#marvel white women kissing black men

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆

summary - you and ransom had thought of playing a game, a game of jealousy. in the beginning, everything was fine, it was fun, but lately, it felt as though he no longer loved you, that he’d rather the women he flirted with. after the party, do you think their relationship can be resolved?

warning - angst, self-hate, talks of cheating.

the gif and headers I use aren’t mine, and the divider is by @firefly-graphics

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You remembered when you and Ransom made up this silly game. Oh, how stupid you were for agreeing to it. You didn’t think it would hurt as much as it did. At first, it was fun. Getting to see Ransom all worked up and jealous, but it changed… Drastically, it changed. You were the one to get worked up and jealous. Maybe it was because he seemed to enjoy other women’s attention more than yours now. Did you push it too far? Was it your fault that he’s falling out of love with you? It couldn’t be, right?

You and Ransom were hosting a party tonight. You weren’t as excited as you used to be. Parties with the love of your life used to be fun, but now with the neverending game... It felt like a punch in the face because no matter how pretty you made yourself, his eyes always seemed to be watching someone else.

You sighed as you stared at yourself in the mirror. The white dress with black outlines clung to your body. Your hair was neatly clipped back, with a few strands framing your face, and you stared into the eyes of the girl you once were. Your eyes were sad, drained, lifeless. The black eyeliner around them didn’t do much, nor did the deep red lipstick that covered your plump lips. The very lipstick that Ransom said was his favourite, but lately, it wasn’t.

Why were you doing this? Why couldn’t Ransom see that the game was now hurting you? Did he even want to see it? Was he happier getting a free pass to cheat because all it was to him was a game?

“Babe, the party is starting. Are you ready?” Your eyes connected with his through the mirror, noticing how he just leaned against the doorway. You remember when he used to sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you, peppering your neck with kisses until you’d break into giggles, playfully pushing him away. Now, he just stands there… He looked annoyed, like he’d been waiting forever.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Glancing in the mirror one last time as you smooth out your dress, you slowly head toward the door. Feeling saddened when you find it empty, Ransom has already left, making his way to greet your guests. You had entered the room, already noticing that Ransom was flirting with some beautiful, busty redhead. Her hand squeezes his biceps as she giggles at whatever he says, your heart would squeeze at the sight of his hand resting on her hip, but you’ve become numb to it all.

You smile at your guests as you walk to your built-in bar. Hoping and praying that they couldn’t tell how fake it was, how you no longer felt happy. You made it to the bar, sitting on the stool and waving to the bartender. You give the man yet another very well-performed fake smile while ordering a drink. You don’t dare turn around when you take a sip, not wanting to watch your boyfriend with another woman. You wished you had the courage to end this game and tell him no more. You thought he’d notice the game was over when you no longer flirted with other men, but you guess Ransom was too into his head to see anything else.

“Y/n? Is that you?’ You turn your head slightly, and the seat beside you is filled as a man from your past sits down. He smiles at you, eyes sparkling with the happiness you wish you had. You wouldn’t deny the jealousy you felt by how genuine his joy looked. “Wow! It’s been so long! You look absolutely gorgeous! How have you been?”

You smile softly at his compliment, taking a sip of your drink before you respond. “Hi, Steve. I’ve been good… How about you? Last I heard, you opened your own art studio?” He nods, ordering himself a drink as he continues to smile at you.

“Yeah! It’s honestly the best decision I’ve made. Are you sure you’re okay? I thought you and Ransom were doing well?” You could’ve broken down right then and there at his concerned gaze. You wondered why he would ask such a question, so you turned. Oh, what a dumb decision. Why did you have to turn? Because there stood your boyfriend, with the redhead pushed against the wall as he continued to flirt, his hands dangerously close to her ass and her hands tangled in his hair.

“Oh… Uh, yeah. It’s just an uh… It’s a game that we have going on between us….” You quickly chug the rest of your drink, feeling tears brimming your eyes and the lump in your throat grow more significant. You refuse to look into Steve’s eyes, knowing they’d be filled with pity and confusion. “I–I’m going to… I need some air… If you’ll excuse me….” You quickly stand and rush outside, rushing around to the wall where you can’t be seen. Heartbreaking sobs escape you, your hands flying up so no one can hear you. You let it go, all the pain and heartbreak.

You didn’t hear or notice Steve following you, and you didn’t know you weren’t alone until you felt arms wrap around you, hands stroking your hair as they pressed you into their chest. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. Everything will be okay.” Steve held you as you cried, rocking you slightly. His head turns, and his eyes connect with worried blue ones. Ransom had watched you leave the room, and he was confused about why you were crying in another man’s arms.

You slowly pull back, clearing your throat and blinking away the tears. You look at Steve’s shirt and frown. “Oh, god. I ruined your shirt… I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He continues to stroke your hair, looking deep into your eyes as he says this. You hear a huff and look over, your eyes finding your boyfriend’s. You notice the frown set on his face before he rolls his eyes and storms inside, probably to continue to flirt with the redhead. You could feel the numbness begin to set in, wondering how long you’ll be able to continue in a relationship where there’s no longer any love. “Hey.” Steve lifts your head, “go talk to him. Maybe this is a big misunderstanding? He followed you out here after noticing you left, shouldn’t that account for something?”

“Maybe…” You blink, your hands coming up to fix your makeup, but what does it matter? It’s not like anyone cared. “Thank you, Steve… Maybe we could go for lunch sometime?” Steve smiles, nodding before he reaches up and begins to help with your make-up, wiping away the mascara.

A few more hours passed before the party finally came to an end. You and Ransom had headed outside to say goodbye to the guests. His arm wrapped securely around your waist. You had noticed his focus had been more on you after what had happened outside. As the last of the guests were leaving, you saw the redhead that Ransom had been flirting with walking toward you both, her hips swaying, adjusting her bra so that her breasts were pushed up.

“Ransom.” She purrs, touching his arm when she stops before him, batting her eyelashes at him. “It was so good seeing you. You’ll call me, right?” You felt sick as his arm slowly slid from your waist, landing on hers as he smiled down at her.

The walls were built too high, and you could feel the alarms going off in your head. Warning you that your emotions were going into lockdown, begging you to feel. You stood there, again watching your boyfriend flirt with some easy bimbo right in front of you and when he looked at you. You could’ve sworn he looked broken. You weren’t sure why, though? He seemed to have what he wanted, but you didn’t know that Ransom wanted you to look at him with love in your eyes again. He wanted you to have the light and happiness in them when you used to look at him. But all he got was sadness. They were no longer full of life, just lifeless.

He wouldn’t admit it, but seeing you with Steve felt like a stab to his heart. Ransom could tell the smile you gave Steve was genuine, one that you’d only faked with him recently. Before he could say anything, you left, turning your back on him and walking back into the house.

“Can you just fuck off already? Jesus, why the fuck would I want some bimbo when I have the most amazing woman in there?” He growled, glaring at the whore in front of him.

“Really? You started flirting with me! You fucking asshole!” He felt the sting on his cheek, but Ransom didn’t care. He needed to win your love back. Ransom thought you were enjoying the game. He was an idiot for agreeing to it. Why did he do it? Why agree when he didn’t even find any other woman attractive? Ransom only wanted you. He wanted the whole package. Marriage, kids, grandkids. But he only saw that with you, not these worthless whores.

He stormed into the house and on the way to his room. He quickly realised his many mistakes, the flirting and the distance. Ransom had realised he didn’t compliment you on the stunning dress you picked out, god, he loved the dress. He loved that you wore his favourite shade of lipstick on your lips, the lips he loves kissing, the lips he’s missed.

As Ransom reached his room, he felt his whole world shatter around him. There you stood in front of the mirror, studying and judging yourself. He watches you cup your breasts, pushing them together and up, how you turn to stare at your ass. Ransom slowly stepped into the room, and your eyes snapped up and connected with his saddened ones. He could see that you tried to wipe the lipstick off. A beautiful shade of red was smeared across your cheek. Your hair was down and messy from the clip being torn out and thrown across the room.

“Princess–”

“Don’t.” You glare before turning and heading to the bathroom to wash off your makeup. Ransom follows. His heart was heavy as he thought of ways to make it up to you.

“The game was a stupid idea… I shouldn’t have agreed or continued to flirt with those women.” He leans against the bathroom door, continuing to talk even though you don’t look at him. “I don’t want anyone else, not since I met you. Hell, I’ve even had thoughts of starting a family and marrying you, only you. Anytime I try and think of doing that with anyone else, you are the only one I can think of.” He blinks back the tears that threaten to spill, “I’m the biggest idiot alive. I had the most beautiful woman on my arm and left it too late to see it.”

You stopped halfway through, taking your make-up off, staring at him through the mirror as he continued to ramble on. “If you mean that, why were you so close to her against the wall? Why did it seem like more than flirting?”

Ransom groans, rubbing his face. “Because I’m stupid! Because when I saw you and Steve talking, I realised how close I was to losing you forever!” He moves closer, spinning you and grabbing your hands. Ransom stares you in the eyes. “I always knew that you deserved someone like Steve, hell. You deserve so much more than this life, and when I saw you giving him a smile I haven’t seen since we started this stupid game. I lost it, and I became a dumb man.”

Your lip wobbles, eyes brimming with tears as you stare up at him. “And then, when I saw you rush outside, he followed you. I felt like I had failed, especially when I followed and saw you in his arms. My god, Princess, I love you! I love you! I love you! My heart is literally in pieces, I’ve been an ass, and I’ll do anything to get you to forgive me!” He drops to his knees, pressing his face into your stomach as he breaks down. “I’m so sorry. I’ll understand if you pack up and leave me forever.”

The tears fall from your eyes, and your eyes slowly close as your hands find their way to Ransom’s hair, trying to calm yourself by running your fingers through it. “How do I know I can trust that, Ransom? How can I trust your word of loving me when you seemed so happy? The game didn’t mean for you to distance yourself from me… You chose to avoid me. How can I trust that you won’t break my heart?”

He buries his face deeper, hugging you closer. “I’d rather stab myself in the heart than break yours.” Ransom stands, looking down at you with puffy red eyes. “You don’t have to forgive or trust me tonight, tomorrow, a week or a month. But I will stick by your side as long as you will have me, and hopefully… Hopefully, one day you’ll take my last name.” You look up at him, breathing heavily as your mind and heart struggle with your decision. He strokes your cheek before leaning down to lean his forehead against yours, a whisper falling from his lips. “I love you, Princess. I’m always going to love you.”

“...I love you too, Ransom… Always.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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[ciaraswritings]

No Going Back

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Slight angst, fluff, cursing, unhappy relationship, bride leaving wedding, fem x fem relationship. 18+.

Word Count: 2K words

Summary: (fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff) fem!Reader is about to be married to a man she doesn't love, but her crush and best friend, Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), rescues her just in time.

Author's Note: Okay, let's maybe not run away from our weddings in real life, that's pretty traumatic to the person waiting at the altar. Still, it's romantic to fantasize about, especially when it's the confident Black Widow whisking you away. Thank you for all your support. I hope you enjoy.

What do you do when the moment you've thought about your entire life happens? How do you manage it? How do you stay calm? What if it's something you don't even want?

My mind was racing, my hands were shaking. I accidentally smeared my lip stain and nearly dropped the open tube on the white dress. The itchy heirloom dress that I didn't want to wear. It was my mother's, grandmother's, aunt's, cousin's. It was stiff, the sleeves puffed out, and pearls had been beaded across most of the seams. The poor dress had been tweaked and pinned and let out many times and looked seconds away from falling into pieces on the floor. And yet there I was, sitting in front of the church's vanity with the chipped paint, getting ready to marry the perfect man.

The perfect man. To be fair, he was perfect. His eyes were kind and his hands were gentle. I'd never heard him utter a sharp word. He was the kind of man that made women melt in the street. The kind of man my mother would practically force upon me.

I thought of all the people in my life I'd ever loved, my mind reviewing them like flipping through a catalog. Men with shiny smiles and sweet words, it was nothing new. And yet, there was someone that stood out. Someone who was drastically different from the others.

My mind settled on her. The person who knew my deepest, darkest secrets and my most painful scars. We'd met when she started coming to the café I used to work at a few years ago, collecting data on a barista there, yes, but after the case was closed she kept coming back, asking me to make me my own favorite drink every time. She hated the drink, I could tell, because she never finished it. She would linger at the counter for a few minutes, and if there wasn't a line I'd chat with her. Then she'd leave in a rush, "forgetting" the drink she had ordered.

Now, we were closer than "beers in a six pack", as she would say. She knew my favorite ways to be touched, that spot on my neck that made me tremble when she "accidentally" brushed her fingers against it. I didn't remember when I fell in love with her, or when the flirty remarks or brushes of hands against thighs began. All I remembered is how I wished it was her I was walking down the aisle to.

I let my imagination float away, I didn't notice my hands stopped shaking. I closed my eyes and imagined I was marrying Natasha in a few minutes instead of the man my mother introduced me to. I envisioned myself in a dress that I picked out myself, made of lace and tulle, floating down the aisle to her, taking her hands in mine and telling her how much I wanted to love her for the rest of my life. I wanted to tell her that from the first time I saw her, I knew that she was the person I'd fall in love with deeper than the universe's depths. Maybe in ten years we'd curl up together and thumb through a dusty album full of our wedding pictures, and read our vows to each other again in gentle whispers in between kisses.

And yet, there was barely any chance of that happening. We had never admitted any kinds of feelings to each other, though our body language displayed romantic tension to anyone who looked hard enough. To everyone who wasn't looking, she was my best friend who I spent more time with than anyone. To me, she was so much more than that. But then a man came into my life. A whirlwind romance later, he had popped the question in front of both our families. And now Nat was my maid of honor instead of my bride. Or was. She had called me last night, telling me she'd been called in for an attack in Manhattan. That she couldn't come. Maybe it was for the best, it was so painful seeing her now. Her beautiful face, her glowing hair, that smirk that made my stomach flutter.

Suddenly, all my thoughts were snapped away from me. I turned my head as the door slowly opened. It was my groom. I looked up, my eyes still hazy from daydreams and realities. "You're not supposed to see me, it's bad luck."

"I'll see you in a minute anyways," he answered, fully stepping into the church's bridal room, his black suit looking out of place among the pink and white surrounding us.

I tried to give him the best smile I could. I had only finished applying lip stain to my top lip, making my grimace look slightly disturbing. Quickly, I turned back to the mirror to finish. "I suppose so."

His hands ran up my back from behind me. The unwelcome touch made my back straighten. He stroked my shoulders before extending his hand to grasp mine, which I hesitantly accepted. "I'm so excited to marry you."

"Mhmm, I'm… I'm sure."

He didn't seem to catch onto the strain in my tone, but instead pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'd better go before one of our mothers catches me in here."

"Yeah, you'd better." Watching him exit, I rubbed at the spot he had kissed me, trying to brush away the feeling.

As wonderful of a man he was, his touch made my stomach coil. I felt... dirty after his displays of affection. Every time I had tried to tell my mother, or my friends, or anyone else, I got the exact same response. "He's perfect for you, what are you talking about? I'm so jealous of you, you're so lucky!"

"Then why don't you marry him," I'd mutter under my breath whenever I heard the comment. Yes, he was perfect. Just… perfect for someone who loved him. He deserved someone who loved him. That person wasn't me. I wished I could tell him.

But still, here I was, under my family's watchful eye, about to swear away my life to him in a single day. How is that possible? How is someone able to pledge themself to someone they don't even love in a matter of minutes? Just because everyone else likes the way they look together?

Someone else knocked, scaring away tears that threatened to spill over my mascara-lined eyes. It was probably my new maid of honor, bringing me my bouquet of lilies. "Come in, I'm… I'm almost ready."

But it wasn't the bridesmaid I had expected. It was Nat, the woman I wished I had gotten the opportunity to love, just for a little while. She didn't have flowers, and she didn't look happy. She was wearing the Black Widow suit, and I could see the dark circles under her eyes clearly.

"(Y/N), why are you doing this? You can't be serious." Long strides brought her to my side in a matter of moments.

"Why wouldn't I be doing this? I'm getting married to a great guy, it's not rocket science." I turned back to the mirror to keep the lump in my throat from rising.

"You're right, it's not rocket science. It's deeper than that." She grabbed my arm and I looked up at her. Her eyes shot right into mine like piercing bullets. "You're marrying someone you don't even love and you know it."

"What makes you an expert on who I love?" I didn't mean to snap, but my voice was cross. "You're not even supposed to be here, what happened to Manhattan?"

"I didn't go, okay?!" Her voice rose, and she hadn't stopped looking into my eyes in that violent way. "I had to come here and tell you what a mistake you're making! I was praying for months that you were going to call me one day and say 'just kidding, it was a prank', but you never did. And now I have to see you marry that… that… that!"

"That is going to be my husband, and I don't see why you hate him so much all of a sudden! I thought you supported my decisions."

"I do… when it's not a stupid decision."

I rolled my eyes at her. "So what the hell makes this a stupid decision? You're not a love expert, so stay out of it. You're ruining my wedding day."

"It was ruined from the start. You shouldn't be marrying someone you don't love."

Returning the statement with a glare, I rose to my feet. "And who do I love, Natasha?"

Before I could process what was happening, she suddenly pulled me closer, her lips crashing against mine in the most passionate kiss I'd ever felt in my life. Her hands grabbed my hips to pull my body to hers as I returned the kiss. It wasn't lustful, it wasn't sexual, it just said everything her words couldn't. When she pulled away from me and looked into my eyes again, I could see… relief. Gone were the angry arrows aiming at me.

She reached up to stroke my neck, her thumb running against that one spot. "Get out of that fucking hideous dress and meet me in the car outside. Let me… just let me give you what you deserve."

Natasha disappeared out of the bridal room before I could even register what she had said or done. The colors of the walls and dresses surrounding me melted into a pool of watery color as I pressed my fingertips to my lips. My heart was in my throat, my stomach was in a knot… but… I liked it. I didn't want this feeling to end.

"(Y/N)? Here are your flowers, it's time." A bridesmaid, one of my mother's friends, poked her head into the room and set my bouquet on the vanity in front of me. "Aren't you excited?"

"Oh… yeah… excited." I picked up the flowers cautiously, as if they were a snake about to lash out.

"Gosh, you look like you're about to bawl. I know you're happy but don't ruin your makeup, you have to look fresh for your husband. No going back now!" She too disappeared out of the room before returning with a funny look on her face. "I think I just saw an Avenger in the hall, maybe I had too much punch."

"You probably did have too much punch." I pressed my fingers to my lips again as the bridesmaid bustled out of the room. I could hear the organ music begin to play, I knew the wedding ceremony was about to begin. And I knew what I had to do, for everyone's sake.

…

Sunlight kissed my shoulders and nose as I slipped out the church kitchen's back door. I was wearing the same jeans and shirt I had shown up in. My hair was down, flowing, free of the pins and pearly headpiece that had been twisted into it earlier. I carried two things, the bouquet of lilies tucked under my arm, and in my hands, a large box that contained a lemon-vanilla bean cake that had been meant for the reception. They were mine, I paid for them, and now I was going to share them with someone I actually cared about.

I didn't hesitate to slide into the passenger seat of the black Corvette, next to my new adventure in life. I placed the box next to my feet before turning to her, unable to keep the smile off my face. "Sorry about that, I couldn't unbutton the last buttons."

"I should've stuck around to help you, but I didn't really want anyone to see me." Nat started the car before turning her head and leaning in for a kiss as deep and meaningful as the one we had shared inside. She pulled away, but only just, our noses brushing against each other and our lips inches apart. I opened my eyes to stare into hers before she spoke again. "You really should marry someone you love, (Y/N)."

"Did you just propose to me or…?" The smile I couldn't hide grew when she laughed and put the car into reverse. As we drove out of the parking lot, I lifted the bouquet to my nose and nuzzled one of the roses. No going back.

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[thewitchandtheassassin]

Choices, Choices (Maria Hill x Reader)

Summary: Part 2 of Kiss or Kill

Words: 923

Warnings: Language, violence?

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife17​​ @red1culous​  @aaron-despair​​ @username23345 @xjiasx​ @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova​ @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne    @everything201197​

-X-

Maria’s grasp on the grip of her sidearm was firm, knuckles nearly white with tension as she crept through the uncomfortably silent HYDRA base. They’d received intel that it was teeming with scientists and soldiers alike in another pathetic attempt to recreate the beauty of the Super Soldier serum but she hadn’t seen another soul since infiltrating the base.

At this rate, she was beginning to wonder how accurate their information truly was.

Nearing what was supposedly central command, she inhaled deeply. She’d been off for weeks, ever since you’d pinned her to that damned wall and kissed her like lives depended on it. And maybe they had. If she’d been caught by some of those monsters roaming about, she would’ve been killed on the spot – or worse.

But now she couldn’t get it out of her fucking head.

She’d hoped this would redeem her dry spell but it seemed she would be leaving here empty-handed as well. As she stepped to the door keeping her from command, she paused as a cheerful whistle met her ears. It sounded oddly familiar and her heart dropped into the pit of her belly.

There’s no way.

Shoving it open with reckless abandon, Maria was baffled and furious simultaneously at the sight of your grinning countenance. A slew of motionless bodies were littering the floor, most of their chests still visibly rising despite the vague appearance of lifelessness. You were leaning against the edge of a desk, ankles crossed as you languished against it nonchalantly.

“Why, hello, agent,” you purred, gleefully clicking your tongue. “I wondered how long it’d take you to get here. I was starting to worry you’d dismissed my helpful tipoff.”

“I- you-” Maria sputtered, brows furrowing with frustration. “That’s not possible. Agent Romanoff…”

“Followed a clue I left for her. And then subsequently found all the others I just so happen to leave out in plain view for any halfway intelligent agent to put together. Really, your people should never assume it’s that easy to uncover things. I understand most of HYDRA is run by morons but there were far too many coincidences involved here,” you replied patronizingly, smirking at the fuming brunette. “Aw, there’s no need for such dramatics, you sweet little mouse. You simply stumbled into this cat’s trap thanks to a deadly widow. You are the Jerry to my Tom, if you will.”

Shoving away from the desk, your expression grew somber as you stood before Maria.

“I asked you here for a reason,” you admitted, all the teasing gone from your words. “Your appearance at the party has painted quite a target on your back. The heads of a few ugly organizations have put a price on your head and if you continue chasing down this path, they will call for the hit.”

“I can handle myself,” she contended, her glare faltering under the concern shining brightly back at her. “SHIELD –”

“Cannot protect you,” you muttered solemnly. “Your life is contracted. They will hire only the best and they will buy or murder the people closest to you. You may not fear them now but you should.”

Hesitating, Maria studied the tightness of your features, the tension of your form as your eyes darted about attentively. “(Y/N)...”

“I am a pawn in many games,” you shrugged, unbothered by the notion of being caught in the webs of horrible men and women alike. “Until I am no longer of use, they will keep me on the board at the cost of any lives they deem inconsequential. Nothing about my life is as black and white as your organization believes it is. Their house of cards must fall, but I will be the one pulling it. So stay out of my way.”

“I can’t let you keep hurting people,” Maria argued weakly. “People will die.”

Cupping her cheeks firmly, your look was fierce and blatantly terrified as you stared at the stunned woman helplessly. “You will die, Maria! And I won’t fucking let that happen. Please, stay away from this.”

You let one hand fall to her waist as you dragged her close, mouth harsh and unforgiving against hers though she returned the embrace with similar fire as her shock dissipated into something deeper. Something she couldn’t deny.

If you were anything in this world and in this lifetime, you were selfish. You always had been. You would sacrifice the things that didn’t matter to you to keep those you did care about safe without hesitation or thought. The world itself could burn as long as your world remained.

And you would not let her gamble her life for others. Not when she meant so much to you.

Tugging a syringe from your pocket, your eyes fell open as you pulled back, forehead resting against hers. Panted breaths passed between you, Maria’s eyes soft and trusting.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, wetness pooling in your waterline as you jabbed the needle into the side of her neck and pressing the plunger, wincing at her gasp of betrayal and pain, watching the light of consciousness fade from her crystal eyes. “I know you won’t let this go. But you have to.”

Catching her sagging body, tears dripped down your cheeks as she went limp in your arms. You held her tight, lifting her with ease and hurrying from the command center.

“When it’s all over, I’ll make this right. I promise,” you pledged, kissing the crown of her head. “You may hate me, but you’ll be safe. That’s all that matters.”

#maria hill imagine #maria hill x reader #maria hill #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #MCU fic #reader insert #avengers imagine #the avengers imagine #marvel cinematic universe

[miscfandomwrites]

Ghost

A/N: This is one of my first fics but it did get a decent liking to it so I will be reuploading it.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Location: Marvel > Wanda Maximoff > Oneshots

Words: 1.5k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~

“You are not seriously wearing that, are you?” Questioned Tony as I walked by him. 

I was wearing a white dress shirt tucked into black pants, my hair a bit messy but down. I had a set of silver rings on both hands, and I was wearing a pair of black boots. 

“I am.” I replied, heading to the elevator. 

“You realize every woman will be on you in a matter of seconds?” He questioned as he followed me in the elevator. 

“That’s the point,” I answered. 

There was in fact only one woman I wanted on me tonight, if she’ll have me.

~~~

“You did what?” Steve gasped. 

I grinned at him. “Stark hasn’t noticed yet, and I got a photo to prove it” I told him. I pulled out my phone and pulled up the photo of a note stuck to the back of Stark’s suit that read “Kick me”

While it was childish, it got her attention which is what I wanted. 

~~~

It was getting late, and the Gala was still going on, despite it being nearly midnight. I was talking to someone who I didn’t know, when I decided to ask her. 

I conjured up the words in my head and glanced around to find her. 

Wanda was wearing a red dress that did nothing to help the need growing between my legs. With low cleavage and a slit up her left thigh, and the way the fabric hugged her curves…

Damn, I had a thing for women in dresses. 

Suddenly a song started playing that I recognized- Jungle, by Nina Chuba.

Care to dance? I asked her, along with an image of us on the dance floor. 

She turned to look at me, with a small smile and swore my heart started beating faster. 

Of course. 

I walked to her, completely leaving the person I was talking to. She had several men around her, all behaving like dogs. 

“May I have this dance, Miss Maximoff?” I asked her. She grinned at me as the men turned to look at me with various emotions that I had no care to observe from. Only hers. 

“You may” she replied as she held out her hand, which I took. 

I led her to the dance floor, twirling her once we got on. I had one hand on her hip, the other holding her other hand in the air, as she reseted her hand on my shoulder. 

“You look beautiful tonight” I told her, gazing at her startling blue eyes. The calm and delight that they held in them reminded me of the sky after a rainstorm. 

She smirked at me. “Don’t I look beautiful every night, Ghost?” She said. Ghost was my callsign, partially due to my abilities and partially due to my habit of disappearing and reappearing out of nowhere. 

“There has never been a day where you have not been beautiful.” I replied, smiling at her. 

She let go of my hand and put it on the back of my neck, and moved closer to me. We were gently swaying to the music, and I rested my other hand on her shoulder. 

She smiled back at me, humming the song. 

I turned my head and saw the men she was with earlier, glaring at us. She turned her head too, and leaned into me. 

“Why don’t we go somewhere else?” She asked, as I started glaring at the men. 

“Good idea.” I answered, taking her hand and leading her to the elevator. 

Once we got in and the doors closed, she grabbed my collar and kissed me. She tasted like strawberry chapstick and cinnamon, just as I had imagined. 

I laced a hand through her hair and pulled her closer, and put my other hand on the small of her back. I nipped at her lip and she gladly opened her mouth to me. I backed her up to the wall, pressing her against it. She broke the kiss to look at me. “Care to show me how much you want me?” she asked. I grinned at her. 

“You’ve been listening to my thoughts, haven’t you?” I asked her. 

“About the fact that you want my dress on the floor, of the fact you have a thing for women in dresses?” she replied, smirking. 

“Damn then, you’re in for a hell of a night” I grinned at her. 

The elevator stopped at my floor, and I pulled her out of it, pushing her against the wall right outside of it. 

I had my hands on her hips and was pressing into her. She wrapped her legs around me, and I started grinding into her as she gasped. She leaned her head back, moaning softly as I started kissing her neck. I pressed kisses to her collarbone, before my lips found her mouth again. 

“Do you want marks?” I questioned. This was more so she wasn’t questioned and was comfortable having them.

“Show them who I belong to.” 

That was all it took. I lifted her off the wall and carried her to my room, making sure to leave plenty of marks along her neck and chest. 

I leaned her against the bed as we kicked off our shoes. I started pulling her dress off of her, groaning at the sight of her braless breasts. 

I kissed down her chest, taking one of her nipples in my mouth while I rolled the other between my thumb and forefinger. 

Her hand found its way into my hair as she let out a breathless whisper of my name. I switched, taking the other in my mouth. She started grinding against me, and I placed one of my thighs between her legs so she’d have more friction. 

Fuck, I could feel her heat through my pants. 

I kissed down her stomach, sliding the rest of her dress off. She was wearing a lacy pair of black underwear, which were quickly taken off. I kissed the top of her mound and the inside of her thighs. 

“Please” she asked. I looked up and saw her kiss-swollen lips and piercing blue eyes starting at me. 

I grinned back and licked her folds as she fell back against the bed, cursing. 

“Fuck, you’re already this wet for me darling?” I asked. Her essence was coating her inner thighs and damn, it tasted sweet. 

I licked against, from her entrance to her clit, flicking it with my tongue. I put her thighs on my shoulders and pressed my face more into her, licking and occasionally sucking one of her lips. 

I took her clit in my mouth and was rewarded by a near yell of my name. I sucked on it, and felt her thighs shaking around me. I carefully entered one finger and curled it, then another. A jumped mess of words fell out of her mouth, some curse words, others my name, and one that definitely caught my attention as I kept curling my fingers.

“Fuck-(Y/N) please please don’t stop! I’m gonna cum!” she cried out, moaning. 

I kept up my minstations, sucking harder on her clit as she let out a loud moan, the hand in my hair gripping tighter. I felt her walls start to squeeze my fingers and I kept going. 

I looked up right as she came and fuck, I wanted that photo intergrained in my head permanently. Her back was arched, her hair spread out on the bed, her other hand gripping the sheets as she lets out a moan. 

I coaxed her through it, eventually earning another orgasum from her. My mouth switched places with my fingers, causing her to scream my name as she came again. 

I finally stopped, licking her essence off of her thighs, and flicked her clit with my tongue as she whimpered. 

I stood up, licking my fingers as she started at me. 

“Fuck, that was good” she told me. I grinned at her. 

“I can do better.” I replied. Suddenly a loud chime started playing, from which Wanda grabbed her phone. 

She answered it as I went to my bathroom, wetting a washcloth and coming back to her telling someone that she’d be there in a bit. 

I wiped her down carefully, as she asked me “Do you do this with all your lays?” 

I chucked and tossed the washcloth in the laundry basket, and then helping her back in her dress. 

“Only with the ones I really like” I replied. She smiled at me as I helped stabilize her as she put her heels back on.

“I wish I could reciprocate, but I’m needed downstairs. Later, though?” She asked. 

I grinned. “I’m always here.” I replied. She smirked at me and walked out the door. 

I ran a hand through my hair, tilting my head back and breathing out a curse. 

“Fuck”

I sent a mental image to her, of her between my thighs and I got a one-word response from her. 

Later. 

#miscfandomwrites #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n

[aquietlifesblog]

The Cost of You (Dio x F!Reader)

"I… I've always wondered if…" For the first time, you seemed unsure of yourself. This is an area in which you had no experience. Thus, he allowed his kiss to be the answer. It was all the comfort you would ever need. OR

You let Dio have you for the very first time.

This is the first short story set in the 'Hungry Eyes' Universe. This can be read as a standalone but canonically happens during the first 'fate to black' scene featured in Chapter 1 of 'Hungry Eyes.' Read the Full Story on AO3

Note: This story takes place during Phantom Blood so period typical attitudes and understanding of sex apply.

Main Story | Masterlist |

"A woman's virtue is all she has, no man of good standing would wed a girl who's been sullied. There is nothing worse than a fallen woman, do you understand?" 

"Yes." 

You understood the threat men posed to your good standing, how their whims could steer the course of your life.

You understood when you were 12, and the city boys followed you around the marketplace shouting vulgar words. You understood when you were 16, and the young footman insisted you accompany him to some faraway fair alone. And you understood at age 20, when Lord Pendleton returned from his long trip abroad and marveled at how much you'd grown. 

You understood. 

And yet…and yet…

The press of Dio's lips against your own was heaven.

'He wants me,' your heart sang, 'just as much as I want him.'

Maybe even more.

You'd hardly gotten through the door before he kissed you again, and your coats and scarves were haphazardly discarded soon after. You felt as though you’d swoon, that you'd faint like some delicate lady as Dio led you to the bed.

He wanted you. 

The walls of the inn were thin, so the muffled sounds of merry patrons and tired workers drifted up through the polished hardwood floor. It should have annoyed you, but the moment Dio pressed you back against the plush white mattress, the world around you fell away. 

Everything but your sense of self-awareness.

Your heart and body ached for Dio, but you carried no illusions; he wanted you, and he might have even liked you, but he would never marry you; you may have carried Lord Pendleton's blood, but you were just a bastard, the illegitimate daughter of a maid.  

A softer man, perhaps, would say it didn't matter and would promise to marry you anyway.

But Dio Brando was not a soft man. He was pragmatic and cunning. He didn't see the value in sentiment so any promise of marriage would only be a clever lie. He was a liar, a murderer, and a schemer. But despite his ways, he was more honest than anyone else, more honest than even he would believe.

He was a double-edged blade, sharp and unwieldy. But unlike other men, who hid their sharp edges beneath kind words and flowery gifts, Dio never hid himself from you. So when he pressed in close and wrapped his arms around you, you understood exactly what it meant: 

He wanted you.

And you wanted him too. 

"Dio," you hated the way you cried when he released you, needy and desperate like some pinchcock in a brothel. 

"Hush now, dear, have patience." His eyes were so beautiful, like golden pools of honey as he undressed you with his rough hands. They slid from the thick of your hips to the swell of your breasts and back again, peeling away every layer with the grace of a swan.

‘Take this off,’ he told you, and ‘raise your hips,’ ‘your arms,’ ‘good girl.’  He stripped you of your skirts, your blouse, your chemise, and your stays—leaving everything behind as a pile on the floor.

You might have been embarrassed and ashamed of your naked body—women should never bare themselves to a man after all—but you liked the way Dio gazed upon you, like a beast seeking prey. You reached out your arm to hold him but he stopped you, pinning your wrist to the mattress instead. 

"Allow me to admire you," he said, as though he wished to savor the moment, to savor you.

And for a moment it was quiet, with nothing but the low murmur of the downstairs patrons and the sound of whistling wind settling in around you. You allowed him to savor the moment; you savored it as well.  And then you blinked, and something bloomed behind his golden gaze. 

Was it passion? you wondered. Obsession? Greed? You wouldn't let yourself imagine love. 

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, and your heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, soft and low. The rough pads of his fingers brushed across your cheek as he spoke to you, and a wicked smirk graced that perfect face. "Don't act shy now. Isn't this what you wanted?" He leaned forward then, his breath warm and soft in your ear. "Come now, you've never held your tongue before." 

"This is different," you trembled beneath his touch and he laughed at you, a soft chuckle ripe with glee. Dio had experience, you realized, he'd done this before. You briefly wondered if he engaged himself with women of good standing or if he hired women of the night. 

"And so it is…tell me, dear, do you think of me at night?" He pressed down upon your wrists as he loomed above you, his larger form positioned at your side. 

You didn't reply, so he took your silence as an answer. 

"As I thought," he gloated as a deceptive smile softened his features. "Of course you do." His large hand settled against your leftmost breast. You gasped, unsure what to do as he squeezed and pinched your nipple. His movements were slow, torturously slow as he continued. 

"Tell me what it is you dream about," he whispered, "tell me what sinful fantasies run rampant in your mind so that I may do more. Tell me what you think of as your hand slips beneath your bedsheets. I shan’t do more than this till you do." 

You didn't have the words to describe what you wanted and he knew that. But the pleasure of his languid touch was a flame that threatened to consume you. He stopped for just a moment and you whined about it till he started on your other breast. 

"What do you think about?" Your voice was weak and it wavered as you spoke. 

"Me?” He slid his hand away from your breasts and you whimpered again in protest. But he brought his fingers to your cheek, turned your eat toward him, and leaned closer. His thumb traced the gentle curve of your lips and they parted for him.

You wanted him to kiss you.

“I dream of you using that mouth of yours for better things." He told you, slipping a finger partway into your wanting mouth, demonstrating exactly what it was he wanted to do. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes went wide with the shock before narrowing down into a glare that made him laugh once again. 

You may have been inexperienced, but you understood the implication of his words. You've heard men laugh and joke about having women on their knees, of 'their pretty mouths wrapped around their throbbing cocks,' and the very thought made your lips curl in disgust.

He pulled his hand away so you couldn't bite him. So you slapped his hand and sat up, covering your breasts in a feeble attempt to preserve your sense of dignity. 

"I don't want to be with you that way." 

"Oh?" He tilted his head in amusement as you tried, and failed, to muster a proper glare. "Many women enjoy such things; it excites their…sensibilities." He placed a hand upon your thigh and moved lower, but you batted his hand away. 

"It's disgusting." You turned your head toward the door, hoping to express discontent. How silly you must have looked, sitting naked beside him, playing the part of a modest dame. 

"And yet here you are. Were you not writhing naked beneath me not a moment ago?" He tutted, speaking as though he knew your mind. "Some might say the same of you, my dear: an unwed woman quaking at the thighs, so ready and willing, eager to be relieved of her maidenhood." 

"I-" you loathed admitting he was right. You wanted it, you wanted him so badly something warm and wet began to pool between your thighs.

But you turned to glare at him anyway.

You once found a book in Lord Pendleton’s study that contained detailed accounts of sexual intimacy. You were scandalized, shocked, yet the pictures of the couples never left your memory: The man was on top, nestled between the woman's thighs. Her back was arched, her lips parted and her breasts unbound. 

You were told that sex was an ordeal, something for men to enjoy and women to endure. But the woman in the illustration seemed happy; you wanted to share that bliss with Dio, even as he spoke such devilish things. 

"No words? No self-righteous condemnation or defense of your own pure desires? I'm waiting for an answer." He set his hand on the small of your back, and you shivered as he blazed a trail to the curve of your ass and back again. "Or could it be that you're far too enamored to think? Is that it? Have you become dumbfounded by my touch? By the thought of me as I claim your virginity for myself?" 

Dio loved to hear himself speak, and though his lewd insinuations made your heart race, you could only take so much of it. And worse, you were placed into an awkward position, with Dio’s hulking figure set beside you, touching your body as he pleased, saying whatever the hell he wanted...and you hadn't a clue what to do. 

"What more is there to be said?" You spoke out in frustration, "you know how I feel about you, the reason why we're here." Though you never managed to say it. You wouldn't let yourself love him, only want him. 

"I do, in fact. And it brings me joy to know how you ache for me.” He held your face between his hands and leaned forward just so. “Had you told me sooner, you may have been my first as well.”

And with a kiss, he ensnared you again. Dio pressed you back against the bed, wedged a hand between your legs, and settled himself between them. 

“You b-” He leaned over you then, caging your body between his massive arms. 

“Call me what you will, but here we are, blissful agony so close at hand. If only you'd reveal to me your innermost desires I could fulfill your every fantasy. Or are you ashamed? Women should be pure and yet you yearn to be taken, yearn to feel my cock within you..." 

"Must you be so lewd!"

"Lewd? Are your desires so pure then? Look at you, on your back for me, dripping with desire. Yet you refuse to tell me what it is you yearn for.” He scoffed. “At least I'm honest with my intentions.” 

"I want you to kiss me!" You finally crack, embarrassed by your admission and the delirium of desire.

He said nothing for what felt like a long while, as though he was shocked by the mundanity of your words. Dio chuckled softly. 

"Then perhaps your desires are more pure than mine."

Nonetheless, Dio indulged you. He kissed your lips, your neck, your shoulders, and your earlobe. Dio dragged his tongue along your throat, pulling pleasure from your pliable form in ways you never expected.

"Dio," you moaned his name, blindly pulling at the back of his shirt, desperate for something to hold on to as you beckoned him closer. 

"Yes, love?” He teased, one large hand playing at the base of your breast. He held himself up with the other.  

"Dio please," you murmured, again unsure what it was you were asking for. You tried to press your legs together to find relief from the throbbing need that gathered there, but he was still placed between them.

"Well, aren't you eager?" He teased, circling a thumb around your nipple once again. You gasped, startled by the sharp pleasure that spread throughout your body like lightning in the sky. "And yet so delicate.”

“Must you say such things?” You groaned. Never had he thought of you as delicate before. That isn't why he liked you. 

"You speak as though you don't like it, yet your excitement is palpable," he licked his lips. "I can see it in your eyes, how anxious you are for me to fuck you." 

"You’re incorrigible," you hiss.

"Shall I stop?" He threatened as his hungry lips moved lower, down to your collar, across your breasts. 

"No, don't stop." Your entire being ached for him, leaving you in almost pained anticipation as he pressed a trail of kisses down your stomach. But Dio let out a hum of disapproval, so you decided to play to his ego. "I want you to have me."

"And how shall I have you?" He whispered.

'However you please,' you wanted to say, but you couldn't let him get too haughty. So 'quiet,'  was your eager reply. 

"You want me quiet then? Hm. Well, I suppose we share the same dream...allow me to show you the appeal." Your entire body trembled as he looked upon you from his lower position, and inhuman hunger sparked behind sulty golden eyes.

He moved lower still, angling his chest to the bed and hooking your legs around his shoulders.

You didn't understand, but your heart swelled in nervous anticipation.

He could see everything now, see how wet you were between the thighs, see how badly your body quivered.  Would he be disgusted? Appalled? Think you no better than some back alley whore?

"My, my," He started, his voice deep, "aren't you pretty?" 

"I-" You gasped then, unable to finish your sentence as he dragged his tongue across your most tender place and swirled that devil tongue around you. He hummed, seemingly delighted by your taste, and something in your body coiled.

You took hold of the blanket, unsure of what to do. You never considered this, never dreamed of this, never imagined this was something that could happen.

Was Dio a sexual deviant? Is that what was happening?  (He was certainly depraved so you wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.) But if he was, what did that make you? You liked this, you liked the position Dio took below you, you liked the way his hot mouth and greedy tongue felt as he found a constant rhythm.

Frantic gasps and warbling moans spilled from your lips as he found his stride. It was like waves of pleasure, threatening to drag you out into an open sea of rapture. You had no idea how to meet this feeling—so you edged upward without thinking, as though to retreat. 

"Do you not find this pleasurable?" He stopped. You looked down your body to meet an inquiring gaze and smooth pale skin flushed with heat. 

"Do you? " He looked at you as though it was obvious, as though you asked him if the sky was blue.

"Would you like me to continue or not? I thought you wanted me quiet." 

"I…I do. But-"

“Then stop your insistent squirming.” Squirming? You hadn’t realized you’d been squirming. You wanted to protest but Dio was quick to begin again. This time, he leveraged his size to root your body in place. 

"Oh my," you gasped, your voice straining as he regained his stride. "My god," you cursed again, as that thing inside you, that coiling pressure, built and curled like a wave. You took hold of him then, sinking your fingers in his hair to pull him closer. Dio moaned, and the sweet sound of his pleasure blended with your own. Deviant or not, you liked what he was doing, and you didn't want him to stop. You begged him not to stop, not until that wave of pleasure crested and broke upon the shore.

Your breaths came faster and faster, and as he buried his tongue deep inside your needy cunt you found what it was you'd been chasing: the end. 

You met your first orgasm with a breathy cry as your body shook with a pleasure you've never known. It was a storm, a flood, a flower blooming in the night. It was everything. 

'Blissful agony' indeed.

You melted, your body nothing but a bundle of nerves swept by lust's tender embrace. 

"My God," you took a single, quivering breath. 

"Not quite, but you're free to think of me as such." Dio settled back on his haunches, his expression smug as he licked your essence from his lips.

You needed a moment to breathe, a moment to regain your sense of self before you responded, yet every part of you felt tender and warm.

"You're speaking again?"  Was the only thing you thought to say to him, but in truth, you enjoyed the sound of his voice: low, sharp, and deep. But you liked the sound of his moans even more.

"So I am." He leaned forward and kissed you deeply, sharing the taste of your arousal. You squealed at that, but Dio pressed closer, pinning you down into the mattress as he ground his clothed erection against your belly. You weren't sure about the taste, but you pulled him closer anyway. The kiss you shared was long and sloppy.  

"I find your desperation endearing." He smirked. 

"I'm not-"  You moaned again as he left a tender trail of kisses down your neck.

"You are." He countered, and Dio drew your skin between his lips, licking and sucking till he left a mark for you to find come morning. Again you were reduced to nothing but giddy nerves. "Look at you, always so dishonest. Perhaps you'll tell me this: are you ready for me?" He asked so sweetly it gave you butterflies.  "Well?" He asked, rolling his hips against you once more. He was more than ready. 

"I'm ready,"  You said, with more confidence than you felt. You wanted this, you did, but your heart thundered in your chest so hard, you felt the need to turn away as he sat back and peeled away his waistcoat and blouse, exposing the expanse of his chest to you. 

Dio’s body was sculpted by the gods, lean yet toned with well-formed muscle. His trousers left him next, then his underclothes. By the time you managed to meet his gaze, Dio was looking at you, his thick cock stiff against his stomach.

"On most occasions," he stroked himself slowly, large fingers wrapped around his veiny shaft, "I would have asked you to return the favor, but you've managed to excite me all on your own. " 

"Do you seek to flatter all your women?" You asked, blood rushing to your cheeks once again. 

"And then some, my dear, but only those who deserve such praise." He stopped his stroking and stood above you, guiding you into a more favorable position, with your hips settled near the edge of the mattress. 

He kneeled between your thighs and leaned forward till your eyes met, his throbbing member pressed against your belly. 

Dio gazed upon you like a man possessed by greed, as though he wanted to own you, make you his. So you reached out to him, settling your hands against his shoulders, bracing yourself for what was to come as he kissed you. 

"Relax," he told you, reaching between your bodies to line himself up against your entry. He rubbed the head against you, then the shaft, and you shivered. 

It felt so good, being used to wet his cock, so good you might have finished from that alone had he not decided to push inside you.

"Dio-" you winced. It hurt, like a burning pressure deep inside. You whined and grunted as his slick length pushed you beyond a limit you never knew existed—and it wasn't even the whole of it.

"No, please," you cried out. Surely it was meant to be better than this. 

"Hush now, you can take me." Dio's voice was strained as he eased himself inside of you, his breath hot and heavy as you took him inch by inch. He was holding back for you. "You want this to feel good?" 

"Y-yes." 

"Then relax." 

You tried but with little success. But soon he was kissing you again, his lips leaving pleasurable sensations on your ear that made your entire body shudder. 

"There, there, you've done well." He whispered once he could push no further. "And it seems I've drawn first blood. That's a good thing, I assure you." He mentioned, looking down at the place your bodies came together. "Shall I continue?"

'A woman's virtue is all she has, no man of good standing would wed a girl who's been sullied. There is nothing worse than a fallen woman, do you understand?'  

You took a breath. 

"Yes."

Dio gave you just a moment longer to adjust to the feeling of being full. And though the intensity of the pressure lessened, you still held him close as he began to move. 

"You feel divine… just as a virgin should. " Dio praised, rearing back and forth at an easy pace. His girthy member dragged across the walls of your aching cunt, sending shocks of pain and pleasure through you. 

"What a good girl you are, clinging to me for comfort, so—ugh—so demure as I fuck you open—" He let out a curse. Dio rolled his hips against you and you gasped at the sharp pleasure that claimed you as your clenched around him.

Then he did it again and again, driving himself deeper every time. 

"I like that," you told him, urging him on with the sweetest cries: "Don't stop," "Do that again," and "Oh yes!" 

"I prefer you this way." He goads you. 

"And I—I preferred you as you were before." He laughed. Dio's skin was flushed red, his pupils large as he claimed you.

A symphony of grunts and moans echoed through your rented chamber. The walls were thin but that no longer seemed to matter as he speared himself into you. Your labored breaths rose and fell in pace with your lover's thrusting. The bed whined and shook beneath you, moving with the weight of your passion. And soon, pleasure came and went like the tides, ebbing the pain away. That same warm dreamy feeling returned to you, settling in the pit of your stomach and building much faster than before.

"You're so tight—so perfect. " 

He grabbed you by the hips and brought you forward, helping you meet his every thrust. 

He called your name. 

"You were made for me weren't you?" 

"Yes!" 

"That's what you want, isn't it? For... me to take you every night?" 

"Yes!"

"Then you're mine." 

"Yes!" 

You hardly registered the words he said, hardly realized how loud you moaned his name as he pulled that sweet, primordial pleasure from your body.

"Yes, yes, yes!" 

Little by little, his strokes became rougher, quicker, and more demanding. Your eyes were shut, but you could feel him staring.

In and out, in and out...he set into a frenzied, desperate pace. Soon, Dio doubled over, pressing his face into the side of your neck as his cock pulsed and throbbed within you. He was close to the end.

in and out, in and out...Dio's breath grew ragged and he pushed inside you with a final shaky thrust. His groan was deep and throaty, and you could feel his body shake as he filled you with his seed. 

A strange new pleasure bubbled up inside you, warming your body like a spring. You've never known this feeling, the feeling of being full. 

And so you laid together in silence, nothing but heavy breaths and a sweaty pile of tangled limbs.

"How utterly careless of me," he broke the silence, lips still flush against your skin. "You simply felt so good,  I could hardly control myself. You don't mind, do you? I'm sure nothing will come of it."

Nothing will come of it? Surely he wasn't referring to— 

"I can't fall pregnant," you spoke without breath. "Not the very first time." Isn't that how it worked?

He didn't move. Dio remained in that position for a few moments longer before lifting off you. And when he pulled out, the excess of his finish spilled from you as well.

"It's as I said, nothing will come of it— don't look at me that way, as though you'll cry...there's a medicine woman in London, I will have something prepared to ensure you aren’t cursed with my child." He rolled his eyes. 

Dio stood, snatched a folded sheet from the closet, and shook it out. 

"Though you should thank me for the opportunity, I'll be sure to use a contraceptive next time."

“Next time? You’re... you're rather presumptuous, aren't you?” You tried to frown, tried to return to form, but you found you were far too happy. 

“You still have much to learn; what better teacher to have than me?” He all but threw the sheet at your face and instructed you to change them, saying he refused to lay down in filth and that it was your mess anyway.

 You scoffed but made a mental note of the sick satisfaction that shone in his eyes when he saw the red stain of blood amongst the other fluids.  

"I pity the man you vow yourself to, having been denied such a gift." 

You rolled your eyes and turned denying him the chance to see the blush that darkened the apples of your cheeks. You stripped the sheets in silence.

"I suppose it doesn't matter. You're free to be mine for as long as you wish to be." You were shocked to see Dio move the pillows, making it so you could place the new sheets on the bed. 

You wanted to ask if that meant he was yours too, but you feared knowing the answer.

Dio took the sullied sheets without a word, tugging them from your grasp. You reached down for your chemise but he ushered you back to bed. 

"Leave it. Sit down." 

You didn't expect Dio to help you wipe your legs with the soiled sheet or be the type that wanted to hold you, but he did. After tossing the sheet into a corner, Dio stretched across the bed, one arm bent behind his head, the other resting at your side as you curled beneath the blanket.

Predictably, Dio began talking, speaking this time of ambition and all his future plans.

"Perhaps I'll let you be my secretary," he smirked, and it was your time to laugh then, letting out a deep and throaty chuckle. Because Dio didn’t see you as a girl who's been sullied, as a woman who committed a sin.  No. When you looked into Dio’s eyes you saw desire there, a hunger with no end.

"I suppose I'll consider it." You told him, content to lay your head against his chest. 

He would never marry you, you knew that, but he’d find a way to keep you at his side. 

No matter what it cost you...

#dio brando #dio x reader #I just wanted to have an excuse to post now that I've put the whole main story on here

[flansterthefilm]

Wokeness

One of the most mind altering cringe things I've seen my entire life is a grown men, maybe in his thirties, losing his shit over the option to select your pronouns in Starfield. He yelled at the screen, he turned the game off, you could see the fires of rage in his eyes burn with the fury of a thousand suns. And one of the most captivating things that I saw said in response to this was that what he was facing mentally had to be some sort of cognitive illness. Holy shit, you're right.

I think that now more than ever there's a strong pushback against the inclusion of any type of marginalized group in media unless they submit to extremely tight standards: Women are fine as long as they're beautiful, black people are okay as long as they aren't too present and don't overshadow the white main character, and the LGBT community are tolerable permitted they aren't at all present. When media doesn't submit to this they face review bombing, unsuccessful boycotts, and even real world threats.

Most commonly we see that these aforementioned qualities not being stuck to birth Twitter rants made by people who paid $8 for a blue checkmark to appear next to their name. They'll write as much as the character limit permits about how whatever studio is responsible for the downfall of the West because some movie had a gay kiss scene or a video game let you play as a deaf black girl.

What you'll see as a pattern in a lot of cases of apparent "wokeness" is that the issue isn't so much what a character says or does but rather a character's inclusion in the first place. In a game like Horizon Forbidden West the main character, Aloy's, sexuality was met with harsh waves of criticism. She wasn't straight and that was an issue. The game didn't make a statement about gay validity vs straight validity, Aloy was just bi or lesbian, end of story. And in Marvel's Spider-Man 2 we have Hailey, a deaf black character who has an OPTIONAL side mission where things were as down to Earth as possible in a game like Spider-Man. She didn't save the day in the end, she didn't use her powers of being black and deaf to overpower the Spider-Men, she just existed. Both of these instances were met with controversy from former FASD babies who accidentally tricked themselves into thinking their opinion was worth hearing.

This criticism, however, goes beyond just dipshits on Twitter. A lot of the time we see major news outlets like Fox News take any given instance of non white, non straight, non male inclusion and turn it into a news story. Most common when Mr. Carlson was on the air, stories about the Little Mermaid being black or the Green M&M no longer being boner fuel because Mars doesn't want people to make their own salty M&Ms before they get their recipe right flooded the air. Tucker doing this unleashed the concept of wokeness unto his millions of fans, and from there conflation began.

Tucker's framing of wokeness made it seem as if any inclusion that didn't fit his ideal standards was inherently bad and worth fighting against. And his ideal standards often made it seem like marginalized groups aren't welcome when compared to straight white men when it comes to their involvement in media. Both are true. And when you have a man like him, the former most watched news personality in America, not only make it seem like the devilish concept of wokeness was just the inclusion of minorities but also validate those who already thought that way, disaster will and did strike.

(I don't believe Tucker is solely to blame however it stands to reason that he certainly didn't help the spread.)

So now we have the mere act of including and in some cases simply acknowledging these minority groups being framed as woke, and woke=bad if you haven't sumised by now.

This rather easily paves the way for any and all representation of marginalized people to be labeled as woke, and when it's labeled as such a pushback from a larger group of people is easy. Those who begin the pushback are simply angry that someone who doesn't look like them are in media they want to enjoy, that's what they see as woke. By using the word "woke" they enlist the help of the uninformed, those who think that the issue is the presence being forced or pandering, that is their version of woke. What they don't know is what they're rallying behind isn't a simple expression of proper inclusion, it's the erasure of inclusion.

From there and with repeated pushbacks the uninformed begin to conflate any inclusion with wokeness. They get mad that a gay person was on Sesame Street or The Simpsons is pro BLM. They think they're at war with pandering. This is not true, they've been radicalized.

Large, public, and vocal outcry leads to executives listening. If they believe that having a black main character is going to drop profits whereas a white one wouldn't, guess which path they'll take. And this will continue with two outcomes for each instance: the minority is replaced with future media or the minority stays and further radicalization happens.

With those who fall into the bigoted category of warriors against the "woke mob" in congress and various positions of power, fighting against what boils down to minorities being present in anything, with them being radicalized just as the uninformed had been or being radical to begin with, I hate to see what's on the horizon for my friends and I.

#lgbtqia #politics #wokeness #essay #personal essay #free write essay #civil rights

[dairy-farmer]

tim's long, soft hair curling around his back of neck is weirdly sexy. the way dark hair accentuates his pale skin is the reason maybe? everybody loves playing with tim's baby-like soft hair, especially after served his perfect cunt. tim is cooing, purring, basically melting into the touch while nuzzling the other's neck like happy little kitty.

i think tim would have the softest hair 🥺.

like all silky strands and so thick, it slips through your fingers like water. all the batboys are widely acknowledged as being incredibly attractive, even by cape standards because capes are like...all weirdly attractive and it leads to a sort of bottleneck where they all can't help but fucking each other and passing each other around like a popular clique in highschool or all the athletes screwing each other during the olympics.

but the batboys are outliers even among them.

everyone agrees on dick having the best butt, jason having the best thighs-

and their bodies...well those aren't anything to sniff at either.

but tim... well tim's a big smaller, not as buff, or as big as them.

but his hair- oh his hair beats out both men and women. and anyone who's felt it would agree. it's baby soft.

it's the perfect length and frames his face so beautifully. he's like the story of snow white 'lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, skin white as snow-'

tim's hair is black as night and the perfect thing to play with, running fingers through it and marveling at the individual strands.

it's a perfect end to a night of vigorously fucking into the most perfect cunt to grace the earth, kissing a soft neck, pink lips, and pressing a lingering peck to soft strands of soft, beautiful hair.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

[peakijr]

Better Day

Chapter 1 Negan woke up early than usual, not even the sun had risen to break through the dawn clouds. He struggled out of bed, fighting his duvet, this fight ended with Negan on the floor. He grunted as he stood up, stretching out his aching body, Negan walked in to the small on-suite bathroom to see the damage in the mirror. When he matched eyes with himself in mirror, he marveled at the appearance of his grey root started growing out his Black hair. Negan was always a natural black hair person but in recent years his hair had started to go grey and unlike most men his age he kept dying it black, well the roots anyway, signing deep this meant a haircut and a trip to Frankie and her magic hands. Negan finally freshen himself up and wander out of his room for his morning stroll, the Sun was breaking through those Dawn Clouds and Sanctuary slowly came to life with early worker already starting their morning duties. Negan found himself in an old storage room that was filled with useless things like; old chest of drawers, broken objects, old tv and electric stuff, and a small cardboard box that was hidden way. Negan knelt down and plucked something from the box, it was a box of black hair dye that box had a least 17 boxes of it. Stuffing the box in his pocket, Negan went to find an older woman named Jemma, who was a hairstylist before the fall, to cut his hair. "Ahh Negan I would bow but i got my hands full, how can I help ya?" she asked gesturing to the boxes in her arms. "Morning Jemma, here for my usual haircut" he said with a half-smile on his face. Sometimes passed by and it was about early morning when she finally finished. "Thanks darling, I'll make sure to put those points on for ya wonderful job" Negan said with a grin as he walked off rubbing the back of his head. -next job... Frankie- He thought as he strolled towards the Wives room. The rest of Sanctuary started to awaken from its quiet state as more worker started on their own jobs, you can tell who the early birds of Sanctuary are, Negan whistled old songs of a lost world as he passed the kitchen, He thought about it for a minute and decided to skip breakfast today. Negan had a big day today a meeting with Rick and his people, so he may come back if he has time. He came to the Wive's room door pulling the door to see it was quiet. -they must still be asleep- Negan thought dragging his hand down his face in slight aggregation, just as he was about to leave a sweet voice spoke, "Heya Negan sir how can i help?" that was Frankie's voice just the women he needed; her ginger hair was resting on her shoulder as she fixed her dress. "Go put some old clothes on and meet me in my room doll" he said with a smile and left the room bumping into Amber. "Negan... Hi... I’m sorry um can I he..."  Amber started but Negan cut her off,

"It’s Fine sweetheart" he smiled as he kissed her forehead and walked towards his room. "Boss we are heading out soon, can I talk to ya?" a voice yelled from behind him, it was Simon. Negan groaned in frustration but turned around with a smile, "Simon its midmorning i have things to do What the Fuck do you need" Negan huffed out, "Just wanted to run over some details but we can do it later..." Simon voice trailed off as his eye spotted the box he had, "What?" Negan snapped at him, "N... Nothing Boss man" Simon stuttered as he ran off, Negan finally made it back to his room. Quickly he took off his jacket off and White tee-shirt, Negan dug through his drawer and pulled out an old white shirt with noticeable black smudges and spots dotted on it. Negan pulled up a Chair and put the box on the metal table, a Knock came at the door. "Come In!" he yelled while he grabbed a Black towel from the floor of his bathroom. "Hi, it's me" Frankie said as she fixes her hair into a high ponytail. Negan sighed with relief and sat on the chair he pulled out. "Lock the door please Frankie" he told her as he grabbed the box from the table and passed to his 'Wife', "Thanks, I'll mix it in the bathroom" she said with a smile. Negan flashed a grin back and grabbed his leather-bound book off the table, opening on his most recent page and read his rushed handwriting. Frankie came back with the mixed hair dye and a pair of blue gloves on. "Ready?" she asked as she ruffled his hair, the feel of her finger in his hair made him jolt slightly. "yep" Negan choked out suppressing a little whimper as she brushed over his temple. Frankie applied the hair dye along his center part and massaged it into his roots. The process took about 5-10 minutes but Negan it was a blissful entity, her voice dragged him back to earth, "Wait 30 minutes to hour before washing it off, okay?" she said with a smile passing him the colour conditioner, she placed a kiss on his cheek and left his room. Negan signed as he wanders around his room; readings the names of the books on the shelf, throwing the shirt he had on in an old paper box with his other shirts that needed washing, finally making his bed before sitting down on it. Negan checked his clock -30min time to wash this shit off- he mumbled as he walked to his bathroom and stripped the rest of his clothes off. Negan turned on his shower and wait for it to warm up, he traced the lines of the tattoo on his chest. "Hmm.... I got to shave soon... Looking Fucking old" Negan mumbled looking at himself in the mirror, One Shower and hair wash later, his roots were back to black. Negan slipped into a clean white shirt with dark brown cargo pants, a red scarf and finally his leather jacket. He spent the rest of the day with Simon leading Rick's group to the right spot.

The last thing Jackie remembers was a pain in her head. 17 hours earlier, Jackie had plans to go out on a run that day, she knew Rick had plans to get Maggie to hilltop as she had gotten very ill from her pregnancy. Jackie had been made to swear not to leave Alexandria, but she ran on her own rules. "Jackie Don't Leave its safe and what if those Savior show up again" Niki worried, Niki was Jackie younger sister and one member of her family who had survived with her. "Niki I'll be fine, just don’t tell David or Dannie" Jackie said ruffling her short blonde hair out her face while packing a small bag for her trip. "But Rick said..." "Fuck Rick" Jackie snapped at her sister. Jack had been with Rick Grimes from prison. Sure, Jackie respected him, but Rick couldn't control her, Jack had a mission, "I will be back before you know it okay" Jackie reassured her sister as she grabbed her leather jacket and hugged her sister goodbye. "Be safe Jakjak" Niki said and hugged her sister tightly, "i will Niki" Jackie final words to her sister as she left the house and jumped the wall. The sound of the RV being pulled around was last thing she heard as she ran for the trees. Jackie was out on this run to head for the nearby town, now when this Ex Sergeant was not looking for important supply for camp, she goes on important runs for the local kids in Alexandria looking for art supplies, books, toys, clothes, and anything like that that's useful. On her usual route she just follows the road but this time she had to caution because of Rick and the others, she made it to the town and collected the art supplies she needed. On Jacks way home she heard a voice. "And no surprises Simon, alright" this Voice was deep and gruff it had interested her, but Jackie had to go as the night was slowly creeping in on her. While she snuck out of town, she had not account for the fact she had been seen. Just as she B-lined for the forest, Jackie was taken down by a alone savoir, the last thing she remembered was that deep voice. When Jackie came too, she was propped in front of a RV surrounded by cars with headlight on. Jackie eyes finally adjusted to see her family in front of her, Jackie was dragged next to Glen and Daryl. She brain had not caught up yet until a man stood in front of her; his hair was jet black, his eye was the deepest brown boarding on black, his body was clad in a Black Leather jacket. "Oh, Sweetheart you are out of it, do you know what's going on?" he asked lifting her chin up with his index finger, it was that voice, "no.... Who are you again i wasn't listening" She tried to sass him despite being slightly dazed still.

He just laughed at her, "aren't you a sassy Doll.... I’m Negan" he said with a wide grin and walked away from her. Negan had a speech planned which boiled down to someone was going to die, Negan play a sick game of chance and Jackie closest friend Abe was beat with a baseball bat, covered in barbwire, to death. This was the most awake she had been as she leaped towards him and punched him in the jaw, "No... NO.... That Shit Won't Work... I Said... I SAID... You only get one of those... Now Doll i understand you miss the first part of this event, but I said I would shut that shit down no expectations" Negan yelled as Jackie was dragged back to place, she struggled against the two guys holding her down. "So... Back to it" suddenly Negan turned on Glen and beat him to death, Maggie screamed out as tears weld up in her eyes. "Noo It should Have Been Me!" Jackie screamed, Negan got on to her level and cupped her face, "i like ya, i really do but i make the decision sweetheart" he growled at her with a wide smile. Negan dragged Rick away and put him in the RV, they weren't back till dawn at that Time, Negan made Rick almost hack Carl's left arm as a message luckily, he didn't, and Rick finally understood... This is how it ended, "Rick what's that little lady names? She got guts not a little bitch like someone like i know" He asked pointing at Jackie. "J... Ja... Jackie " he stutters through his tears, "Jackie huh... Boys load her up" Negan said with a smile. Jackie fought of the Savior who tried to cage her suddenly she took a blow to her head again the last thing Jackie remembers was a pain in her head... Jackie woke up from a very uneven sleep, her surroundings were unfamiliar, and her head was beating like a drum. This room was a like a small front room with a bed. She went to stand up out of bed to see her wrist zip tied to the old bed post, Jackie shook her wrist but to no avail. "Hey ARSEHOLE!" she yelled out, she held her head in her free hand, the pain burned in the back of her head, she grunted as she felt the bump that had formed. "HEY SHITHEADS WHERE AM I!" she yelled out again, the door swung open to reveal a Savior who was watching her door, "Hey, shut up in here" the Savior snapped and pull his walkie talkie off his belt, "hey, Boss the prisoner awakes, what should i do with her" the man spoke into the mic, a voice replies loudly and slightly fuzzy "Sweet bring her to me alright Ricky boy". Ricky, which apparently was his name, came towards her. Jackie tried to move away but her movements was limited, Ricky cut the zip tie and dragged her off the bed. Jackie was forcefully walked through this new place with a gun in her lower back. The Savior leads her though the bending hallway and endless stairs till they came to a deep back which was painted on with Red Paint, the paint read 'Our Savior, NeGan'. Ricky opens the door.   This room was unlike anything else she seen during the end of the world; the Room had a large bed which had dark oak bedpost and grey silk bed spread, under the large dusty window sat two leather sofas with a metal coffee in the middle, a shelving unit with book and as sort of stuff, her eyes lied on a door on the far wall next to a set of drawers made from the same wood as the bed and stood in the middle of all this was Negan. Jackie was forced to sit on the sofa as Negan sat opposite to him, she looks at him through her brow and try to avoid eye contact, smug look creeped on to his face then he spoke, "Carefully darling... Carefully how ya looking at me"   Negan huffed with a grin, "Oh, come on... Cat got ya well... You know how it goes" He reeked of overconfidence and blood. Jackie looked away, looking anyway but at him.  Her eyes lied on his foot tapping impatiently, a loud bang dragged her eyes quickly to him, it was Lucille that banged, "Look at Me!"  he Growled, "Who are you?" Negan blurted out at her, the question was out of place, she was Jackie no one else. "... I'm.... Jackie Tanks" She said finally talking to him. He rolled his eyes and pointed at Ricky, "Who are you?" "I'm Negan, sir" the man barked He looks back towards her with a grin and gesture to her to speak as if she got the idea, "I'm Jackie" She grumble as Negan dismissed the gentlemen away. "We didn't get the chance to talk to each other properly, as you know I'm Negan, now I like your kiddo and I'd love for you to work for me" Negan said in a matter-of-fact tone.   Jackie growled at Negan and stay quiet; she didn't want to engage him. she just hopes he'd get bored and send her back to her room, "Hey! I'm talking to you, Jackie, I want you to work for me, you don't have to answer now but just think about it" Negan hissed venom at her. she gulped at him, "I am not working for you, you're a sick son of a bast-" Jackie started to yell but before she could say what she, Negan shot up and wrap a hand around her throat, she growled against his Hand swung at him before he dropped her. if you enjoy my fan fic, please give some love and i will update

#negan fanfic #the walking dead #oc #newtothis

[thevindicativevordan]

thoughts on DC: The New Frontier? i believe it’s one of the greatest representations of what makes the DCU fantastic

Certainly is a story that loves the underappreciated corners of the DCU.

Reading it now gave me something akin to culture shock. Here we have a major story where the Trinity are not the focus and don't play much of a role in resolving the threat. Batman and Superman don't even contribute at all to the final fight! Instead obscure characters and teams like the Challengers of the Unknown, the Losers, or the Suicide Squad are the main protagonists and it's their perspective which we spend the most time following. Martian Manhunter and Hal Jordan are as close as the story comes to having major "A-List" protagonists, and even their story is heavily intertwined with historically minor characters like King Faraday. Final victory over the Centre comes down to the contributions of Adam Strange and the Atom of all people! Following these characters, seeing their hopes, and fears, and viewpoints on the dawn of a new age is probably the most successful showcase of the DCU beyond the gloomy alleys of Gotham and majestic spires of Metropolis that are usually the focus.

New Frontier's success can be attributed to how it combines both glamour and grit. On one hand this is a story that loves the DCU, especially the Golden and Silver Ages, that goes out of it's way to afford attention and respect to characters that rarely received either. Capturing the optimism of the Eisenhower/JFK years is no small feat, but when you read a montage of single panel pages that depict the superheroes performing marvelous acts with quotes from JFK's iconic New Frontier speech that book takes it's name from, it's downright inspiring. Amidst the cruelty and uncertainty of the times, multiple men and women show themselves to be good if imperfect people, unsure of what actions to take but willing to step up when the path forward becomes clear. For all the talk of DC's heroes being "gods amongst men", this is a story where the heroes are flawed, human in uncomfortable ways, but capable of rising above their imperfections to be the moral exemplars and saviors that Earth needs when it's darkest hour finally arrives.

On the other hand this is a book that doesn't shrink from reminding us of the uglier side of those "golden years" in American history. In the same book where Superman's rousing speech is invoking the American ideal, we get the American reality of a black hero who took up arms after his family was murdered, a man who was an American war veteran no less, lynched by the KKK after being betrayed by a cute white girl he pleaded for help from. Hal Jordan is routinely mocked and insulted for his refusal to kill during the Korean War. Multiple characters, even ones who are nominally supposed to be heroic, use slurs or offensive language in keeping with the times. The government engages in a wave of oppression and discrimination, blatantly shown to trample over civil rights in order to protect the American Empire, both at home and abroad.

Wide eye wonder and jaw dropping horror are both found within the pages of this story, masterfully depicted by Cooke’s art, which was a rare kind of style that felt at home depicting Batman brutally beating down cultists intent on human sacrifice as it was showing Superman fight a giant robot. Both the touchingly human relationships - such as Hal and Carol's courtship, the bond amongst the Losers, or the final kiss between Flagg and Karin as they sacrifice themselves on behalf of Earth - and the stomach-churning inhumanity of the Centre's influence upon the world are depicted in an emotionally resonant manner. More than any other DC storyline, this is a book that feels like a full fledged universe, capable of hosting any genre, where it's totally believable that the smiling idealistic flying capes could live alongside the brooding cowls in the shadows, where government agents and independent free spirits can share the stage and believably co-exist.

The past is never as perfect as we remember it to be, and New Frontier reaffirms that truth even as it celebrates the best parts of the past that did exist. It's deconstruction and reconstruction both, written and drawn in the way only Darwyn Cooke could. A great intro book for newcomers and a rewarding read for the longtime DC fans, New Frontier is strengthened by the contradictions and contrasts it explores within it's pages. If you're hungry for a story about a new generation of heroes rising to meet a new set of challenges, you won't find a better one than this.

#new frontier #dc comics #darwyn cooke

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday!

In 1950, the population of Cancún, Mexico was five.

Coca-Cola never patented their secret formula because doing so would require them to publicly disclose the ingredients.

The average three-hour baseball game only has about 18 minutes of game action.

To replace energy after a workout, most sports supplements are no more effective than a burger.

Your lips touch when you say the word "separate" but don't touch when you say the word "together".

Netflix picked up 'Stranger Things' after it was rejected by 15 networks.

There are more bacteria in your armpit than there are people in the world.

There is one divorce in the US every 36 seconds.

The Hawaiian Pizza was invented by a Greek in Canada.

Newspapers correct fewer than 2% of their mistakes.

When Czechoslovakia split, the Czech Republic and Slovakia split their national anthem as well. Each country got one verse.

Uncle Phil's law firm on ‘The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air’ is called Firth, Wynn and Meyer, inspired by the band Earth, Wind & Fire.

At its peak, Pablo Escobar's cartel earned about $420 million a week and controlled 80% of the worldwide cocaine market.

In the Marvel Universe, Wakanda is the most advanced civilization on Earth.

Pakistan is an acronym that stands for Punjab, Afghania, Kashmir, and Indus-Sind. The ‘stan’ suffix means ‘land’.

There's one character owned by both Marvel and DC Comics named Access. His sole purpose is to keep their universes separate.

You're more likely to catch a cold by holding hands with someone than by kissing them.

French pubic lice are known as ‘papillons d'amour’, butterflies of love.

The most borrowed book from the Houses of Parliament library is called 'How Parliament Works'.

The word ‘nothing’ was Elizabethan slang for ‘vagina’. The title of Shakespeare's play ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ is actually a double entendre.

Sandwiches "taste better" when they're made by someone else. When you make your own, you anticipate its taste and become less hungry for it.

In 1939, the New York Times predicted that the television would fail because the average American family would not have enough time to sit around and watch it.

Some American jails now dress inmates in black and white jumpsuits because the TV show ‘Orange Is The New Black’ has made orange ones too cool.

‘Il y a une couille dans le potage’ (there is a testicle in the soup) is French slang for 'there is a major problem'.

Stanford researchers estimate that if you haven’t tried sushi by the time you’re 39 years old, there’s a 95% chance you never will.

In ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’, there is a wall carving of R2D2 and C3P0 behind the ark.

Almost half of American adults think dinosaurs and humans co-existed.

“Eton, a sort of Hogwarts for wankers.” (Jonathan Pie, September 19, 2022)

In New York City, women can legally go topless wherever men can legally go topless.

John Lennon and George Harrison once took a multi-bus trip across Liverpool to visit a stranger who could teach them the chord B7.

A 2019 survey found that 30% of millennials feel they have a better shot at landing a date with an A-list celebrity than ever owning a home.

When a male llama tries to make a move on a female llama, she'll spit on him if she's not feeling it.

Before electricity, theatres would use heated calcium oxide (commonly known as ‘quicklime’) to illuminate their stages. This is where the phrase "in the limelight" comes from.

In 1800, the average age of an American was 16, today it is 38.

60% of millennials earning more than $100,000 say they're living “paycheck to paycheck”.

The Ryungyong Hotel in Pyongyang, North Korea is 105 floors tall; making it the tallest unoccupied building in the world.

The average American spends about $70,000 on takeout and delivery in their lifetime.

Pixar accidentally deleted ‘Toy Story 2’ halfway through making it.

In Texas, it's illegal for a person to own or use more than six dildos.

During an orgasm, the brain releases so much dopamine that a brain scan resembles that of someone on heroin.

In a survey of 68,000 women from 180 countries, 88.9% said that kindness is the most important trait when it comes to choosing a partner.

Want to feel old? Ethan Nwaneri was born in ‘the queue’.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #lockdown #new blog #coronavirus #books #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #tuesdaymotivation #autumm

[bookclub4m]

Episode 157 - Public Domain Superheroes

You asked for it, so in this special bonus episode we’re talking about Public Domain Superheroes! We discuss the Golden Age of Comics, masked adventurers, copyright, crossovers, and more! Plus: Time Eggs!

You can download the podcast directly, find it on Libsyn, or get it through Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, Google Podcasts, or your favourite podcast delivery system.

In this episode

Matthew Murray | Carol Borden

Things We Read (or tried to…)

Project Superpowers (Wikipedia) by Jim Krueger, Alex Ross, Doug Klauba, Stephen Sadowsk, and Carlos Paul

Masks, vol. 1 by Chris Roberson, Alex Ross (Artist), Dennis Calero (Artist) Jae lee

See all the covers

Miss Fury: The Minor Key by Corinna Sara Bechko and Jonathan Lau

Swords of Sorrow (Women in Comics Wiki) by Gail Simone and so many others

Superheroes and Masked Adventurers (all links are to Wikipedia)

Plastic Man

Captain Marvel (DC Comics)

Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics)

The Shadow

The Spider

Miss Fury

Miss Fury and Miss Mills (article by Carol Borden on the Cultural Gutter)

Miss Fury Cut Outs

Miss Masque/Masquerade

Kato

Green Hornet

Red Sonja

Thor (Marvel Comics)

Thor in comics - DC Comics

Hercules (DC Comics)

Hercules (Marvel Comics)

Zeus (DC Comics)

Zeus (Marvel Comics)

Beowulf (DC Comics)

Beowulf (Earth-616) (Marvel Fandom Wiki)

Bucky Barnes

Black Terror (and Tim!)

Daredevil (Lev Gleason Publications) (The Death Defying 'Devil)

Jonah Hex

The Invaders

All-Star Squadron

The Twelve

Airboy

Fighting Yank

Dynamic Man

Ghost (Public Domain Super Heroes Wiki)

Cat-Man and Kitten

Irene Adler

Dejah Thoris

Green Lama

Zorro

Black Bat

Purgatori

Chastity

Lady Zorro (ComicVine)

Vampirella

Jane Porter/ Lady Greystoke

Pantha (ComicVine)

Eva, Daughter of Dracula (ComicVine)

Other Media We Mentioned

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne and E. H. Shepard (Wikipedia)

Night of the Living Dead (Wikipedia)

Superman (1940s animated film series) (Wikipedia)

The Great Comic Book Heroes by Jules Feiffer

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon

Spicy Library Stories

Sherlock Holmes & Kolchak the Night Stalker: Cry of Thunder by Joe Gentile, Andy Bennett, and Carlos Magno

The Incredible Hercules (Wikipedia)

Aliens vs. Predator (comics) (Wikipedia)

Freddy vs. Jason (Wikipedia)

X-Men 2099 (Wikipedia)

Justice League Unlimited (Wikipedia)

Justice League Action - Jonah Hex’s Space Rodeo! (YouTube)

Archie vs. Predator (Wikipedia)

FemForce (Wikipedia)

Tom Strong (Wikipedia)

Public domain characters show up staring in issue #11, there’s also some Terra Obscura miniseries that focus on these characters.

Savage Dragon (Wikipedia)

Next Issue Project (Wikipedia)

Miss Fury: Sensational Sundays by Tarpe Mills

Call of Cthulhu (role-playing game) (Wikipedia)

Achtung! Cthulhu (Role-Playing Game)  (H.P. Lovecraft Wiki)

Links, Articles, and Things

The Cultural Gutter

Monstrous Industry

Fox Spirit Books

Episode 155 - Literary Fan Fiction

Public Domain (Wikipedia)

Public Domain Day 2022

Public Domain Comic Books (TVTropes)

Public Domain Super Heroes Wiki

Creative Commons (Wikipedia)

5 Great Public Domain Superheroes (& 5 Worst)

Superman (ice cream flavor) (Wikipedia)

National Comics Publications, Inc. v. Fawcett Publications, Inc.

Golden Age of Comic Books

Canadian Whites (Wikipedia) (Canadian WWII-era comics)

The Canadian Captain Marvel Comics #10

Fox Feature Syndicate (Wikipedia)

Crestwood Publications (Wikipedia)

Standard Comics (Wikipedia (Nedor Publishing)

Quality Comics (Wikipedia)

Fawcett Comics (Wikipedia)

Charlton Comics (Wikipedia)

WildStorm (Wikipedia) 

The 10 Best Crossovers in Archie Comics

From KISS to 'The Addams Family': The Best 'Scooby-Doo!' Crossovers You Just Have to See

12 Strangest Scooby-Doo Crossovers, Ranked

Eclipse Comics (Wikipedia)

America’s Best Comics (Wikipedia)

Dynamite Entertainment (Wikipedia)

Alex Ross (Wikipedia)

Afraid Of Cock

The printed cover to Justice Society of America #7

‘Zorro’ Licensor, in Role Reversal, Faces Trial for Copyright Infringement

Black Legion (political movement) (Wikipedia)

Chaos! Comics (Wikipedia)

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Join us again on Tuesday, September 6th we’ll be discussing the format of Audio Book Fiction! (This episode will probably become “What is a book? Part 2”

Then on Tuesday, September 20th we’ll be discussing the winner of our “we all read the same book” poll and discussing Hurts So Good: The Science and Culture of Pain on Purpose by Leigh Cowart!

#fiction #comics #graphic novels #bonus #literary fanficiton #episodes

[diana--williams]

Every English Movies I've watched 2022- 2015

Latte

Seira Burgess is a Loser

Love Hard

All Together Now

Good Nurse

Enola Holmes 2

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

Persuasion

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

The Invitation

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

Morbius

The Royal Treatment

Tall Girl 2

Thor: Love and Thunder

Do Revenge

Luckiest Girl Alive

To all the boys: Always and Forever

Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey

The White Tiger (hindi)

Black Widow

Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

Godzilla Vs Kong

Moxie

Cruella

Dune

Venom: Let There be Carnage

Spiderman- No way Home

Eternals

Encanto

Love in the Villa

Dolittle

Wonder Woman 1984

To All the Boys: P.S I still love you

Extraction

The Old Guard

Mulan

Enola Holmes

Ava

Secret Society of Second-Born Royals

The Boys in the Band

Love and Monsters

Soul

Pieces of a woman

Emma

The Kissing Booth 3

The Witcher: Nightmare of the wolf

He's all that

The Hating Game

Over the Moon

The Midnight Sky

Little Women (2019)

It Chapter Two

Annabelle Comes Home

Aladdin

Avengers: Endgame

Shazam!

Spiderman: Far From Home

The Curse of La Llorona

Charlie's Angels

Men In Black: International

Godzilla: King of Monsters

Terminator: Dark Fate

X Men: Dark Phoenix

Captain Marvel

Five feet apart

Hotel Mumbai

The Last Summer

Tolkien

Tall Girl

Abominable

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindlewald

The Nun

Midnight Sun

Hereditary

Ready Player One

Avengers Infinity War

To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Love, Simon

Mission Impossible: Fallout

Crazy Rich Asians

Kissing Booth 2

Kissing Booth

Aquaman

Tomb Raider

Black Panther

Bird Box

Ocean's 8

Colette

Red Sparrow

Bumblebee

Ant man and the wasp

Instant Family

Venom

Spider man: Into the Spider verse

Incredibles 2

Peter Rabbit

Hotel Transylvania 3

Smallfoot

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

The Shape of Water

Beauty and the Beast

It

Fifty Shades Darker

The Space between us

Lady Bird

Justice League

Wonder woman

Spiderman Homecoming

King Arthur: Legend of the sword

Baywatch

The Mummy

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle

Kong: Skull Island

Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

Thor: Ragnarok

Coco

The Boss Baby

Despicable Me 3

The Great Wall

Fallen

Call me by your name

Ferdinand

Me Before You

Lady Macbeth

How To be Single

Passengers

La La Land

The Edge of Seventeen

The Legend of Tarzan

Warcraft

The Conjuring 2

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

Allegiant

The Huntsman: Winter's War

Fantastic Beasts and Where to find them

Jack Reacher: Never Go Back

The Jungle Book

Suicide Squad

Now You See Me 2

Ghostbusters

Doctor Strange

Gods Of Egypt

X-Men: Apocalypse

Finding Dory

Kung Fu Panda 3

Alice Through the Looking Glass

Ice Age: Collision Course

Captain America: Civil War

Max Steel

Zootopia

Moana

The Angry Birds Movie

Middle School: The worst years of my life

[mystery--box]

#marvel #marvel family #marvelfamily #brie #brie larson #captain marvel #carol danvers #loki #mcu #tom hiddleston #Black and White #black and grey #bw #black&white #black & white #photo #kiss #men #boy #women #girl #cute #couple #handsome #pretty

[tchallakingforever]

I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever forgive markus and mcfeely and the russos and the mcu in general for what they did to Sharon Carter

#it's been a month #and yet I'm still so angry #all of Emily's suffering was for nothing #I can't even stand to see those jokes about her #it just hurts so much #marvel doesn't give a shit about women #they don't even give a shit about Black Panther outside of merchandise money #they only care about cishet white men #the mcu is filled to the brim with cis white patriarchy #and it sickens me #Emily VanCamp got death threats #people told her to kill herself #all bc she dared to kiss a boring cishet white boy #and marvel did nothing to help her #the other cishet white men cut her role down in the movies where they actually even bothered to include her #and then pretended like she never even existed #and then destroyed her fucking purpose in eg #so people joking around about that kills me #it's the meaning behind it #the destruction of her character #and the hate Emily received #fuck marvel to hell

[robininthelabyrinth]

Imagine if Meng Shi begged and bargained and collected favors till she was able to send her A-Yao to education with the Lan Sect, perhaps even become a cultivator with them. Would he take that change? Would he become a rogue cultivator? Would the strict rules help curb his inner muderimpuls or enrage him or teach him to hide better?

A Good Fit - ao3

“The…Lan sect?” Meng Yao said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” his mother said, her mouth tight. She looked upset, the way she always did these days when he referenced, intentionally or otherwise, the original plan that she had had to send him to join his father, sect leader of Lanling Jin. She’d raised Meng Yao on a steady diet of stories of what his life would be like when his father finally took him back the way he’d promised her he would, stories that had filled his days and nights for years and years and years, and then just last year she’d suddenly stopped talking about it entirely. It was as if the person who’d told those stories had nothing to do with her.

Meng Yao didn’t know what had happened, but he assumed it must have been pretty bad.

“It'll be a good fit,” she added.

“Then I’ll go to the Lan sect,” he said, and pretended not see the way his mother relaxed a little, relieved that he wasn’t asking too many questions. “I’ve heard they are gentlemen there, righteous but gentle; it will be the best match for my personality, I’m sure.”

A lie, of course. ‘Gentlemen’ were just as likely to come to the brothel as brutes, and they were all the same once they had a cup of wine and a beauty in their arms – Meng Yao tried not to have any illusions.

“Can we afford it?” he asked instead, since that was something he was sure his mother would have thought of, would have expected him to ask. “Gusu is so far away…”

“I have obtained a letter from the local sect recommending you to their sect leader, Lan Qiren,” she said. “He’s the one that teaches the classes – the one that sent out the summons asking the subsidiary sects to look for individuals with raw talent to join his classes and offering them an extra seat for their sects for each nameless orphan they find that lives up to Lan sect standards. Only the Heavens know why he’s doing something like that…I assume they’re trying to expand.”

That seemed like the most reasonable explanation. Meng Yao nodded. “So I’ll be traveling with the local sect?”

“That’s right,” his mother said, and raised her chin a little. “At least this much, your mother was able to do for you.”

She’d begged and bargained and traded favors for it, then, Meng Yao thought, and yet taking him along was to their own benefit: if they were looking for inherited cultivation talent sufficient for the Lan sect, then the bastard son of another Great Sect leader would be a better bet than some random nobody. She’d probably humiliated herself for nothing.

“Will you come with me?” he asked, more concerned with that – it was too easy for women of ill repute to disappear into the depths of the city if they didn’t have someone to watch out for them.

Even someone as young as he was. He wished he was older.

“You can come back to visit me during the Spring Festival,” she said, which meant no. “I’ll be all right, A-Yao.”

Meng Yao wasn’t so sure.

Still, not having him around would at least remove a visible reminder of his mother’s age – she’d been kicked out of the better brothels because of him, because no one wanted a woman who was a mother. Leaving would at least do that for her.

“I’ll write,” he finally said. “I’ll write as often as they let me.”

“And I’ll write back,” she promised him, kissing his cheek. “I promise.”

With that, Meng Yao supposed he had to be satisfied.

-

The Lan sect was both exactly like what Meng Yao expected and absolutely nothing at all like anything he could have dreamt.

For the first, his cynicism was almost immediately confirmed: the boys raised there were snobby as anything, looking down at the rest of them as little better than barbarians, and many of the adults were the same way. It was clear that this whole business of recruiting talented nobodies was a project of the sect leader’s – the interim sect leader, no less, not even the real thing – and nobody else’s; they were only just barely going along with it. Adding to that the fact that there were dozens if not hundreds of rules, and Meng Yao could glumly foresee a future of having his lack of knowledge held over his head as a fault, even with his marvelous memory to act as his backing.

For the second…

Well, there was Lan Xichen, who was – as unbelievable as it seemed – to actually embody all those things that people said about gentlemen, all kindness and gentleness and fierce upright pride, except only for real. There was Lan Wangji, who was basically perfect in every way and kinder than he gave the impression he was, willing to help tutor anyone who asked if only they dared disturb his solitude long enough to do so. There was the boy Meng Yao shared a room with, Su She, who’d punched the boy from the Yunping cultivator clan in the mouth for calling Meng Yao a son of a whore and pretended it was because they weren’t allowed to talk about that sort of thing, when actually it’d been because he hadn’t wanted rumors to get around that might make Meng Yao’s life harder in the future.

There was Lan Qiren, who was strict and a little boring but fair, painfully fair, handing out punishments with an equitable hand no matter that it meant that he was punishing the locals as often if not more often. It’d been his idea to bring people like Meng Yao into the Lan sect, and defending the idea was the only time he truly seemed moved to passion. Now that they’d passed the initial examination and been judged to match Lan sect standards, Lan Qiren announced, as far as he was concerned, they were Lan sect just as if they were born there, as if they’d been children of his own.

And he even seemed to really believe it, too.

Today, Meng Yao’s head was still warm from when the stern Teacher Lan had put his hand there, gentle and approving, and his ears still burning from the murmured “Well done, Meng Yao, as expected.”

“I think I would kill someone for him,” Meng Yao said dreamily to Su She, who snorted.

“You’ve got such father issues,” he said disdainfully, as if he didn’t have entire family issues. That was just Su She’s way, though – he bitched and moaned and complained without end, and he’d probably kill someone for Meng Yao if Meng Yao so much as hinted it was something he’d want. They’d made friends for a reason. “You know the bit about the poor kids being his own children is a lie, right?”

“I know which sect’s leader is my father, thanks,” Meng Yao said, rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware it’s not Teacher Lan. Like he’d ever have kids of his own, anyway.”

“That’d require noticing when someone’s flirting with him,” Su She agreed, all solemn for just a moment, and then he dissolved into sniggering giggles. Meng Yao couldn’t blame him: it was, in fact, extremely funny when women (and sometimes men) tried to flirt with Teacher Lan, mostly because of the way that he very genuinely and completely missed that that was what was happening each and every time.

“Laugh all you like,” Meng Yao said peaceably. “You’d kill for him, too.”

“Probably,” Su She agreed. “But only because of you.”

That was fair enough. After getting the lay of the land, Meng Yao had arranged for them to ‘accidentally’ be overheard by Teacher Lan while talking about the misconduct of one of the teachers who was the most biased against guest disciples, one of the ones that had been harassing Su She in particular for over a year before Meng Yao had arrived, and despite Su She’s initial nervousness about the plan, it had all gone splendidly. Sure, they’d been punished to do five copies of a treatise on upright conduct because they’d breached Talking behind the backs of others is prohibited, but the teacher in question had been sentenced to two hundred strikes with the discipline rod for abusing his position and three months of enforced seclusion to contemplate his misbehavior, and then, Teacher Lan had said, his expression dark and threatening, they could discuss what role would be the best fit in the future.

The other teachers had taken notice and shaped up very quickly, after that.

Comparatively, those five copies made in the nice cool Library Pavilion instead of having to do chores on the hottest days of summer? Practically a pat on the back for bringing it to his attention.

Su She would never have dared to raise anything if it was just him, Meng Yao thought; he had a strange fear of authority figures that combined envy and misery in an explosive combination – he would have just suffered and suffered and suffered until he’d been pushed too far and then it would have all burst out at once. He wasn’t like Meng Yao, who was unwilling to keep to his “proper” place and was more than willing to use his greater-than-average share of brains to get what he wanted, no matter what rules he broke in the process. He was the sort of person who was willing to do whatever it took to obtain his desires – no matter what it took.

Well, maybe not no matter what. He wouldn’t want to disappoint Lan Qiren too much.

(Okay, so maybe Su She was right and he had some unresolved father issues. So what if he did? Whose business was it but his?)

-

It’d taken Meng Yao a while to fully adjust to the Cloud Recesses.

Some parts he’d figured out right away – the way they all flattered themselves as gentlemen even if they were actually little more than hypocrites (Teacher Lan and his personally taught nephews exempted, of course), which of course meant that Meng Yao’s ability to act pitiful at the drop of a hat and cleverly turn black into white made him a teacher’s pet at once. The vegetarian meals were easy enough to adapt to, given that his mother hadn’t had the money for meat all that often, and the training and cultivation and all that wasn’t any challenge for his excellent powers of retention – he had ambitions of becoming one of Teacher Lan’s aides one day, and worked assiduously towards that goal. Even waking and sleeping early, which was practically the opposite of his schedule at home, was something he could adjust to, given time and incentive.

It was his mentality that took some time to adjust.

Meng Yao had perhaps grown up with too many of his mother’s stories, painting an image of a matchless paradise – at the start, he looked at everything around him, serene and elegant but not quite as rich and shining and thought that it would do, for now. When he’d first arrived, he had had every intention of making a good reputation for himself and using that reputation to get his real father’s attention – he’d liked Teacher Lan from the beginning, despite his best attempts to not let his heart be swayed, but he’d reasoned that if a teacher was like this, then a blood-related father would be even better.

And so, for the first half-year, he’d treated his time at the Cloud Recesses…not lightly, no. He was extremely serious about making sure to get the maximum benefit he could. And yet, at the same time, he still was not really committing himself to the place.

This wasn’t where he was going to live his whole life, he reasoned; it was just a stepping stone to a better future. That meant he would exert himself to point out things that made him look good, to eliminate obstacles in his path, to win himself allies, but not bother with those longer-term problems, the ones that really ought to be fixed but which would take a great deal of effort with little reward other than annoying people.

His feeling of superiority and emotional distance lasted right up until the first discussion conference.

From a distance, Jin Guangshan was everything Meng Yao could have imagined – perhaps a little too similar to the clients that his mother often saw, a little dissolute to pull off the air of a refined scholar he affected, but wearing more gold than Meng Yao had ever seen in his life, with a retinue of servants that dwarfed the other sect’s. Each of those servants were dressed more finely than even main clan cultivators in some of the smaller sects, and though Meng Yao’s Lan sect guest disciple clothing was of such quality that he didn’t need to fear their disdain, he couldn’t help but be secretly impressed.

He'd exerted himself more than usual to trade away all of his chores and duties, freeing himself up to take on patrol duty near the Jin sect. He’d perhaps daydreamed about some sort of encounter – nothing active on his part, of course, but he couldn’t quite resist playing through some fantasy of catching someone’s eye by chance, getting called over, a “You have a familiar set to your chin, who’s your father?”, a shy halting admission, recognition, a joyous reunion…

Instead, his father spent the entire night getting drunk and cursing the Lan sect’s hospitality for not providing him with girls to go with his liquor, calling Lan Qiren a miserable prude with a stick up his ass right in front of the Lan sect disciples that clenched their fists in barely concealed rage. He’d seen Meng Yao all right, ordered him to come forward, but it’d only been to mock him in front of all of his servants – and not even for being his bastard son, no, that would involve bothering to pick him out from the crowd or to ask who he was. No, he’d mocked him simply for being one of the poor disciples that Lan Qiren had taken in, all because his accent was marked with the distinct tones of Yunping rather than the sweetness of Gusu.

“Tell me, boy,” he said, breathing fumes into Meng Yao’s face and making him feel suddenly as if he’d never left the brothel – that the Cloud Recesses had all been a vague dream, and now he’d woken up and lost it all. “How does that old fart Qiren expect you to pay him back for all he’s done for you? I heard the Lan sect includes a pretty face as one of its standard requirements…”

Meng Yao put his gaze above his father’s head and pretended to be deaf.

“It seems like rather a lot of effort,” one of his father’s attendants remarked. “Even if Second Master Lan wanted a boy to warm his bed, couldn’t he just buy one like any normal person?”

“Bah, boys,” his father said, and leaned back, waving his hands in dismissal. “Why would anyone bother with a boy when you could have a soft woman instead? Just as long as they’re stupid enough – you know, there’s nothing worse than a woman who’s talented and knows it, too smart, always trying to get above their station…”

“You’re thinking about that whore in Yunping again, aren’t you? The one that interrupted your dinner and made a scene, claiming you’d promised to take in the son she bore you?” the attendant said, laughing. “I told you, you should’ve just killed her for her impudence rather than just having her beaten and thrown out. That way the matter wouldn’t still be bothering you…”

“Go away, boy,” another servant said to Meng Yao, who was frozen stiff in belated terror, nausea churning in his stomach as he realized his mother could’ve gone out one day and never come back, and he would never have known why – or maybe it was that he’d been spending his considerable time and brain on pleasing someone who would have done that, who nearly had done that. “Your accent’s brought back bad memories, don’t you see?”

Meng Yao left.

No, to be more blunt: he fled. He ran away, hot tears filling his eyes until he couldn’t see – belly full of regret and disappointment, crushed dreams feeling like broken shards of glass in his mouth and throat.

He tried to tell himself that it was better to find out now, when they were still distant, before he'd sold his soul for the futile chance to get that horrible man's affection, but he couldn't quite throw off the shame of knowing that if he hadn't heard such a thing up front, he probably would have done that. Would have humiliated himself like that, and for what? A man who regretted not murdering his mother?

He ran right into Lan Wangji, who was also on patrol.

Lan Wangji took one look at him and grabbed his wrist, dragging him away from the main pathway and all the way to his uncle’s rooms.

Lan Qiren was still awake despite the late hour, writing something at his desk, but he set aside his brush at once. “What’s going on?” he asked, frowning. “Wangji – Meng Yao – one of you report.”

“Meng Yao was on patrol by the Jin sect,” Lan Wangji explained as Meng Yao furiously tried to dash away his tears using his sleeve.

“Who permitted that? First year disciples aren’t permitted to patrol during discussion conferences,” Lan Qiren asked, his frown deepening. “It wouldn’t be proper – ah, but no, I recall now. I suppose it was inevitable. Wangji, well done, and thank you. You are dismissed.”

After Lan Wangji left, he turned his eyes on Meng Yao.

“You volunteered, didn’t you?” he asked.

Meng Yao felt his back go cold: Lan Qiren knew, then. It had never been said out loud by anyone as far as he knew, and yet it was clear that Lan Qiren knew who his father was – and probably his mother, too.

He knew that Meng Yao was – that he wasn’t anything more than –

“You are one of my most promising disciples, Meng Yao,” Lan Qiren told him, and poured him a cup of tea from his own pot, pressing it into his hands. It was finer tea than Meng Yao had ever had in his life, full of smoke and flavor. “The rules say Be loyal and filial, but they also praise reciprocity. You have not been recognized, and have not received your forefathers’ grace. You can fulfill your obligations to chivalry through your respect for the parent that raised you.”

Meng Yao stared down at the teacup. Lan Qiren had completely misunderstood the nature of Meng Yao’s concern – he was disappointed in what his father was, not worried about not living up to his obligations of being a filial child. And yet it was a little nice to hear that as far as Lan Qiren was concerned, the rules said that he could tell his father go hang for all he cared…

And that he ought to honor his mother, which was something no one who knew her had ever said to him.

“Even if she –” His voice stuttered. “Even if she’s a…”

He couldn’t say the word.

“Appreciate the good people is not qualified by class or profession,” Lan Qiren said, and his monotone voice was blissfully without emotion, as if this were just another lesson in class, and not the deepest hurt of Meng Yao’s life. “I have never met your mother, Meng Yao, but you are a good child – diligent, organized, sincere, with good judgment, and you clearly adore her. That tells me everything I need to know.”

Meng Yao burst into tears.

-

Meng Yao liked Lan Xichen a lot, but he also had to admit that sometimes, the older boy was, well…

“Dumb as a pile of rocks,” Su She announced.

“Do not criticize other people,” Meng Yao said piously, but then chuckled, shaking his head. “Say, rather, that he’s naïve and sheltered, and overly inclined to believe the best in people.”

“Like I said: dumb as rocks. How many times is going to get himself swindled into being someone’s sword or shield before he figures out that the problem is him?”

“Some people don’t have the capacity to understand the depths of humanity’s foulness –”

“Yeah, dumb ones.”

“Su She, please.” Su She held up his hands in surrendered. “At any rate, if Lan-gongzi is going to keep falling for people’s tricks, it’s beholden on us to help protect him.”

“You just don’t want Teacher Lan to be sad about something serious happening to his nephew,” Su She said knowingly, but he was already nodding. “All right, what are we going to do about it? He outranks us. We can’t exactly tell him to his face that he’s being…”

He paused.

Dumb as rocks went unsaid, but then, it didn’t need to be said out loud for the meaning to be clear.

Meng Yao sighed.

“You can only trick someone so many times,” he said. “If we want to keep him from getting tricked by other people, then we have to trick him first. And better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lan-gongzi likes to save people,” Meng Yao explained. “He really sees himself as a chivalrous gentleman – he puts chivalry first, even though Teacher Lan says Learning comes first. That’s why he always sides with whoever he perceives to be the underdog in a given situation, no matter how wrong that impression is. That’s how most of the people who’ve been tricking him have gone for it: playing the victim, appealing to his sense of righteousness, pulling the curtains over his eyes to obscure what’s actually happening.”

“Okay. So?”

“So, we’ve both got miserable backstories – you being taken from your family at a young age and then bullied, me with my mother and, even worse, father. If we get him on our side, early on, he’ll side with us over anyone else – that way we can keep him from getting roped into other people’s private grudges.”

Su She frowned. “That seems a little manipulative.”

“It’s for his own good, and that’s what’s important,” Meng Yao said, and smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lan-er-gongzi?”

Su She jumped, turning around just in time to see Lan Wangji, who had been standing in the shadow of a nearby tree, step out.

He had a serious expression, as always, but a thoughtful one.

Meng Yao waited patiently.

“You cannot take advantage,” Lan Wangji finally said, and Meng Yao knew he’d won the most important ally in the battle to save Lan Xichen from himself. “That would change it from a virtuous act to a selfish one.”

“Like we need anything from him,” Su She said haughtily. “Maintain your own discipline.”

“Arrogance is forbidden.”

“It’s not arrogance if it’s justified! It’s just self-confidence!”

“Do not argue with family,” Meng Yao quoted, and was pleased to see both of them drop it at once. “Listen, we all share the same goal, and we have to start somewhere, don’t we? We’re stronger together than apart. Together, we can do anything, even protect Lan-gongzi.”

That and more, he thought as the other boys nodded, following his lead. Lan Xichen is just the start.

-

“The Wen sect will make trouble sooner rather than later,” Meng Yao said thoughtfully, one day. His friends turned to look at him. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Lan Wangji nodded, serious as always, but Su She scoffed.

“You can’t even convince that Wei Wuxian boy to leave poor Lan-er-gongzi alone,” he said snidely. “How exactly are you expecting to bring down the Wen sect?”

“I don’t convince Wei Wuxian to leave Lan-er-gongzi alone because Lan-er-gongzi doesn’t want to be left alone,” Meng Yao said. “Obviously. Isn’t that right?”

“You should call me by name,” Lan Wangji said, which wasn’t answering the question and definitely wasn’t denying anything. “You were saying, about the Wen sect?”

Meng Yao smiled.

-

“What brings one of Teacher Lan’s most promising disciples to the Unclean Realm?” Nie Mingjue said, peering at him thoughtfully. “You’re at the wrong time to be one of the usual messengers.”

Meng Yao smiled at him.

“I think you’ll find that we have similar goals, Sect Leader Nie,” he said. “When it comes to making sure that certain people in our lives don’t get hurt by the bad decisions of others, I mean. In your case, it’s your younger brother, who’s a friend of mine –”

Friend, source of information, it was all about the same thing in the end. Meng Yao didn’t have real friends outside the Lan sect, but he’d been very careful to cultivate good relationships with all his most important peers.

“- and for me, well. A teacher for day, a father for a lifetime. I’m sure Sect Leader Nie can understand the importance of protecting one’s father – right?”

“You don’t need to use any sophistry on me,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. “If you have an idea on what we can do to stop the Wen sect before they go and burn someone’s house down, I’m all ears.”

By chance, Meng Yao did.

It was a good plan, too, daring and brave in equal measure. If it worked the way he hoped it would, he’d win enough fame to get Jin Guangshan to beg for him to join the Jin sect – not that he would, of course.

Meng Yao knew what he wanted, and he knew how he was going to get it, too.

-

“This is a lovely house, A-Yao,” Meng Shi said, running her hand along one of the soft tapestries on the wall. “Truly lovely. Whoever you rented it from has good taste.”

Meng Yao bowed. “Thank you for the compliment, Mother. I put a lot of thought into it.”

“You own it?” she asked, surprised. “But don’t you live up the mountain, with the sect?”

“I do. This is for you.”

“For – me? A-Yao! This is too much – how much must it have cost–”

“I saved the Lan sect’s core texts from being destroyed,” Meng Yao said. “I’m an inner sect disciple now – I could ask for a dozen houses like this, and they’d grant them to me without blinking twice. Teacher Lan would insist on it.”

“Teacher Lan,” his mother murmured. “That’s the one you’ve taken to treating as your own father, isn’t it? You’ve spoken so much of him, in your letters…”

“There’s no need to scheme,” he told her. “He wouldn’t notice your flirtations, anyway.”

His mother arched her eyebrows at him.

“He’s really oblivious.”

“Still…”

“Really no need,” Meng Yao said, and couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Lan Qiren pulling him into a hug when he realized that the books – and Lan Xichen – were all safe from the Wen sect’s attempt to burn down the Cloud Recesses, and, later, again, that Wen Ruohan was dead. He may have deliberately schemed for that second hug, and he might or might not have plans for more. “He already takes me as a son.”

His mother relaxed.

“Good,” she said, and smiled herself. “So, A-Yao, was I right, all those years ago? Was the Lan sect a good fit for you?”

“Yes, Mother,” Meng Yao said. “Yes, it was.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #lan qiren #su she #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #a good fit

[fruitcoops]

could you PLEASE write the fic where coops break the bed bc I would love to read how that went down

I'd love to! This is a reference to part three of this fic, and the prompt was combined with asks for another jealous Sirius and seeing Remus in his game day suit for the first time. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut (including blowjobs)

The lock slid home and Sirius’ knees hit the floor.

“Wh—okay,” Remus laughed as Sirius fumbled his belt open and yanked the zipper of his dress pants—fucking dress pants, is he trying to kill me?—as far as it could go without ripping straight down the middle. Slender fingers combed through his hair; some of the shock must have worn off, because he could feel a growing bulge under his cheek as he nuzzled the dip of Remus’ hipbone.

“Nobody looks at you like I do,” he said, licking a broad stripe up the front of Remus’ boxers. They were the nice kind, soft and tight—he wanted to tear them off.

Remus, for his part, looked both baffled and quite happy. “No, they do not,” he agreed, giving the back of Sirius’ hair a light tug. “And nobody looks as good as you down there.”

“You’re goddamn right they don’t.” Without further ado, Sirius pulled his dick out of his boxers and did his best to inhale it.

“Jesus fucking—” Remus’ hand slammed into the wall with a sharp gasp. His knee buckled, but Sirius gripped his thigh and pushed it against the wall. “Holy shit, baby, give me some warning.”

Sirius leaned back and let the tip slide out through his lips for just a moment, reveling in the slackjawed awe on Remus’ face. “No.”

“What did I do to deserve this?” Remus’ voice cracked as he thudded his head back against the wall and began lightly rolling his hips per Sirius’ request, huffing each time Sirius tightened his hold on his ass.

“Game suit,” Sirius managed as he slid off to bite the hollow between Remus’ hip and thigh, drawing a whimper from him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, shouting mine, mine, mine with each pulse. “Game suit and those fucking fans.”

Remus’ chest heaved as he took him all the way to the base again, holding Sirius by the hair the way that always sent lightning down his spine. He spread his knees slightly on the floor and palmed himself through his pants without breaking pace. “Are you—ah—are you upset or happy? ‘cause this is great and I’m not complaining but—oh holy fuck.”

Warm, slightly sweaty palms shoved him away by the forehead. Sirius made a noise of protest that turned into a grumble when his mouth was finally empty, and he batted Remus’ hands away. “What?”

“Two seconds.” Remus’ pupils were dilated so far they almost hid the pretty amber that turned dark with lust. “You look so good down there, baby, but I’m gonna come and I’m really confused why.”

“I want to make you come,” Sirius explained, moving back towards him only to be guided away again. Obviously. “Remus!”

“What is the occasion?” he asked, a little desperate. “What did I do?”

Sirius sat back on his heels with an irritated exhale and held up three fingers. “You, in general. Game suit. Fans. May I please finish what I was doing.”

If possible, Remus looked even more lost. “The fans? What about the fans? Why do they entail an amazing blowjob?”

“Because.” Sirius pulled his pants down enough to suck a mark on the thickest muscle of Remus’ thigh. He was salty and sweet and perfect. “Because they were looking at you like they wanted to eat you, and that’s my job.”

“I—” Remus opened and closed his mouth twice, then leaned back against the wall with an aborted muss of his hair. “Yeah, okay. I kind of want to get you off too, though, ‘cause you look like sin on legs in that blazer and I would hate to waste it.”

Sirius Black, why did you commit yourself to someone so selfless. He took his mouth off the underside of Remus’ dick and hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the protests of his plane-tired muscles. “Then we’d better get upstairs.”

“Upstairs? But—” Remus’ eyes widened and a slow smile spread over his face and he pulled his pants back up. “Yeah, yeah, okay, yes, right now.”

“Right now,” Sirius confirmed, taking him by the wrist to hustle them both up to their bedroom. He gave Remus’ ass a solid smack before scooting around him to flop backward on the bed, tangling their legs together until he could wrap himself around Remus and kiss him like he deserved. Hard and sloppy and so dizzying Sirius had to catch his breath when they broke apart. “Now.”

“Huh?” Remus coughed, still ruffled and red-lipped.

Sirius took his face between his hands and felt Remus go weak on top of him. “Fuck me. Right now. I’m yours, and you’re mine, and you don’t do this with any of those people undressing you with their eyes today.”

I’m the one that’s going to be walking funny tomorrow, Sirius reminded himself as he expertly unbuttoned Remus’ shirt and shoved both that and the navy jacket off his golden shoulders. Not the moon-eyed women twirling their hair, not the chiseled men with their fucking smirks, not the people in the comments marveling at that pretty face. Me. Mine.

Remus made a funny sort of whimpering noise as he pushed Sirius’ shirt open and attached himself to his neck, biting and licking in equal measure as Sirius divested them both of their pants. He leaned back to catch his breath, but Sirius reeled him back in by the blue tie still around his neck and tangled his fingers in Remus’ tawny curls, crushing them together while he pushed his hips up for any friction and basked in Remus’ moans. Mine. Yours.

“Lube,” Remus said against his mouth, breathless. The temperature of the room had to be a hundred degrees, Sirius was sure of it; they were both sweating already, but he couldn’t let go of Remus for more than a second at a time. He needed the contact. Needed the feeling of drowning in his touch.

“Mine,” he said, nipping Remus’ bottom lip before letting him go enough that he could reach the nightstand.

“Yours,” Remus promised. He kept one hand splayed over the side of Sirius’ neck as they kissed; the other popped the cap off the lube and hoisted Sirius’ leg further to the side. “Ready?”

“Go.”

He threw his head back when two—two!—slick fingers pressed against him, opening him at the wonderful intersection between a snail’s pace and an uncomfortable sting. Remus moved his free hand down to hold Sirius’ hip; his weight pressed him into the mattress, and Sirius was sure that he would burn up at any moment.

“Yes,” he hissed through clenched teeth when Remus’ fingers found his prostate. His ears began to buzz as Remus rubbed the pads of his fingers over it in relentless circles, not pushing, just giving him enough friction to go mad with it.

Teeth skimmed his collarbone and Sirius shivered when wet lips trailed over his nipple. “Get on your stomach.”

“Wanna see you.”

“Sirius.” Remus’ hand wasn’t damp when he curled it around Sirius’ jaw and guided him to meet his eyes. “On your damn stomach.”

Sirius was not proud of the half-breath sound that escaped him, but he wasn’t ashamed either. He got on his damn stomach, and he did it with a smile. “What now?”

“Hold the headboard.”

He obliged and felt Remus run a hand down the curve of his spine before sliding two fingers back into him. Sirius arched, grinning at the waves of pleasure rolling through his stomach. “We don’t have games for two days,” he said, flipping his hair back to look at Remus over his shoulder.

Amber eyes roved up and down his body with an appreciative gleam before Remus pressed a kiss to the small of his back. “I know. Hold on, baby.”

A shiver ran through Sirius’ limbs; he flexed his fingers on the wood of the headboard and sighed when something much more blunt than a few fingers pushed inside him in a slow, continuous motion. “Tabarnak,” he muttered, mouth agape as Remus found his seat and pushed down even harder on his lower back. His spine was going to ache in the morning, and he didn’t care a bit.

“Why were you upset about the fans?” he asked with a slow roll of his hips that left Sirius shuddering. “You know I don’t pay attention to that.”

“Comment section,” he panted, gritting his teeth against a loud moan. “And I could hear them when you walked by.”

“What were they saying?”

“Everything.” Sirius’ thighs trembled on the hard thrust that followed. “Everything, everything—how good you looked. That suit, Remus, I can’t handle it.”

A beat of silence passed, save for the creaking of the bed beneath them. “Say it again.”

“You looked—”

“Not that,” Remus interrupted, sliding his hands along Sirius’ sides and back down his thighs. “You want me to be yours? Then say my name.”

“Remus,” he breathed.

“What was that?”

“Remus,” he repeated, a little louder. It came out as a whine and Remus bent down to bite the junction of his shoulder as he gripped the headboard with white knuckles.

“Again.”

The word was punctuated by a yank on Sirius’ hips paired with a thrust that sparked fireworks in his eyes. “Remus!” he almost shouted, half in shock.

“Atta boy.” Strong arms wound around his abdomen, pulling him impossibly closer to Remus’ front as he rocked in and out and stole Sirius’ breath from his lungs. Feather-soft lips traced from one shoulder to the middle of his back, leaving open-mouthed kisses in their wake that were cold against the flames in Sirius’ gut. His arms were already shaking.

“Remus,” he begged, though he didn’t even know what to ask for. He was so hard it almost hurt—spreading his exhausted knees to try and sink down onto the mattress did absolutely nothing to help him. “Remus.”

“No,” Remus ordered when he tried to take one hand off the headboard and stroke himself to relieve the pressure. Sirius let out something akin to a sob despite the distilled joy and pleasure running riot through him. “Headboard. Now.”

“I am.”

Remus’ breath was hot against his ear. “Don’t get bratty with me.”

Sirius had never come untouched before, but he wondered if it felt like this. Unfortunately, he was still painfully close to the edge and Remus insisted on dragging over his sweet spot every—fucking—time, so he was stuck in a horribly fantastic limbo that bent every cell to Remus’ will.

It was exactly what he had been after from the second the front door locked behind them.

“Come on, baby.” Remus made a low sound in his throat as Sirius clamped down around him at the nickname and upped his pace by a degree. “Come on, you can do it.”

“Quoi—what d’you want?” Sirius asked, dropping his chin to his chest with a moan.

Fingers wound into his hair and pulled his head up again, gentle but unyielding. There was never any pain when Remus was in charge, only the feeling of being entirely encompassed. It didn’t matter what position they were in—Sirius could be on the bottom, top, sideways, anywhere, and still feel cared for in every aspect.

“Fucking love you,” he mumbled, voice breaking as Remus’ hand slid through his hair to trail along his neck and wind around his chest.

He could feel the smile pressing into his shoulder blade as Remus left a mark there between world-shattering rolls of his hips. “Love you, too. You know you can come whenever, right?”

“Touch me.”

“Tell me three things and I will,” Remus all but purred into the arch of his neck. Sirius nodded frantically. “What color was I wearing today?”

“Blue,” he managed through clumsy lips. “Dark blue, ‘s perfect on you, oh.”

“Two: how many times have I worn that suit?”

Sirius stifled a moan in the crook of his elbow. “Once.”

“Last question.” Remus licked the salt from the crest of his shoulder and Sirius’ vision went for a moment; he gripped the headboard like it was his only anchor on earth. “Who is the only person in the world I will ever love like this?”

“Oh, fuck, me.”

A palm, broad and callused, wrapped around his shaft and gathered the precome that had been dripping onto the sheets for a glide so smooth Sirius thought he was dreaming. Then the world caught up to him at light speed and he was gone, tumbling over the edge with a shout and throwing his weight forward while Remus guided him through every ripple down his back as he reached his own peak.

Crack—crunch.

Sirius yelped as his knuckles hit the wall, pulling back on instinct despite the fact that he had nowhere to go but down. Remus cursed into his shoulder and they hit the pillows in a mess of limbs and sweat; Sirius pulled his hands to his chest as the smarting pain began to fade. “Ow,” he said, bewildered and pitiful.

“Oh, oh, oh.” Remus pulled out with a slight wince and carefully took his hands, pressing kisses over the reddened skin before horror overtook his face. “Did I—was that sound your hands?”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, kissing his flushed cheek. “It wasn’t me. I think…”

Remus blinked at him. “Did we…”

“That was the headboard.” A smile tugged the edges of his mouth until Sirius gave in and began to laugh, shifting back onto his stomach for a proper look. Sure enough, the wooden board at the top of their bed was both sideways and several inches further down the wall than it had been when they started their venture.

“Oh my god,” Remus spluttered, still laughing as he tried to pull it back into the right spot. “Jesus, this thing is heavy.”

“We broke the bed,” Sirius snickered. It was so beyond unbelievable that he couldn’t help it. “After all this time, it finally gave in. Mon dieu. I can’t…I don’t even know where to start.”

“We broke the headboard,” Remus corrected with a grin. “Well, you broke it.”

“If you try to pin this all on me—”

“I had you pinned pretty well a minute—”

“Remus John Lupin—”

They dissolved into laughter, bordering on hysteria as they fell back onto the sheets. The headboard groaned at the impact, setting off a whole new round with no hope of letting them catch their breath.

“So,” Remus managed once his lungs were functioning again. He quirked an eyebrow at Sirius with a troublemaker’s smirk. “The suit?”

“The suit,” Sirius huffed, shaking his head. “I thought I was going to die.”

“Now you know how I feel all the friggin’ time.”

He sighed through his nose and stared upside-down at the cracked wood. “We’ll need to replace that.”

“Mhmm. And never tell the guys about it, ever.”

Sirius ran a hand down his face. “They’d bring it up at our funerals.”

“Is there a way to get just the headboard? Do we need to buy a whole new frame?”

His jaw crackled as he yawned, wrapping both arms around Remus to drag him over for a snuggle. “Those questions can wait until tomorrow. Or at least after a nap.”

“How about a shower and a nap?”

“Definitely a shower,” Sirius agreed, burying his face in the bend of Remus’ neck. “After a nap.”

“Come on, cuddlebug,” Remus groaned, giving him a halfhearted pull. “You hate the feeling of cum on your legs.”

“I just broke a plank of wood with my bare hands,” Sirius mumbled into his soft skin. “I can handle a few extra minutes of cuddles.”

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #smut #headboard #game suit