#'and if you try to make them do anything they don't want to do (even if it's literally the point of the training) they Will leave'

[littelovelunette]

vi raising her voice at anxious! reader during an argument, making reader cry, and then doubling down and saying she’s too sensitive. reader storms off and hides in the bathroom, sobbing, thinking vi will break up with them, and eventually vi comes in to apologize and comforts them (pls make it really angsty and then really really sweet)

Anxiety

Contains emotional abuse, anxiety, may be traumatic to some readers, implications of self harm

"Vi, I just wanted to talk, stop huffing and sighing." You said, putting the freshly done dishes in the shelf.

Vi, who had her arms crossed was leaned against the wall as she surveyed you with her sharp blue eyes. "Spit it out already." Her tone was irritable.

"I just feel like you've been really distracted lately." You turned to face her. "When I try to call you for your attention you answer me in an irritated tone, when I'm talking you're zoning out."

Vi rubbed the back of her neck, hand going upto fix her hair, "Babe, yknow I'm stressed lately. Got a lot going on, I'm not ignoring you by purpose, 'kay?"

"I know but it hurts." You shifted from one foot to the other, "I understand but I just hoped you'd be opening to talking about it so the feeling wouldn't nag me. I just feel like, otherwise, you're—"

"Like what!?" Vi cut you out, "Like I'm shutting you out? Janna, everything doesn't have to be a deep conversation!"

"But it still hurts when you don't even tell me what's going on! It's like you don't trust me." You said, a little bit of emotion starting to creep onto your voice.

"So what do you expect I do every time? You expect me to sit here and hold your hand whenever you feel a little insecure?" Vi sounded so taunting it was like she wasn't even the person who you fell in love with.

"That's not what—"

"Then what!? What am I supposed to do?" Vi yelled. "If I pull away, I'm distant. If I'm busy, I'm ignoring you. What the fuck do you want from me?"

"I want you to talk to me." Your voice was low and shaky, tears soaking your cheeks now. "I just— I— I want you to care..."

"Oh, here we go again!" Vi threw her hands up in exasperation. "Being melodramatic and sensitive. Not everything needs to be a dramatic issue, you always make it about yourself!"

Tears blurred your vision and the next second you darted past her and into the bathroom to cry your heart out. You closed the door and locked it behind yourself, letting out a small shuddering sigh as you did.

This was it. Now, she would break up with you the moment you stepped out of the bathroom. Worry filled your chest and made it a little hard to breathe.

"Oh gosh..." A small sob left your mouth, as more warm tears started to roll down your now rosy cheeks.

You hated how sensitive and anxious you could get.

Thirty minutes passed inside the bathroom and then a small knock sounded out from the other side of the bathroom door.

Sofr knock and then a heavy thud as Vi leaned against the door.

"Baby… hey. C’mon, please open the door." Vi's voice was calmer than before but you were scared this was the start of a breakup speech.

Silence.

Just muffled, shaky breathing echoed from you throughout the rest of the bathroom.

Vi exhaled sharply, pressing her forehead against the wood. "I know you’re crying. I know I messed up. Please, baby, let me fix it."

Another pause. Vi swallowed hard, guilt clawing at her chest when she heard a quiet, broken sob from inside.

"Shit… I didn’t mean it, alright? I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not too sensitive, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I just—I get so fucking stubborn sometimes, and I forget that words actually hurt."

She knocked again, softer this time, her voice breaking slightly. "I hate that I made you feel like this. I hate that I made you think I don’t care, ‘cause I do. More than anything. I just… I get scared too, y’know? I don’t always know how to deal with shit, and instead of talking about it, I push people away. But I don’t wanna push you away. Not you."

She sighed, her back sliding down the door as she sat outside, knees up, voice quieter now—more vulnerable.

"You’re the best thing I’ve got, and I keep fucking up. But I swear, I’m trying. I just… need you to talk to me. Yell at me if you have to, I don’t care—just don’t shut me out. Please, babygirl..."

Vi closed her eyes, head leaning against the door. "I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’ll sit right here all night if I have to. But I’d rather be holding you than talking to a damn door."

You opened the door slowly, face drenched in your own tears and hair messy as you stood there. Vi turned around and scrambled to her feet, seeing you the way you were broke her heart.

"My baby..."

She whispered and wrapped her arms around you tightly, holding you close as she took deep breaths. "I was worried you did something stupid to yourself. Don't ever shut me out like that. Talk to me."

"I tried but you..."

Your voice trailed off and you went back to sniffling and sobbing causing your small frame to shake in her hands.

"I'm sorry."

Vi apologised and held onto you, picking you up and taking you to the living room. She sat down with you on her lap, silently putting on your favourite show.

"We'll do what you want, okay?"

Vi reached down and opened a package of sugary snacks.

"Mhm..." Your voice was soft, a quiet hum.

"Come on, now, don't cry, yeah? You're my good girl. My angel."

[heich0e]

"c'mere."

katsuki was so... normal all evening. so subdued. dinner with your friends was nice in a familiar, comfortably unremarkable way. everyone who gathered around the table at the restaurant had chatted happily, getting each other up to date on any developments in their personal or professional lives. jokes were made about the high school days, and failed romantic endeavours (mainly denki's), and tenya's new haircut that he doesn't quite like.

then the bills were paid, and rides were arranged, and katsuki walked you to the car with a hand on the small of your back.

it was normal. everyone was normal.

but now katsuki's like this.

he has you pinned up against the wall just inside the barely-closed door of your shared apartment before you can even take off your shoes. his mouth is hot on yours, licking messily into your mouth in a way that makes you dizzy.

"katsuki, wait—oh!" your head thumps back against the wall behind you as your boyfriend hitches one of your legs up around his waist and grinds the defined musculature of his upper thigh between yours.

"done waiting," he grunts out quietly against your parted lips, pressing your bodies even closer together.

this isn't like him; the freneticism, the almost stifling haste with which katsuki is trying to devour you. he's usually more reserved than this. more trepidatious. katsuki has always treated you like you were precious. too precious, you sometimes think. like an antique sake set made of porcelain so fine that it could shatter in a too-tight grip—like something he couldn't afford to break.

"what's gotten into you?" you ask as katsuki's mouth trails white-hot down your throat towards your collarbone, the kisses he presses against your skin searing as he moves on to the next.

his only answer is to slip his hands up underneath the skirt of your dress, hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties and tugging them down your thighs.

"katsuki!" you gasp in surprise as the cool air kisses the slickness of your newly-exposed skin.

the pad of katsuki's thumb brushes your clit, and your knees nearly buckle.

"katsuki, stop."

it's quiet after you push him away from you, the air heavy as you laboriously draw it into your aching lungs.

katsuki stands at arm's length, frozen in surprise. in spite of his strength—overpowering you in every possible physical way—he hadn't resisted you in the slightest when you instinctively pushed against him. if anything, he'd willingly taken the step back to give you the distance you need.

he looks at you though his lashes, his chin tucked down towards his chest, half-hurt and half-guilty.

"sorry," he says quietly, mumbled through pursed lips as he shuffles another half step back.

your hand shoots out towards him, grabbing him by the lapel of his unzipped jacket.

"hey," you say, equally quiet but less sheepish than his own words. "don't do that."

katsuki lets you pull him back into your space as effortlessly as you'd pushed him away. you like it when he's close like this. like when that soft, sweet sort of smell that always clings to him envelops you too.

"i'm happy to let you take off whatever article of my clothes you want, i'd just like to take my shoes off first," you say to him, so close your lips are almost brushing. the tops of katsuki's cheeks are rosy, and his lashes are fluttering as he listens to your words. you smile a little. "if that's not too much to ask."

katsuki helps you out of your heels, and then clings to you all the way down the hallway into your bedroom where the two of you go toppling into bed. your boyfriend is normally militant about not letting 'outside clothes' into the sheets, but he says nothing about either of your outfits on the soft cotton as he pulls your body on top of his.

but nothing about katsuki is normal tonight. you've already figured that much out.

you just can't quite understand why.

"you're raring to go tonight," you say with a laugh as katsuki's hands slip up under your dress again, this time with you ensconced upon his lap. your panties are somewhere in the genkan, so this time there's no barrier between his touch and your skin.

"what's wrong with that?" katsuki bites back, but even in his snark he's still soft with you. deftly, his hands slip around to the back of your dress, sitting up so the two of you are chest to chest in bed, and tugs the zipper of the garment down. the material slips down your arms until the dress is left pooled around your waist, nothing but your bare skin left on display. it's hard to make out the colour of katsuki's eyes in the dark, but it's impossible to miss the desire in his gaze as it traces over your newly exposed chest. "what's so wrong about me wanting you?"

you pause for a moment as you consider his unexpectedly earnest words. "there's nothing wrong with it," you finally reply, reaching up and tracing your fingers through the blonde hair at his temple. "it's just a little weird."

"weird?" katsuki echoes, but his repetition sounds incredulous.

he uses a hand on the small of your back—just like how he'd walked you to your car after dinner, but this time a bit more forceful—to pull your body back against his. you brace your hands on his shoulders as you sit in his lap, staring down at him.

"i've been in love with you since we were fifteen," katsuki says. it's ardent. insistent, even. like he's desperate for you to understand. "i've wanted you since we were fifteen. there's nothin' weird about it."

you blink. a little dumbstruck. a little lovesick.

and suddenly you understand his behaviour a little more. it's all a bit clearer.

you dip down, pressing a featherlight kiss to katsuki's lips. then another; deeper and longer.

"you were feeling nostalgic, huh?" you murmur breathlessly against katsuki's mouth, cupping his face between your palms. his cheeks are burning hot underneath your touch. it makes butterflies lick in the pit of your stomach.

you'd caught katsuki's eyes on you a few times tonight at dinner, but really hadn't thought much of it. at one point you'd moved seats to chat with momo about her upcoming wedding (and to admire the ring on her finger) and more than once you'd met katsuki's gaze from the other end of the table where he was seated with the boys.

katuski kisses the back of his teeth, tilting his face away from you slightly.

"fuckin'... izuku said something earlier that just..." he seems to be struggling to find the words. you give him the time he needs. "said some sappy shit about growin' up. about how we all ended up happy."

you feel a twinge in your chest as katsuki mumbles the admission. he's struggling to meet your gaze, and instead leans his forehead against your chest.

"and i looked at you across the table, 'n i just... i kept thinkin' about being a fifteen year old brat staring at you across a classroom. kept thinkin' about how he'd never believe it if i could tell him how we ended up."

it's quiet for a moment as katsuki holds you. and you hold him. the hot, hot flush of his face against your bare skin.

"fifteen-year-old you probably would've tried to kick thirty-year-old you's ass."

katsuki laughs, a warm wash of breath breaking against your skin.

"yeah, probably." he nods, finally lifting his head. he stares up at you, his hands patting gently up and down your back. he smirks a little. "woulda popped a boner at the thought of seein' you like this, too."

"so the two of you have that in common, huh?" you tease him, wiggling your hips a little in his lap where proof of your accusation presses against you.

katsuki kisses you to hide the smile on his face, twisting both of your bodies to lay you down against the soft sheets of your shared bed that katsuki dutifully launders every sunday. he slips your dress down your hips to leave you bare, and tugs his own t-shirt off to join it on the bedroom floor soon after.

"katsuki?"

the man suckling a bruise into your throat groans a little at your quiet call of his name. "if you push me away again i'm gon—"

"i love you too, y'know."

you feel him swallow hard, his face still tucked into the crook of your neck. his hands are trembling a little—just like the first time he touched you, a few years after graduation when your paths crossed again. you can feel his heart thundering in his chest.

your own beats just as loudly underneath it.

because fifteen year old katsuki wasn't the only one sneaking glances across the room. and katsuki isn't the only one who feels so grateful about how you two ended up happy together.

[stove-top96]

Wicked Game

Ch. 02

Y Batfam x Gn Reader

Featuring Platonic: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Damian Al-Ghul Wayne

3.9k words

Ch. 01 <- Ch. 02 -> Ch. 03

Class schedule

1st period - Art

2nd Period - Maths

12:00 - 1:00: Lunch

3rd Period - Biology

4th Period - English

(5:00 -> Basketball game)

The thought of Biology class and working with Tim is already giving you a headache and there’s still 10 minutes till class starts.

You showed up a little early like you always do, and sat in the same seat as yesterday. Tim will probably sit beside you. Today is the only class you’ll get to work on the poster, and Mrs. Young's expectations for it are kinda insane.

She’s not even offering supplies. No poster paper, hardly any markers. Is this not the ‘best’ school in Gotham? you're not spending any of your hard earned money on a bio project.

Tim can get it.

He has like a gazillion dollars so there’s no reason for him to complain.

You scroll through your socials, but there’s still no sign of Tim. Shouldn’t he be here by now? There’s only a few more minutes to tell class.

<Tim>

So sorry y/n. There was an emergency last night, I can’t make it to class today.

You roll your eyes— great. You want to ask him how he got your number, but what were you supposed to say?

‘I know you didn’t get my number from Brandi. How’d you get it?’

It’s not normal, it’s so creepy. You feel the pit in your stomach grow— Jesus, you can’t be dealing with this on game day.

No one's gonna reprimand Tim Drake. Not the principal, not the teachers, In fact you might be the one to get in trouble. Defamation of character or something.

You sigh. You’ll just block him after Monday, get through this project and never talk to him again.

<y/n>

Ok I’ll do what I can. We can meet up on the weekend or smth.

Can u get the supplies?

<Tim>

Yeah we’ll make something work. It’ll be done for Monday

I should have some stuff laying around somewhere.

You scoff. Quickly shutting your phone off as the bell rings.

Mrs. Young starts talking, reminding everyone how this will be the only class period to work on the project that’s due Monday.

You stare at the empty desk. Your leg starts bouncing and your palms get shaky.

Focus. Just focus on something. Anything.

You can’t. Your mind just drifts to the game, how everything could go wrong.

You shift in your seat. Trying to focus on Mrs. Young’s voice.

Just get through class.

Before you know it you’re in the locker room. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you quickly splash cold water on your face. God— you look like a mess.

“Come on y/n, we gotta warm up in like 10 minutes” your teammate Cameron yells.

“Yeah I’ll be ready in a sec” you yell. Drying your face, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. The pit in your stomach grows bigger.

You’ve worked harder than most people to get here, just trust in your training. You’re the best shooting guard there on the team, there’s a reason this school wants you here.

You pep talk does little to ease your nerves, but there’s not much else you can do now.

You catch up with Cameron in the gym, and watch the other team warmup. “They’re not bad… But we’re better”. Their confidence is nice, but Cameron isn’t playing with the stakes you are.

“Yeah, We’ll be fine” you whisper, you don't know if you’re talking to Cameron or yourself.

You and your warm up. Running laps around doing shooting drills. Your muscle memory takes over.

Your breathing steadies, your mind is clear.

You shoot.

The swish of the net is like music to your ears.

slowly start gaining your confidence back. Warming up your 3 pointers and haven’t missed one yet.

Normally you’re a starter but Coach decided to bench you at the start. He wants you to get a feel for the opposing team.

“These games aren’t like the ones you’re used to playing” he says. His eyes never leave the court.

“They take training camps over the summer, their parents invest good money into them” he continues. It’s not hard to believe, their technique is unreal.

“But you have something they don’t” he pauses and you look up at him “you're strong, and you have raw talent… I can probably guess what was going through your head today. I just want you to know no matter what you're going to stay on my team.”

Everything disappeared at that moment. All your stress, nerves, regret, it was flooded out with a wave of relief and adrenaline.

Nothing mattered now all you had to do was play your favourite game.

The whistle blew and you switched places with E.J. “Show ‘em what you got Y/n” they patted you on the back.

you’ve never played harder. scoring shot after shot. You were in the zone.

You were having fun.

Gotham prep wins, 68 to 25.

The Subway home is short, nothing like the one you took this morning. You ride the high of winning, a small smile never leaving your face as you recall your best plays of the game. Your mind is filled with excitement and anticipation for your next game.

By the time you reach your apartment you’re exhausted, but as you go to unlock the door the key stops short. It’s already unlocked. That’s weird, mom was always triple checking the locks?

a shiver runs down your spine as you slowly push open the door.

The living room light is dim, The curtains are stapled closed. The T.V plays some static filled re-run, and you see her.

Your mom sits on the couch, hands clenched in her lap muttering something to herself.

You swallow “Hey mom I’m back from my game.” She doesn’t move.

You shut the door, making sure to lock it. “We won, I even got MVP”

Still nothing.

A pit forms in your stomach. You sigh as you drop your bag and slide off your sneakers. You slowly make your way to sit beside her. Your shoulders are touching. She doesn’t move, she doesn’t even acknowledge you.

you hate it.

“I was pretty nervous about playing” you continue, softer now. You know talking to her is futile, but maybe just maybe you could bring her back even for a second. “But coach said no matter what I’ll always be on his team” you say, your head drops onto her shoulder leaning closer into her.

She goes quiet and stares into the wall. Your eyes follow her gaze, nothing’s there. You look at the outdated wallpaper, peeling at the edges.

A lump forms in your throat, and the pit in your stomach grows bigger.

She loves Basketball. She taught you everything you know.

She’d always tell you stories about her games, how she was the best Center at Gotham public. You remember seeing her at every middle school game you had, and would always cheer the loudest. She’d ruffle your hair after every game and say “good job baby I’m so proud of you” You used to get so embarrassed about it.

Now she’s barely here.

The doctors said she would get better with the proper help and time, how she was ‘Luckier than most’.

But she’s not.

and there’s nothing you can do about it.

You know she needs more help than what the government is offering. Group meetings for fear toxin victims aren’t enough. She needs professional help, but insurance won't cover it and you can’t afford it with only a minimum wage job and her disability checks.

you clench your fists nails digging into your palms. It’s not fair. But nothing is ever fair in Gotham.

“I’m gonna make dinner mom” you get up slowly. Looking back at her, still nothing.

You’ll help her. You go to Gotham prep, almost any college will accept you just for that. You’ll build a good life for you and her.

But for now, all you can do is make sure she eats.

+++++

<Tim>

How’d the game go?

Tim exhaled sharply, glaring at Dick “You just gonna stare at my phone until she responds?”

”why else would I be here?” Dick lounged on the couch, a cocky grin plastered on his face. He tried to play it off but he was excited.

The living room was quiet with everyone doing their ‘own thing’— Bruce reading the paper, Cass pretending to read a book, Steph scrolling on her phone, Jason and Damian cleaning weapons— But no one was focused.

They were waiting.

The family knew how you did. All of them watched the live stream. They saw every shot you scored, every pass you made, everything.

They were proud.

“I still believe it’s insulting that the coach decided to bench them for the 1st period” Damian scoffed. “Their talent is wasted due to incompetence”.

”they won.” Jason said without locking up

”That’s not the point Todd”. Damian rolled his eyes, “they would’ve won either way.” Damian muttered. Truthfully he was disappointed he didn’t get to see you more.

Tims phone buzzed.

The sound made everyone’s attention snap to him.

<Y/N>

It was good we won and I got MVP

Dick read the text out loud. Tim snatched the phone back before anything else could happen.

“They're starting to share more, that’s good.” Bruce stated, Cass nodded her lips twitch into a small smile.

“Invite her over for tomorrow, I wanna be here when she comes” Dick said smugly, a smirk still present on his face.

Tim stayed quiet typing a response.

”I doubt Grayson would go back to Blüdhaven if they chose to come over Sunday” Damian Huffed.

Tim ignored them and hit send.

<Tim>

That’s good!

When are you free on the weekend?

<Y/n>

I work during the day I’m free after 6 tho

the library doesn’t close tell 9

Dick leaned over reading the text aloud. “You're not going to the library,” Jason scoffed. “Yeah, no” Dick said playfully. Tim rolled his eyes “yeah I know” he scoffed, they were too quick to jealousy.

he quickly typed a response.

<Tim>

I’m not really able to go anywhere, that’s why I wasn’t at school today

<Y/n>

wdym

<Tim>

I got my family to keep it out of the news, but I was attacked last night.

They wanted to take me for ransom.

Dick read the messages aloud. There was a moment of silence before he started laughing at Tims lame excuse. Jason and Steph couldn’t help but snicker to themselves, even Damian had a small grin.

Bruce just nodded in approval. You couldn’t know some thug shot him.

<Y/n>

Are you okay?

Tim’s face had a ghost of a smirk. You were worried about him.

<Tim>

yeah I’m fine

I can’t really leave my house until they catch the guys so would you be able to come over tomorrow at 6:30?

Silence filled the room. No one moved.

Everyone was waiting for your response. Growing more and more impatient. But it didn’t come.

Everyone held their breath. It felt like they were staring at the messages for an eternity.

Dick inhaled sharply. “they’re typing”

<Y/N>

yeah sure

<Tim>

great I’ll send you the address

The atmosphere of the room shifted. Everyone had a dark and calculated look as thoughts of tomorrow's plan raced through their mind.

“Everything prepared for tomorrow?” Asked Bruce his expression unreadable.

Damian Nodded “of course”

”Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Dick said playfully, but his eyes gleamed darker.

+++++

Work was more draining than usual.

The Batburger joint you worked at left much to be desired. Two of your coworkers came in high, and some lady yelled at you for forgetting to ‘jokerize’ her fry’s. you want nothing more than to be bedrotting at home.

instead you're here.

You made your way to Wayne Manor. Tim gave you the address, but it was just a formality. Everyone knows where they live.

There was a pit in your stomach as you walked. Your mind couldn’t help but drift— how did he get your number?

you thought of casual ways you might be able to ask him. Maybe bringing up the fact that Brandi didn’t know you were partners might prompt an explanation? Maybe a joke? The thought made you shiver.

As you ponder different ways to approach the situation, and possible escape plans in case things go south. You stopped.

you're here.

the front gate of Wayne Manor loomed over you. The gothic mansion looked even more scary as the sun was setting.

You shouldn’t be here.

But you were.

You pulled out your phone to check Tim’s message.

<Tim>

when you get there just hit the buzzer and someone will open the gate.

You look to the left to see a pin pad, and the buzzer. You reach to press it, but your finger hesitates.

You pause.

A cold sweat envelops you. You feel heavy. The weight of your uniform clings to your skin. The smell of oil and grease fills your nose.

Should you really do this?

You pull your hand back, it’s shaking.

Spinning on your heels to head home. You’ll text Tim, saying you had to go over time or something.

As you're walking back you think.

Bruce Wayne is a ‘billionaire playboy’, he’s kinda a ditzy guy, a philanthropist with too much money. He builds hospitals, funds schools and other good things.

There’s no way anything bad would happen with him there.

you huff turning around.

Back at the gate, your finger hovers over the buzzer again.

”you can do this” you mumble.

Just do it.

You press the button.

“Hello, How may I help you”

a posh voice asks through the speakers.

“Hi, uh. I’m here to see Tim we’re supposed to work on a project together. I don't know if he told you?” You answer meekly. You want to curl into a ball and hide.

“Ah, yes please come in y/n”

the intercom cut off.

your stomach tightened.

The metal clinked and rattled as the gates opened. He knows your name, guess Tim did tell everyone you were coming.

Once the gate is fully open it hits you. You’re at Wayne Manor. There’s a weight in your chest, your legs feel like lead.

Even so you carry on. One foot in front of the other, at least until you reach the front door.

You debate if you should knock again. The posh man did invite you in, but would it be rude if you just walked in?

Raising your fist about to knock. you hear something inside, as if someone is rushing to the door.

The door swings open, startling you just a little. You stare at the man in front of you. It’s Dick Grayson. He’s handsome Mid to late 20’s, messy hair, bright blue eyes and a boyish grin. you’ve seen him everywhere, T.V, magazines, and newspapers.

“You’re Y/n right?” He smiles— practiced, You’ve seen that smile hundreds of times.

“Uh, yeah” you answer. Once again, your voice is quieter than you’d like.

He didn’t seem to mind, he opened the door wider, welcoming you in. The faintest smirk plastered on his face.

”I’m Dick Grayson by the way” his introduction is like Tim’s, only for formality. He knows you know who he is. You slide your shoes off and look up at him.

“Nice to meet you” you smile, your voice more confident this time.

He pauses, then smiles back. It’s a different smile— it reaches his eyes.

“You as well… follow me I’ll show you Tim’s room” he starts walking, you’re quick to follow.

“So Tim said you’re on the basketball team” he asks. He leads you through the manor. It’s warmer than you’d imagine, family portraits and pictures hanging on the wall.

It takes you a second to realize he’s asking you a question. Looks like he wants to make small talk “uh.. yeah it’s pretty nice”

”That's good” he glances over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure Tim told you but suppers at 7:15 tonight” Dick said casually.

You stumble.

Tim definitely did not mention that.

“I think he forgot to tell me…” you awkwardly laugh.

“He did!? I’ll yell at him later for it, don't worry” Dick laughs. That’s not what you were worried about.

A shiver ran up your spine. This changed everything, you were going to meet everyone.

You want to leave, to turn around and go home. Pretend everything is fine and this never happened.

He pauses in front of a door. “Anyways this is Tim’s room, I’ll see you for supper” and with that he continues walking down the hall.

It’s quiet. You could leave. Just walk away.

Your hand hovers over the door.

You got this, if anything goes wrong you’ll just run home. But nothings going to go wrong.

You knock. It’s silent for a moment.

“Come in”

The door creaked as you opened it, you cringe at the noise. You quickly scan the room before stepping in.

His room was neat almost too neat. Books stacked on a shelf with surgical precision. His desk was arranged like it was never used. There’s a few movie posters on the wall, generic ones, like they were placed to make the room look lived in.

Tim shutoff his laptop as soon as you stepped in.

the bandages wrapped around his waist are visible under his t-shirt. You try not to stare.

“Make yourself at home y/n, sorry I forgot to tell you about dinner” he chuckles sheepishly, but there’s a dark glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it” you mumbled, you were quick to set up your stuff. You wanted to finish this before dinner.

Tim watched as you fumbled through your bag before handing him a rough draft of the poster. “I got a little bit done in class, we just have to write some of the stages and make the poster”

“Okay, this won't take long, maybe an hour or two” he said, reading through a rough draft of your plan.

“Cool.” you sit at his desk and start writing. “I’ll finish up the stages if you start drawing a diagram”.

Tim smirks, but his eyes don’t leave your notes “sounds good to me”

The next 45 minutes go by fast, it’s silent except the odd sound of papers shuffling. Neither of you make conversation,

you’d catch Tim staring at you every now and then, but you chose not to say anything, it’s easier.

“Dinner will be ready soon” Tim closed his notebook, you froze.

“We should start heading down now” His voice was light, his smile seemed playful— too playful, like he was a kid about to get some candy.

“Okay..” you mumble, getting up from your seat. You follow him downstairs.

you can't turn back now.

The dining room is beautiful. The warm lighting, pretty paintings, decorated table that could fit a dozen people. it looked perfect, but it only made you feel small.

You don't belong here.

You look down at your batburger uniform, suddenly feeling a little self conscious.

Tim guides you to the seat beside him.

It’s just you two at the table right now, you wonder if he can see how nervous you are right now? If he does he doesn’t say anything about it.

“You’re in for a treat, Alfred's cooking is the best” Tim exclaims as he sets his napkin on his lap.

You’re quick to copy him ”I’m sure”.

you’re lost in your thoughts—Did your mom eat? Did she leave the door unlocked again?

A presence snaps you back to reality. A younger boy is sitting across from you.

You didn’t even hear him coming. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you then glares at Tim.

“I’m Damian” his voice is almost professional. “it’s nice to meet you y/n”

“You as well Damian.” You stutter.

Dick walks in, he’s talking with a girl. You’re pretty sure it’s Cassandra Cain, she stays out of the media so you’re not sure.

They keep talking as they find their seats to the left of Damian, but they keep glancing at you.

You swallowed.

“Y/n this is Cass” Dick introduces you.

You look up and force a smile “Hi Cass it’s nice to meet you”

”you too” she responds, before resuming her conversation with Dick, but her eyes never seem to fully leave you.

Great.

Sitting in silence you stare down at the empty plate and polished silverware.

Then Bruce Wayne walks in,

You stiffen, and fix your posture.

He sits at the head of the table. Whispering something to Damian, before looking towards you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Y/n” he says flashing his famous smile.

“It’s nice to meet you as well Mr. Wayne” faux confidence in your voice.

“Please Call me Bruce” he chuckles

”Alright” you answer, voice wavering slightly.

Before either of you can say anything else, an old man dressed in a butler's uniform walks in.

he begins to set plates in front of everyone. Once he sets yours down, it smells heavenly.

“Thank you Mr…”

”Alfred” he answers, the same posh accent you heard at the gate.

You feel eyes on you as you take your first few bites. Some tried hiding it. Others didn’t bother.

“So Y/n, I heard you had a Basketball game yesterday. How did that go?” Bruce asked, his voice was light.

“It went well, we won 68 to 25” you answered, taking another bite.

Dick Smirked. “What about you? Did you get any playtime?” He asked playfully.

“Yeah I got to play for most of it, I got MVP” you answered. Grabbing your glass of water.

there was a beat of silence.

“Impressive” Damian stated, watching closely as you took another bite.

“Your parents must be proud” Bruce stated, there was that same glint in his eyes. The one Dick and Tim had earlier.

“Yeah… My mom’s really happy, since she taught me to play and all that” you lied.

Dick scraped his fork on the plate. It was grating deliberate.

The noise made you cringe.

“Is that so?” Bruce mumbled, taking another bite of his meal.

Dinner went by without any other questions. Dick carried most of the conversation, with Tim and Damian chiming in when necessary and Bruce and Cass nodding along.

You should be thankful.

But you just felt watched.

It’s been about 30 minutes since you finished eating with everyone, you were back in Tim’s room working on writing the information for the poster.

At least you were trying to.

Tim seemed to be taking his sweet time with just a simple diagram.

You were almost finished with the notes. Glancing down at your writing the words seemed to blur together, Before snapping into focus again.

all you had left was to glue it onto the poster.

“How much longer for the diagram?” You asked, your voice sounded more tired than you expected.

He smirked “Not much, you tired?”

You yawn. Why were you tired? You’ve worked long days before, you should be used to this. You just want to go home.

“A little but I’ll be fine”

Tim stops writing, you can feel him look over at you. It’s like he’s analyzing everything you do, every minuscule expression you make.

Like he’s waiting for something.

“If you say so” he says as he gets back to work, smiling softly to himself.

A heaviness took over your body. Your movements slowed, it was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

your vision swayed, eyes getting heavier.

You blinked slowly.

just a little longer than you can leave.

Maybe if you rest your eyes, just for a moment.

Tim wouldn’t mind?

++++++++++

Can you tell I wrote this in 1 sitting? I feel like it downgraded in quality the longer I wrote lol. I’ll edit any mistakes tomorrow but I really wanna post it so Imma just do that. Comment if you wanna be added to the tag-lists. I also said id explain why batfam is obsessed this chapter but I decided to slowly reveal it (I couldn’t figure out how to fit the flashback scene in the chapter) also I lowkey forgot reader was GN and made the basketball team all girls, than had to go back and change it. I googled gender neutral names and chose the ones I liked please dont come at me!! Also its super late so I hope I kept reader Gn if not Ill change it right away!!

Also if you have any request for some random YBatfam oneshot or somth send in an ask I wanna write more oneshots but I have no ideas lol.

Taglist: @jjsmeowthie @crazycaoticsimp @lilyalone @shycreatorreview @caged-birdies-blog @shirp-collector-of-fixations @wizzerreblogs @c4xcocoa @cxcilla

[greersarchive]

Remember, ignore everything Freud said. Just... like, all of it. Yes, even the stuff about the subconscious. Especially the stuff about the subconscious. There may be subconscious processing in your brain, but it's got blown *way* out of proportion. Right now the top theory on WTF a dream is basic boils down to your brain solidifying shit in long-term memory (LTM). See, contrary to popular belief, long-term memory doesn't have to be that long. Short-term memory (STM) is generally thought to last for about 30 seconds or so, tops. STM is when you try to remember a phone number long enough to dial it. Anything longer than that is LTM. So why do some things in long-term memory not seem to stick around for... well... the long term? Well lots of reasons! Sometimes it's just because you can't access the memory. To retrieve a memory, you basically need to look it up somehow. It's kinda like Tumblr. Your brain might tag a memory with anything it's remotely associated with. You gotta access the tag to get at the memory. But what if you post on Tumblr every lunch you ever had, and they're all tagged "lunch"? Well searching the lunch tag is going to get you all the lunches in no particular order. They all blend into each other. Hence, unless something specific, with a better tag happened, or some combination of tags, you can't retrieve the memory you want. This is one reason why people advise studying in multiple environments. The more retrieval cues you can associate with a memory, the more likely you are to be able to access it later. Related to this is the idea of consolidation. That's when your brain takes the relatively fragile memories in your hippocampus and solidifies them. How? Mostly through those sorts of associations! Rather than being stored in your bitty little hippocampus, they get woven in with your other memories via association and memory traces become spread throughout the brain. Over the course of months and years, these memories can become more and more stable this way. This is also why, when people suffer a head injury, they sometimes forget what happened in the hours or days proceeding. Those memories weren't consolidated yet and were more prone to loss. Dreaming is thought to be related to memory consolidation. There's a common saying in neurology: what fires together wires together. This is great for forming associations in real-time. When two things happen together often enough, it makes sense to think they're related and so physically relate them in your brain. But it's also what happens when you consolidate memories. So your brain is trying to take your memories from the last day/week/year and associate them with... well whatever else in your memory makes sense. So you have a lot of different memory areas in the brain firing at once trying to form and solidify associations. It's no surprise the end result is... weird, given these thoughts, memories, and ideas don't have any real connective tissue besides what you apply trying to make sense of it all. And, yeah, sometimes it can be disturbing. There's disturbing shit out there you've seen, heard about, or, regrettably, experienced. That's gonna be part of it. It doesn't mean anything except that you are aware disturbing things exist.

Former Cog Psych grad student... away! *flies into the air and into a ceiling fan*

idk what traumatized or mentally ill person needs to hear this but dreams (especially the really disturbing ones you dont want to talk about to anybody) arent some deep peek into your psyche or a sign of your True Desires or whatever theyre quite literally your brain making fruit salad with whatever it can find on the shelf. just putting all that shit in a blender and hitting obliterate. its fine, youre fine, youre not a weirdo for it

[anghraine]

So one of the revelations from watching the entirety of TOS is that Kirk and Spock's relationship is not only every bit as homoerotic as rumored and then some—though it is—but that they are also incredibly fucking unhinged about it. So for this week's poll, I wanted to honor this discovery!

(The character limitations don't allow for much detail, and in context these are even more incredible, so I'll add the links/clips/summations beneath the cut!)

1— "The Empath" (Season 3)

Context: the girl of the week, Gem, is a member of a species of mute empaths able to absorb others' injuries through sympathy and generally drawn to positive emotion. Meanwhile, Kirk is tortured by other parties in the episode to test her willingness to take on others' suffering, and he falls into an exhausted unconscious heap on a bench.

Gem starts to head away towards McCoy, but is suddenly arrested by something she senses and turns to look at Spock, who is moving over to sit next to Kirk and watch him sleep. When Spock realizes he's being observed, he turns away and pretends to study data in his tricorder. Gem isn't fooled, however, and walks back over to him, touching Spock's shoulder and staring at him with wonder in her face over this simple feeling whatever his emotion is while delicate music plays in the background. See for yourself:

2— "Shore Leave" (Season 1)

Context: Kirk is fatigued and strained and in physical pain after ... uh, everything (this episode was aired immediately after "The Conscience of the King" and "Balance of Terror," so it's not hard to buy). He tries to stretch out his back and Spock, standing behind Kirk with his hands on the back of the captain's chair, pulls his hands back and asks him if something is wrong. Kirk explains it's just the kink in his back. A pretty female yeoman starts massaging his back (uh) and Kirk welcomes it under the mistaken belief that it's Spock doing it:

"That's it. A little higher, please. Push. Push hard. Dig it in there, Mr.—"

Spock lifts a brow and pointedly steps forward so Kirk can see it's not him, and Kirk immediately orders the yeoman to stop with a meaningful look at Spock.

(Bonus episode points: Spock's smug satisfaction at tricking Kirk into taking shore leave where McCoy failed, and them grasping at each other when they're in danger.)

3— "A Taste of Armageddon" (Season 1)

Context: After Kirk successfully uses a risky gambit to trick two neighboring peoples into making peace rather than continuing to murder millions of people via computers, he explains his thinking:

It was a calculated risk. Still, the Eminians keep a very orderly society, and actual war is a very messy business. A very, very messy business. I had a feeling that they would do anything to avoid it, even talk peace.

When Spock is dubious about acting based on "a feeling," Kirk adds:

Sometimes, Mr. Spock, a feeling is all we humans have to go on.

Spock replies:

Captain, you almost make me believe in luck.

And then Kirk dials it up to:

Why, Mr. Spock, you almost make me believe in miracles.

Then the camera just focuses on Spock visibly trying to process this and the episode ends.

4— "Requiem for Methuselah" (Season 3)

Context: this is one of relatively few episodes in which Kirk actually gets to pursue a woman because he likes her rather than desperate circumstances; as usual with people he cares about, she dies. He's so emotionally drained at this point in the show that, upon returning to the ship, he describes his immortal rival for her love and himself as "A very old and lonely man, and a young and lonely man," mutters that he wishes he could just forget it all, and falls asleep at a table.

Meanwhile, Spock (who has been visibly intense and uncomfortable throughout the whole episode) stays nearby as McCoy enters. Spock gestures at him to stay quiet and McCoy briefly exposits a plot point to Spock, then segues into an unexpectedly vicious, half-smiling monologue about what Kirk's gone through in the episode and how Spock could never understand it:

Considering his opponent's longevity, truly an eternal triangle. You wouldn't understand that, would you, Spock? You see, I feel sorrier for you than I do for him, because you'll never know the things that love can drive a man to. The ecstasies, the miseries, the broken rules, the desperate chances, the glorious failures, the glorious victories. All of these things you'll never know simply because the word love isn't written into your book. Goodnight, Spock.

Spock just endures and politely replies "Goodnight, doctor," but after McCoy leaves, he allows himself to respond. Without so much as a scene break, Spock slowly walks over to the unconscious Kirk, touches his face, and mind-melds with him while he sleeps. And then he wipes Kirk's memory (!!!) of the tragic romance with his rival this girl, murmuring:

Forget.

5— "And the Children Shall Lead" (Season 3)

Context: a simple instance from a weak episode, but also ... damn, it's a lot. A bunch of children under the malign influence of an evil imperialist alien have managed to take over the Enterprise. This isn't the first time something roughly similar has happened, but at this point, Kirk has a full on panic attack as he and Spock leave the bridge and take the turbolift. Kirk clings to Spock as he melts down and Spock unsuccessfully tries to calm him with "Captain," but it only works when he murmurs, "Jim."

Kirk freezes and then immediately calms back down to his usual rational self. Spock is still concerned and Kirk assures him he'll be fine now (and is).

6— "Miri" (Season 1)

McCoy, Janice Rand, Kirk, and Spock are all gathered around trying to figure out the disease of the week, which has infected all of them (though Spock is asymptomatic). Kirk and Spock lock eyes and Spock points out that they can't go back to the ship, including him since he'd be a carrier, and then he adds:

Whatever happens, I can't go back to the ship ... and I do want to go back to the ship, captain.

Kirk smiles slowly and they just stare at each other as if Janice and McCoy had dropped off the face of the planet.

7— "The Tholian Web" (Season 3)

Context: Kirk is trapped in a different phase of space while a local anomaly is gradually driving the crew of the Enterprise to insane rage. At the same time, the hostile Tholians are threatening the Enterprise with the obvious intent of killing them all within short order, and Kirk's disappearance places Spock in command throughout this triple crisis. Spock refuses to order an escape, instead insisting on the Enterprise remaining in place to keep trying to rescue Kirk, homicidal insanity of the crew be damned, even as the Tholians began attacking.

McCoy urges Spock to prioritize the welfare of the Enterprise and its crew above Kirk, telling him they can't afford to stick around and keep trying. Spock refuses and things predictably get worse.

McCoy confronts him about his priorities:

You should've known what could've happened and done everything in your power to safeguard your crew. That is the mark of a starship captain, like Jim.

Plot events lead everyone, including Spock, to believe that Kirk is dead, and as acting commander, Spock also has to lead the memorial service:

as a result of the battle, we must accept the fact that Captain Kirk is no longer alive. [...] I shall not attempt to voice the quality of respect and admiration which Captain Kirk commanded. Each of you must evaluate the loss in the privacy of your own thoughts.

McCoy continues to lash out at him directly afterwards:

He was a hero in every sense of the word, yet his life was sacrificed for nothing. The one thing that would have given his death meaning is the safety of the Enterprise. Now you've made that impossible, Mr. Spock. [...] I really came here to find out why you stayed and fought. [...] You could have assured yourself of a captaincy by leaving the area. But you chose to stay. Why?

Spock coldly replies:

I need not explain my rationale to you or any other member of this crew.

They snap at each other until they find the recording left for both of them by Kirk in the case of his death. It (hilariously) begins:

Bones, Spock, since you are playing this tape, we will assume that I am dead, that the tactical situation is critical, and both of you are locked in mortal combat.

The message is honestly both wise and heartwarming about how they should respect each other and both have important qualities to offer in a crisis. McCoy immediately feels ashamed of how he's been behaving at such a moment, and tells Spock:

Spock, I, er, I'm sorry. It does hurt, doesn't it?

Spock bleakly replies:

What would you have me say, doctor?

8— "Turnabout Intruder" (Season 3)

Context: in the very peculiar series finale, Kirk's autocratic and vengeful ex-girlfriend uses some kind of machine to take control of his body, leaving him trapped in her body. Spock notices almost immediately that "Kirk" is acting out of character and that "Janice" clearly knows something, so he goes to talk to "her" and Kirk tells him everything. Spock thinks it's possible but there's no certain proof, and Kirk urges him to mind-meld with him:

You are closer to the captain than anyone in the universe. You know his thoughts. What does your telepathic mind tell you now?

Spock melds with him and is promptly convinced.

Bonus: Spock tries to help Kirk escape shortly thereafter and holds his wrist/hand for a good twenty seconds.

9— "The Paradise Syndrome" (Season 3)

Context: Kirk becomes a carefree amnesiac stranded on a planet of transplanted Indigenous people (it's as bad as it sounds), but there's a much more well-done subplot around Spock commanding the Enterprise in the meanwhile. He stubbornly risks the ship (again) to try and rescue Kirk, but the attempt disastrously fails, leaving the ship with only impulse power. McCoy says in some frustration:

Well, Spock, you took your calculated risk in your calculated Vulcan way, and you lost. You lost for us, you lost for that planet, and you lost for Jim.

Despite his exasperation, McCoy still tries to get Spock to rest. Spock simply ignores him and orders the ship to head towards the planet Kirk is stranded on, still stubbornly set on rescuing him, even though they have no warp capabilities and have to travel entirely by impulse power. When McCoy protests that it'll take months, Spock replies:

Exactly 59.223 days, doctor.

And there's no clever solution around it, either. They do take nearly two months getting to the planet and Spock spends 58 days of the journey fixated on figuring out the puzzle that will allow them to save Kirk. McCoy tries to get him to eat or sleep, since he's done little of either for over 50 days, but Spock refuses to do anything except prepare for rescuing Kirk:

I'm also aware when we arrive at the planet, we'll have barely four hours to effect rescue. I believe those symbols are the key. [...] I am not hungry, doctor. [...] My physical condition is not important, doctor. That obelisk is.

McCoy eventually threatens to call security to force him away from studying the puzzle and make him lie down, so Spock finally goes to bed. As soon as McCoy is gone and out of earshot, Spock just gets back up and returns to contemplating the puzzle until he has a breakthrough.

Then upon beaming down and finding an injured, still-amnesiac Kirk, Spock mind-melds with him to try and repair his memory.

I am Spock. You are James Kirk. Our minds are moving closer. Closer, closer, closer, James Kirk. Closer. [...] Our minds are one. [...] Spock!

Spock breaks the link and falls back, gasping. When McCoy asks what's wrong, Spock just says:

His mind. He is an extremely dynamic individual.

10— "The Enemy Within" (Season 1)

Context: Kirk has been split into two people, representing each half of his personality: one half is noble, intellectual, and restrained, but cautious and indecisive, while the other is strong and bold, but vicious, selfish, and violent. At this point in the episode, Spock et al don't know about the split, so good!Kirk is oblivious and evil!Kirk's bizarre behavior is being attributed to normal Kirk. McCoy sends Spock to the captain's quarters to find out what's wrong with him.

Spock dutifully goes to Kirk's quarters, where he finds good!Kirk relaxing without a shirt on and promptly realizes he's gay loses the ability to put normal sentences together. It's difficult to overstate or even describe the homoeroticism of this scene, so judge for yourself:

Bonus: after Spock realizes he's dealing with only half of Kirk and has taken up helping him present a good front, he has to keep correcting good!Kirk's weaknesses and tells him that acting like actual Kirk means "You can't afford the luxury of being anything less than perfect."

11— "Errand of Mercy" (Season 1)

Context: Kirk and Spock are trying to pass themselves off as members of a species of ostensibly docile, peaceful people being (ostensibly) colonized by the Klingon Empire. Kirk in particular struggles to keep his head down, and when a Klingon shoves and threatens Spock, Kirk loses his shit and nearly clobbers the Klingon. Spock manages to calm him down and as they walk away, Kirk mutters:

You didn't really think I was going to beat his head in, did you?

Spock replies:

I thought you might.

Kirk says:

You're right.

12— "Amok Time" (Season 2)

We all know about this one, let's be real. It's difficult to even choose a moment—Spock confiding in Kirk about Vulcan mating practices (Kirk: O_O) and his loathing of the prospect, with Kirk protecting his confidentiality ("I haven't heard a word you've said"), Kirk defending his own choice to implode his career and defy Starfleet (without breaking Spock's confidence) to rush Spock to Vulcan ("I owe him my life a dozen times over. Isn't that worth a career? He's my friend"), Spock telling Kirk he'll undoubtedly find pon farr "distasteful" and Kirk responding "Will I?", Spock begging T'Pau not to let T'Pring choose Kirk as her champion ("I will do what I must [in combat], T'Pau, but not with him! ... In the name of my fathers, forbid. Forbid! T'Pau. I plead with thee! I beg!"), Spock's bleak response to T'Pau's "live long and prosper" after his victory ("I shall do neither. I have killed my captain and my friend"), Spock explaining that his pon farr vanished the moment he thought he'd killed Kirk ("When I thought I had killed the captain, I found I had lost all interest in T'Pring"), McCoy trying to get Spock to admit that his relief at Kirk's survival is illogical and Spock blatantly lying that he is just concerned with the loss of an effective captain, to which Kirk simply responds "Yes, Mr. Spock. I understand" while McCoy splutters ...

But honestly, my favorite is the brief moment of unrestrained emotion when Spock discovers Kirk is still alive and he cries "Jim!" as his whole face lights up and he grabs him. It's one of the only times in TOS that he's in his right mind and yet too overwhelmed to hide what he feels, and it's famous for a reason.

[cutiefulism]

meantutor!geto (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) jjk

based (loosely) on this art <3

meantutor!geto who does everything to avoid getting you put on his schedule. at least the other dumbasses try to learn — you just sit on your laptop playing papa’s games or doing online shopping.

meantutor!geto who rolls his eyes hard when he sees you get bumped up higher on his list, all the way to the top spot. it's almost disappointing how desperate his company is for more money. he thought taking bribes from your daddy was above them.

meantutor!geto whose expectations for your study session is very, very low. you'll probably get confused the second he starts explaining anything with more depth than a kiddie pool, and leave. good. he has enough on his plate without you wasting his already precious time.

meantutor!geto who hates how his eyes linger on your low-cut top. he's not some virginal loser — the sight of a pair of nice tits isn't going to make him fall head over heels with you. yet, even as he explains today's lesson, his eyes can't stop dropping from your face . .

meantutor!geto who notices your own wandering eyes and hands. heated gaze lingering on his lips and piercings, bare thigh pressing against his, soft hand brushing against his broad hands and defined forearms. of course you're more focused on flirting than what he's saying.

meantutor!geto who thinks it's only right to punish you for wasting his time.

“suguruuu—”

rough fingers dig into the plush of your ass, and a sharp snap of his hips shuts you right on up, another moan catching in the back of your throat.

“shut up,” he growls. “you're so fuckin’ noisy. can't you at least mind your manners in a library?”

oh, it's humiliating how something in your stomach (and between your thighs) flutters at his words.

your teeth sink into your glossy lip to swallow down any more noises. just because this part of the campus library isn't popular doesn't mean some geek won't wander over here.

you tighten your grip on the dust-covered shelves as geto continues to piston in and out of your drooling cunt, one hand on your ass and the other on the dip of your back, keeping your skirt up and out of the way.

his pupils are blown, narrowed eyes locked onto the way your entrance all but sucks him in, a mix of your arousal and his spit coating his length.

you're almost perfect, but geto isn't so pussydrunk as to let that leave his lips. he has no plans to inflate your stupid little ego even more.

the typical stale smell of old books and coffee is swamped underneath geto’s cologne, some fragrant, flowery scent that makes you want to bury your face in his neck and never let up.

he's big, too — broad shoulders, thin waist, wide hips and a long dick that continues to ram into you with a brutal pace, not giving you a single moment of reprieve.

each harsh thrust hits that spongey spot, and geto only clicks his tongue when he notices the way your legs are starting to tremble, how you just can't hold back every moan and whine.

pathetic.

geto leans forward, warm chest pressing against your back and pushing you further into the hard, cold shelf.

“you're such a slut,” he hisses into your ear, hot breath ghosting across the shell, and it doesn't take a genius to hear that smug grin in his low voice. “so desperate for dick that you'd fuck your tutor.”

“don't—” you swallow down the saliva that's pooled in your mouth. “don't c-call me that.”

“. . oh?”

his hips come to a complete stop, and he pulls out with a squelch, earning a frustrated whine from you. his cock twitches in protest, pre weeping from that angry-red tip and dripping onto the floor.

“ungh, s-suguru!”

“so what should i call you, if not what you are?”

you knew geto was cruel. how could you not?

he doesn't genuinely interact with anyone outside of his already microscopic friend group. he's always, always talking down to someone, whether it be a student wanting help or a teacher who got something wrong in class. hell, he sanitizes his hands when he touches someone.

yet you showed up to this tutoring session anyway.

your brows draw together, and you tuck that plump lip between your teeth . .

and geto smirks.

“good girl,” is all he says before slamming back into you, forcing a squeak from the back of your throat and knocking a few untouched books from their shelves.

“you–” plap “know–” plap “exactly” plap “what you–” plap “are– fuck!”

his dick stretches you right back out, and your eyes slide alllll the way back in your head.

geto decides he likes you much better like this. too stuffed full of him to think about anything (not that he believes you do much of that to begin with), to say or do something infuriatingly dumb.

you're meant for this. meant for him.

a reward for all of his hard work in this life.

“o-oh, oooh, suguru, ‘m gunna—”

his hand leaves your ass and slaps right over that tempting mouth.

“thought i . . mmm, shit— i told you to shut the fuck up?”

it's almost a shame he has to silence your siren’s call.

geto’s pace, once measured and deliberate, falters into sloppy, dragging rolls and frenzied pumps. and, god, his balls are so heavy he's sure he's going to explode.

his sweaty forehead drops onto your shoulder, ragged pants seeping through your thin top. “y-you’ll take whatever i give you, yeah? don't want that filthy pussy to waste a . . a single drop.”

whatever you have to say is swallowed right on up by his palm, but you're nodding your head anyway.

his hips stutter, and then he lets out a breathy, drawn-out groan, dick twitching as spurts of milky white paint your gummy insides. it's neverending, like this is the first time geto has came in his damn life, and you can't help but relish in the feeling.

geto is smart enough to not knock you up just yet.

just a few seconds later, you're cumming right along with him, pussy spasming and squirt spraying the floor and your thighs. stars twinkle behind your lids, and your chest heaves, lungs working overtime to regulate your breathing.

he stays slumped against you for only a moment, dark bangs sticking to his forehead and sweat trickling down his back.

when he's quiet like this, cock weakly twitching in your snug haven, he's almost . . cute.

but, much to both yours and his dismay, he slowly pulls out with a small grunt. geto lifts his head up and steps away from you, cleaning himself off with a travel pack of tissues only to pause.

not a single glance is spared your way, even as your legs struggle to keep you upright.

no, now he's much more focused on the cum leaking free from your used hole.

a frown mars his face, and before you can protest, he's scooping it right back in with two thick fingers.

“w-wait, don't do that—”

“you said you'd take it. you're not dumb enough to go back on a promise, right?”

meantutor!geto who now turns a blind eye when your name pops up on his list of students to tutor.

my html converter not working is a sign this will flop methinks...

[03den]

bfhamzah headcanons - part 2 ( gnreader )

a.n: my god i was not expecting allat on my first post, thank uuu sm have some more fun w my rambling (slightly suggestive & reader is referred to as gf/wife)

part 1

in part one i briefly talked about how hamzah texts you a lot, and i stand my ground on that. he def spams you with the most random things. if he encounters a funny thing on the street, he immediately takes his phone out and sends you a photo. wait, did hamzah just thought about a really bad joke that is not funny in the slightest? he's proudly texting you it with no context at all. sometimes you're sitting in the same room, both on your silent phone time, and he's just repeatedly sending you brainrot reels, laughing to himself. oh, and you better watch them and the tiktoks he sends you, because he will reference them later and be dramatic about it if you don't understand it. "hi im ol- ol- oliver" "what?" "you don't know what i'm talking about? babe, no. i literally sent you the og tiktok!" ohh he's going to be salty about it.

onto that, i don't think he's the biggest pet name user. i think he prefers to call you by a nickname only he has for you—he thinks it makes him more special. once, martin tried to call you by that same nickname during a video, and hamzah just side eyed him and went "dude, no. stop.” occasionally, he will call you babe or baby in situations where he's attention seeking, half-asleep, high, trying to win your affection back after pestering you for too long... but that's also what he calls you during those moments, when his mind is foggy with different thoughts, and constant stimulation steal his ability to self-control. anything other than babe or baby, i can see it lowkey making him cringe

something corny that def doesn't make him cringe though is matching clothes—oh, this man loves it. and i don't mean subtle matching. yk those iconic t-shirts hamzah and martin constantly wear? the ones he buys to match with you are like that—white t-shirt with black letters saying 'i think they're hot' with an arrow each pointing to different sides. he for sure has asked you to wear that shirt with him for a youtube video, and made you sit so the arrow on his shirt pointed to you, and yours to him. has bought himself the ‘i love my gf’ black hoodie and wears the ‘i don't need an encyclopedia my wife knows it all’ t-shirt more often now that you're dating. don’t worry tho he let's you choose normal matching clothes as well

he can be a very silly bf, specially in public where he feels too exposed to be vulnerable, however, deep down he’s so so sweet, so caring. mumbled confessions against your neck late at night, hamzah tells you things weighted with such love it puts you under some daze. it’s not so easy for him to be in such vulnerable state, his words come out messy and shy, but the fact he tries nonetheless gives his voice a certain rawness—there’s no room for you to doubt his words

his heartfelt ‘i love you’s are always heard during these moments. repeated over and over, in between kisses, one no more genuine than the other. hamzah feels every word in ‘i love you’, and so do you, so they’re more reserved for times like these. that doesn't mean you ever separate ways without a quick "love you" with a peck though, that's an essential for him.

you are so important to hamzah, like actually so important it’s in everything he does. it’s in the way he does his groceries thinking about what you’d want, in case you come over; it’s in the way every other concern is pushed aside the moment he sees you; it’s in the way his house is covered in evidence of your presence; and in how he cannot stop posting you—be it on tiktok, youtube, or wtv

something else the fans noticed during a video is how he keeps a polaroid of you two on his phone case—a selfie of you next to each other, camera too close to your faces but that still managed to capture your laughing fit and his grin. it’s cute, and even tho it was a moment between js the two of you, the picture clearly conveys the love you have for each other.

after some time dating, youtube gets flooded with compilations of your relationship. ‘hamzah annoying name for 15 minutes straight’. ‘every clip of Hamzah being absolutely in love WARNING: long video.’ ‘moments where name and hamzah openly flirted in front of the camera.’

extras!

literally had no idea on what to put on the brainrot line.. i havent been keeping up w brainrot also im so obsessed with every photo of him included in this post

[summertimesadnessirl]

If your feminism doesn't include women having jobs? Like? Basic materialist takes like women should be able to have their own money and financially support themselves?

How will that work?

Also, the fact that mainstream feminists literally will not let women wear lipstick even though right wing men never stop bitching about how much they hate makeup and dyed hair and everything and it's mostly women and queer people who like makeup and face paint and all the cool fun things about gender expression that aren't "hide and be modest and try to avoid seeming sexual" is literally caused by industry plant feminists. Like swerfism. The bimbo movement is dumb because it's about fucking men who don't pay you cash and being a trophy wife and doing weaponized incompetence. And being a wife is being a slave, that's why they're legislating away reproductive rights and there is a long history of grooming, child marriage, financial abuse, labor exploitation, etc. In marriage between men and women strong that it's impossible to escape. But sorry. You can have my fun clothes when you pry them from my cold dead hands. It's not about men. It's about my need for control and personal autonomy over my own life and comfort from a harsh world and need for self expression when trapped in a body that I can't control and a society where people are mean to each other over dumb things. If feminism can't survive women plucking their eyebrows it's not female centered.

Also... Men will jerk off to anything. You don't have to perform for men to jerk off to you. I promise if you go out of your way to make men not jerk off to you they will jerk off to the idea that you don't want them to jerk off to you. So if the basis of feminism is making men not jerk off instead of telling them that they can jerk off as much as they want but they still have to respect women and let them have legal rights thats also not gonna work.

Recentering women in feminism is the only way to go. If men have problems atp they could easily create a political and social movement to fix that shit themselves but you notice how they blame women and not other men. Women have always been the focus in my politics, especially Black women and Especially ESPECIALLY Black transgender women.

Also we've gotta go back to being mean. The bimbo movement or whatever was dumb. Unironic girlboss is stupid. Y'all gotta realize that playing into a gender role will never free you from or destroy the patriarchy. Makeup does more harm than good, the fashion industry and it's expectations for the ideal woman are extremely harmful, the body positivity movement was still based in a desire to be attractive rather than a demand that we not even be defined by racist, sexist, etc standards of beauty in the first place.

Like I'm sorry but insisting feminism as an ideology is about ~gender equality~ and not the specific patriarchal oppression that women of all kinds go through is partly what got us into this mess. Defanged bc some of y'all were too worried about men's opinions. Defanged because you couldn't let go of the comfort of the patriarchy. Defanged because you couldn't let go of white supremacy and transphobia. Defanged because you liked the aesthetic of feminism more than the action of it and THAT is because you let capitalism take feminism and sell it back to you as a cutesy pink logo with some tshirts and shades.

We're in a massive conservative reactionary swing on all fronts right now. I know obv not all feminists are giving into the pressure to be political in name only while still upholding legiterately everything feminism is meant to be against, but this is scary and frustrating.

[xlmibby]

rafayel doesn't know how to handle you feeling under the weather - or more like, he's afraid to do anything in case it could possibly hurt you. the thing is, he doesn't want to see you in pain caused by sickness, either.

before you can tell rafayel it's not that serious, he's already doing a throughout research about cold medicines and some old practices that help humans feel better.

it's a bit strange; to watch him being so focused on something that's not painting and creating art in general, watching the sea while sitting on the beach, taking long baths filled with various scented oils... or making you come undone on his tongue.

your thighs press together at the thought.

the imagines of all the nights you've spent tangled in his bedsheets suddenly feel way too vivid. even now, in the haze of sickness, you still remember his lips on your racing pulse and how his name came out in soft breathless gasps, getting louder each time his hips rolled against yours. your hands on his shoulders, his fingers ghosting your sides as he kept on taking you, deeper and deeper–

suddenly, rafayel groans.

your eyes widen at the sound. before you can ask him what's wrong, he erases the distance between the two of you.

the next thing you know is that his lips are already pressing against yours.

rafayel's kisses are just like you remembered them, hot and wanting, leaving you breathless and dizzy. you melt into sensations, allowing them to flow in when rafayel's hand cups your cheek and angles your face to deepen the kiss to his liking. the way he swallows your quiet moans makes it look as if the proximity between the two of you isn't quite enough yet. not when you are the one he's starving on.

you lean back just to take a deep breath– but rafayel pulls you in, kissing you again.

you don't know how much time passes when rafayel's lips slowly trail off yours. you almost whine at the loss - you still want more, you need more - but then, you feel a kiss in the corner of your mouth. then, his lips move down on your cheek, pressing a feather-light peck once and twice and...

his mouth slides over the curve of your jaw; and before you know it, open-mouthed kisses are all over the side of your neck.

rafayel mutters something against your skin, his voice muffled so you can barely make out what he's actually trying to say. once you understand him, though, your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

rafayel wants to make you feel better with his kisses.

probably, you should tell him it won't help you cure faster - quite the opposite, you will give all your germs to him. but when his lips slowly slide over the curve of your jaw, you can't find it in yourself to do anything other than pulling him closer. you can't get enough of the sweet taste his kisses leave on your tongue.

maybe rafayel right. maybe he is all you need right now.

[be-xkyy]

How about the Yanderes training their little babies to be the perfect yanderes to keep an eye on their darling when they aren't around? And I'm talking them telling what you did down to how many breaths you take. Full on lil snitches to anything you do!!!

Hi dear anon, well I think everyone would have their kids keep an eye on reader in one way or another 🖤

Would the Yanderes train their children to watch over Reader?

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Yandere Farmer Link

Yes, this man would have his children watch you 24 hours a day. He would teach them from a young age to be completely aware of you when he is not around, he would train them to tell him everything, EVERYTHING, who comes home when he is not, if you talk to someone (whoever), who you call on the phone and he would even make sure his children inform him if you do something that he forbade you to do at some point and you did anyway thinking he wouldn't notice.

Every after he comes home with his older children following close behind after a long day of work on the farm, his younger children would already be waiting for him sitting on the porch steps, they jump to their feet when they see him approaching, they run up to him and start quickly telling him everything that happened while he was gone.

"Enough. Speak one at a time, we can't understand each other. So your mother was on the phone, huh? Well, everyone go feed the horses while I talk to your mother."

Yandere Cowboy Link

Yet another one who shamelessly makes his kids watch you, he finds it funny and might even joke about the fact that his kids watch you, he would call them "his little spies" but if you scold him he would tell you that it is a "cute" thing that his little ones care so much and that just shows how much he and the kids love you, he doesn't need anything else to convince you.

His older kids (four and five years old) come over to tell him everything you did that day, he listens intently while rocking his daughter (one year old) on his hip and kisses her chubby cheeks from time to time, he laughs as he hears his kids fight each other over who tells the "wrong" story, he ends up calming both kids down before they start fighting and get your attention.

"Come on, come on kids, stop fighting before mom finds out and scolds us all, how about we go see your beautiful mother and ask her what happened today?"

Yandere Dilf Link

I think in his case it's more about his worry, paranoia of losing you, something happening to you or you leaving him rather than really wanting to control you, his son and especially his daughters will tell everything about the day to their father since they hate seeing him so worried (he's a good father) if you are more reluctant to talk to him and still don't accept your new life, your children would try to keep their father in the loop.

When he comes back from work and steps foot inside the house his children would already be there ready to ease his worries about you, they would take him to the couch and he would start telling everything to their father who would relax when, he hears nothing strange or suspicious happened in his absence, he would pat his son on the head and kiss his daughters on the cheeks before getting up from the couch to look for you.

"Here you are, honey. The kids told me that today you planted the daisy seeds I gave you... I'll bring more for you tomorrow and if you want something special, just ask, okay, honey?"

Yandere Sugar Daddy Link

He has no shame as I said, he would have no qualms about putting security cameras all over the house so he can see everything you and the kids do when he is working in his office, he would even ask the kids in front of you what they did that day, what YOU did that day, even though he has already seen everything, of course. But he wants to see if they are honest.

His son is more vague with his answers, although the boy wants his father to feel proud of him, he does not want to betray you, his daughter on the contrary tells her father everything from what she did that day, what her brother did, what you did, what the maid did, what the neighbors did... she rants happily while her father listens attentively with a smile on his lips.

"Look at that dear, our little princess is quite an observer, she sees everything. And she would never hide anything from her daddy, right little princess?"

[threepandas]

Bad End: Happy Wife

Thirteen servants were dead; Two estates on fire.

I never even made it to the gates.

The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Clung to his hair and skin, even after bathing. Because no amount of scented oils, scrubbing, could erase his sin. The scent of iron and cooking flesh. Cruel scents of ancient houses ablaze. Innocent people being slaughtered. For... for the crime of trying to help me.

It was all my fault.

Last time, I had escaped alone. Or... more laughably, he had let me escape.

So he could hunt me through the forest like a brightly colored deer. Some pretty prey to stalk and torment. Letting me exhaust myself. Run and run until I could no longer, before casually strolling up to come collect me. As though letting me get it out of my system. A man, merely humoring his wife's tantrums and overly dramatic, willful ways.

I never should have accepted help. No matter have lonely I was. How desperate my despair. Because... because-!

"I'll get you new ones. Don't be upset, Love." The monster that was my husband, said idly. His voice a low rumble like thunder, his so called 'sweet' tone. "Servants that can't obey their lord, can't be trusted. Shouldn't be kept. They were scum. I'll get you better ones."

Ha ha... more like, servants that obeyed him. Feared him. Had no shred of mercy or honor, left in their bones. Gods... I... I had condemned thirteen good souls. All for trying to help me. Save me. Just for trying to get me out of this hell and away from this man.

I would never forgive this life's sperm donor, for handing me over. Because... because after a betray like that? After I had begged? Begged and screamed, rioted and tried to run? And STILL he handed me over? He was no kin of mine. I had no family.

Not in this life.

My family may not have been perfect. May have been flawed. But they would never have handed me over to a psychopath. Sold me to the highest bidder, like chattle. And... and honestly? I would take them at their worst, over these bastards at their best.

I never should have read that STUPID book. Yeah, maybe, it had nothing to do with anything. Maybe, all it would have done is left me ignorant on top of being stranded. But? I had to blame something. Or I'd go insane. So it was the fucking book's fault.

Recommend by an internet friend. Historical fiction. Lots of complex characters and some spicy yandere. How FUN. Court intrigues! Poisonings! Bastards and hidden births! Great to read... literal hell to live through. Everyone wanted everyone fucking dead, and all I wanted? Was to marry far, FAR into the countryside. Live a boring ass life.

But apparently I blinked funny. Or was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wore the wrong fucking dress (well, not dress, but you get the idea). Because next thing I knew? Yandere Sr., of Yandere and Yandere, is looking at me! And not in that "oh, what an interesting bug" sort of way! Look looking!

I didn't know shit about him! Yes, his son. But him? Nothing!

Well... aside from the fact he was a VERY convenient Widower. Like... the SECOND he got a kid out of his arranged wife. It was all very "everyone suspected but no one could prove shit" Sort of thing.

And? Said son? Becomes a major antagonist in the book. Until he "embarrasses" his Father by going too far. Implied gruesome end to follow. Plot moves on. Which? Is all well and good FOR THEM. But what about me?! I had nothing to go on! Aside from "Aaah ha ha ha! Run." Which? Didn't fucking help, in the end! Still... s-still ended up married.

Though, my new "son" ended up dead, in relatively short order. Apparently wasn't too pleased to have a step-mom. Tried to do something about it. Disappeared between one day and the next. And now no one is allowed to so much as talk about him. But hey! It's apparently fine! Because at some point? We're gonna make a better one!

"Your thoughts are far away, Love. Should I help you concentrate?" Husband muses, from the edge of the bed. I jerk back as I jolt violently to the present, focusing on the threat. He looks pleased. "Better~, this wife should focus only on her Lord. And yet... once again she's wandered. Tried to run. This lord wonders what he should do, hmm?"

Scrunched up in a ball on the bed, I hoped the answer was fucking "nothing". Or maybe, perhaps, "leave". Inching backwards, like the hunted animal I felt like, I wasn't fast enough to avoid the hand that shot out. Capturing my ankle in shackle strong grip.

It wasn't crushing. Left no bruises. Yet the touch felt scalding, as his hand imprisoned yet cradled my ankle. Dragged my leg free of my curled up little ball of self. I froze, as I felt his other hand gentle running the tips of his fingers up and down my shin. Up and down, up and down. As though just feeling my skin.

"Should he make sure his wife can not run?" This grip tightened, nearly bruising. His other gripping farther up my leg. As though casually preparing to snap bones. "Or perhaps, he should chain you away? Hmm? This Lords wife is a troublesome girl. Causing trouble as she does... ah~, what to do with her..."

Terrified, sat froze. Mind numb. Please. Gods. Please, please, please! D-Don't. I was shaking. Could feel tears starting to build. Watched, helplessly, as he examined me. Something pleased, satisfied even, creeped into his expression. And without breaking eye contact, he lifted my leg towards his face, to gently kiss the skin right above my ankle bone. It could have been tender... if it didn't feel like a threat.

"This wife is so very lucky, that this Lord loves her so. That he would never."

It was almost mocking, in how sweet the words curled. As though suggesting that because this one thing was too far, he was a good man. As though suggesting that he would do far worse to others, in my place. But don't worry. You won't be hurt. See how benevolent he is?

"But come, let us not discuss your punishments tonight, hmm?"

Like a predator, stalking his prey, he crawled up onto the bed. Closer and closer. There was no where to run. Was this it? W-was this the day he... he-? Looming, on his knees, above my curled up ball of fear, he effortlessly worked his arm in and around my waist. Dragging me closer. All but into his lap.

"You are tired. Upset. Have made such messes for this husband to clean." He murmured, face pressed close. Breathe ghosting against my neck, my ear. All I could smell was rich soaps and smoke. "We can deal with this tomorrow. For now, it's time for bed. So go ahead, rest sweetly in my arms, Love.

"It's where you belong."

[insidekatmind]

His teacher's pet~Cho Sang- woo

Wearning: +18,smut, age-gap.

You sit at your desk, pen in hand, staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of you. The test has been going on for ten minutes, yet your mind is still stuck on the moment Cho Sang-woo placed the booklet on your desk with a faint smile. A surprise test. You weren’t expecting it, and you certainly weren’t prepared.

Your legs shake slightly under the table, a nervous tic that you try to control but fail. Then you feel a light hand on your shoulder. “Don’t stress too much, you know…” Sang-woo murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, discreet enough not to attract the attention of the others. His presence is warm, reassuring, and before you can respond, he’s already gone to check on the other students.

Your heart beats a little faster. It’s just for the test, right? It can’t be for anything else. But the whispers of the other students are always there, always present. “Hae-soo has a thing for you…” “You’re his favorite…” They bother you, yet you can’t deny them entirely. He treats you differently, that’s true. But that’s only because you’re a good student, a role model, his pupil. Nothing more.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself every time his gaze lingers on you longer than necessary, every time his encouragement makes you feel something you shouldn’t. You focus on the test, trying to push those thoughts away. You have other things to think about. Or at least, you should.

After class, as you gather your books, you hear him call your name. You turn to find him leaning against the desk, his arms crossed and that look that makes you feel a mixture of pride and nervousness. “You did a good job today.” His tone is soft, almost pleased. You move closer, unable to ignore the way his gaze seems to dig into you.

Then, with an unexpected gesture, he invites you to sit on his lap. Your breath catches in your throat. “You deserved it,” he says, his whisper heavy with something you can’t quite decipher. You hesitate for a moment, but then you obey, the heat of his body enveloping you through the fabric of your clothes.

“Here,” he whispers, slipping a small package into your jacket pocket. “A prize for my top student.” You open your mouth to protest, to ask what it all means, but he silences you with a finger under your chin. “Don’t tell the others, okay?”

Your heartbeat is deafening. You swallow hard, unable to tear your gaze from his. You know you should leave, that you should pretend none of this ever happened. But as he smiles at you like that, you feel like it’s already too late.

You nodded and smiled. “Thank you,” you muttered. Sang-woo laughs softly, leaning closer. “Just doing my job as a teacher,” he whispers. His eyes are fixed on you, almost studying you, and you find yourself unable to look away. There’s an intensity in his gaze that makes your heart flutter, and you feel yourself sinking deeper into his lap.

His hand on your chin, he gently lifts your face, bringing it closer to his. You can feel his breath tickling your lips, and you find yourself holding your breath. “Do you have plans for tonight?” he asks, his voice low.

“No,” you whispered in awe, losing yourself in his eyes. He smiles at your response, his hand sliding from your chin to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Good." His voice is soft, almost possessive, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You can almost forget that he's your teacher, that this is all so wrong.

He's so close now, his face just a few inches away from yours, his breath warm against your lips. His hand on your waist, he pulls you even closer, his grip firm and possessive. "I want to see you tonight," he whispers, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You smiled. “Sure,” you said softly. His grip tightens and he draws you in even closer, his lips just hovering above yours. "And don't be late," he whispers, his voice low and commanding. He's in control, and you find yourself melting into his touch.

"Meet me at my place at ten."

He runs his fingers down your spine, his touch possessive and authoritative. His eyes never leave yours, and you can almost feel the intensity of his gaze.

“Okay,” you said softly and hugged him. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tightly against him. His grip is possessive and protective, and you find yourself unable to resist. Your heart beats against yours, the warmth of his breath against your neck.

He lingers there for a moment, his hand sliding up to the back of your head, his fingers gently playing with your hair.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice low and possessive. you can almost feel the sense of satisfaction in his tone, as if you’re the only thing that matters in this moment.

You murmured happily in his embrace, you loved it when he complimented you. He smiles against your neck, his grip tight and protective. His fingers continue to gently run through your hair, and you can feel the possessiveness in his touch. It’s like you belong to him, and you can’t deny the excitement that comes with it.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his tone both teasing and possessive. “When I call you a good girl?”

"Yes" you whispered softly. He chuckles softly, his grip becoming even tighter. “I know you do.” His voice is deep and possessive, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand slides down to your waist, his fingers pressing into your flesh.

“Say it,” he whispers, his voice low and authoritative. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You look at him softly and respectfully. "I'm your good girl."

His eyes darken at your words, and for a moment, you see something primal and possessive in his gaze. He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you, as if he wants to claim you as his own.

“Yes, you are,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “My good girl.”

His hand moves from your waist to your chin, tilting your face up to his. “And you’ll do exactly what I say, won’t you?”Sang woo played with your lip and you nodded.

His finger moves from your lips to your cheek, tracing a line down your jaw. His touch is gentle yet possessive, and you can feel your body responding to him.

“Good girl,” he repeats, his voice low and commanding. “Always so eager to please me.”

His mouth moves closer to yours, his breath hot against your skin. “And tonight you’ll be all mine,” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Every inch of you will be mine," he whispers, his hand sliding down your neck. His touch is possessive but gentle, and you find yourself melting into him.

"And you'll give yourself to me completely, won't you?" he says, his voice soft yet authoritative. "You'll let me do anything I want with you."You nodded, clutching his shirt, and Sang woo smiled. “How about you kneel down for me like a good girl and suck my cock, hm?” Sang woo muttered seductively and authoritatively. Hearing his words and tone made you gulp. You knew this was about to get hot and spicy, and you wanted to experience and do it with him. So you got off of him and knelt between his legs

"Yes… sir…"

Sang-woo smiles as you unbutton his jeans. “What a good girl, you’ll get a higher grade just for being obedient,” he murmurs with satisfaction. You could feel your excitement growing as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down. Feeling satisfied about the praises he was giving you, you looked up at him. “Anything to please you…”

Sang woo smiles and strokes your lip. "You already know what to do princess" he whispers in a husky voice.

The way he called you princess made you feel butterflies. You knew just what he wanted from you, and you were eager to please him.

"I'll make you feel good, I promise..." you whispered back with a smile.He smirked, his hand still on your lip. "I know you will," he replied softly, his gaze fixed on you. He let his hand move to the back of your head, gently guiding you closer to his lap.

You took off his boxers and you could feel yourself getting wet seeing how hard he was. He let out a little smirk as you took his boxers off, knowing the effect he was having on you. “Look at you, already so eager for me.” He leaned back a little, spreading his legs wider. “Come a little closer.”You nod and bring your hand to his cock, stroking it a little before taking it in your mouth.

Sang woo raises his hips and grunts. “So good, my favorite student,” he murmured, guiding your movements.

As he guides you, you find yourself enjoying it even more, knowing you're pleasing him. His words of praise and affection make you feel even more eager to continue, taking care to move the way he wants. You look up at him with desire.He moans softly, his hand still on the back of your head. "Just like that..." he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours.

"Such a good girl for me." His other hand moves to your cheek, his touch possessive but gentle. He's enjoying every second of this, and you can feel the excitement building between you both.

You lick the shaft while trying to take it all in your mouth. He moans softly, his grip on your head becoming a little tighter. "Yes, keep going."Your nails dig into his thighs as he sets a rhythm, thrusting into your mouth with increasing intensity. the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking your throat fill the room, mixed with his breathless groans and your muffled moans.

"What a good girl." You choke on his cock as he roughly squeezes your hair, guiding you that way so you can take him deeper. Your cheeks are red, there are small crystal tears in your eyes, and saliva mixed with his cum flows from your chin. Sang woo's lips are touched by the most mean smirk,you looked so beautiful with his cock in your mouth. You kneel before him with his cock deep in your mouth, drooling but you keep taking what he gives you. "Do you like how you feel?"

You didn't have a chance to respond because your mouth was full of his big cock that was tearing you apart.

You hum around him, your tongue swirling around his length as he hits the back of your throat again, your eyes locked on his as tears stream down your cheeks. his hips stutter, his grip tightening in your hair as he finally spills, hot and thick down your throat, his groans echoing in your ears.

He comes with a loud string of curse words, emptying your throat. You close your eyes as his cock shoots thick ropes of cum, your hands resting on his knees as you slowly pull your mouth away from him. The classroom is filled with breathing sounds, Sang woo leans back to catch his breath and stares into your eyes as you wipe your mouth with red cheeks and messy hair. There's saliva coating your chin that you didn't clean, so Sang woo grabs your jaw.His grip on your jaw is firm, and he looks at you with an intensity that sends chills down your spine. He leans closer, his face just inches from yours. He wets his thumb with his tongue and runs it over your chin, his gaze fixed on you the entire time.

"You're such a mess," he whispers, his voice filled with desire. "But you're my mess."

He smiles at the reaction you have given him from how he has been acting towards you. He softly pats your head in a loving manner, showing you how proud he is of you but also how much he loved what happened.With the finger that cleaned your chin he brings it into your mouth. "Suck it" he orders you.

You can feel yourself getting aroused by his words, the need to please him getting the best of you. you look up at him, eyes full of desire. You begin to suck on his finger how he wants you too.He watches you with a combination of satisfaction and a need for more, his gaze never leaving your face. "That's a good girl, you listen so well and so fast" he whispers, his voice low and sensual.

He takes his finger out of your mouth and drags you onto his lap. "Don't be late tonight," he murmured, kissing your forehead.

His kiss on your forehead is soft and affectionate, but there's a hint of possessiveness in his touch.

"I won't," you murmur, your voice filled with promise. You know you'll be there for him, no matter what. He smiles, his hand running through your hair. "You're mine, remember?" he whispers, his voice possessive and commanding.He smiles, but there's a hint of something more in his expression. It's a look that shows his possessive desire for you, a need to have you all to himself. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“Yours” you say sweetly and happy to be his.

Your words are like music to his ears, and his smile widens. "Yes, you are mine. All mine." He tightens his grip on you, pulling you even closer. "And I'm not letting you go, understand?"His tone is dominant, but there's an undertone of care and affection in his words. It's as if he's claiming you as his own, staking his territory and making it clear that you belong to him. You feel safe in his arms, but there's also a sense of excitement in the way he holds you.He returns the kiss, his lips soft and gentle against yours. But there's a hint of something more underneath, a hungry gleam in his eyes. He runs his hand through your hair, his grip tight but not painful. He wants to be close to you, to claim you completely.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze is firm and possessive.

"Mine," he murmurs once more, his voice filled with a primal need.

[xoxoavenger]

Hi, I saw your post about wanting some bycky requests I may have one.

Could you please write some Bucky x Fem!Reader where the reader is Tony's daughter? You can choose the plot, I kinda like imagining her being a cop or something like that tho

Feel free to ignore if you don't like it ♡

thank you for getting the ball rolling! I always have reader be adopted, just to have the story be more inclusive (and also to help make the age gap less crazy lol) and I also made reader a SWORD agent instead to fit the storyline, but this helped so much, thank you!

Win

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Stark!Reader

summary: Bucky's running for Congress, and he needs a win to help make some change. Y/N's just trying to support him the best she can.

word count: 2799

warnings: reader is adopted, age gap (MCU is in 2027 everyone so by my math reader is like late 30s, Bucky is mid-fourties, but you can imagine it however you want there's no specifics), if you're new here reader calls Bucky 'James' bc i like that and think it's cute, Bucky has some issues, written pre-Thunderbolts movie release so there could be some future inaccuracies

masterlist

Bucky knew he could never actually retire.

It was a nice thought, but in practice he hated how fucked the world was, how much he seemed like part of the the problem. It's why he's running for Congress, so he can make a difference in a way that doesn't have anything to do with violence.

He's in a deep in paperwork when she walks in, pantsuit ironed to perfection and a folder of papers he's sure are for him in her arms.

"Mr. Barnes," She smiles, and Bucky's never been more happy to see her. "I've brought some papers from Media, most of them about you smiling more. I told them you shouldn't lie before you've even gotten into office, but they refused to see how smiling could be this big of a problem. So clearly, they don't know you very well." Y/N Stark is a ray sunshine in Bucky's office, and he doesn't know how he got her.

SWORD agent Y/N Stark, adopted by Tony Stark after Nat saved her from the Black Widow program just before meeting Tony in 2008 while she was in Budapest, believing that Y/N had been the last of the Red Room. Y/N had been just 16, and Natasha wasn't in the greatest place to be a guardian. To be fair, neither was Tony, but at least she also had Pepper. Y/N changed her last name before she turned 18, since her parents had given her up as a baby and she didn't like her past defining her. Bucky had first met her when fighting at the airport in 2016, and after they went into hiding Bucky had talked Steve into sending Y/N a package just like Tony had gotten, and she had called. They began dating in secret, as she helped SHEILD rebuild itself as SWORD, and was granted entrance into Wakanda to visit him as he healed from the trigger words. They were finally getting back to where they had been before the snap, when Bucky had disappeared and Y/N had lived five years in grief.

But now Bucky was trying to figure out how to get her to retire and work with him, because he thinks a change might be exactly what he needs to make him feel better. The more he learns about politics, the more he doesn't know how to make the change he wants to.

"Well," Bucky leans back in his seat, stretching his back. He's been sitting all day, a harsh change from his life before, but he honestly likes it. It feels nice to not be conditioned to fight at every second, to be able to relax even just a little bit. "I hope you told them I'm not doing that." He says lowly, and his fiancé rolls her eyes with large grin.

"How did I end up with a hundred and three year old grump?" She asks, walking all the way in and dropping the papers on his desk. Bucky reaches up and pulls her into his lap, pushing her jacket back because he loves to see the leather vest she wears that holsters her gun over the white button up blouse.

"It's actually a hundred and ten." He says. He knows that she knows this, that she knows his actual birthday even if everyone likes to pretend that he wasn't frozen and used by HYDRA for years which makes him actually in his late thirties, maybe early forties.

"Ugh, old man." She says, but her smile is painted on, almost like the opposite of her.

"You love it." He leans his mouth up, and she leans down to give him a quick kiss. This isn't enough for him, and he leans back in to chase her lips.

"James, people actually work in this office. They don't want to see a couple macking in the middle of the day." She says as she gets off his lap, which makes Bucky upset.

"Macking?" He questions, because she's always using these words that he has no idea what they mean.

"Come on, grab your papers and let's go." She doesn't explain the word, instead holding out a hand that Bucky only grabs onto, not letting her pull him up and out of his seat.

"I can't leave yet." He wants to, he really does, but he has so much work to do. The election is coming up faster and faster, and he feels his opportunity to change things slipping through his fingers.

"James," She whispers, yanking on him to no avail. She frowns, and he wishes for a moment that he could just stop everything and go home with her.

"I can't lose." He tells her softly, and she just nods, even though she doesn't fully understand.

"Okay." She lets her hand slip out of his, and Bucky wishes that he could go back to those nights they spent in Wakanda. They were so unrushed, so calm. "I'll see you at home, then." She calls over her shoulder as she exits the room, a smile on her face even though he can hear the hurt in her voice.

"I'll bring dinner." He says, knowing that he always drives past her favorite restaurant. He needs to make it up to her, but she's shaking her head with her lips tight.

"I won't count on it. Maybe we can go out to dinner on the weekend." She says, and he nods in understanding. He's late to get home a lot, but this is important to him. Doing this without Steve, without Y/N's name or money, it's almost like he has to prove that he can make it in society.

"I love you," He says, and when she responds he turns back to his work. It's the last thing he wants to do, but he refuses Y/N's offers to get him a full team with a full New York office. He's going to do this on his own.

He can do this.

~

When Bucky loses the election, he wishes he could say that he saw it coming.

He knew about the people calling him unfit, knew about how a lot of people thought he was emotionally unstable despite his record of therapy. The people who never forgave him for his crimes, the ones that he was under mind control for, the ones he doesn't even remember committing. But for a second, he thought that they could look past that and see the good he was trying to do. Y/N calls as soon as the news is announced, but Bucky is already packing his shit up and leaving the the office.

When she gets home, his metal arm is disconnected from his body and hidden away somewhere. In his right hand, he has a stiff drink, and he's staring at the tv, on a low volume but playing the news.

"James," She whispers, slipping her shoes off and walking over to him. "I'm so sorry, babe." She tells him, walking onto his couch and folding a leg under her as she puts a hand on his shoulder.

"I wanted to do something." He says, eyes glassy. He doesn't even look at her, but he's not really looking at the TV anymore. "Ever since I fell off that train 1945, my life hasn't felt like my own. I haven't done anything to help anyone. All I've done is watch my own life pass before my eyes, watch the families of people I killed," A tear falls, and his face scrunches as tries to hold it in.

"You helped save the world." She says, not mentioning the fact that Bucky doesn't seem to think that she was a good thing. He's clearly in a dark place right now, and her bringing herself up isn't going to help anything. All these comments from people who have nothing better but to hid behind a screen have him slipping back to before he went to therapy, and Y/N hates this. "You saved those hostages when everything was going down with the Flagsmashers. You are a good man. You have done good things. You can't let these people who think they know your past get into your head."

"I just feel so helpless." He finally looks at her, and her heart breaks. "I saved the world, but did I really make a difference? I didn't sacrifice myself like your dad did. I can't lift Thor's hammer like Steve. I'm not Captain fucking America. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could do this one thing. This one fucking small act. But my life doesn't change. I can't be the White Wolf, because I'm already the Winter Solider." His voice cracks, and Y/N pulls him into her arms. She wishes people could see Bucky Barnes the way she does, the way he loves, the way he cares.

"You would have made a great Congressman." She tells him honestly, pushing some of the long hair he's been growing out away from his face. "And I'm proud of you for trying. We'll find a way to get you to make a difference the way you want to. This wasn't your path, but that doesn't mean that you aren't destined for change." He smiles through his tears, and they share a chaste kiss before Y/N helps him to the shower.

~

Three weeks later, Y/N wishes she could say she was surprised when she sees Bucky standing in the middle of New York, staring at the Void that Y/N had been sent out to collect data on.

"James?" Y/N screams over the wind, and Bucky's eyes widen. Even if he didn't hear her voice, he would have known because she's the only one that calls him by his first name. She's done it since they met, and every time he asks why she just laughs and doesn't answer the question.

"Oh, fuck." He mutters, causing everyone to look over at him.

"What?" Alexi asks loudly, never one for subtlety.

"What on God's green earth do you think you're doing here?" She asks, walking up to Bucky. She feels the need to slap her fiancé, hit him with the new ring he got her, but she controls herself.

"Y/N," Bucky starts, turning around and looking at her. The metal arm is reattached, his tactical suit on. When she left his morning he was still asleep, but she did know that something was different lately. This problem they were having with a super human who had insanely terrifying void powers, and they had basically no information about them. She had been so busy that she didn't have time to figure out why Bucky was acting different; she naively assumed that he was healing after his loss. He walks closer to her, trying to keep their conversation private.

"I swear," She looks beyond mad, and Bucky knows everyone is watching them. "I have too many thoughts right now to fully articulate how I'm feeling." She tells him, and he knows he deserves this.

"I meant to tell you," He truly did, but he just never felt like there was enough time. This was conversation that required more tact than he thought he had at the moment. It's not that he was trying to lie to his fiancé, but he knew he wasn't actively telling the truth.

"Are you gonna introduce me to your new friends?" She asks sarcastically, waving at them all around Bucky's body. She recognizes Natasha's sister, Yelena, but that's about it. As she scans the rest of the group, however, she sees another face. "Oh, you've gotta be shitting me." She says, watching John realize that she's locked in on him.

"No, no, no, Y/N, please, just let me explain," He grabs her around the waist when she starts to march over to him, because while he would never underestimate her he also knows that John is a different person with the serum in him.

"John fucking Walker, James? Really?" She yells, loud over the quiet, deserted street.

"James?" Yelena repeats with a small smile, and Y/N turns her murderous glare to the ex-Black Widow.

"Who the fuck are you people?" She asks, letting Bucky turn so he's facing the team and on Y/N's side.

"We're the Thunderbolts!" A large Russian man in a red yells, smiling widely. Y/N blinks, then looks at Bucky.

"That's not our name." He says to her, as if that actually matters.

"Oh my God," She whispers, because she's not sure what's actually going on anymore.

"I am Yelena. We've heard a lot about you, Y/N Stark." Yelena says with a smirk, and Y/N forces a tight smile. She puts emphasis on the last name, because even though they only knew each other briefly, Y/N had met Yelena in the Red Room once or twice.

"Thanks for the introduction. As for the rest of you, except off brand stars and stripes over here, could you please tell me what this is?" She asks, because she figures her fiancé isn't going to tell her now.

"We're a team." A girl in a completely grey suit says.

"Like the Avengers!" The man in the red suit yells, and Y/N turns to Bucky.

"No." He disagrees, and she just nods, eyes closed. "I swear to you, Y/N, I have tried to tell you, but I didn't know if you'd understand. I just, I needed to do something." And she gets it. She knows that he's been having this issue, and she knows it had to have been hard for him to tell her.

"I'm still mad at you." She says with a sigh.

"I know." He smiles, putting a hand on her back and pulling her forward to kiss her forehead. "Now, you should get out of here. We can take care of this." He gestures to the giant Void that was looming in the distance.

"I have to do my job, James, I can't just,"

"You can join us!" Red suit says once more, and Bucky turns to glare at him before Y/N can say anything. She jumps in, not wanting to deal with the threat that is probably going to come out of Bucky's mouth.

"I have a job. But this seems like such a great group." She says sarcastically, aiming it at John, who scowls.

"I am not that bad." He argues, and Bucky has to grab her arm to ensure she won't jump him.

"I don't think anyone has lost a job faster than you fucked up being Captain America, you absolute shit stick." She tells him, which clearly strikes a nerve.

"You wanna talk about losing Captain America? Are we sure Bucky here was your first choice?" John has that smirk that Y/N wants to slap right off his face, but she's not sure he wouldn't kill me.

"Are you kidding me?" Yelena yells over them, and Y/N knows she should feel like a scolded child, but she just feels rage at John Walker. "There's a goddamn Void behind us that is eating people, and you two are fighting over the fact that he annoys you?" She looks at Y/N, who is somehow even more angry

"Yelena, I don't know if you're mad at me because N,-" Bucky is placing his right hand over her mouth, knowing exactly what Y/N was about to say and how she was going to single handedly take this team down. Everyone was very volatile, and he knew that the slightest thing could set them off.

"Please, just let me handle this? I'll see you at home." He is not above begging, and he knows he has to in order to get her home.

"I was sent here for a reason." She argues, because she's not gonna let her man stop her from doing her job.

"By the time you get what you need, we'll have taken care of this. So just go home,"

"Do not tell me-"

"Y/N, please." He finally looks at her with big eyes, and she is trying to hold her ground.

"This is my job, James. Ya know, the job that pays for our apartment." She's not mad anymore, because she knows Bucky just wants to protect her. But she won't back down without a fight.

"What if I pick up dinner?" He sweetens the pot, and she sighs.

"If you're late, Barnes," She threatens, leaning up to kiss him. He smiles at his win.

"I won't be." He has no way of knowing if he'll be late or not, they both know this, but it's the thought that counts. She gives him one more kiss and then walks away, listening to the conversation between the Thunderbolts.

"Who woulda thought Bucky had a sugar mommy." John says, and while Y/N can't see it, she hears Bucky's fist meet his face and Yelena's laugh.

"You deserved that." The Russian man says, and Y/N couldn't agree more. 

//

taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @thefandomplace @mcueveryday @icequeen1371 @kenzi-woycehoski @multifandom-boss-bitch

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Let's Spread Some Love, Y'all

Y'all, I've been trying to type this post out all day with something eloquent and well-spoken about this but I really have nothing better to say than it sucks.

It sucks that for a fandom who is here on this hellsite to celebrate a Latino refugee who is also beloved by everyone he meets for being a human ray of sunshine and kindness, that there are people on the world wide web of Tumblr dot gov that have no problem spreading deliberately hateful, racist content, whether it be directly targeted at BIPOC writers, or indirectly from the inability to look outside of yourself and have an ounce of empathy or understanding towards other diverse perspectives.

And who am I to even be complaining, because I'm about as white as they come, and I'm seeing this from outsiders pov!!! It shouldn't have to effect you directly for you to care about treating people with basic respect and dignity!!! It costs ZERO dollars for you to try and educate yourself, to learn from past mistakes, to make space to listen to what BIPOC have to say about their incredibly valid experiences (both online and in real fucking life!!!) It costs nothing to be kind!!! Or understanding!!! Or to be compassionate and hold yourself accountable when people tell you that something directly upsets them!!!!

And again, these are just my two cents, because I have plenty to do in the process of learning to be better and will continue to do so, and I'm glad to use this space to share my thoughts, please take the time to hear what people directly impacted by this have to say- their voices are the ones all of y'all here need to be taking into account. Please just know that if you are a BIPOC, queer, disabled, neurodivergent, an immigrant, when I say "Y'all" I really do mean ALL of y'all, I hear you, and will do my best to do my part in making this god forsaken corner of the internet a place we can all scream about That Man™️ in peace.

That being said, I have been wanting for a long time to compile a list of recs in general, so I would love to put together a rec list of your favorite BIPOC authors and fics to share, spread the love, and magnify the talent of creators who shouldn't be overlooked!!!

Either DM or inbox me authors, specific fics with POC characters/inserts, any moodboard or art, honestly anything that you want to share, please share it!!! Fluff, smut, angsty, long, short, any character, whatever!! (AND PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, SELF REC YOURSELF, DO NOT BE SCARED TO, Y'ALL ARE WAY TOO TALENTED NOT TO BE). If you are rec'd by someone else and don't feel comfortable being on the list for whatever reason, please let me know!!

Fic recs will be open until Friday, February 28th, and then after that, I'll post the full list and share so we can celebrate some of the incredible talent here!!! 🥰💕

And remember kids, just like Pedro said:

and if any of you feel differently, eat sand and get tf off my blog!!!! 🤠

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

#have mixed feelings bc think a lot of ppl are just letting off steam/not in convos where solidarity building is even possible#but overall yeah

Right but I'm not making this post to tone police people on what they say on their tumblr blogs I'm making this post to be very real about organizing. I have been interacting with a new friend group recently and its me, another person who's terminally online in the same way I am, a person who's raised by academics so they can easily slide into the marxist jargon and "all white people are racist" type takes that me and this other person speak in, and a self identified centrist who is a roblox and tiktok enjoying 18 year old. we know each other because we all do night club entertainment, and this kid is more established in this profession than the rest of us.

Anyway the point is that talking to this friend, who I want to say for our purposes is non white and grew up much poorer than I did, has low key shaken me when it comes to realizing that growing up on tumblr and reading marx and lenin as a 9th grader, and being raised by linguistics professors, has made me completely incapable of interacting with the average person in a way that makes me just... so bad at organizing. This whole website might as well be a psyop for the numbers its done on me being able to relate to people who I could theoretically win over if I was better at talking to people. This person has been a huge wakeup call. Like fuck me here I am talking to a relatively reasonable black lesbian who grew up in poverty and I cannot break through to them on economic or political issues, not because they're unreachable but because I'm so bogged down in jargon and tumblr hot takes that we the same words to mean completely different things and the way I phrase my opinions or react to certain things make them not want to talk politics with me.

so like, I'm going through my own political playbook and realizing quite a bit of it is completely alienating to people who I should be trying to win over. I cant even win over someone who runs in exclusively queer and mixed circles, because they were raised with what I can only describe as normal american politics. That should be low hanging fruit but here I am trying to talk about the means of production and I'm drawing a blank.

So anyway back to the point of the post. This sort of berating people for being too privileged is one of the things I'm becoming clear eyed about. like it's not a point of contention for me and this specific person or anything but you know, like, it's in the same family of online leftist habits that make us completely unaproachable. I don't engage with it very often but I do shut my mouth because part of me is like "well yeah that person is privilaged and it probably feels bad to hear someone complain about for the less privilaged." but then I actually get in a real life situation and I'm like wait I could win this person over if I just knew how. It's not about handing them a copy of Das Capital, it's not about beraiting them for being privilaged until they feel bad and take up a monk like oath to never step out of line or discuss their own suffering, it's about acknowledging what's wrong and pointing them in the right direction, and that goes for every single person not just those that are more privilaged than you complaining, even though that's what this post is about.

And online is like real life in many ways, If you come onto a person's post and make a snippy comment, you've alienated a potential ally, because theres someone on the other end of that keyboard.

tl;dr: This is just one of many post's I'm gonna be making or have made where I discuss the pitfalls of my own ability to talk to people and tumblrs general tendancy to treat people who could be won over like hot garbage. It's not about tone policing or venting it's about how I see a lot of you alienating potential allies because you're more invested in being leftier than thou, which is a tendancy I also see in myself.

I'm glad yall like this post just clarifying because I know deep in my soul that this post already has been screencapped and had the wavy filter put over it by someone who will go on to make at least on person who could have been down for the cause turn away from us by being completely unpleasant, and who does nothing for leftist organizing but is completely devoted to infighting on tumblr . gov

Saying that a certain group of people is too privileged to complain about the way that things are is its own sort of defense of the status quo

[sirfrogsworth]

I had no idea you're a professional photographer! I mostly follow your other blog for Corgis - if you posted your work there and I missed it, I apologize.

Your photography is AMAZING and thank you for sharing tips on light!

Bonus if you have time: when did you develop (haha!) interest for it and what's your favorite thing about this medium? ☆

Thank you. I have been trying to go back to my older work and edit things with my current skills and I have been posting that on occasion.

I also have an Instagram which is sort of like my current portfolio until I have the energy to create a proper website.

It's funny you mention corgis because Otis was the reason I got a proper camera. My followers helped me raise the money to get him and I felt like he belonged to everyone. So I wanted to make sure I took lots of photos of his shenanigans for people to enjoy. If they couldn't have a corgi of their own, I wanted them to live vicariously.

I never do anything halfway. I always go quite overboard. I filled my brain with everything I could possibly learn about photography so I could take the best possible photos of Otis.

In the process of doing that, I realized I loved the art form. So even though Otis isn't around anymore, I owe him for giving me this wonderful creative outlet.

I took a long hiatus from photography when my parents got sick and I had to take care of them. Even though I stopped taking photos, I would watch photography education to help me relax. And it felt a bit like that meme of the dude studying the blade. I was learning some very advanced stuff.

Once my parents both passed I found myself with a giant hole in my life. And photography called me once again. I was a bit rusty operating the camera for a day or two, but because I had continued my learning, it all came back pretty quick. And I realized I was orders of magnitude better at photography, lighting, and post processing than I used to be.

My first photoshoot after 7 years was of my aunt and uncle. I didn't have much in the way of lighting equipment (I sold it to help my family), so I bounced a little flash off one of those science fair trifold thingies.

These shots made me realize I definitely needed photography back in my life. I figured if I could do that with cardboard I found at Walmart, I would have great potential with proper equipment. So I'm in the process of building a new studio and getting some new gear so I can show off what I'm capable of now.

I ran into a little medical hiccup a few months ago which put everything on pause. While I'm recovering I'm not really able to take any photos. So I've decided to try and write some photography education and help others with their photographic journeys as best I can. And I am still continuing to learn and planning what I want to photograph when my health is in better shape.

I really want to do high quality animal portraiture. Not just cats and dogs. I want to find other exotic pets too. And I also want to do an art project where I help people take high quality photos of their parents. One of the things I was most grateful for after my folks died was the photos I took of them.

And also this one I took of my grandmother.

Having a really high quality photo of people you love is so important. And I don't think everyone realizes that. So I'm hoping I can help folks capture these important memories.

Oh, my favorite thing. I almost forgot. I would say it is the problem solving. Every photo is a new puzzle for me. Especially if I am working with artificial lighting and modifiers. I enjoy imagining a photo in my head and then going through the process, solving problems, and realizing what I imagined in real life. It's a great feeling.

This photo of my friend Ryan comes to mind. I just had this vision of someone reading in the middle of a forest. And so we dragged lights to my neighbors yard and I taped a flash inside the lampshade.