club requires.

"Oh, I know he's a busy man, but...I'm such a huge fan. The man saved the whole city. He's my hero." You place your hand over his and lean over next to his ear as the bodyguard's breathing grows heavy. "I just really want to show my appreciation."

His fingers fumble with the velvet rope as he lets you into the VIP room, where Tony Stark sits, alone. "Hey, Hap, who's this?" he asks, setting his glass of whiskey on the glass table in front of him.

"I, uh, didn't catch her name." You smile at the man and he flushes deep red before leaving to man the door again.

You sit down next to the billionaire and stare up at him with admiration. "Mr. Stark. I'm a huge fan. My name's Aphrodite." You offer your hand and he takes it. His eyes dilate immediately and he takes a deep breath. His desire is immediate, strong and delicious. You are gonna eat well tonight.

The hand that shook yours moves to your bare knee. He's doing your work for you. "'Aphrodite, huh?"

His desire grows as the skin contact stretches out, the seconds ticking by. "Yeah, my parents were huge Greek mythology nerds," you lie. It's a code name: self-imposed but ever so fitting.

His hand slips up to your thigh. "Well, it suits you; 'cause you are the sexiest thing I've ever seen, and I work with a woman who uses sex as a weapon."

You take a steadying breath. Damn, his passion is potent. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Call me 'Tony'. Seriously, though, this dress leaves nothing to the imagination and I can't stop imagining it in a puddle on my floor." His hand reaches the hem of the dress and his fingers push under the tight silver material, pushing it up to your hip as his hand finds what it is searching for.

You moan and swallow thickly as his fingers trace your lips through your lace thong panties. "I heard you were a forward man, Tony, but I never imagined..." You moan as he moves the lace barrier aside and sinks his middle finger into you, down to the knuckle. It's over. Nothing can stop it, now. He begins fucking you with his expert fingers, using the heel of his palm to rub against your clit. It's always nice when they know what they're doing and goddamn if Tony Stark isn't a damn pro. You reach over and rub his erection through his designer jeans, your fingers tracing his hardness through the thick denim. Oh, this is going to be a treat. No wonder the man's so damn cocky.

"You ever been fucked by a billionaire?" he whispers in your ear, before leaning down to lick at your neck.

"I get the feeling I'm about to," you whisper through your moans as he adds a second finger and picks up the speed.

"Yeah, we're gonna mark that off your bucket list," he grunts, going to undo his pants. You put your hand on his to stop him.

"Not here. I wanna see the top of the city. Take me to the Tower?" you beg, breathlessly.

He growled, low in his chest. "I've always wanted to fuck someone on the balcony. Pepper has never gone for it. You game, Goddess?" 

"Oh, hell yeah." You bite your lip as he pulls his hand away.

"Let's go. Hap, grab the car!" he shouts, pulling you up and giving you a minute to fix your dress before pulling you out of the VIP. The look on Happy Hogan's face, when Tony opens the car door and pushes you in before taking the wheel from the bodyguard and speeding away from him, is pure judgement. His desire has worn thin and now, he's judging Tony for acting on it. He must be friends with Ms. Potts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony has your dress and thong bunched at your feet before you've even stepped off the elevator. You step gracefully out of the shimmery and lacey materials and he guides you backward, his mouth attached to your neck. You should've been a dancer; the way you move backwards and in high heels. You grab Tony's jacket and push it down his arms. He drops it somewhere between the elevator and the wet bar. "Are we alone?" you ask, trying to look around but finding it difficult with Tony's persistent pushing and grabbing at you.

He grunts. "Avengers hiatus. Pepper's in Malibu. Just us."

You smile. "Perfect." You break away from him and grab at the waistband of his jeans, popping the button and pulling them and his red silk boxers down as he kicks his shoes off. He pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his pants as you bend down in front of him. You grasp him at the base of his cock, your fingers nestling nicely in his well-groomed pubes, and guide him into your mouth. His hands grasp at your hair as you begin to bob your head up and down his length, your tongue swirling around the head and flicking at the frenulum. He pulls you up by your hair and shoves his tongue in your mouth, smashing his lips into yours.

"I have to have you. Now." He pushes you toward the balcony and you stumble a little on your heels before following him out onto the biggest balcony you've ever seen. He pushes you onto a chaise and is almost immediately between your legs, sucking your clit into his mouth and licking at it harshly. His beard rubs against your sensitive lips and adds something wonderful to the feeling.

"Fuck," you moan, one hand grabbing the armrest of the chaise and the other going into his hair.

"Yes." His desire is at its peak when he responds, pulling away and climbing up your body. There's no fanfare, no hesitation, as he spreads your legs further and enters you to the hilt with one thrust. You grab onto him as he starts to pound into you. He feels amazing, he tastes amazing, his desire almost more fulfilling than his dick. He pushes your knees up into your chest, never breaking his stride as he grabs each of your breasts and shifts his weight. You scream out as his new angle hits your g-spot with each swing of his hips. "Feel like a goddess, too. So...fuckin'...fuck," he grunts out.

He cums hard, breathing heavily. You can feel his dick twitch inside of you as he spills himself onto your inner walls. His hand goes to his head and he clenches his eyes in pain and then he passes out, slumping on top of you, soft dick still inside of you. You sigh and push him off of you. He crumples unceremoniously to the ground beside the chaise as you stretch your neck and shoulders. You look down at him. You were hoping he'd get you off before he went, but that was rare. It takes a special kind of man to hold himself back against your pheromones long enough to give you an orgasm and no Homo Sapien has managed it. Oh, well, his desire had been yummy.

You stand and walk inside, getting in the elevator and redressing yourself. You hum amelodically as you tap the button for the laboratory and the elevator doors close. You step off the elevator and dance around the lab until you come to a computer. You pull the earring off of your right ear and pull the cap off of a concealed USB drive. You plug it into the computer and no more than ten seconds pass before everything goes dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up in a sitting position, your head hanging. You can tell that you are restrained to a chair. You don't open your eyes, allowing yourself to gain as much information from your other senses before you let on that you're awake.

"I don't know, Barton. She said her name was 'Aphrodite', but if that's a codename, it's not in any of the databases that I have access to, which is all of them." Tony's voice is coming from your left. 'Barton', that's gotta be Clint Barton. Hawkeye.

"She doesn't look familiar...or particularly hot. Not hot enough to fuck around on Pepper, I mean."

"She hit me with some kind of whammy. I said this." Tony's voice is annoyed. Aww, poor billionaire philanthropist is feeling guilty.

"Well, what is she? Cat burglar, super spy?"

"I don't know. She fucked me up, then went up to the lab, but JARVIS saw her and sent a legionnaire to knock her out."

You can't help the giggle that escapes you as your eyes open. You're sitting in the middle of a small room, zip-tied to a chair, in front of Tony Stark (wearing his repulsor gloves but none of his other Iron Man accouterments) and Clint Barton, wearing civvies with a bow slung over his shoulder. Clint shakes his head in confusion. "You get caught red-handed stealing information from the Avengers and you giggle?"

You smile. "I'm sorry. Is that not the proper response to being caught? It's never happened to me before."

"What are you?" Tony asks as Clint asks, "Who are you?"

You just smile up at them. They'll know in a few minutes. Tony scoffs. "That's fine. I got a sample of your blood while you were out. I'll know both of those answers once the results run."

"I've never been caught before. You think my DNA is gonna be on file somewhere? Especially if my name's not written down anywhere."

"Master Stark, her temperature has risen by 7.4 degrees Fahrenheit in the last two minutes," a disembodied voice with a proper accent says.

"That must be the infamous JARVIS. Forgot about you." You look up at the ceiling.

"What are you doing with a temp of a hundred and six?" Tony asks, tapping at his tablet.

"You'll see. In three. Two. One. Boom," you say. Tony and Clint sway suddenly, their heads swimming from your pheromone attack. Tony goes down, passing out from the overload, but Clint stays standing. He looks at you with a beautiful mix of lust and anger, because he knows but he can't get past the way you've made him feel. "How are you still standing?" you ask, staring up at him.

"Top physical conditioning," he answers, groaning.

"Oh," you breathe the word, enamored. "That's never happened before."

He growls. He pulls his bow off of his back and tries to draw it, an arrow somehow nocked on the string when you never saw his hand go near the quiver. His fingers fumble for a minute, but he eventually pulls the bow taut. "If I kill you, does it stop?" he growls again and it's sexy despite the loaded weapon in your face.

"I don't know. I've never been killed before," you answer, simply. His desire is spiking, he smells amazing, a normal man would be panting with that level of desire, but...Clint Barton takes deep, measured, breaths. 

"If I fuck you, does it-"

"Yes," you answer, quickly. You aren't hungry, but...damn, he looks gourmet. 

He quickly shifts his aim, letting the arrow loose toward the metal ceiling tile above your head, where it ricochets, cutting the wire restraining you. You don't have time to rub your sore wrists before he's grabbed you and pulled you out of the chair. He kisses you, but it isn't teeth and tongue like Tony's kiss. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles on it, lightly. His hands grasp at your dress, slowly bringing it up. How is he going so slow? 

"Master Barton, I have dispatched an Iron legionnaire to assist you," the AI butts in. 

"Fuck!" 

"Sorry, Bird-Boy. That's my cue," you whisper, pulling back and punching him. He doesn't go down, so you quickly grab the chair and bash him with the metal back. He crumbles next to Tony and you pull your dress back down as exit the room and run for the elevator. 

***********

"So, you failed." 

"No, sir. I don't fail. I just haven't succeeded yet. I'll get it. I just didn't count on the AI being so autonomous. I'll get it," you repeat, standing in front of a desk.

"I sent you because you have never failed me before, but if you can't get me those files, I will change tactics, Y/n."

"Erik, please. Don't write me off. I can do this. I just need a few days to recharge and rework the plan."

"You have one week, Y/n. If you haven't succeeded by then, I will send in Mystique." Magneto waves you away from his desk and you exit his office. You flop down on a couch in the sitting room as you pull long gloves up your arms.

"So, you struck out," the blue-skinned beauty teases as she sits next to you.

"Shut up, Raven," you groan.

"Aww. Don't get all upset. How was the Iron Man?"

"He was fine...for a human. It was that damn JARVIS program that got me." You sigh deeply, leaning your head against the back of the couch. "Who knew an AI could recognize a thief and send a robot to knock me out?"

"Damn. You got into the Tower and everything?"

"I got into the lab. I was so close. Now, I have to figure out how to get in there again. Can't go the normal route."

"Why don't you just release your little pheromones into the Tower, let them all play with you until the headache kicks in, then hold Stark off until he turns off the damn computer system?"

"It may work, may not. I might not even be able to make it near any of them. I don't even know. Either way, I have to take a day or two. I almost completely blew my load getting out of that building."

"Poor baby."

"Yeah, fuck you, Gonzo." You stand, pushing past the blue woman to head to your room. It was hard to think about the fact that Erik dismissed you so callously. It was almost like he only wanted you around when you were fucking men for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You climb up several sets of fire escapes to the roof of a building in Bedford-Stuyvesant, New York, New York. Clint Barton stands on the opposite side of the roof, a beer in his hand as he stares out across the city lights. "You know, usually when I hit a guy with my power, he can't stop thinking about me." Clint turns to you, dropping his beer on the ledge and putting his fists up in a fighting stance. You put your gloved hands up in a nonthreatening manner. "Oh, whoa. I'm suited up. I couldn't affect you from here if I wanted to."

He drags his eyes over you. The only skin he can see is what's visible around the mask over your mouth. Everything else is covered in a purple, pink and black suit. Your hair is pulled back in a tight bun. "Okay, well...keep your distance still."

"Understandable," you respond, smiling under your mask. "I just wanted to apologize. I was just following orders. You understand that whole following orders thing, right?"

"Stark said you're a Mutant. You aren't an X-man, are you? 'Cause that'd be awkward at the next Hero Convention."

You scoff. "No. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't one of the lucky ones who was saved from the street by Saint Charles. My savior was a man of a different faith."

"So, you're Brotherhood; one of Magneto's." He doesn't ask. He knows exactly who you're referencing.

"Erik saved my life. If he hadn't found me, I'd've died homeless in Miami. He took me in, nourished and nurtured me; taught me about myself. I owe him everything."

"How'd you end up homeless?" He's relaxed a bit, taking a drink of the beer as he leans up against the ledge.

You hop up to sit on the ledge on the other side of the roof. "Imagine you're a thirteen year old girl, a virgin, and you wake up one morning and suddenly, every man who touches you thinks you are the sexiest and most desirable woman they've ever seen. Including three teachers at your middle school..." You put up three fingers. "... the doctor who was supposed to be treating you and gathering evidence of that first gang rape and two cops who came to investigate the occurrences." You flash three more fingers, then clear your throat. "Imagine your parents are hardcore Catholics who decide you have a demon in you that's causing the attacks so they send you to the priest who performed your confirmation who employs the help of three other parish priests. When they wake up and realize what they've done, two of them commit suicide right in the church." You shake your head. "I ran after that. My parents never looked for me. In fact, I heard they...held a funeral for me, buried an empty box."

Clint's eyes are searching you, trying to not show you pity but also making certain you're telling the truth. "I lived on the streets for a year and a half," you continue. "I kept gloves and long sleeves and jackets on, even in the summer in fuckin' Miami, because I was terrified of being touched. But it's not just my skin. It's in my breath. It wafts off of my hair with the slightest breeze. I learned that in the shelters. I ended up having to stay apart even from the other homeless. I have no idea how Erik found me, but he did. He walked up to me in the back of a back alley in the absolute worst part of Opa Locka and told me to come with him. He told me I was Homo Superior and that he could help me control it, that I could live a real life again. It was a dream come true.

"I owe him everything, Hawkeye. I owe him and that's why I went to the Tower, because the man I adore asked me to. But I can't do it anymore. I've been...forced into...prostitution." You look down at your boots. "Erik sending me to use my ability against Tony, using me to get into that lab and gain access to that computer...I don't even know what I was looking for, but he raped me when he sent me there. I let him force me to do something I didn't want to do, but..."

"So, you're here to...what?"

"Turn myself in," you answer.

"Really?"

"I was raped by Erik, and I...forced...I raped Tony, so I deserve...whatever the Avengers think I deserve."

"Yeah, uh, don't...say that to his face." Clint sets the beer on the ledge again and walks closer to you. "If Stark hears you call it 'rape', he'll blow a gasket. He's calling it a 'forced lapse of judgement'. Look, I can take you in, I will take you in, but I'm gonna have to call in some, uh, female help. Not that I don't trust you but I don't trust you." He pulls out his phone and taps the screen. "Hey, Katie. Uh, Kate. I need an escort. Yeah, not for me, thanks. I need a chick to come take this Mutant to the Tower. 'Cause she's a Mutant and her shit won't affect you. I don't wanna get into it. Will you come Hawkeye it up for me, please? Thank you." He pulls the phone away from his ear and smiles tightly. "Now, I have to call Tony."

You nod. He puts the phone to his ear and looks away from you. "Hey, uh...so that chick you're looking for? I know where she is. Here. In Bed-Stuy. She's turning herself in. Uh, probably because she knew you and JARVIS would zap her on the approach and that my building's only security is me and Lucky? No need, man. Kate's on the way. You don't need to send a Legionnaire. Because I already called Kate. Let her do a thing, Tony. Seriously. Thank you. Kate and I will have Aphrodite to you in thirty minutes or less. Yeah. Or your Mutant's free."

Clint pulls the phone away and looks down at it. "He hung up. I thought it was funny," he mutters before turning to you. "So...what's your name?"

You contemplate for a moment before responding, "Y/n. 'Aphrodite' is my codename."

"Well, duh. You pick that out or did Magneto?"

"I did, but Erik solidified it." Your mind drifts to Erik with his hand in your hair, fucking you from behind and grunting out 'My Aphrodite' with every thrust.

"How's he gonna take you defecting?"

"I'm not defecting."

"You're turning yourself in to the good guys. You obviously recognize Magneto was wrong and-"

"I'm done letting him use me, that doesn't mean Erik's wrong or that I think he's a...bad guy." You shake your head. "I know he's right about you Homo Sapiens. The things you do to my kind-"

"Come on. You Mutants aren't that different than us!"

"Tell that to the government who demanded we register, who built giant murder-bots to eradicate us, who've made certain that our fellow Americans are kept in constant fear of us."

"That's not unique to you Homo Superiors, Y/n. We do that shit to each other, too."

"And it's a blight on history when you do, but not for us. Not for Mutants. It's cheered when you round us up, when a child who doesn't know how to control themselves gets thrown in prison for a display of power they had no hope of stopping. You don't know what it's like to-"

"Should I come back?" a female voice asks as the door to the roof opens.

"No." Clint answers. "Kate, this is Y/n. Let's go."

"So, what's your power?"

"Kate." Clint's voice is almost a warning as the three of you start down the stairs.

"I'm just curious!" the young woman defends. "Is it rude to ask? Is that a Mutant faux pas?"

"I release pheromones that make me pretty much irresistible to men," you answer.

"But if they do sleep with her, they pass out," Clint continues.

"Yeah, that's called Postcoital Cephalalgia. It's from the rush of pheromones and hormones...little bit from the exertion."

"Wait, so you make guys orgasm so hard they pass out?" Kate asks, less like she's confused and more like she's impressed.

You smirk under your mask. "Pretty much."

"That's gotta suck," Clint mutters under his breath a little further up the stairs. "How do you ever finish?"

"I don't usually, Barton. Unless I'm with a well-trained Mutant who knows how to control himself."

"What, you don't affect Mutants the same way?" Kate asks.

"No, I do. I hit the Wolverine once and that was...painful. That one likes it rough. But he's used to overexerting himself and he's got that healing factor so he went the distance."

"Ew, Logan's like a million years old," Clint complains.

"I didn't really have a chance to care about his age. We were in a fight, I had to distract him from Erik and Raven."

"Wow, you are really nonchalant about this, like it's not..." Kate starts as you get to the last set of stairs and she walks through the door at the bottom. 

"It's my life, Hawkeyes. I am the Mutant equivalent of a damn succubus. I literally can't be embarrassed about sex. I feed off of it."

"Really?" Clint exclaims.

"Well, yes and no. I mean, I still need food, but...desire charges my batteries. I get sick without sex."

"That's...would it kill you if you didn't..." Kate trails off as you walk out onto the street and she raises her arm to hail a cab. 

"Longest I've ever gone without sex since I was thirteen years old was a month and that...I ended up in the hospital. The doctors fixed me right up."

Kate drops her arm and turns to you. "Thirteen?"

You shrug. "What age did you start puberty, Miss Bishop, 'cause that's when Mutants develop their powers?"

"But that's so young."

You chuckle as a cab pulls up. "You're so pure."

"What? No, I'm not!" she squeaks.

The cab ride is full of awkward silence and the driver looking at you in the mirror, confused as to why a purple ninja is in his backseat. When he pulls up to Avengers Tower, you hand him a twenty and get out. You position yourself behind Kate, obscuring his view of her until he pulls away. Clint notices, raising a confused eyebrow. "He was checking her out. His desire was...dark. It didn't taste good," you answer, walking through the rotating door into the lobby.

Tony Stark is upon you before you've made it ten feet into the building. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and the Vision are flanking him. "Wow, she doesn't even look like the same woman," Tony says, maybe just to himself.

"Maybe that's because she's fully clothed," Natasha quips, her lips twisting into a smirk.

"Good job, Barton," Steve says, stepping forward.

"I wouldn't get too close," Tony warns.

"She's kinda...turned off," Clint says, nodding at you. "As long as you don't touch her skin, or like, sniff her hair or something."

"Why would we do that?" Tony snaps.

"What are you going to do to her?" Kate asks.

"Why do you care?" Natasha asks.

"Well, I mean...she's...it's not her fault that she's like this."

"It was her decision to come into my club and mess with me in order to get into my lab," Tony snaps. 

You put your hands up. "Don't worry about me, Hawkeye. I made my choices." You drop to your knees and put your hands on your head. 

"Vision. Go ahead," Tony demands and the android flies forward, placing a set of cuffs on your wrists.

"Okay, but what are you-" Clint starts. 

"We'll talk it out later, Legolas," Tony says as Vision picks you up and heads for the elevator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @wasabiwitteks​ @rainbowkisses31​ @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @gayspacenerd​ @foxyjwls007​ @ilovefanfic86​ @marvelfansworld​ @f-yeahfandoms​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @hhiggs​ @sev3nruby​  @hobby27​ @paintballkid711​ @divadinag​ @thewhiterabbit42​ @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @superfanficnatural​ @letsby​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @swinchester27​ @chalicia​ @sunnyroadtrips​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dayasvalkyrie​

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[feenyreadscomics]

Rosaries, Part 2

Part one has been published! Rosaries is a fanfic feat. Steve Rogers (MCU) and Matt Murdock (comics adjacent). In this they exist in the same world, no dimension hopping required. Enjoy!

Matt was having a bad day.

No, bad day was an understatement. It was terrible. The worst.

Firstly, yesterday involved fighting the Hand. Which always sucked. (It would be so much easier if the ninjas would just. Stay dead.) During that fight, Matt got stabbed. Nothing major, but ya know, Matt didn't like feeling like a jelly donut. And the Ramirez case was turning pear shaped. And Karen called in sick. Which. Ugh. It would mean Matt needing to do more research, which...if the courts were actually willing to be ADA compliant, it would be far easier than it actually was. And Matt can't exactly sue the entire justice system.

Then Stilt man showed up. Stilt man isnt exactly a problem, just...Stilt man. Like, Matt has to stop him, but Stilt man doesn't do damage. Today he was attempting to rob a bodega. A bodega.

And just when Matt thought today was done, that maybe he could get a good night's sleep for once, frog monsters, and consequently, the Avengers, showed up.

Tall, blond(?), and handsome(?) included. Or at the very least, tall and loaded with muscles. Which possibly posed a problem. Matt doubted saying he had a twin would work, if Steve put the pieces together. So it goes.

The frog monsters themselves were giving him a hard time. They had quite the jump, and Matt's best hope of killing them was to grab onto a leg, and smack it with a billy club.

This was slightly more effective then hitting them with a pool noodle.

The day of suckitude culminated with Matt losing his grip on one of the frogs, and falling into a dumpster. With Hawkeye. But at least Hawkeye was useful, and just using the dumpster as cover, and "could one hundred percent get out, I just prefer to have protection on all four sides." Clint's heartrate spiked a bit. Lies from the archer man.

On the other hand, it's not like Matt was being super helpful as is. So he sat and waited. This is dumb. Why can't the Avengers keep their intergalactic weirdness to themselves? Matt was snapped out of his sulking by Hawkeye.

"Hey, Diablo! Can you check and see if Stark is coming over here."

"Can't you?"

"I'm a little busy!" Hawkeye fired a few exploding arrows.

"Fuck my life," Matt muttered.

"Is Stark coming in or not? Cuz I'm almost tapped out!"

Matt grabbed Hawkeye by the waist and threw him out of the dumpster.

"What the shit, Daredevil!"

Matt didn't respond, but vaulted himself over the side of the dumpster, grabbed Hawkeye's wrist, and ran.

The duo zigzagged, narrowly avoiding being squashed, when Matt smelled a distinctive smell. One of radiation, testosterone, and bananas. One of... a rare smell. But unmistakable. Steve.

Matt turned around, nearly ripping Hawkeye's arm out of his socket. Steve had a shield, and would most likely be able to direct them to safety. Assuming Steve wasn't in the middle of a fight. Or got hurt. Matt tried not to think too hard about the second one.

Matt, of course, had the luck of a broken mirror. Steve was down, unconscious. "Hawkeye, can you support Steve's head while I pick him up and walk?"

"On it." Steve was picked up and draped over Matt's back. Hawkeye cradled Steve's head.

"Can you contact anyone?" Matt hissed.

"Nope. Comms are down."

"Ok, I've got a burner phone in my right pocket, can you grab it?" Hawkeye obliged.

"Dude I think your phone is broken. The screen won't turn on."

"Take Steve, be careful not to jostle his ribs, he has a few broken ones on his left, give me the phone, I'll make the call."

"How do you even..." Hawkeye grunted as Steve's weight was placed on his shoulders.

"Phone." Hawkeye handed it over.

"Hey Claire, I have an injured friend- no we cant get to a hospital, there are mutated frogs- he has broken ribs and a sprained ankle- I know you have to work the night shift, I don't know who to ask- see you in a few." Daredevil moved his attention to Hawkeye. "Follow me."

--

After some finagling, a two block sprint, and a long multi floor walk, the trio arrived at Claire's apartment.

Clint knocked.

"Come in!" The door swung open. Inside were two women. One of them was extremely pale, with shoulder length black hair. The other was dark skinned, and had her hair pulled back.

"Lay him down on the couch," one of the women instructed Matt. "Linda, can you get the icepacks?" She must be Claire.

The pale skinned, dark haired woman, hurried to the freezer, and grabbed the ice packs.

"Ok, now tell me, what were his injuries again?"

"Cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder, probably a concussion, and a sprained ankle."

"When you found him, was he conscious?" Claire asked.

"Nope," Daredevil responded.

Linda, Claire, and Daredevil settled around Steve. Claire would give orders to Daredevil and Linda, moreso to Linda. Daredevil was able to give a large amount of information on Steve's injuries to Claire, which Hawkeye was both grateful for and disturbed by. Daredevil shouldn't be able to tell Steve was injured (especially the twisted ankle...how the hell could he tell Steve twisted his ankle? they didn't see him walk or anything) but could.

Once most of Steve's injuries were treated, Linda turned to Clint.

"Is he injured?"

"Nope," Daredevil replied.

"Ok. Since I'm not going to get an answer as to wheather or not you are injured. Shirt. Off."

"My dear, I save that for the second date." Daredevil smirked.

"Fine. Go die in a ditch. See if I care." Linda began making tea. "Tea?"

"Sure." Daredevil responded.

"I'll take one as well," Hawkeye also said.

"A tea here," came a voice from the living room. "I'm also want to try to wake your friend up. How would I do that?"

Clint piped up. "I'll do it." He walked over to Steve. He gently shook Steve's shoulder. "Steve, wake up. We need you up Steve. Steven! Steve!" Clint gradually got louder, and the shoulder shaking more violent. Clint then had an idea. "Can I get a glass of cold water?"

Linda got a glass. "Ok everyone, stand back." Clint threw the glass of water over Steve's face. He woke up violently with a shudder, and was just about to smash Clint when he looked around, and stopped.

"Where am I?" Cap slowly lowered his fist.

"You're safe, you're in one of Daredevil's friend's houses. We carried you over after you got concussed."

"Ah. And who are the two fine ladies here?"

Claire stepped forward. "My name is Claire. I'm a surgeon. My roommate, Linda, is a nurse."

Steve moved to stand up, but Claire quickly walked over and shushed him down. "Steve, you have a concussion. You are not getting up from this couch until I know you have somewhere to go. I, or possibly Double D, will fight you." Steve laughed.

"As if either of you can take me," Steve countered.

"Considering I dragged your ass here, and you have a concussion, I think I can take you," Daredevil smirked.

"Language!" Steve paused for a bit "I'm so...tired."

"That's why we gotta stay here, and you have to stay awake!" Hawkeye interjected.

"Can I get Tony to pick me up?" Steve asked.

Claire sighed. "Look, I would prefer to not have a bunch of superheroes knocking on my door. I know Linda dosen't care, but we already have Double D and Luke Cage coming through here, and now a few of the Goddamn Avengers have shown up-"

"I typically get treated at Stark Tower-

"And I would like some privacy, please and thank you. So no official Avengers, please."

Steve snapped his fingers. "Sam? Would he be fine?"

"Who's he?"

"Falcon?"

"Fine."

"Ok. Can I borrow someone's phone? I need to make a phone call."

--

About fifteen minutes later Daredevil started helping Claire and Linda clean up. Thirty seconds later there was a knock at the door. Linda opened it.

"Hello! You must be Sam! I'm Linda. Your friend is back here. She started guiding him to the couch. Hes gonna need help walking for a bit, but should be fine. Talk to Double D if you need help. He will be able to contact us if needed."

"Steve, ya ready to walk?" Steve grunted back.

"Ok. Hawkeye and Sam are going to help you, ok?" Steve nodded, then grimaced.

Clint and Sam took an arm each, and lifted him to his feet. "Thank you so much. We wont bother you again," Clint said.

"It was no trouble," Linda replied.

"Daredevil, ya coming with?" Sam asked.

"No. I'd prefer to stay off Tony's radar."

"Understandably. Have a good day!"

Sam, Clint, and Steve shuffled out. They loaded up, and Sam started driving.

"That Daredevil is a weird one," Steve proclaimed.

"Yeah. I think he's a religious nut. He had me go for his phone when he was carrying you, and I think I felt a rosary in the same pocket. Also, his phone was kinda broken" Clint chimed.

"Wait... what?"

"No way. The Catholic church tends to frown on pretending to be the devil."

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I felt a crucifix and everything."

"Huh. If he is Catholic, I wonder what kind of priest he has, considering he seems to think that dressing up like the devil is ok, morally speaking." Steve continued to ponder this. Daredevil looked familiar, but he couldn't tell if he had actually seen Daredevil as a civilian, or if it was based on those YouTube videos.

But it's not like Steve had gotten a good look at Daredevil's face. Still...Catholic?

Steve wondered if he could invite Daredevil to Mass. Daredevil couldn't be practicing, as no priest would condone that costume. And what was with the phone?

Steve pondered it, as he started to nod off.

Thank you for reading! A few things for explanation: 1. Claire Temple in the TV show is a mashup of Claire Temple, doctor and love interest to Luke Cage, and Linda Carter, nurse and aid to various superheroes. I figured having the comics version, where they are two separate people, made more sense, as a. If someone got stabbed, a surgeon would be able to treat it. A nurse wouldn't. And b. Having two people on call would be easier on them than one person. (I made Claire specifically a surgeon, as far as I'm aware that isnt canon). 2. The broken phone thing. Since Matt is blind, he has accessibility features on his phone. He also doesn't need the screen to be on, so he turned it off in his settings. This saves his battery, but makes it inoperable for Clint. Tommy Edison has a video on how he uses a touch screen phone, and Matt has the same features enabled (Matt likes having his phone like this also because sighted people struggle to use it. Foggy can, but that's pretty much the only sighted person Matt has instructed on how to use his phone.) There will be a part 3, and Steve will eventually figure it out.

[knifeonmars]

Comics that mattered to me in 2017

2017 has been a pretty rough year. I’ve spent a lot of the last year feeling increasingly burnt out on comics, wondering why I bother with something that frequent leaves me exhausted and disillusioned. Between Marvel’s endless train wreck of a year and the galloping moral outrage of DC digging up the corpse of Watchmen for a gobsmackingly stupid “sequel”, I’ve been profoundly put off this past year. . Despite my general sickness with the often flavourless slurry of corporate comics though, I still read a lot of really good comics, and some of them even managed to brighten my day.

Here’s a few of those comics, in no particular order. I would note that I’m talking specifically about stuff that I personally read this year, not stuff which was first published this year, so there’s some old stuff in there.

OMAC -

OMAC is one of those comics that I’d seen critics and writers talking about for years and which had always interested me conceptually, but I’d never had the time to pick it up. I finally did a few weeks ago and I couldn’t be happier with the decision. OMAC is buckwild; imaginative, energetic, and oddly prescient, and also angry as all hell. The thing that I really like about OMAC is that it present us with this somewhat horrific future and then actually pushes back against it, which contrasts it with the great but shortlived recent Prez series. The cliffhanger ending, which I really should have seen coming since this book is several decades old and I’ve had ample opportunity to find out about, is a bit of a bummer, but by no means spoils the energy and dynamism of the whole. What OMAC gets is that I don’t want to see a horrifically corrupt world reformed through optimism and cooperation, I want to see the whole fucking thing torn down, and while OMAC isn’t quite the rage fueled dance of destruction that I want, it’s pretty damn close.

Batman: Superheavy -

I was skeptical of the whole Superheavy angle back during the unfortunately short lived DCYou initiative, but this finally clicked for me at some point: Superheavy is Batman as a mech anime. It’s gorgeous and action packed and cool, and I’m disappointed that there’s not more of it. Commissioner Gordon as a hardluck everyman hero trying to live up to the impossible legacy of Batman was a suprisingly solid concept, and one which I’m disappointed to see dispensed with and forgotten so quickly. The ending to this all too brief era in Bloom is unfortunately somewhat rushed in my opinion and defaults to having the glorious return of Bruce Wayne solve everything in a way that I didn’t find particularly satisfying, but the initial Superheavy arc remains stylish and fun. On a personal level, I came to Superheavy at a time when I was beyond sick of the corporate superhero paradigm and it managed to make me feel that not everything was trash.

Deathstroke -

DC Comics has long been determined to make Deathstroke “happen” despite little real appeal or interest, and my own opinions on the character have generally trended towards “he’s like a really cool action figure” and “Hideo Kojima could make this interesting”. But Christopher Priest is an industry legend and so I’ve been following this series in trades. It’s great. It’s incredibly dense and at times a little confusing, but as someone who tends to tear through their reading material, it’s nice to have a series that makes me slow down once in a while. A killer redesign of the character and a willingness to embrace his role as a villain rather than some sort of tedious antihero have made this series genuinely one of the best the DC is putting out these days.

Secret Identities -

The thing about indie superhero comics is that the majority of them deal in analogues and standins. That’s not to say that the can’t still be good, but often times its extremely obvious which characters a writer was basing their own off of. Secret Identities doesn’t read like that at all. What I like about Secret Identities is that the characters do actually all feel fresh and original, and the idea that all of them are hiding dark secrets is a pretty great hook. Couple that with some great art, cool character designs, and solid writing, and Secret Identities is one of the better pure superhero books which I’ve read this year.

The Goddamned -

I mentioned that this year has been rough, and The Goddamned is a great comic for a rough year. It’s dirty, grimy, cynical, and brutal. It’s Mad Max in Bible Times, and it is absolutely great. Gorgeous art and designs which make the Neolithic technology and clothes of the characters look interesting and even appealing, and a spectacularly dark revisionist take on the setting of the biblical Old Testament make this a really unique and interesting book. It’s a good book to read if you find yourself looking at the past year and wondering if humanity deserves to live.

Extremity -

Daniel Warren Johnson deserves to a breakout star in the coming year. Extremity is his first monthly solo series, and it’s a delight. Johnson brings his incredible art to an original story that’s a lot more grounded and emotional that you might expect from a writer who’s been making his name as an artist, though the quality should be no surprise to anyone who’s read Johnson’s earlier work. Extremity is about the lengths that people go to for revenge, the death of the soul and the corruption of noble causes, and the cost of violence. It’s about an artist who loses her hand and becomes a warrior, and watches her father become a vengeance fueled and amoral murderer. It’s about a war machine deciding it wants to be something else. It’s gorgeous too. It’s Mad Max in the Valley of the Wind, and I highly recommend checking it out.

Apollo and Midnighter

The Midnighter series of DCYou was a favorite of mine, I just love a wrecking ball of a character tearing through things with style and panache, so I was extremely excited to see this sequel miniseries come out to complete the story and more fully flesh out Apollo, who tends not to be given as much spotlight as Midnighter. It’s great, and a suitable send off for versions of these characters who we’re unlikely to see again now that DC is cordoning the Wildstorm characters off in Ellis’ hit or miss imprint.

Hawkeye: Kate Bishop -

Despite a general predilection for ultraviolence and trauma, I do actually enjoy a lighthearted series every once in a while, and the first volume of the newest Hawkeye: Kate Bishop series is just what I needed at a point when I’m no longer sure if Marvel as a whole is something that I’m interested in. It’s fun, the art is gorgeous, and it balances comedy with a sense of gravity and consequence. It finally lives up to the promise of the LA Woman premise offered way back in the Fraction/Aja/Wu/Hollingsworth run on Hawkeye that never seemed to get off the ground, and I’m glad to have it.

BPRD -

I ended up reading a lot of emotionally exhausting books this year, and BPRD certainly ranks among them. It’s also one of the best. I poured through the entirety of the Hell on Earth mega arc after seeing it on a digital sale, and it was immensely rewarding. It’s a story about the grinding horrors of conflict and keeping hope alive, that always managed to balance being emotionally serious with the kind of world where its totally plausible and enjoyable to have an arc that features giant kaiju fights.

Hobtown Mysteries: The Case of the Missing Men -

I spotted this number is a book store one day, and had to return to pick it up when I realized that the creators were local to Halifax. It’s a really cool and unique read, drawing on a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys teen detective influence combined with Twin Peaks, in a way that doesn’t feel derivative or like it’s trying too hard. While I didn’t grow up in the kind of small town that’s at the focus of this story, I certainly spent enough time in and around them growing up to have a nostalgic appreciation of the setting. It’s totally unlike anything else on this list, and absolutely worth a look.

Virgil -

One last book, an angry, raw exploitation action comic about a gay cop on a tear through Jamaica. It’s my jam, and JD Faith is a wonderful artist.

[bleedingcoffee42]

Western AU

I shouldn't touch a random genre generator, I can't do anything but obey and do something with the prompt.

Historical/Horror = Ghosts and Western Au guest starring....the tumbleweed.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Deputy Jean Havoc was pretty sure there was nothing more 'old west' than the picture of him standing in front of the Sheriff's office smoking a hand rolled cigarette and looking out at the setting sun.   What bothered him was that that  picture was currently being drawn by that muscle man from the circus that liked to rip off his clothes and bellow about muscles and his lineage.   Jean tilted his head back and blew a smoke ring in the air, perhaps if he was lucky the guy really did have a hot sister and she would see the drawing and want to meet him.   Then again, he could only imagine what Armstrong's sister looked like and none of those images were good.

The wind picked up and the dust stirred in the street and the cliché tumbleweed rumbled past.   Jean watched it go and then some shadow in the dust cloud caught his eye.   Out of habit he rested his hand on the Colt revolver on his hip and waited to see who would be coming into town from that direction.   The wind died down, the tumbleweed disappeared and the dust settled to reveal a man wearing a long black coat on a blood bay horse.

Jean stepped into the street as the man came over to the office, slipped off his horse and tied his reins to the hitching post.  It was a nice horse, shiny red coat and long black mane and tail and the government brand on it's hindquarters.   Jean toyed with the cigarette in his mouth and looked at the rather short guy turning to him, catching the sight of a Federal Marshal badge on his vest.   Oh, the Sheriff was going to be thrilled.   “Hello Marshall, what can I help you with today?”

Roy Mustang was tired, dirty and completely done with every damned local who had been deputized for one reason or another so this one got the brunt of his frustration.   “I'll talk to your Sheriff, if you don't mind getting out of my way.”

“Sheriff isn't here.”  Jean shrugged and remained in the guys way and blew some smoke in his face for the rude tone and overall arrogance he was emitting.   “You're welcome to sit inside and wait.”

Roy pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time.  It was getting late and it would be nice to sleep in a bed tonight instead of on the ground.   If he put his horse up at the livery now he could get a room and take a bath at the Hotel, maybe find this Sheriff before dinner and get his questions answered.  “Do you have an estimated time of return?”

“My shift ends at 8.”  Jean said. “Sheriff will be back before then.”

“Thank you.”  Roy said dryly.  Why he couldn't say that before was beyond him.  It was all a damned game with people in these small towns, everyone trying to prove they had some power over the government official that rode into town and in the end it always ended up with him being a huge dick.   Lives were on the line and all anyone wanted to do was play trivial power play games.  God, all the guy said was 'can I help you' and he was ready to fight him.   Tired and on edge, a bath then bed sounded good.  So he walked his horse over to the livery, untacked and paid for the stall, then found his way over to the Hotel.

“Good evening sir! Can I interest you in a drawing I made of your arrival?”

What weird shit was this?   Roy stared at the huge bald guy that appeared to be sparkling.  He narrowed his eyes to determine why and deduced that there was saloon girl glitter on his head.   Then he looked at the drawing.   It was incredibly good, something his Mom would appreciate.   It was also evidence he had been here.  So he pulled out his wallet again and handed out another bill for a service he didn't want.   “Thanks.”

“Enjoy your stay!!!”  

Then the man took off his shirt and Roy hurried into the hotel to avoid finding out exactly what the guy was going to try and sell him next.    He walked to the counter and a young guy with glasses ran over to help him.  “A room.  A bath. Nothing else.”

Kain Fuery was instantly in awe of this man in black and also very intimidated.   He saw the star and gasped. “A Marshall?”

God it was like he was a fucking unicorn.   He was really going to have to review how often the Marshall of this territory got out of his office and patrolled it.   “Yes.”

“I...wow.”  Fuery said and money materialized on the counter.    He turned around and found the key for the bridal suite and grabbed it, then handed it to the man and pushed the register to him.  “I'll give you our best room for the regular rate.”

Best room probably meant it was one step above a coffin, but he didn't have it in his heart to say that to this starry eyed kid.  It would be like scolding a puppy.   “Thank you.”

“Does the Sheriff know you're here?” Fuery asked as he read the name being signed in his register.   “Marshall Mustang?”

He just shrugged, too tired to ask where that law enforcement individual could be in a town this small. “Send 'em to my room if he wants to grace me with his presence. Where is the bath?”

“Back through this door.   I'll have it ready for you in half an hour!”  

Roy rubbed his eyes and watched the kid scamper away, then moved over to another part of the counter where envelopes and pens were stored for what he assumed was guests convenience in case they had something to write home about.   He quickly wrote his mother's address down, put his new picture in the envelope and placed some change on the counter so he could reach over and grab a stamp.   Then the letter was dropped in the mail slot for what he hoped was a reliable delivery to the postmaster and he turned to go to the saloon for a drink.

“Marshall!   Bath is ready!  Mr. Armstrong says it's with his compliments.”

Roy turned as the kid materialized from the hallway and smiled.  Then that artist guy appeared behind him without a shirt and with a towel draped over his shoulders.    

“It would be my honor if you would use my bath, sir.”  

The guy bowed and he reluctantly allowed the Hotel manager to lead him to the back room where a steaming bath awaited.  It looked too good to refuse, even if it smelled kind of strong and was filled with bubbles and was gifted to him by a half-naked man that just drew his picture.    Still, it was less creepy than playing chess with his boss and the guy offering to arrange a marriage with his granddaughter.   “Thanks.”

“Thank you for your service, sir!”

The door closed and he slowly undressed and put his Peacemaker on the table beside the bath.    Was this odd, sure, but his level of give-a-damn was so low right now he was willing to shoot anyone who walked through the door to disturb him.   That seemed like it was enough to warrant taking a chance on a nice relaxing bath and getting the grime of his travels off and the tension of getting no results out of his aching shoulders.   His clothes hit the floor right after his boots and he was in that inviting water before it really had time to cool.

But damn it felt so good.

No sooner did he relax than he heard stomping outside the door and had to reach for his revolver, bubbles all over his hands and point it to the door.    The door was already open and a gun pointed at him as he turned leaving him to hold his pistol up in a sign of defeat knowing he was too slow to take on his attacker.  

“I hear you're looking for me?”

A woman?   He starred at her face, beautiful brown eyes starred at him from under the brim of her hat and blond hair spilled out over her shoulders.   He didn't recognize her, perhaps the creatures he was chasing had already changed shape. Perhaps this was a newly resurrected body....

“You're Mustang aren't you?”  

Demanding.   Like she had somewhere better to be than in a bath room with a naked man covered in bubbles.  That sort of offended him so he sat upright and showed off his body a little.  The bubbles slowly slipped down his body and revealed his abs.   That always was a delightful surprise for the ladies.  This one never removed here eyes from him.  Well....she had to be resurrected dead if that didn't move her at all. “Yes.”

“I'm Sheriff Hawkeye.”  She said and pointed to his gun.  “Are you going to put that gun down?”

The Sheriff?  He suddenly wanted to be arrested.   Possibly for indecent exposure.   “If you close the door, it's a little drafty.”

The door closed and he put his gun down, she holstered hers.  Then she went over to look at him as he sat in his smelly bubble bath and said, “Are you here about this necromancy epidemic?  Do you know how to kill them?”

That was a nice way of putting it.   “You've had homunculus here?”

“We have one running our Saloon.” Hawkeye put her hands on her hips.  “Calls himself Greed and I can't kill him or evict him and it's pissing me off. He's not paying his taxes.”

Roy sat up straighter and almost stood up, then remembered he was naked and in a bath and she was most definitely a lady.   “I need him alive.”

“Then you can have him.”  Riza said and tried to not look at his abs or really nice shoulders, but damn it had been so long since a nice looking man that didn't work for her was within a 100 miles of this town.   At least one that wasn't some kind of monster.  

“You said epidemic....are there more?”  Roy asked.

“There were, my Deputy dated one for a awhile.”  Riza said and looked at this man debating on weather or not this was worthy of him getting out of his bath or not.   “As far as I can tell there is a guy called Father, who I assume is a priest of some sort, going around and showing people how to raise the dead in exchange for their souls.  Are you looking for him? “I'm looking for my partner, Marshall Maes Hughes, who was last known to have contact with a woman named Lust while investigating this.  I'll take any leads I can get.”  Roy couldn't believe he had stumbled on this and now he was looking for that towel he saw earlier and.....apparently forgot to take from that muscle guy.

“Well Greed will be happy to tell you all about it and hopefully he will follow you home.”  She said. “I'll wait outside.”

He watched her turn and leave and then shouted, “Can you get me a towel?”

“Do I look like the maid?”

“No, you look like a gorgeous young lady I would like to get to know better that probably won't appreciative me streaking through your streets with a gun in my hand to apprehend a homunculus who might know where my best friend is.   I'd like to wait to reveal that until later in our relationship and avoid the handcuffs until then as well.”

There was silence and a stifled laugh before boots clacked against the floorboards.  

He sighed and sank deeper into the bath.   Then the door opened and a towel came flying in at his head.

“First date starts in five minutes at the Devil's Nest, I'd recommend covering up your tits if you're going in that place.”

[lmbiggs]

Forgive Me, Father

HAVE SOME M*A*S*H* FANFIC BECAUSE I NEEDED TO GET OUT OF MY SLUMP WITH SOMETHING.

Hawkeye was no stranger to attraction to men. He liked nurses, liked their softness, the way they smelled, liked their soft doe eyes and their full lips, the way they all melted against his chest. He liked men too, liked their strong shoulders and their firm grasps, liked the way they tugged him close firmly, their hands warm and broad and heavy against his body.

He was also no stranger to wanting things he could not have.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Hawkeye whispered as he stared at the bluest pair of eyes he had ever seen. Mulcahy was sitting at the piano, quietly playing Button Up Your Overcoat on the piano, at half the pace and maybe even a quarter of the enthusiasm of earlier.  “My mind is filled with so much filth I’m sure the roaches in my tent are starting to get plans to move in.”

“Hawkeye?” The priest’s voice warbled a bit, a bit tipsy, but no more than Hawkeye himself was. He was certainly more beautiful, with the dim lights glinting off of his glasses, his hair mussed and flyaway and his soft, angelic features softened even more by the semi-darkness. He was beautiful, something that Hawkeye had known in the back of his mind for quite some time, but had never voiced aloud.

“You’re a priest, you never get temptations of the flesh, huh? You got your God to keep you company and you don’t ever want for the touch of another.” Hawkeye looked at those blue eyes, wide and surprised and confused.

“Hawkeye, I’m human like anyone else.” Father Mulcahy looked over at Hawkeye, his gaze flickering down quickly before looking up. “This isn’t a confession is it?”

“Yes, it is, but not like you’re thinking.” Hawkeye stared at Mulcahy, lounging against the piano. It was a mirror to their positions earlier, when they had been more enthusiastically singing together, Hawkeye’s baritone mingling with Mulcahy’s tenor. “You know when we were here earlier, singing together, there was one thing I wanted to do more than anything.”

“Oh?” The priest stiffened slightly, blinking owlishly.

Hawkeye reached out, taking the priest’s chin in hand gently. “Earlier you were singing, Cut out sweets... Oooh oooh.” The priest mimicked the half-sung motions of Hawkeye’s mouth. “And I wanted to just lean forward and-” Hawkeye leaned forward, swiftly before he lost his drunken nerve and captured those soft lips with his own.

He expected Mulcahy to pull back, maybe stutter, maybe escape the embrace by way of a brutal left hook. Hawkeye was expecting to be on the floor, shoved away, in pain, anything.

But when Mulcahy’s mouth fell open, his head tilted for the kiss, his small, strong fingers gripping at Hawkeye’s jaw and shirt, pulling him closer. He felt Mulcahy’s hat tip off, Hawkeye’s fingers tangling in the fine blonde hairs.

It was several long, blissful seconds before the priest pulled away, his lips already red and slick with spit, the two of them pressing their foreheads together. Those big, blue, soulful eyes stared up at Hawkeye and he felt like the most fucking perverted, idiotic, selfish prick.

When those beautiful, glistening lips parted and those sweet, holy tones filled the air it was worse than any punch that Father John Patrick Francis Mulcahy could have laid on him. “Hawkeye, I can’t.”

“I get it.” Hawkeye stood, gently pushing the Father away, bending to pick up his Panama and placing it back atop the mess of Mulcahy’s hair. “I mean you’re from San Diego, I’m from a small town in Maine, the dietary differences alone could kill this in the cradle.”

“Hawkeye,” The priest stood, stumbling slightly as he pushed back the piano stool. His hands grabbed at the doctor’s Hawaiian shirt, pulling the taller man closer. “I’m human too. But I’m a priest. I have vows. I made vows to God.”

“I’m okay with being the other woman.” Hawkeye whispered, staring down at the man before him, his head bent to peer into those too heavenly blue eyes. “Besides, God has enough side action from all the other holy men and women in the world, he can give you a break from the Holy Harem.”

“I want to,” The good Father whispered, his eyes fixed up on Hawkeye’s. For a brief moment Hawkeye wondered if this was how God felt, looking down at Mulcahy when he prayed, listening rapturously to him. “I want to so badly, Hawkeye, I think.... Oh dear...” The Father bowed his head, biting his already swollen lip for a moment before he looked up. “Hawkeye, I’ve... I haven’t been entirely pure of thought where you’re involved.” Surprisingly calloused fingers smoothed over Hawkeye’s shirt, watching the journey of his hands over the taller man’s lean chest. “I’m only human... I can resist as much as I can and if I ever falter and fall into sin, then I pray for forgiveness and confess to another priest.”

Hawkeye’s mouth fell open, it felt too good to be true, staring down at the object of his lusts and desires, feeling like a devil that had slipped into a church.

“But... But I can’t kiss you again, I can’t do anything with you.” Those strong fingers dug pleasantly into the muscle, the doctor shivering slightly at the touch. He was too close, way too close, Hawkeye could see pale eyelashes flutter briefly and could feel Mulcahy’s puffs of breath against the front of his shirt, close to his neck. “Because I know I wouldn’t feel an ounce of contrition for it. I wouldn’t be able to stop it, I wouldn’t be able to give you up like I have given up everything else.”

“Please... Father.... Francis... Let me kiss you,” The doctor leaned forward, brushing his lips briefly over the Father’s forehead. The hands gripping his shirt tightened, pushing back slightly, but with no real force.

“Hawkeye.” It was a warning, a soft plea, begging for the man to not do what he wanted to do, to resist.

Hawkeye was never good at resisting what he wanted. “Do you want this, Father?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter. Do you want this? Me?”

“Yes, saints preserve me, I want you.” Mulcahy’s fingers pushed firmly, but Hawkeye’s arms reached up, tugging the priest closer, pinning their bodies together. “I can’t have you, though.”

“Father... John...” Hawkeye groaned, grasping at the soft, smooth curve of the priest’s jaw.

“Francis.” The younger man murmured back and long surgeon’s fingers tugged at the white collar tucked into the stiff black shirt fabric. “My name is Francis.”

“Francis, please.” Hawkeye pressed closer. “I can’t anymore. I can’t hold it all back. Believe me I’ve tried, I’ve taken up gnawing on the nurses to try and sate the craving.”

The priest flushed and pushed a bit more lightly at Hawkeye’s chest. “Hawkeye-”

“Benjamin.”

“Benjamin...” Francis dug his fingers into the man’s thin chest and Hawkeye pressed closer, his lips barely brushing against the Father’s soft mouth. “Benjamin, please, don’t tempt me like this.”

“I want you, Francis.”

“You keep saying that, Benjamin, and I keep saying that I can’t-”

“You’re a married man, I get it, but please.” The keys of the piano gave a clamor as Francis was pulled closer, his elbow resting upon the out of tune instrument. “I love you, Francis.”

Mulcahy paused, staring up at Hawkeye, feeling as if the rug had been pulled out beneath him as the last of his resolve crumbled. When Hawkeye pulled him closer, the man couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open, feeling Hawkeye’s tongue slip into the warm depths of his mouth.

It was like taking communion, something divine and warm that lit him up from the depths of his chest. He swore he felt as if he could glow with the way he felt as Hawkeye - Benjamin - kissed him.

“Laundry?” The doctor asked and Francis bit his lower lip.

“I have quarters of my own, Benjamin.” The priest smiled, shyly darting his eyes aside.

Francis would never be able to tell anyone who moved first, or how they even managed to make it to his tent. The cross hung about the priest’s neck and Benjamin grabbed it, throwing it aside, careless of where it landed, tugging at the green fatigue jacket, the black vicars shirt, Francis’s loose underwear bundled up in Benjamin’s long fingers.

“Little souvenir.” The surgeon smiled, looking down at the priest. “Have you ever-”

“I know myself, Benjamin.” The priest flushed. “You think you’re going to be my first?”

“Good, I can’t handle that kind of pressure.”

Long, clever fingers slid along Francis’ taint, the priest jerking at the firm pressure against his entrance. Another hand reached up for his glasses, but Francis grasped the wrist firmly, holding Benjamin’s hand at bay. “Don’t, Hawkeye... Benjamin... I want... I want to see you.”

“You know when I lost my vision?” Benjamin murmured, staring down in blue eyes. “You want to know one of the things that I was most scared of?”

“What?”

“Never seeing your eyes again.” A long finger slid along the smooth curve of the father’s brow. “I would have missed that as much as Maine skies, summer leaves... A perfectly cooked red lobster.”

Francis smiled, laughing gently as he kissed Benjamin’s lips. “Flatterer.”

“Only the most sincere for you.”

The pressure against his taint was increasing and Francis gave a shaky moan, his thighs trembling against Benjamin’s sides. “Ben-”

“Don’t have any lube or anything.” The surgeon slid back slightly and Francis panicked for a moment, thinking the other man would leave, only to gasp when his legs were hauled up and open and his knees hooked over Hawkeye’s shoulders.

Francis’ head was thrown back at the first swipe of tongue, the priest grateful that he had already showered just earlier. When long fingers pressed along with Benjamin’s tongue, he couldn’t help but clutch at the pillow beside his head, the thin regulation blanket next to his hips. The fingertips kneaded carefully and Francis was shocked when he realised that Benjamin had already slipped in the first finger, was working in the second as he pressed and lapped at the tight ring of muscle.

“Benjamin-”

“I got you, Francis.” Wet kisses were pressed to Francis’ sack, an equally wet tongue dragging soft licks against the delicate skin, making the father shiver and arch, his thighs twitching and pressing to Benjamin’s head.

Two fingers, then three, stretching and thrusting and curling until Francis’ hips jerked against every press to something inside him that made him see stars.

“Best thing about being with a doctor, Francis, we have clever fingers and intimate knowledge of the human body.” Benjamin grinned, giving a soft suck to the tip of the other man’s cock.

“Benjamin, please, I can’t-” Francis gasped as his thighs jerked and twitched against Benjamin’s head, the man’s soft black hair, shot through with grey, tickling at the man’s pale thighs with each movement. “I need more.”

Benjamin straightened, pushing forward, bending Francis almost in half. Francis moaned as he watched the surgeon lick his palm, stroking his own cock to make it wet, pressing right up against the priest’s entrance.

The first inch sank in so easily and Francis’ head fell back as Benjamin groaned and eased in deeper, his brows drawn up as he gasped, trying to remain quiet so that no one could know what they were doing.

“Oh God.” Francis groaned and Benjamin kissed him firmly.

“Don’t say another man’s name while I’m inside you.” Benjamin teased and Francis laughed softly, his breath hitching as he felt the first thrust, then the next, his hands latching onto the surgeon’s shoulders as long-fingered hands clutched at his waist to pin him in place. “<i>Fuck</i>, Francis.”

They were both too tightly wound, too needy, too starved for this to last long.

“Ben-Benjamin!” Francis gasped out into the man’s neck, grabbing at his bare shoulder, feeling the way the man thrust more frantically against him. He came first, his cock spurting between them, smearing against both their stomachs as Benjamin kept thrusting.

When he came Francis gasped and shivered at the warmth inside him, the way Benjamin kept up a stuttering pace before he groaned and pulled out, letting Francis’ legs fall open and down, limp on the bedspread.

“Wow...” Francis gasped, smiling as he looked blearily up at Benjamin’s face, smiling and temples soaked in sweat. He could only imagine how he looked, and as long, gentle fingers slid over the mess of his stomach, the curve of his thigh and hip and waist, he couldn’t help but shiver and wonder if Benjamin liked what he saw.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Benjamin murmured, staring down at the man beneath him. “I’ve defiled a priest... And I want to do it again.”

[caffiene-fueled-fuckery]

Mash Attachment Styles are driving me fucking insane

I’m doing a reading for my uni class and all through uni and part of high school we learned about attachment styles but the more I read (especially the more I read about adult attachment and write papers on it and such) the more I keep thinking about what all the characters attachment styles are and W H Y.

Thinking about securely attached Potter trying to understand why Radar is the way he is, and poor Radar having just lost a second Father figure… Hawkeye being ambivalent leaning towards avoidant after Carly left him and then Trapper left without a note and during gfa he knows he won’t see BJ again and BJ won’t say goodbye goddammit. Or Frank who is so desperate for love but doesn’t know what to do about it. And Father Mulcahy who doesn’t get close to people not just because he’s a priest but because he was rejected by his parents and peers as a child, and now trusts very few people with his vulnerable side.

Just. MASH attachment styles.