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wasted-women · 5 months

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The Trope of the Day is Women in Refrigerators

Welcome to the wasted women tournament, a tournament to figure out what was the worst female character death!

If you don't know, women in refrigerators is a trope originally coined by comic writer Gail Simone in the 90s in response to the death of Alexandra DeWitt in the Green Lantern comics. She had been the Green Lantern Kyle Rayner's girlfriend who had been killed by the villain Major Force and her body stuffed into the refrigerator for Kyle to find. Since then, "fridged" has become a verb to refer to female characters who are senselessly killed in order to the male protagonists sad or angry without much regard to the woman herself. While originally referring specifically to comic books, the terminology has started to spread to any media.

There are typically two ways that women tend to be fridged:

A female character is written specifically to be fridged. The loving mother/older sister or the disposable love interests are both examples of this trope. These characters typically have very little agency or inner-world outside of the male protagonist— their relationship with the male character is essentially their whole role in the story.

A female character who is a character in their own right— they DO have their own inner-world— but then is killed off to affect the male characters or for plot convenience.

With all of that said, here are the rules for for submissions. Please make sure you read them all before you submit.

The submitted character has be a woman. ABSOLUTELY, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES, DO MALE CHARACTERS COUNT.

(Women in refrigerators is a trope about the senseless killing of female characters because they are thought of as more disposable by nature of being female. While some male characters are killed off for problematic reasons—see bury your gays or the black guy dies first tropes—this blog isn't about them. However, feel free to combine tropes by submitting queer women or women of color, as they are often killed off at higher rates than cishet or white women.)

For the most part, no resurrected characters. By that I mean no characters who die but later come back to life. However, if you think your character should still count despite their resurrection, feel free to make your case to me in the ask box. If you convince me, I will count them.

No characters who are injured or incapacitated but do not die. However, just like above, you can make your case to me in the ask box and if you convince me, I will count them.

Trans women are women, so feel free to submit trans characters. ABSOLUTELY NO TERFS ALLOWED ON THE BLOG— YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE.

No nonbinary characters unless they also identify with being a woman. Nonbinary people ≠ women. There aren't many nonbinary characters in media in general so I do not think this will be much of a problem but I wanted to specify just in case.

If the woman was killed off for a reason other than making male character(s) sad or plot convenience, then it does not count. This trope is not just any woman who died—there are plenty of ways to kill off a female character in a well-written way!— it's specifically unnecessary or gratuitous killing of female characters in a badly-written way.

I reserve the right to reject a character if I do not think they were actually fridged.

I reserve the right to reject a character if I am not comfortable including them.

I think this goes without saying but no real people.

No unofficial or small media (ex. fan media, OCs, a comic on someone's Tumblr, etc.) as I feel like that could encourage bullying on individual people. Stick to comics, TV, movies, anime, etc. etc. etc. Even if they are smaller but "official" in some way it can be included.

Submissions will be open until December 1st, but if I get a lot of submissions early on I will close them early.

SUBMIT HERE

#wasted women poll #female characters #women characters #trans women characters #women of color characters #woc characters #rules #poll tournament #poll bracket #submissions #poll submissions

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outlawssweetheart · 1 year

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As an Afro-Latina, seeing people be like, “Oh, the White male villain being more popular than the female or WOC main characters is sexist and racist” has me pissed the fuck off. Do you know why we love those villains more? Because, unlike the Heroes™, they’re actually interesting, entertaining, amusing, multi-layered (multi-layered enough, at least, when it comes to Scream), and not the safest characters ever to put in a leading role. (As most protagonist are. 🙄)

I love seeing POC as main characters, but it’s just like the new Barbies: The diversity is great, but the dolls (really, the entire Barbie brand for the last decade) are ugly, boring, and cheaply/poorly made. POC characters have always been stereotypes in the back, and now that we finally get them at the front, they’re all boring as a brick.

I love villains; I don’t support their behavior in real life (*gasps* SEPARATING FICTION FROM REALITY?! 😱), but they’re the most enjoyable characters for me. But since people wanna scream, cry, and throw up if POC are anything but saints nowadays, the most enjoyable characters (for me) still go to the White people! 😒 (And the few POC villains I have seen in media are usually one-note as fuck. 🙃) So which fucking characters do you think I’m going to gravitate towards?

I love seeing WOC main characters (especially Black and/or Latina because it’s personal for me) but, just like 99% of main characters in popular media, they’re fucking bland. It ultimately is meaningless to me if they aren’t serving.

GO ON, GIRL; GIVE ME NOTHING! 🥳🥳🥳

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belle-keys · 1 year

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parisa and reina make me SICK TO MY STOMACH because these two beautiful bitches have not yet realized just how goddamn powerful that they as independent women of colour could BE if they actually decided to team up and embrace the power of friendship and sing the spongebob FUN song together but nooo they won't let me have jack shit in this life

#parisa kamali #reina mori #the atlas six #the atlas 6 #ta6 #the atlas paradox #olivie blake #dark academia books #woc characters

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hygerun · 1 year

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#wallpaper #wlw love #wlw blog #wlw post #lgbtqia #pride #illustration #women loving women #woc characters #poc wlw #cottagecore

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everythingaddictxx · 2 years

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Thank you for that post. One thing I'll always be disappointed but not surprised from CF is the recruitment of CIS white men being cast for new characters. CF had three chances in season 10 going into 11 for male characters and one female - and again those filled by white actors. Phelman, Hawkins, Emma and now this new recruit/team member we see in BTS photos. These could have been filled with POC or LGBTQ representation.

Furthermore, I was so disappointed on how CF handled the Violet/Hawkins storyline last season. As a POC and female watcher of the show, I wish they showed the actual ramifications of the outcome of the higher ups finding out about their relationship. WOC face intense systemic and institutional barriers in the workforce especially in the health field. To play it off as forbidden and romanticized storyline did a true disservice to the character of Violet. The focus on what would happen to his career, what about hers? She has more to lose as a WOC, she has a bigger battle to fight, not him. I wish fans of the show would see that. That's why I cannot get on board with the Hawkami pairing.

It's not to say that Violet cannot have a romance, she can and should. I just think she deserves better than what I'm seeing. I think Violet's great love is still out there (and I hope it's with someone with representation).

People will say it's just a show but if you can't highlight the issues that WOC and women face, when can you?

Sorry, just thoughts that came up after I read your post.

ALL OF THIS !! There is nothing I can add because you have said everything I am thinking.

#one chicago #chicago fire #violet mikami #evan hawkins #jason pelham #hawkami #diversity #representation #character of colour #woc characters #woc #poc #lgbtq #people of colour #women of colour

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darkcrowprincess · 1 year

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Top ten favorite women of color characters

Luz Noceda

2. Princess Tiana

3. Cinderella 1997

4. Jinmi Ashes of Love

5. Princess Shuri

6. Nahoko Satomi the wind rises

7. Suzu Urano In this corner of the world

8. America Chavez

9. Deena Fear Street Trilogy

10. Makkari

#My favorite woman of color characters #woc characters #favorite woc characters #my thoughts #movies #TV shows #cdrama #cartoons #anime

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thestrangestinthisstrangeland · 2 years

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As We Lay Dreaming- chapter 9

Summary: Beginning the rest of her life without time to question it may or may not be a good idea; only time will tell.

A few “predictions” are made about Glory and her future with Dream.

AO3

masterlist

In the dark, one eye opens.

"Wake up! Did you feel it?"

In the dark. One becomes Three.

"What's happened?" A young voice asks, sounding worried.

"An offense? Some insult? Is it time to draw blood?" A voice, as brittle as splintered wood implores.

"No. Quiet. Listen, feel."

A flame ignites, and light warms the dark to show the faces.

The Mother, the Maiden, and the Crone.

"Mmm. Yes, sister, I feel it." The Crone is elated. "The little one. Old and wise she is. As old as the earth before humanity trampled it. Ohh-- and skin as supple and plump as a peach." Her skinny tongue darts out to taste the air.

The mother's fingers curl into fists familiar with pain and the joy that comes from such agony, "A womb fertile as pomegranate" She leans towards the flame. "So many children. More to come?"

"The fates will not say," They answer together, drawing away from the heat.

"She shares the gift of nightmares with the handsome one." The Crone whispers, all three letting the dark settle for a moment before the flame grows again. "Stop giggling like that!" She chides.

The Maiden huffs, "But he is– and you said it. I only thought it." She whines, "Aw, she is so in love. Can't you feel it? Oh! It seems the other sibling was right. The Dream King is too, maybe even more so." The Maiden's face flashes a range of emotions but settles on fear "The sibling. The sibling will sense it! They will know we did not stop her!"

"They did not ask us to stop her, and we did not agree to anything, my dove. We do not agree to anything unless asked properly, and They did not offer nice things. Only spoiled things. Ugly things."

"Lovely things," The Crone sighs.

"But They forgot. We three are one. And They did not please us all!"

"What happens?" The Maiden asks, "When we are found out?"

"Nothing pet. Nothing. We are not pawns in the games of the endless. They play, we watch, and if we choose, then we move a piece."

The maiden smiles and looks through the flame. "She'll find out soon who she is. She'll know how many things she's done for the sisterhood. Her body is strong, strong enough for many things. One thing in particular." She implies, her brows raising with her smile, "The game will be fun to watch then. Why does he not tell her?"

"He is selfish."

"He is cruel."

"He is afraid."

"No, my sisters– he is in love, and he would very much like to stay that way. Poor stupid Oneiros. He'll never learn."

"It's so pretty, mama." Glory's daughter said, leaning against her bare legs.

"It's not. It's scary," Her youngest boy argued, lips set in the same pout he'd put on since she told them what was happening.

For her part, Glory just pulled him close with the hand not holding the baby, stroked the soft, densely coiled curls of her boy's hair, and stared up at the house.

It sat closer to the city than she'd ever imagined living, even closer than the little house she'd almost signed the papers for. Dream had offered to have them taken there if that's what she still wanted. But the connection to him had already been made and Glory needed a clean break.

So, last night, after Dream kissed her and said he'd be there waiting, the newly unburdened single mother packed her life into that lone suitcase and an odd assortment of bags and boxes Loretta had rushed over no sooner than Glory could hang up the phone "Lo, it's over" She'd said and that was it. Her loyal friend, her dear sister, was there before Glory could begin to panic, and together they worked. It didn't take long; she didn't have much. But for every box shut and bag tied, Glory felt a year of her life wasted on Reggie Davis and all his sickening charm slough away. Granted, it would take a very long time for her to truly understand the damage done, but her healing began that night just the same.

With the drama behind her for the time being and a deep pink sunset to start this evening, Glory gazed at the purple and black shadows spread across the long yard, smiling at the little bird bath in the center of the left patch of grass. The stone pedestal and bowl were overgrown with ivy, and the little angelic figure, permanently bathing in the bowl, sat gazing up at the heavens like a true daydreamer. For a moment, Glory wondered if this home was always meant for her.

Honestly, it was a little scary with its dark gothic facade, but she had to agree with her daughter. The house was gorgeous in the lonely and elegant way you'd expect a place owned by the Dream Lord to be. Who else would keep a Victorian Painted Lady around, "just in case"?

To the right of the center path that divided the front lawn was an old oak with low sturdy branches just waiting for the children to climb its limbs and read and sleep among its leaves…please don't let this one be a dream, Glory silently pleaded, trying not to smile too big, but Raymond saw.

" You like it, mama?"

She glanced at him.

"I think so?" She said, eyes narrowed from the rounding of her cheeks as she scrunched up with nervous excitement. She was hesitant to say; she didn't want to sway his feelings about it.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. It's home now." Raymond replied, mimicking the stoicism of a man thousands no, millions of years old. Glory gave him a curious look, amused but certain he'd never met the Dream Lord? With a laugh, she yanked the boy close and kissed the top of his head.

"Can we pick our own rooms?" He asked, pulling free of her hug, sounding more like his own age.

"I don't want to sleep alone!" The youngest cried, looking horrified by the very idea.

Glory chuckled and pinched his chin. "Let's just see what it looks like on the inside first," she quietly suggested to calm his fears.

And finally, her daughter-- her little beacon of wisdom and light-- turned from the house to look up at her mother, "But is it far enough away that he won't hurt you when he finds out that we're gone?" She asked, insightful as always.

That got Glory's attention, and she looked down, searching the concerned face of her child.

Her sweet Esther, with the sort of dark stare that could penetrate the mind of an adult in minutes. Glory never worried about her, not really. This child was never meant to suffer through life. She was the girl who would question and doubt and ask why and how forever until she was satisfied, and if she wasn't, she would simply say no and walk away.

Looking up at the house again, Glory took a deep breath and drew inspiration from her own flesh and blood. "With or without this house, I am safe. I'm not his to hurt anymore." It seemed almost alive. The doors and windows shut tight like the house was holding its breath, just waiting for them, "He will never come here." She said, her words taking what little power he still had over them and ridding them of it for good.

The children were quiet. They looked at their mother differently because she was different; ever since the hot day they'd gone to see Loretta, something had come alive. They could sense it. She was more assertive and brilliant in the way light seemed to shine on her face when she spoke.

They believed every word she said.

"Now go see if that porch can stand up under all your running and jumping," she smiled. They didn't need to be told twice. The kids took off in a mess of squeals and giggles.

"No need to worry. They will sleep in the same room together as they always have."

Startled, Glory gasped. Turning, she found Dream looking down at her, stone-faced as always. "Damn it! Can't you just say hello?"

"Would you like me to?" He asked, and she couldn't tell if he was serious or not, which meant he probably wasn't… probably.

She rolled her eyes and took a step closer to him. "No," she confessed with a little smirk and eased herself into his shadow.

He took her in with an arm around her shoulders and looked down at the baby she held.

"Children like routine." He said, finishing his thought, "Hello, Lucinda."

The baby's wide, somewhat wet grin made Glory smile too as Dream's finger, white as artic snow, stroked her fat brown cheek.

Glory went rigid "What does she dream of?" She asked, suddenly curious, forgetting everything else that was happening.

Dream laid his hand over the baby's head so gently she was hardly touched at all. "You" was his soft reply with that voice of thunder and heartbreak.

She held Lucinda close, their breathing slowly falling into sync. She felt calm and content with her child in her arms. What were the words she'd grown up hearing inside her grandmother's tiny church? Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh? How fitting.

Glory smiled the way a mother does when she selfishly remembers that she will always be loved more than anyone else by the tiny person held in her arms.

Forcing herself to look up at the Dream King with a silent thanks, Glory's attention was held by his beauty and the sharp lines of his face that could be so soft. "Will you stay?" She asked, exhaling out of the moment though she longed to keep him and his magic like this, in the real world, at least for a little while. "Can you stay? I don't know how this works?"

Dream pulled himself from the intoxicating warmth of mother and child, turning his gaze to the home he'd provided.

Glory's children had already taken to making up games on the front porch, their ability to adapt despite everything that was asked of them surprising the Endless. Humanity would always find little ways to do that it seemed, "I can not stay away for too long, but— perhaps one night."

She grinned, and if he'd been paying attention, Dream might have noticed the look in her eye that would have sent a mortal man running.

"Great! You can help me unpack!" She declared.

He swung his head around, looking down at her, so small but mighty. "You have one suitcase."

"Yes. But the truck you sent really helped!"

"Truck?"

Glory leaned back. She peeked around him and waved with her free hand, a big grin plastered on her face.

Dream followed her line of sight, surprised by what he found at the end of that look.

Across the road, leaning against an old white box truck, just waiting to be told what to do, was a pair of movers. Movers Dream had not arranged for.

"I had a car waiting." He grumbled through clenched teeth. "Did you really ride in that?"

"Of course not! The truck followed! After you um… left?" She said, still not sure of how he moved through the waking world other than in shadows and mist, "Mathew said the truck was ours to use even though we didn't need all that space" She looked at him like he was silly for thinking they would "Just enough room for clothes and the kid's toys really, and they don't have much of either. My mama things, grandma's dishes. I just wanted to get out as quickly as I could before…" Glory caught herself before she could finish her sentence with a sharp inhale. Looking away, she drew her lips in, guarding her secret.

"Before what?" His voice rose with curiosity, if not a slight suspicion, based on the face she was making.

She shook her head no.

"Glory."

She went on shaking her head like the motion would stop him asking and rattle the words back down her throat. Bouncing the baby, she tried to avoid his piercing stare. Looking anywhere but at him and those stars, her big eyes were up around, over.

"Glory. Glo.. stop that." He took her hand. "What happened?"

"I…" He wouldn't consider this an insult, would he, she wondered? Feeling a flicker of intimidation, she pulled away just a little. Sometimes— when she allowed herself to remember— the reality of who she loved could feel as grand and terrifying as the thought of drifting off into open space.

Astute as ever, Dream changed his face for her to the look of who he was in the bed they shared behind closed doors. She wasn't aware, but she felt it in her heart and the truth came out a little easier. "I called his brother," She confessed, albeit somewhat defensively. "If I'd left him on that floor-- well." It didn't need to be said.

Unmoving, Dream absorbed her words. He chewed on them for a while, then replied with his thoughtful tone. "Of course you did. You are a good woman, Glory."

"Who couldn't just walk away." She objected, her voice vacillating as she blinked up at him. "He was– you know what he was. How he did me for all those years. Why should I care? I should have left him there."

"You did leave him, in the end."

"To rot on that floor." She clarified bluntly.

"I don't think you're the sort to find peace in that. Your closure came with knowing he is no longer your concern.." Dream offered and dropped her hand to stroke her cheek until she couldn't resist looking at him again. "You thought I would be angry?" He was guessing, and that wasn't right. "Think less of you?" He tried another possibility. "Ahhh." He said, searching her pretty eyes, "You did not want to appear weak." He seemed, of all things, touched by this.

Glory said nothing; she didn't have to. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, his hand at Lucinda's back, holding them both. "You will never hear those words from me. I may say things one day that will hurt you, and I may say things I regret. But, I will never say that your kindness is anything less than one of your many strengths."

Glory's happy hum broke into a smile, "You have to stop saying any of this stuff to me while I'm awake." She whispered with her eyes still closed and tucked safely in his arms. "I can hardly stand it."

His deep but quiet laugh was enough that she recognized the sound from the dreaming. She opened her eyes, struck by the memory.

Glory looked up and gave him a crooked smile. "Thanks, Dream."

"You're welcome."

"No, really! Thank you, my car never would have made the drive." She said and went up on her toes. Holding Lucinda tight, she tugged his coat lapel with the other hand to pull him down and kiss his cheek. He smelled like mountain air and open fields from places with names she could not pronounce. Glory's eyes fluttered open. "I'll have them bring in the boxes." She whispered excitedly.

He stayed bent over, watching her trot away, waiting until she'd gone down the path and crossed the empty old road. The movers snapped to attention, flicking their cigarettes to the dirt.

"Matthew!" He called.

Ever the loyal servant, Matthew hopped right up like he'd been just off to the side patiently waiting. "Hi boss!"

"Matthew, where did that truck come from? I said to have a car sent. I never said anything about a truck. It's not good for dream folk to meddle in the affairs of humans. You know this, and it would have taken at least one phone call to make that happen. I did not make the call." He accused.

"Well, yeah, boss I-I know. But uh, I just remember what it was like having belongings and, well, stuff doesn't fit in cars too easily. The truck made the job quick, and the car was perfect for Glory and the kids. Everyone and everything was moved and delivered safe and sound! That okay, boss?"

He turned and watched her point and give her gentle orders with a baby on her hip, the sound of her other children at his back. She had the command of one much greater than the illusion her humanity should allow for, and he knew, he had known for some time, that she was so much more than this…

Truthfully he should never have interfered. But when he saw Glory standing in the empty dream space all those months ago with stardust in her hair and her aura the deep purple hue of power the Prince of Stories came alive in a way he'd not felt, not even dared hope to feel since her. His first love, whose name still stung his heart, though it ached for this woman now.

And yet, if the girl in the dark were just a woman, he would never have been allowed to do more than confront her and tell her to go. That would have been hard to say the least, he could not remember ever wanting to touch a body more. Pathetic really, his wants meant nothing to the old laws. It was dear Nada who taught him that brutal lesson. But for once, it seemed the fates would be kind.

Maybe he had done a few good deeds in his time afterall. Something to alter his course and put him on the path to Glory?

His brother would laugh if the blind one could ever find humor in a situation. Every living thing had its path written long before it knew its own steps. This was no different...

Glory called for one of the children to stop bothering the other, pausing to smile and wave at him. Morpheus felt his entire body respond.

Well, predetermined or not, he would do whatever he must to stay this course, so long as he walked the way with her.

As she gave out her instructions, he imagined Glory standing beside him atop the dais within the castle, her finger pointed at the inhabitants of the Dreaming instead of these mortal men. He could give her so much more than this home, so much more than what the waking world had to offer. In the Dreaming, her ideas, all of that creativity housed within her beautiful mind, could flourish. Her words could be law. She could be queen…

"Boss? Was that okay?"

Only slightly annoyed, he snapped out of it. "Yes, Matthew" he glanced down at the raven, then back out at Glory, oblivious to his attention for the moment, "That was okay."

#the sandman comics #sandman netflix #sandmancentral #the sandman/original female character #dream of the endless graphic novels #dream of the endless/original female character of color #dream of the endless in love #dream of the endless/female character of color #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless #sandman fanfiction #the sandman #dream of the endless romance #woc characters

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endlessdreamerxoxo · 10 months

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If there's a chance to ship a woman of color with a beloved & gatekept male lead because there's amazing chemistry between the two, I'm gonna ship it... even if everyone hates me.

#i said what i needed to say #women of color are just as desirable #is this a little bias? yes #same thing goes for interracial relationships w/o a white character #gwen x arthur #carmy x sydney #sydcarmy #namor x shuri #bonnie x damon #bamon #namori #drukkari #poc love stories need to be celebrated #woc need to be loved #why are they always the platonic friend #sarah x bucky #fleur de louve #sarahbucky

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raineydays411 · 10 months

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My Father's Daughter

Part 9

Summary: You've been at the Wayne Manor for over a month.

In some weird way you understand Christine.

You understand why she tries so hard to spend time with you while you're in her home. Why she begs for you to get off of your phone and cook with her. You get why she tries to make the other kids be nice to you. Scolds them harshly when they make snide comments underneath their breath about you.

Truly, you do.

You just...genuinely don't give a shit.

You don't care that she feels bad that she abandoned you for a completely other family and you don't care that she feels like she's losing time to create a bond with you.

You did not care.

Really, you didn't.

"Um,kid... you know I love you but I'm really not that kind of doctor" Bruce Banner said awkwardly over facetime.

You sigh. "Yeah I know B. You were just the first one to pick up the phone."

"Ouch." Banner laughed, " you know, you really are your fathers child."

You smile, one of the rare times you actually did nowadays. " How is the old man?"

You haven't been able to call him since he was paranoid whoever wants you would track your phone calls and find out where you are.

"Your father is even more annoying now without you than he ever has been in my entirety of knowing him" Banner deadpans, " He misses you a lot kiddo, we all do."

You smile sadly, missing your family.

It was hard, seeing these people you barely knew, with a mother you barely knew, stuck in a house you barely knew.

And the fact that they feel like a family. They argue and play jokes on each other. They eat with each other every afternoon ( Bat activities at night), Bruce kisses Christine goodbye when he goes to work. It was so domestic in its weird little ways.

But you didn't fit in.

They laughing and the jokes stopped whenever you walked into the room. The conversations were stale.

It was depressing.

It's not like they ignored you, oh no. That would've been preferable.

No half of them trip over their feet to try and include you in whatever they're doing.

Dick will turn blue chatting your ear off about whatever he thinks will get you to open up to him and Christine?

She will bend over backwards, frontwards, and sideways just to get you to acknowledge she gave birth to you. Every night she comes into your room and tries to talk to you about your life. And every question is met with a dull answer

"So any boys that catch your interest here?" " I don't know, I can't leave the premises"

"Were you in any sports? You look like you'd be a cheerleader like your momma!" " I was in mathletes and debate like Pepper"

"You really are beautiful my baby" "Thanks, everyone says I look like my dad"

It really was a struggle to get you to open up. Almost everyone at the manor had a hard time even starting a conversation with you.

Everyone except of course Alfred and surprisingly Jason Todd.

Alfred won you over as soon as you moved in. He vouched for you when you needed time alone and brings you snacks>

Jason is a whole different story.

See, the reason why it's so hard for everyone to talk to you is because they all refuse to acknowledge the elephant in the room. They're treating you like you were some other orphan Annie they decided to adopt and you just have no family waiting and missing you.

Jason doesn't.

In fact, it was him who caught you trying to sneak out of the mansion the first week you were there. Instead of scolding you or telling on you, he took you out.

"A cap and sunglasses? Kid, that's not a disguise."

"What do you mean?"

He took you to a diner he frequents, a tour of the rooftops to avoid people, and to the safe house he took over from Bruce.

"Tell me about your life." He demands, not asks.

You smile and tell him about it. Your life growing up with the Avengers, school and what major you're going for, that brief fling you had with Pietro before you had to move to Gotham.

It was nice. To be with someone that didn't want to change you. He didn't try to force you into forgiveness and let you vent. He even gave some pretty sound advice.

"You know, at some point you are going to forgive her." He says ignoring your indignant stare, " You don't gotta be bestfriends with her or anything, but that anger is going to either slowly consume you or slowly go way. And believe me, you want it to slowly go way."

And he was right in some ways. The longer you're there, the less anger there is and the more hurt replaces it. It festers inside you like some disease. The symptoms slowly leaking out every time one of them calls her mom.

Every night she comes into your room and tries to pry into your life as if she didn't voluntarily leave it, you feel it.

Everytime you see her brush Cassandra's hair out of her eyes, or kiss damian on the forehead. It's the gentle way she smiles whenever she sees Tim hyperfocused on mission reports, and the way she gets so excited whenever Dick or Jason walk through the front door. Hugging them and chiding them for not visiting more.

It hurts you that they truly are a family.

And after a while, it gets hard for you to try and say that you truly didn't give a shit.

Because honestly, you did

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Taglist: @stupendousnightmaretrash @opheliaas-stuff

#tony stark x daughter!reader #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #damian wayne x reader #reader insert #marvel #marvel x reader #avengers x teen!reader #oc character #x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #peter parker x reader #woc reader #fem reader

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flordeamatista · 2 years

Text

𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙈𝙚

pairing: soft dark!professor andy barber x reader

concept: Feeling my body spasming as I fall apart, I learn from your lessons.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: possessive Andy, hair pulling, dom Andy/sub reader undertones, age gap , edging, fingering, fingering, oral (f receiving),pussy slapping,manipulation — soft dub con to be safe but reader is excited, power imbalance, dumbification, praise, Professor kink, reader sent a nasty email to Professor Andy, Sir kink, dirty talk, spanking, size kink, rough sex, blowjob, throat fucking, unprotected sex, degrading, nickname- (love, princess, slut)

a/n: @sunshinebuckybarnes Now, have fun daydreaming hehe. Thank you for that beautiful ask.

the cute gif and moodboard made by me

line divider: @s-tarksintern

lovely betas: @writing-for-marvel, @purpleshallot and @beach-daydreaming

Masterlist

His path leads you into the darkness of blue but all you can see is the fire of desire

After he picked you up from the bar, you were cold and he was lustful, so it wasn't your fault.

As soon as you decided to go out, have a little fun, and were two tequila shots in, you sent him an email in the bar telling him that his grading system was terrible. You totally deserved that A in his human relations class and he needed to be more knowledgeable about the world. You were required to take Professor Barber’s class to finish your degree, and in doing so everything changed for you.

It was Andrew Barber who gave you your new warmth and moans.

Now, who do you break your rules for?

"Professor Barber..."

You turned your head, your lips hovering over Andy's. Your heart raced as you stared into his blue eyes. The normally bright blue shade darker than you’ve ever seen; nearly black as his pupils were blown wide with lust.

"Did I tell you that you could talk back to me, Princess?" He whispered, his voice grating your senses like gravel.

You shook your head lightly, feeling that you had just dug yourself a deeper hole. Now that he has read that email, he was picking up the pieces.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

"Turn around and read the email back to me," Andy commanded. Compliant as if you were sitting in his class, your eyes drifted away from him to the laptop sitting atop his kitchen counter.

Your email glared back at you, taunting you :

Subject: Fuck You, Prof. Barber.

The courage and vitrol that fueled your desire to give Professor Barber a price of your mind was astonishingly absent as you stood in his kitchen with his chest pressing against your back. Instead, seeing it filled you with dread and fear for what he may do to your academic career. Its heat pressing against your skin filled you with a desire you never knew existed, much like a coin has two sides.

Suddenly, you’re taken aback by the sensation of his hands sliding down your arms, then back up, enough to make goosebumps erupt across your skin, and for you to take a sharp breath.

You read the first line of the cursed email out loud, your voice wavering as Andy’s body heat intensified against your back. His reflection a shadow staring at you through the laptop screen. You bit your lower lip to stem the tears that had begun to gather in your eyes, looking at the keyboard leaving your face raw and exposed to his punishment.

Andy wave his hand through the sweater and rubbed his fingertips against your nipple, and gently teased it. You felt your skin tingle in a frenzy of static as he pinched them.

A simple squeeze left you feeling as if your body was falling apart.

As the warmth from Andy's center propelled you into overdrive, your tongue stroked across your lower lip. Andy laid light kisses over your neck, his fingers coming closer as he neared the center of your warmth.

In the palm of his hand, Andy swiped his thumb up, caressing the smooth skin with his fingertips. In the blink of an eye, he pulled back his hand and took your chin in between his fingers. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, his lustful eyes stared into yours. Andy pressed his lips against your ear, and growled, "Repeat what you said in the email."

Nervously, you swallowed.

How could you be so stupid to send him that email?

It wasn't your intention, but his grading system was out of date and he needed to fuck someone off to let his grumpy state see the light.

"Repeat what you wrote to me, word for word...don't make me ask again."

The thudding of your heart echoed in your ears. Each breath shook in your lungs.

You mustered the courage you felt when you wrote the email and repeated, "Professor Barber, your way of living is sad, which explains why you are divorced and lonely—”

You paused.

Andy took his hand off your chin, gliding down your neck to the collar of the sweater. Pulling the collar away from your neck, he buried his teeth in your neck. “Did I tell you to stop reading?"

It was a new, fresh pleasure to wince in pain.

"N-no, Professor," you said shakily.

You felt Andy’s hand leave your neck and follow the curves of your body, stopping only when it rested on your inner thigh. A tingle zinged throughout your body as Andy pulled your legs apart and revealed your lace panties that were soaked from your dripping cunt.

"You insulted me, Princess," Andy growled.

Your lips curled into a soft moan as your eyes closed. Andy's eyes glowed with lust, his grin widening as he placed his palm on your wet pussy, forcing the lace aside to feel the wetness that was his.

"Look at you," he beamed, “I've barely touched you and you're so wet for me."

You lost control from the the warmth of his hand that rubbed your wet pussy. You believed that you would stand your ground and he would change, but you were ── in his house, in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, half-naked- and his touch destroyed your strong aura as an independent woman.

"You've been such a little tease all semester." He reached down to undo your lacy underwear, taking them off without any effort.

Was this an exam of desire?

"You are such a-"

Your insult cut short by a harsh slap.

The harsh smack against your throbbing pussy left your body shaking, and you learned, in that moment, that he was holding the strings to your desire.

"I don't hear you reading, Kitten." Andy’s voice slithered through the fog like a siren to a pirate.

But, instead of reaping your reward from a Professor knocked down, you walked willingly into his trap.

The second smack made your entire body tremble and your knees wobble.

"Are you getting quiet?" he smirked. When his hand smacked your throbbing, wet center again, your fingernails dug deep into the counter.

Your voice quiet, you continued, “Your methods are ineffective, and no one is warming your bed with the ridiculous sweaters and ties you wear to hide your life and I bet your co—."

Trying to maintain your composure, your nails dug deeper into the counter as your body slowly reacted to the sudden change in events; as if you were stuck in molasses. One moment, you’re filled with a righteous indignation at his grading system that fueled your deep desire to have him know what you really thought of him and his course with no thought as to the consequences of your actions as you pressed “send” The next moment, you are at his house, bent over his kitchen counter. You haven’t the faintest clue how you got here, your mind filled with nothing but thoughts of Andy.

You are sober but drunk with desire. His desire. His attention.

You wanted to know how far this would go when you felt his touch. There was no doubt that you lied, but Professor Andy was a man.

A man who just needed you.

With ragged breaths, you tried to calm yourself, but your body rejected your silent plea for self-control as you fell back against his chest. Andy's fingers sped up, and as you trembled and instinctively tried to close your legs, you knew it was not possible to regain control from Andy.

"Mmm, Princess, let's talk about what you said about my manhood," Andy said softly as his lips met your cheeks, a soft kiss that contrasted with the strong smack he employed on your swollen clit.

In spite of your pleas for him, he ignored you and slowly inserted his fingers inside your body while he laughed at your squirming. With each movement you made, he slapped you again and again. Your moans were all that was heard and the feel of his fingers inside you with a slap to keep your mind from wandering.

His disciplined approach keeps you motivated and hungry for more as he leaves his mark on your body

"Princess, you deserve to be tortured the same way that you've tortured me all semester." Andy said as he swiftly pulled his fingers out of you., Your eyes widened as he licked your juices off his thick fingers before turning you around to him. "You taste delicious and all dripping for me"

You gasped at his sheer strength, trying to push back against him.

Andy held you down with his free hand as adjusted himself behind you. Knowing what was likely to happen, you moaned at the sound of his belt buckle rattling.

“Professor…”

"I won't leave you unpunished." He snapped his belt, making you shiver with arousal. "You don't want to be expelled from university because of your actions, now do you?"

“No, sir I will do anything” you pleaded as his fingers edged your heat.

You screamed when he landed a stronger blow to your pussy before you could say anything further.

“Please…” you cried. The sudden intrusion of his middle and ring fingers in your body caused you to scream in agony as he didn’t allow you to adjust.

A steady rhythm of his fingers blurred your vision as you felt yourself edge toward your end; to the abyss of your orgasm.

“Oh, my God! Sir...” you cried. "I- I'm going to cu-cum..."

You were right there, right at the precipice of ecstasy.

Andy ripped his fingers out begrudgingly and pulled you back from the edge of your orgasm. You squirmed and slowly cried out his name from the absence of his touch.

"I'm not going to let you off that easy, honey", Andy said condescendingly. He spanked you hard on your ass, then pulled you by the neck to stand straight.

“Take off the sweater, put it on the floor, and get on your knees.”

You have taught me more about myself in your presence and reflection, his slut

Andy smirked and gripped the back of your neck, “What was the line you said about my cock?” You let out a soft moan when you saw his cock up close and immediately opened your mouth to let him use it.

Andy stroked your face with his free hand as he rubbed his cock's tip along your lips. "It’s time for you to learn your place and respect me,” He slapped your face and shoved his cock in your throat.

Tears fell from your eyes from the sudden intrusion in your throat.

You felt the heat between your thighs increasing and wanted to please him. You enjoyed the gagging sensation his cock gave you in the back of your throat. You preened as you felt him tense up and his dick swell in your mouth.

Your ability to think clearly and to resist anything he did to you was gone. You were intoxicated s by his size, taste, attitude, and your own arousal. Your hand drifted between your legs to touch yourself at how hot it was.

Andy took a deep breath and tugged at your head, controlling your movements, your head bobbing down toward him when he saw your hand wander down your stomach. He pulled out of your mouth and pulled you upright by your hair.

He smiled down at you as he reached down to grab your legs. He lifted you into the air, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he carried you to his living room. Despite your behavior, the soft kisses on your hair remind you that he cares for you and that you are his princess.

The smell of his skin lingers on my body, and I crave more.

The soft cushions of his couch bounced when you landed. As he stripped off his clothes and got down on his knees, his lustful blue eyes stared at you like a predator.

"Look at you lusting for me," he groaned. "Want to see what my tongue can do for my slut's pussy?"

He leant in as he listened to your desires, blowing soft air, inhaling your scent, and rested his nose on your pussy.

His tongue came out and almost hesitantly licked your clit.

“I'm sorry for— the , please let me--” you moaned and grabbed hold of his hair, fists clenched tight. It was his tongue that reminded you he controls everything in your body. His beard burned your pussy and tickled your entire being. He gave you punishment so easily, you knew it wasn't even close to the end.

You knew his game of seduction.

You moaned as you wrapped your body around his cool lips, and a smirk appeared on his face as he marked your legs beneath his fingertips and watched your breasts move with his rhythm.

“Andy, I’ve been so good for you, please... I promise I will do anything you ask of me, please fuck me up.” You cried, desperate to feel him.

The chuckle on his face was accompanied by a lick of his lips. Your hips jerked in anticipation of another kiss, but he stood away from you instead. In his hand, he spat, briefly stroked his cock, and then moved closer to your pussy.

“Oh, aren’t you so desperate for me?” Andy leaned over and roughly kissed you. You could taste yourself on his lips as you tried to pull his tongue closer to yours. You were his needy little slut

The tip of his cock teased you as you pleaded for him to fuck you.

“What makes you believe you deserve this? ”

“Please…” you begged.

"Well... " he said as you groaned beneath him. "Since you asked so nicely, and I respect desire"

Despite your squeal, he pushed steadily inward. While working in your cunt, he groaned with satisfaction, knowing he would be the only one to touch it.

He pulled his hips back and, for a moment, you thought he was pulling out, but the next instant he slammed his cock deep, pounding hard against you. You squealed out your wants.

Andy stroked your pussy passionately, fucking it deeply. When your pussy squeezed Andy's dick like a fist, he knew you had the tightest pussy he had ever felt. "Look at your pussy welcoming me in, it is so good, damn it is so good, do you feel it" he groaned in your ear as he leaned forward to grow louder and louder as he rapidly thrust into the pussy as he knew that the cunt was meant to be fucked hard, fast, rough, and deep.

It was a blissful feeling as your hardened nipples scraped against his chest while he rocked against you in response to each grinding thrust. "It feels so good, Sir...don't stop."

Andy bent down to capture your lips,pushing his tongue down your throat. “You are my new fucktoy now. Your only responsibility is to warm your professor's dick whenever he needs it, right? I will never stop fucking you, my princess. "

It was a struggle for you to respond as Andy thrust hard and fast into your sodden hole, moaning softly while unable to reply, "Yes, Professor.".

Putting his hands around the top of your head and linking his fingers, Andy rammed you down brutally using his own hands to hold you in place.

"My pussy, my princess," Andy whispered with every thrust as he slammed his cock in you, planting sloppy wet kisses on your jawline.

A deep expression filled his face as he gazed into your eyes. "Who are you?"

You couldn’t answer him. You wanted to tell him you were his slut and his only. Your vision spun as Andy dragged out your orgasm. Feeling as if you might pass out, you dug your nails deeply into his back.

Feeling my body spasming as I fall apart, I learn from your lessons.

The sweater was a reward for pleasing, and a punishment for looking gorgeous with it on.

You sat in class, and awaited the professor's arrival. When you got a text message saying, "My sweater fits nicely on you and let me see my pussy," "you opened your legs so he could see it.

To know what is his, he needs to see it.

In front of you, Professor Andy was licking his lips and getting ready to begin his class.

Your ragged breath fills the air as I savor every drop, because we both know the fun is only just starting.

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