#They're completely blown away

[forsoobado137]

In the fifties, when the cold war was in full swing, the governments definitely competed intellectually with America. America was probably chilling one day in his home when suddenly his boss barges in and is like "do ya wanna be smart, kid?" And throws him into highschool.

But then America was like "oh space is actually really cool, and I get to blow stuff up and make car ramps in physics! >:D" So he graduates, but Eisenhower is not done yet.

He's like "we're sending him to Harvard!" So America goes to Harvard and graduates with a science bachelor, but they are NOT DONE YET.

Chess tournaments, piano classes, tutoring, they're giving him the tiger mom treatment. America is completely overwhelmed, but he just wants to make people happy. He completely cracks in the 60s

[markscherz]

Just a reminder that in much of the northern hemisphere there is Good and Exciting Stuff to be found right now (early Summer) in your local ponds and waterways.

[can-of-slorgs]

Completed the Shenkuu Stamp collection some time ago, so it was only fair to draw my girl Mirsha

[quicklyandrogynousfox-blog]

iac 2022 insta live day thirteen

[alastorss]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor's antlers are embarrassingly, pathetically, unbearably sensitive.

He can't for the life of him figure out why—it's not like any of the other transfigured creatures wandering around the underworld were made this way. Most other animal-like sinners don't seem to care about or even acknowledge their characteristics.

Yet here he is, purposefully hiding them away just so that no one will discover his terrible weakness. Oh, what he would give to be like the others if only to ignore their incessantly uncomfortable presence on his head.

Perhaps it was a curse from heaven that made him this way, or karma that he was repaying from his life. Either way, he can't stand being touched.

At least, that's what he thought.

There's no malicious intent behind your hands, no glint in your eye that makes the primal instincts in his head scream at him to melt into the shadows. You're as gentle as can be, fingers running delicately along the intricacies of his antlers and stopping just at the ends of them.

"They're beautiful," you whisper with your eyes blown wide. Your shoulders rise and fall with each rapid breath, probably from the adrenaline of standing so close to an Overlord like this. And Alastor, no less.

Your reliable hotelier. Your first real friend in the hotel. The one whose smile cannot be trusted.

But for some reason, you can't shake the feeling that he's looking at you with pure, genuine appreciation even if his smile is a little wonky.

"Why, thank you, darling!"

He jerks away from you quick as the wind, standing tall once again and towering over you. His expression has morphed into something more strained—you can tell by the way his face creases up as his eyes narrow.

He was the one who decided to invade your personal space while the two of you were arguing. He just didn't think that you would be so bold as to get distracted by his antlers and have the gall to reach out to touch them.

The worst part? The absolute worst part of it all is that no one in all the time he's been in Hell has been gentle with him like that.

Add that to the list of things he despises. Or likes. You're confusing him now.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You have some nerve, he thinks.

Your hands have found a new home resting atop his head, with your fingers combing through his hair and tracing up and down the curve of his antlers.

It becomes a nightly routine—him on the barstool or sitting in front of the piano and you standing behind him with your fingers tangled in his hair and your chin on his head, perched right between the horns. Others in the hotel have started to raise a brow, but you don't seem to care.

So when you finally decide to break routine, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, his eye twitches.

There isn't even an audience tonight, everyone else already tucked into bed save for Husk behind the bar who's too busy with a bottle to care. The silence between you is heavy as lead.

"Is something the matter?" Alastor finally abruptly asks, eyes narrowed at you from the side. You shift uncomfortably.

"Why would something be the matter?"

He's not in the mood for games right now. "This is the first time you've sat away from me in months," he observes.

You look at him, surprised by his hostility over this. "Well, Lucifer told me that you don't like—"

"Lucifer," he interrupts, head now whipping to the side so he can fully glare at you. "Knows nothing."

You blink at him, stunned. With the way he's acting, he almost seems... annoyed that you've decided to stop being so handsy?

Silence overcomes you again as you just stare at each other, completely at a loss of words. Alastor finally realizes his snappiness and composes himself once more, exhaling through his teeth.

His smile softens at you, missing its usual edge. You know him like this the best—head in your lap and antlers exposed. It's familiar to you in a way that it could never be to anyone else. At least, you hope that's true.

"He knows nothing," the radio demon says one more time for good measure, eyes drifting shut under the weight of your hands.

Alastor has never liked to be touched before. But maybe there is a first time for everything, and maybe the safety of your touch brings him enough ease that you're the first he admits he can tolerate.

His smile says it all. He's content like this, even if he would deny it with his chest if you ever told anyone else.

"Okay," you breathe. "I believe you."

[theosbaby]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ casually thinking about...

flashing mattheo during an argument

NSFW content ahead, +18

one second, he's shouting some unintelligible shit at you, and the next one, he's almost drooling at the sight of your pretty tits, naked just for him to see. he's falling silent in fucking milliseconds. but god, they're so bloody perfect... how could he not stare at them?

It's not fair, you know he loves them, and you use that knowledge against him. every. fucking. time.

he can't even remember what you were fighting about in the first place, not that he cares anymore, anyways. your full, round tits have him fucking mesmerised, the only thing in his mind at the moment being his feral need to bury his face in them and never come out again, not even for air.

"baby," he would growl, eyes not able to look away from your boobs.

you swear you can see a faint blush appear on his cheeks as you tell him, "i don't wanna fight anymore." you pout cutely at him while you're still tugging your top over your breasts, the piece of clothing it's so small that mattheo wonders how they were fitting inside it in the first place.

"me neither," he replies quietly, starting to walk towards you, not being able to stay away for a second more. "i'm sorry, a'ight?"

"it's okay... 'm sorry too," you also apologise, a little smile tugging at the corner of your plump lips as you watch him leaning forward to wrap his strong arms around you, lifting you up so your tits are right on his face.

and when he finally gets to bury his face in your glorious tits, he's not letting go. he's dragging you to his bed and dropping you in it without pulling an inch away. he lays on top of you, between your spread thighs, lips kissing your soft, pillowy flesh.

"fuck, i love these," he'd mumble against your chest, his hands squeezing your sides tightly. "so fucking perfect."

you chuckle softly at that, which makes your tits bounce slightly, and god, the sight makes him hard in seconds. he hums contently against the supple flesh of your boobs as he teasingly starts sucking and licking your tits everywhere but your nipples, alternating between the two as if he can't decide which one he wants to focus on.

his hands are roaming over your body, groping and caressing your curves as if he's re-learning them. he's squeezing your thighs, your ass, and occasionally, going up to your soft tummy, rough finger pads making goosebumps erupt in your skin.

you don't disturb him, letting him play with your boobs as he pleases while you run your slender fingers through his unruly curly hair. sometimes, you caress his face tenderly, watching with heavy lidded eyes while he worships your body. you find it cute, how much he loves your breasts. he's always wanting to touch them, lick them, kiss them... and it fucking turns you on so much, because you're so sensitive there.

you moan when finally settles on one nipple, sucking on it hard while his hand kneads the other breast. he'd push both boobs together, his mouth dropping the already hard peak he was sucking on to lick at the other. his hips are bucking against you the whole time, grinding his hard on against your drenched core.

he's definitely leaving marks, which you complain about, but he just looks up at you, pupils blown, and says, "they're mine, aren't they? i'll mark 'em if i want to."

after that, he slips his hand inside your shorts and panties, finding you completely soaked for him and that fact makes him groan as he returns to suck on your perky, reddened nipples. his fingers rub your swollen, little clit, making you whimper and squirm beneath him, but he uses his free hand to grab you and keep you still while he stuffs you full of his fingers, burying them knuckles deep. he's making you cum in minutes, orgasm so good that feels like fireworks exploding inside your tummy.

and then, once he's satisfied you, he rips both of your clothes off and makes you ride him. he'd be such a mess beneath you as he watches you jump on top of him, little whimpers escaping his lips against his will. the sight of your perfect tits bouncing right on his face while your tight little pussy squeezes his cock makes him cum so fucking fast that he's almost embarrassed... almost.

more.

[osachiyo]

" LEMME HIT YOU WITH THAT DUMB DICK ! "

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — dazai, chuuya, jouno (+ tecchou), oda, sigma x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — [n]sfw content, somnophilia, these are random scenarios ok don't come at me, degradation, humiliation, doggystyle, rough, getting caught, pussy slapping, s.ex at work, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, piv, unprotected s.ex (be careful babes), praise, creampie + etc • this was originally supposed to be their fav places to fuck but i had to scrap that bc i lost motivation :') anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! not proofread soz babes

ps. reblog to show your favorite writers support, they're greatly appreciated ! <3

⁰¹ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — fucking you in a storage room of the agency

This man is a sex fiend, so of course he would love to fuck you literally anywhere anytime. Though he can't lie, being balls deep in your juicy little cunt at work — risking both of your dignities and possibly your jobs has him harder than a fucking rock.

"Osamu— what if we g-get caugh— mmh-!" you let out a muffled moan as dazai delivered a particularly harsh thrust into your cunt, effectively shutting you up. "Relaaaax, sweet thing — almost no one c-comes here — fuck, you're so damn tight," Dazai panted into your ear, hot breath making a chill run down your spine — back arching even further against his chest.

"God, you're so good f'me — so warm 'n right, fuck!" each word was rushed, dripping with lust — the desperation in his voice made you wanna look at his pretty face, pussy clenching just from imagining how good he'd look with his hair disheveled — his usual doe eyes narrowed and a deep blush covering his skin, sweat dripping down his forehead and making his hair stick to his forehead —

Your train of thought got cut off abruptly when Dazai slapped his hand over your mouth, before his hushed voice reached your ears, "shh, stay still f'me, sweetheart."

You were about to question it when you heard the president's voice from just behind the door. The door of the room you were currently getting your back blown out in.

"Yes, I keep hearing strange noises from this one room in particular," you heard fukuzawa's muffled voice — the thought of your boss catching you in the act made your pussy flutter around Dazai’s length, making the brunette grunt in response.

"Are you trying to get us caught, darl'?" Dazai hissed into your ear — oops, you unintentionally clenched down again upon hearing the keys jingle from the other side of the door. Luckily Dazai was ready for it this time, and managed to bite down on your shoulder before he could get a sound out.

"W-what do we do, 'samu? He’s gonna come in!" you whisper-yelled, panic settling in your bones when you saw the doorknob rattle — but before he could unlock the door fully, you heard the high pitched voice of another worker, "president! an important client has come to personally see you."

"Hm, alright. looks like i'll have to tell someone else to take a look in this room later. Let’s go,"

You let out a breath of relief once the footsteps faded away, leaving you both in complete silence until dazai decided to speak up —

"You clenched reaaal hard when he was about to open the door — don't tell me you actually wanted us to get caught, did you, naughty girl?"

⁰² 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 — having you suck him off in his office

Chuuya's job as an executive of the mafia is stressful, to say the least. Not to mention some of the idiotic workers not doing their job right never fails to make his blood pressure go especially high — his anger issues doesn't help his case at all. But what does help is his sweet sweet girlfriend giving him some... 'under the table service' at work.

Chuuya's fist slammed against the hardwood desk, a loud 'thwack!' echoing in the room,

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" he sneered at the poor man in front of him — who couldn't help but flinch at seeing his boss so angry at him failing to complete a simple report.

Truth be told, Chuuya wasn’t really that mad at the worker, for the report at least — he was just.. super on edge from you deep-throating his cock under the goddamn table. He struggled to think properly, and the poor worker interrupting his private moment with you really ticked him off. Can you really blame him though?

How could he think straight with your skilled tongue swirling around his glossy tip so sinfully — fucking tease. Oh and the way you peered up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes glazed with a dreamy haze.

It all made his head spin like crazy.

“-ir, I can re-do it if you would like me to..” Chuuya’s train of thought unfortunate got cut off short, blue eyes snapping back to the man before him — right, the report.

“A-ahem — alright. Have it finished by 6 pm.”

Chuuya hated the way his voice cracked, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he tried not to moan out loud when you fully took him nose deep in that right, sweet little throat— shamelessly rutting your hips into his crazy expensive slacks, rubbing your juices all over the smooth, polished material.

You felt Chuuya’s fingers entangle themselves in your hair immediately after hearing the ‘click’ of the door shutting — the guy must’ve finally left.

You couldn’t help but gasp as you were pulled up from the cold, hard floor — and being shoved onto the desk instead.

You felt your pussy throb in your lacy panties as Chuuya spread your legs open — two fingers pressing and prodding at your cunt before sliding the flimsy material to the side,

“Now, let’s get into the real fun, shall we darl’?”

⁰³ 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎 — teaching tecchou how to eat you out properly

Jouno was a good friend. Even though he might've had a tendency to be a little harsh and.. sadistic at times, he wasn't a bad person. I mean, he had to be atleast a decent person for teaching his inexperienced co-worker how to eat pussy — specifically, his own girlfriend's.

"No, not like that you fucking idiot —" Jouno grumbled, pulling Tecchou's head off of your cunt as he blinked in confusion like a lost puppy, sticky strings of your arousal still attached to his lips. "What do you mean? She's clearly enjoying it.."

"I mean that you can do better. You do want to make her feel fuckin' amazing, don't you?" Jouno raised a questioning brow. "Well, of cour—" "Then start acting like it."

A gasp left your honeyed lips when Tecchou's face was pushed back against your cunt — hot tongue working with even more fervor as he ate you out like he had been starving for days.

"Oh fuck — feels so g-good, sai," you whimpered out — head thrown back and your tongue threatening to loll out from the sheer pleasure the man between your legs was giving you. "Yeah, baby? Feels good when Tecchou eats that sweet cunt out reaaaaal good, huh?" Jouno's tone was condescending — his lips curled up into a cocky smirk.

“Y’smell so sweet - taste so sweet -” Tecchou's voice was low and dripping with need — your pussy throbbed from just how desperate he sounded.

"A-ah shit - can feel you throbbin' on my tongue, princess —" he groaned, tongue flattening against your clit as he shook his head side to side.

You babbled out Jouno’s name like a prayer — all while the man between your legs worshipped your cunt like it was his god, pink tongue repeatedly flicking your clit, making you see stars as your hole stretched around two of his slim fingers.

“Please — wanna c-cum s’ba- mmh!- ,” you let out a strangled noise as a harsh slap landed on your soaked pussy, clit throbbing as you threw your head back once more. “Fuckin’ slut, so damn eager to cum on another man’s tongue in front of your boyfriend, hmm?”

“Don’t — ah fuck, squeezin’ so tight ‘round my fingers, baby - don’t be so mean, Jouno,” Tecchou threw a side glare to the man next to him, which only earned a shrug from said man, “quit talking and enjoy the meal, dumbass. She’s close.”

And enjoy the meal he did — lapping up every single drop of your sweet juices so enthusiastically you’d think that he hadn’t eaten in days.

⁰⁴ 𝐎𝐃𝐀 — morning sex with him

Mornings with your husband, Oda Sakunosuke, were sweet, blissful and filled with love. Sometimes he'd surprise you with breakfast in bed, it's the least he can do considering everything that you do for him, is what he says. But sometimes — you crave him instead of the delicious food.

“My pretty girl,” Oda smiled sleepily, moving some of your hair out of your face to admire your effortless beauty — blissfully unaware to how his deep morning voice made your heart flutter in your chest, and your pussy throb with need.

You grinned back, scooting closer into his arms as you gazed into his deep brown eyes, “pretty enough to fuck?”

Oda raised a questioning eyebrow, full lips curling into a grin, "oh? that's the game we're playing, love?" Strong arms wrapped around your bare figure, the marks of last night still fresh on your skin — a reminder to how he fucked you dumb on his cock only a few hours prior.

You felt your face burn from the memories of last night rushing back into you — god, you two were insatiable - you're sure Oda fucked you in every single position in the book, and it did nothing but make you crave him more.

"Still with me, darling?" he lightly tapped your cheek, snapping you back to the present. You nodded, a gasp falling from your lips as big, calloused hands found themselves groping at your tits, pinching at your cute nipples as he pressed open mouthed kisses on your neck — his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

"O-oda—"

"shhh, baby — lemme do all the work, yeah?"

And that's how you ended up with your face pressed into the pillows — silken bedsheets tangled around your bodies as Oda fucked his fat girth into your sopping cunt nice 'n deep.

A large hand was pressing your back into the meanest arch ever — strong hips slamming against the fat of your plush ass with each deep thrust, thick mushroom tip prodding at your g-spot - making you bleat out your husband's name pitifully. Oda only pushed your head deeper into the soft pillows — clearly too lost in the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him.

He watched his cock slipped in and out of your pussy so easily — your slick covering his balls down to his thighs. Oda groaned deeply in his throat as he watched a creamy ring form around the base of his cock — your cunt sucking him in so eagerly that he almost thought it hurt for you to let him go.

You let out a particularly loud moan as Oda's cock hit that one spot in you — you could only bite down on the pillow as your eyes shut closed, pussy slobbering shamelessly all over his length.

"Oh? Did you like— argh! - t-that spot, sweet girl?"

⁰⁵ 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 — fucking you in your sleep

Sigma was a busy man — with running the sky casino and being part of the decay of angels didn't leave too much alone time with just him and you — especially for some.. intimacy. You knew he needed to relieve himself someway — all that workload while being pent up as fuck certainly wasn't good for him. Plus, you have been craving him as well.. so you came up with an easy solution.

The door to your shared bedroom clicked open — your beloved boyfriend, Sigma, letting himself in as his eyes racked over the entire room, searching for anything out of the ordinary — you did tell him that you had a surprise for him, after all.

Upon finding nothing, he stalked over to the bed, confusion lacing his features as he glanced over at your sleeping form. Slender hands slowly slipped the soft blanket off of you and oh —

It all clicked suddenly.

The lavender coloured lace suited your complexion so perfectly, the expensive material hugging your features like it was made for you. Sigma gulped, eyes fixating on the way your tits were practically spilling out of the flimsy fabric — your stiff nipples very much visible to his hungry gaze.

It wasn't long before he had his face buried between your plush thighs — Sigma was so desperate, not even bothering to take the lingerie off your body. Besides, why would he when you just looked way too good in it?

He was practically eating you out through the thin lace — nose bumping against your clothed clit as his tongue tried to push deeper into your cunt. You had him in a chokehold — but he couldn't care less.

Sigma's slim hips were rutting into the expensive sheets — precum leaking from his sensitive tip as he tried his best not to cum untouched just from tasting your sweet pussy, but fuck, you were making it so hard for him.

He felt his cock throb in his pants when you started letting out soft moans and sighs in your sleep — or were you even asleep anymore? He didn't know and neither did he care — mind too focused on making you cum on his pretty face.

"ohh s-shit — best surprise - sluurrp - e-ever—" he whined into your cunt, spitting directly into your sticky hole before slurping it all back up.

Safe to say, he definitely enjoyed your little surprise.

© 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ do not copy/translate/repost and/or recommend any of my works on different platfroms under any circumstances. reblogs greatly appreciated !

[genshin-obsessed]

Helloooo~!! Could I request the men in honkai star rail with an s/o who makes various different plushies for themselves and the men?

Just imagine Dan Heng getting a chonky dragon plushie version of himself.

✩ ‒ You guys have the most creative ideas sometimes lmao I would’ve never thought of this and it is such a cute idea!!

✩ ‒ I wasn't going to do everyone but they came out really short so I made it up by adding more characters ^w^

✩ ‒ Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt, Gepard, Sampo, Luocha, Jing Yuan, Blade

✩ ‒ Caelus

He’s not the biggest plushie guy out there, but come on. You made it so cute and all.

He keeps it safe in his room and does a pretty good job at keeping it clean. Like dust free and all.

Caelus isn’t ashamed of it by any means, everyone knows about it. He just doesn’t want to end up tearing it or something which is why it's always in his room.

Big fan. You made a couple of yourself and he keeps them together. They're together like the two of you are. He’s debating on getting a dedicated shelf.

✩ ‒ Dan Heng

He originally received two. One of his normal self and then his Vidyadhara half. It’s so accurate, too. He definitely spent a few hours analyzing them both.

He wasn’t sure at first but the longer he had it, the more he began to like it. He kinda sleeps with it now. I mean... they're just on his bed and that's where he sleeps...

You’re welcome to make more but he doesn’t have room to place them. Besides… how many could you possibly make?

He actually likes the little dragon one. It’s so cute, the details are well done, and you seem to really like it too.

✩ ‒ Welt

Aww, a plushie for him? It was so cute! It even had his lil cane and all. Honestly, Welt loves it.

He keeps it with him all the time. When you often go off on missions, he likes to hold it for comfort.

When you made one of yourself, he decided the plushies could never be separated- much like you two. So, basically now he carries two plushies with him at all times.

Pom Pom and Himeko gush over the cuteness of the plushie. You’re really talented, why not start a business at this point? You'll definitely get March or Stelle asking for one too.

✩ ‒ Gepard

He was confused at first. Why did you make a plushie of him? But he really liked it. You even got the shield right.

He prefers it to stay at home where his fellow guards can’t see it because it’s a little embarrassing. He’s a grown man and all.

Ok, but it’s so cute. The little hair, the outfit- the shield! Come on? How is he supposed to remain composed? He will stare at it sadly when he has to go to work.

He had to admit, when you made one of yourself it felt complete. The plushies are always sitting together on his bed. Sometimes, he'll even put a blanket over them to keep them warm.

✩ ‒ Sampo

Omg once he gets one, it's on his person permanently. He loves seeing you work on them, too. It gives him a perspective on how much work you put into them

He’ll give suggestions all the time and you do make most of them. You often make yourself as well and it leads to lots of matching plushies.

Sampo did try to make one himself but it looked horrendous. He tried to throw it away but you wouldn’t let him!

That thing haunts his dreams but you like it for whatever reason. Honestly, Sampo takes that thing everywhere and even learned how to wash it properly.

✩ ‒ Luocha

The accuracy. His hair, eyes, outfit, the coffin- it even opens! Like, the effort that went into that was phenomenal.

Luocha is a big fan and does keep the plushie with him during his travels but keeps it hidden. It's something that reminds him of you (ironic since it looks like him).

He’s rather protective of the plushie. Someone once tried to take it and well… he almost stuffed them in the coffin. Lmao jk.

… ok, he did it once and never again, you can’t judge him, that’s his plushie. You gave it to him, not that rando. And no, it wasn't a kid! Why do people keep asking him that?

✩ ‒ Jing Yuan

Mind blown. Seriously, the talent that took was incredible! You even made a Lightning Lord plushie which attaches to the Jing Yuan one.

He keeps them on his desk at work and no one is allowed to touch them. He's worried others might damage them, but he wants to show them off at the same time.

He keeps the one you made of yourself with him though. It’s his good luck charm. Much like you.

Secretly hates tearing apart the plushie version of you and him. Heartbreaking when they have to see each other go. Sniff.

✩ ‒ Blade

Ok, listen. This is Blade we’re talking about. He can’t just be seen carrying a plushie- and of himself, no less. It’s embarrassing.

Is what he thought until he saw how sad you got when you found out he left it in a drawer. On the pain in his heart…

Now he keeps it on his person all the time. He even learned how to wash it because it’ll get dirty sometimes. No blood gets on it though, don't worry. Just some minor dirt or something.

For tougher missions, he puts the plushie in a plastic bag to keep it safe. It’s like a good luck charm of his. He lost it once and he almost had a heart attack.

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[ddejavvu]

Tyler Owens x Shy!Reader giving each other a good luck kiss before a tornado chase🩵🌪️

Spotlight - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You're relieved that Tyler won't be gone for days, crossing state lines to chase this twister, but that comes with a downside: it's local. That means that, though the tornado's path isn't projected near your home, you're still on high-alert as anxiety convinces you that something will change and your house will be torn down plank by plank and blown away into oblivion.

"I'll be back for dinner," Tyler vows, grinning at you with the thrill of the chase already gleaming in his eyes and smile, "You just sit pretty 'til I'm back, darlin', and we can go out tonight. Get somethin' real nice, then we can go dancin' afterwards. In our own little corner, I promise." He tugs you close, miming how things will go only hours from now, knowing your tendency to be shy in large crowds.

The roaring of tires on gravel lets you know that Tyler's crew has arrived, and you've mostly conquered your nerves surrounding them. They're lovely people, if only a little intense, but you still feel sometimes like a complete outsider. Still, you wave sweetly to them, and a chorus of greetings floats your way over the open Arkansas air.

"Alright," Tyler pats once, twice against your hip, "That's my cue. If I don't get goin' soon, Boone's gonna start throwing shit at me."

"I'll protect you," You shrug, drinking in the last of his embrace- logically, the last of it for only a few hours. Irrationally- the last of it you might ever get. You shake away a shuddery feeling in your chest as Tyler laughs at your joke, squeezing you tighter around the waist.

"That's right, you're my little protector, aren't you? 'Gonna get those big ol' muscles out and show 'em all who's boss?"

Flexing your biceps does absolutely nothing to show them off like it does when Tyler does it, and you can feel the fondness in his ear-to-ear grin.

"Alright, darlin'." He lets go of your waist and suddenly the handprints on your sides are cold, terribly so, as a mild wind blows through your front yard, "Stay safe in here, m'kay? The storm's projected to go east but you know the drill; keep weather alerts on and hole up in the cellar if anything changes. Love you," He squeezes your hand in lieu of a kiss, something you're decidedly uncomfortable with in public, but when he turns to walk away, you act on impulse and grab his wrist.

"Ty-" You gasp, almost as shocked at your actions as he is when he turns to raise a questioning brow at you.

"Hm?"

"Uh- I," You stammer, his eyes like spotlights showcasing your awkward stance before you realize that words are failing, and the only thing you can do is kiss him.

You surge forwards, tugging him along to meet you in the middle as you lean up to press your lips to his. He's surprised if the way that his eyes go wide is any indication, and you feel like you're stealing his breath when his chest tightens up. It takes him barely a second to melt into it, but it's a second that feels like an eternity as your brain and heart race in tandem.

There's cheering, whooping, shouting, and a slew of other reactions from his crew that you'll lay awake embarrassed about later tonight, but for now you kiss Tyler Owens like it's the last time you'll see him- because it might be.

The words, 'Good luck,' are whispered softly against his lips when you part from them, and his eyes are hazy before he blinks away the cloudy daze he's trapped in. He stares down at you, equal parts bewildered and head-over-heels, and his grin is less cocky, more sappy now as he watches you.

"That was one hell of a kiss," He remarks, smoothing his tongue between the seam of his lips and catching your chapstick, "I don't even think I wanna go out now. Tornado be damned, the real fun's right here."

"Go," You push against his chest, and your laughter comes easy despite having just stepped so far out of your comfort zone, "Go and be back for dinner and dancing!"

"Yes ma'am!" Tyler calls, walking backwards towards his own truck as his crew splits in half to fill both vehicles equally, "I love you!"

He says it like it's an inside joke, like it's something he's informing you of for the first time instead of something you'd just pressed against his mouth.

You grin back, lazy and sure even amongst the watchful eyes of his crew, "I love you too, Ty."

[sleepynovalunosis]

contains: fwb to lovers, accidental/genuine ‘i love you’

a/n: this completely took on a life of its own because i’m insane!!!! enjoy <3

eddie munson gives you everything you want. so the second you tell him you need him to fuck you, he pounces. you and eddie had been somewhat unrequited friends with benefits; you'd changed your mind on whether or not you should be fucking him at least a dozen times. so when he obliges without second thought, you're blissful, yet confused. your desperation outweighs your curiosity, which is certainly not enough to question why he's agreeing.

he groans softly, and before you know it, he's biting his rings off, letting them clang to the floor as he holds your throat with his free hand. he's primal when he's around you, not thinking twice as he presses you against the wall. his cock has been throbbing in his jeans all day-he nearly burst when you said you needed him to fuck you. once his rings are off, he's yanking his belt off with one hand.

that alone nearly makes you cum, until he's turning your head and sucking harsh hickies into the flesh of your skin. "thought you didn't miss me?" he murmurs against your flesh, earning a gasp from you as he nips at it. "thought you didn't want me?" your head spins, dizzy with lust as you desperately try to respond. "i do want you-" you sob with pleasure, gasping as his fingers ride up your skirt. he tears your panties, the loud rip of fabric echoing off the walls. “i always have, eddie, i-“ you stammer, breath hitching in your throat.

your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by how good he makes you feel just like this. he wouldn’t even need to use his cock to get you off. his mouth is warm, tongue trailing along your skin to the next open-mouthed kiss. your flushed cheeks are rosied with embarrassment and lust. “i do-i’m sorry-“ you babble, “i’m sorry-i’m sorry-“

you’d been semi-exclusive with jason, at least you thought so, until you caught him fucking one of the cheerleaders in his car. you weren’t mad at the fact that he’d cheated, but the fact that you’d wasted so much time away from eddie, away from who you really wanted. not who your parents wanted for you, not who society thought you should be with, but who you wanted to be with. his thumb rubs circles on your clit, calloused from playing his guitar so much. he yanks his head away from your neck, his gaze lingering as he stares at the love marks he’s left all over you; deepened violet as they bruise. “purple suits you,” he sneers, and you gaze up at him through your eyelashes. his hand remains wrapped around your throat, cupping under your jaw to ensure you don’t break eye contact. the comment makes your stomach flip, nodding rapidly as much as your head will allow you to. “please-i need you to be inside me, please-“ you beg, brows furrowed with remorse and regret. he tugs his cock from his boxers, tapping the thick head against your clit. “eddie!” you gasp, hissing through your teeth as he kneads your clit back and forth. he’s dripping with pre-cum, slick against your pussy as he collects your wetness. “yeah..yeah.” he says matter-of-factly, assessing the situation. “he never made your pussy this wet, did he? never made your clit all swollen and puffy, huh?” he asks through a prideful scoff, already knowing the answer.

you shake your head, still within his grasp, "no, he-it never got that far." you say, and he tilts his head with skepticism. "i swear, i swear!" you breathe, desperate for his cock that's running along your pussy. he squeezes your cheeks gently, sliding his cock into you harshly. his grip acted as a premonition, watching you as you immediately drop your head forward from the feeling. "fuck-!" you gasp, and it suddenly dawns on you; how quiet he's been. your eyes meet his, and they're dark. his pupils are blown out, nearly covering the space of his entire iris. you can barely see the deep brown hue in them anymore. "eddie, i'm sorry-" you whimper, sincerely on the verge of tears. it's all so overwhelming; the pleasure, the regret, the remorse, the relief that he's taken you back..for now.

"you're lucky i love you." he says, and your world stops.

your breath hitches in your throat, and his cock is still. it's as deep as he can go, both of you frozen. you can physically feel the surprised expression on your face, muscles tightening in all the specific ways.

"what?" you breathe.

"i said, you're lucky i love you."

he nods, and both of you are still, present in this moment. eddie looks confident, at least in the sense that he means what he says. he doesn't look nervous at all, knowing he said what he's needed to say.

"i-i love you too," you stammer, not with uncertainty, but with eagerness. "i love you, eddie, i always have, i-" you manage, wanting to get the words out as quickly as possible. his eyes widen, a reaction finally washing over his features. he scoffs with disbelief, lips upturned at the corners. “say that again,” he says, thrusting his cock into you.

“i love you,” you say.

“again.” he demands.

his cock is pulsing inside of you, twitching every time you confess. he thrusts harder, the slaps against skin filling the space between words. “i love you,” you whine, teetering on the verge of an orgasm. his hand still holds your jaw, his cock pounding into you now. the change of pace makes you gasp sharply, whining and choking on air.

“come for me.” he says, choosing to simultaneously rub circles against your clit. you feel like you’re seeing stars, the warmth growing in the pit of your stomach. “i can’t—“ you say, “it’s too much—“

“yes you can.” he says, groaning with pleasure. he gets off on this every time—the fact that he makes you feel this good—that it feels like you physically cannot cum without it being a near death experience. his waved brown hair sticks to his face, and he leans forward to press his lips against yours. his tongue licks against the roof of your mouth, maneuvering around your body to make you finish. it sends you over the edge, babbling his name over and over between your squished cheeks. he kisses you repeatedly, tasting you every time.

“there you go, there she is.” he coos, spilling his cum into you. you both know you’re on the pill, so you allow yourselves to bask in it.

your cheeks are flushed, hot and rosied, his fingerprints ghosting your cheeks with a light pink.

before you can say anything, he’s picking you up, walking across his room to toss you on his bed. “say you’re mine,” he says, hovering over you with a grin. “i’m yours,” you comply, equally as giddy. “you’re my girl,” he says, raising his brows and nodding.

“i’m your girl.”

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team duo rambling again (our bad 4 tha spam but we luvvvvv ur stuff!!)

gyaru or influencer reader or even normal reader who intentionally has a specific way of speaking (valley girl, southern accent, Cajun accent, etc.) and then completely drops it to go off the grid??? that just seems so cool

Neglected!Influencer!Reader x Yandere!Batfam

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Okay, buckle up! Cause y'all are adding the spin to my spiraling and I'm living for it!

A/N: Adding this to the concept list because I got carried away with this and will probably want to add to it at some point. Calling this Influencer!Reader.

Warnings: GN!Reader, subtle yandere themes

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Neglected!Reader that starts filming Youtube videos or streaming in their room in the manor to cope with the loneliness. Only, rather than putting on a persona or costume, they just act like their genuine self.

They wear a certain style that they love and feel their best in. They have a distinct accent that they don't bother to hide when filming. They talk as loud or as soft as they want. They ramble and rave about their favorite things. And, people adore them for it.

Including the Bat Family.

But, no one makes the connection.

Outside of streaming, they were typical ordinary clothes that they don't feel like themselves in and try to hide their accent to sound more normal. All in the hopes of fitting in with the family and the Gotham.

The irony of trying so hard to make people like you only for you to fail to realize they already like you. Just not when you hide who you are.

Being blown off by members of the family, only because you have a video scheduled to post and for them to literally cut out time from their day just to watch it and be the first to comment.

Watching the usernames send you donations for your running away fund, only for them to be from the very people you want to run from.

It's not like the Bats realize who you are. They never spend time with you. They never notice you when you try to fit in with them. They've never even been in your room before. How could they know that their favorite person was literally right down the hall.

It isn't until you take a hiatus, telling your followers your finally moving and getting out of your hell hole that the pieces click.

Lets say, Tim gets itchy. (Going back to the idea of him using your videos to fall asleep.) He wants your voice back to soothe him. He needs his fix. And, lets face it, the others would only encourage it when they find out he's trying to track you down.

Imagine their horror when the puzzle comes together. That your their sibling. The one they've ignored. You live in the manor with them. But, wait. You said in your last video your moving? Wait! NO!

The rush down the hall to your empty room. Realizing they had seen the inside of it so many times, but had never actually been in it. Finding some of your old things left behind that had been in previous videos that you didn't bother to take. (They fight over them. They're sacred now.)

The had you. They had you right there in arms reach and they didn't hold you.

And, then you finally post another video. Thanking your fans for loving you when they couldn't. (But, their your fans too.)

They're gonna get you back though. Their you're biggest fans after all.

[solxamber]

Hii!! I hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening/night (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/ take your time in making this request lolll (this is romantic btw)

Pomefiore with a reader who's shut in/wallflower painter, like yeah— they can talk to people but they're too shy to actually approach someone (no one probably remembers their existence /j).. so they resort to this:

If they like someone, they'd paint them as a form of expression! If they paint someone endlessly, then that probably means they really like that specific person. And then suddenly, out of the blue— they just randomly have a big fat crush on this one person, like they were so blown away by how handsome he was, so they just started to paint them.. and then they got caught! (They're probably quaking because their crush might think it's weird for some random stranger to paint you!)

Hope you can understand my vision ☹️☹️

Pomefiore x Artist!Admirer!Reader

i see your vision and it's beautiful 🫡 i hope you like this <3

Vil Schoenheit:

You’ve always admired Vil from a distance, both intimidated and captivated by his beauty. Approaching him? Absolutely out of the question. You weren’t the type to strike up a conversation with someone so effortlessly elegant, so you resorted to your old fallback: painting.

You were finishing the delicate details of Vil’s eyes—those eyes, the ones that seemed to look straight through you even from the canvas—when you heard a voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You flatter me.”

Your brush froze mid-stroke. That voice was unmistakable, but there was no way… You slowly turned your head and nearly fell off your stool.

There, standing in your studio with an amused smile on his perfect face, was Vil himself.

“I… I…” Words failed you, your heart thudding wildly in your chest. You could feel your face heating up as his eyes scanned the room, taking in the multiple portraits of him. His lips curved into a smirk.

“I didn’t realize I had such a devoted admirer,” he remarked, his tone teasing but with a hint of something more—something warmer.

You scrambled to explain, feeling as though you’d been caught doing something terribly wrong. “It’s not—I wasn’t—” You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I just… I really admire you, and painting is how I express that. I didn’t mean for it to be weird.”

Vil chuckled softly, stepping closer to inspect one of your paintings. “It’s not weird,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a gentler tone than you had expected. His eyes flicked over the details of the painting, and he smiled softly. “It’s quite beautiful, actually. You’ve captured me well.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was Vil Schoenheit complimenting your work? You suddenly felt breathless, overwhelmed by the proximity of him and the unexpected praise.

“You think so?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Vil’s eyes met yours, and he nodded. “Yes. But,” he added with a knowing smile, “beauty isn’t just about perfection. Don’t be afraid to explore the imperfections. They make things more… real.”

You blinked, completely mesmerized by the intensity in his gaze. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were the only people in the world. Vil reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, and your breath hitched.

“Keep painting,” he said softly, his voice warm and encouraging. “You have a gift.”

You nodded, unable to form any coherent response. As Vil turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he saw more in you than you had ever realized. And that thought left you feeling both terrified and exhilarated.

Rook Hunt:

You had always thought Rook was like a walking masterpiece. Everything about him—the way he carried himself, the way he smiled, the way he moved—was simply captivating. Naturally, he became your muse.

You never thought you’d be caught, though. You had carefully set up your little studio in a secluded corner where no one usually ventured. But somehow, Rook had found you.

You were in the middle of adding the finishing touches to yet another portrait of him when you felt a presence behind you. Before you could react, you heard a soft laugh.

“Ah, mon cher, what a delightful surprise.”

You jumped, your brush clattering to the floor as you whipped around to see Rook standing there, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Your heart sank. How long had he been standing there? Had he seen all the paintings?

Your face flushed as you tried to find an excuse. “I-It’s not what it looks like!” you blurted out, but even you didn’t believe that.

Rook smiled at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he approached one of your canvases. “Oh, but it is,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “And I must say, I’m quite flattered.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood in front of one of your larger portraits of him, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the frame. He turned to look at you, his expression softening. “You see me,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. “I… I mean, I paint what I see,” you stammered, feeling utterly exposed.

Rook chuckled softly and took another step closer, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin so that you were forced to meet his gaze. His touch was light, almost hesitant, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that made your heart race.

“And what you see,” he whispered, “is beautiful.”

Your breath hitched. He was close now—so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The only thing that mattered was the connection between you and Rook, as if he had stepped out of the canvas and into your heart.

“I…” you started, but your voice faltered. What could you even say? That you had been painting him because you were hopelessly enamored with him? That every brushstroke was an attempt to understand the feelings you didn’t quite know how to express?

Rook smiled softly, his hand still resting under your chin. “You need not say anything,” he murmured. “I already understand.”

Before you could react, Rook pressed a light kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and soft against your skin. Your heart practically exploded in your chest, and when he pulled back, you were left staring at him in a daze.

“I look forward to seeing what else you create,” Rook said with a wink, before turning on his heel and exiting your studio, leaving you standing there, utterly flustered and hopelessly in love.

Epel Felmier:

You didn’t mean to develop feelings for Epel. Honestly, it just… happened. One minute, you were admiring how strong and determined he was, and the next, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. So naturally, you started painting him.

You had thought you were safe, tucked away in your quiet little studio, but apparently, Epel had other plans.

You were lost in your work, painting Epel in one of his rare moments of quiet—capturing the way his lilac eyes softened when he wasn’t putting on his usual tough act—when you heard his voice.

“Hey, is that me?”

Your heart nearly stopped. You spun around so fast you almost knocked over your easel. Epel was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed at the canvas.

“W-what are you doing here?!” you stammered, trying to shield the painting from his view, but it was far too late.

Epel frowned, stepping closer to get a better look at your work. “Huh. You’ve been paintin’ me?”

You were utterly mortified. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—I just…” You trailed off, completely at a loss for words.

To your surprise, Epel didn’t look angry. Instead, his frown softened into something more thoughtful. “You really think I’m worth paintin’?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You blinked at him. “Of course I do,” you said softly. “You’re… you’re really handsome, Epel. And I wanted to capture that.”

Epel’s face turned pink, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I ain’t never had anyone say that to me before,” he mumbled. “I guess I’m flattered.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, and you smiled shyly. “I’m glad.”

There was a moment of silence as Epel glanced at the painting again. “Y’know,” he said, his voice a little gruffer now, “you really did a good job. I actually look strong in this one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “That’s because you are strong, Epel.”

Epel’s blush deepened, and he muttered something under his breath. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he looked up at you and smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “Maybe you could show me how to paint sometime.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’d like that.”

Masterlist

[cbartonscoffee]

I think I've never been more aware of just how many people only get their info of the batfam through fanfic. I finally started reading Red Robin (2009) and I can not believe how many things are blown out of proportion. Particularly about Dick and Damian.

First of all, Dick does try to put limits and he does get fed up with Damian's ways sometimes. Out of the three first interactions of them in the comic, at least in two he tells him to shut up. And one of those is when Damian starts to brag about being Robin and Tim being useless, he tells him to shut up twice.

Another thing about that moment, is that they treat it like Dick completely dismisses Tim and treats him as unimportant. He doesn't. He takes him seriously, he tells him he needs him, he tells him he views his as an equal, as someone capable. And he also tells him he's concerned about him and that he needs to start processing Bruce's death. Could that have been a little harsh? Yes, but he needed to do it without making Tim think there was room for him to be convinced about his theory because let's be honest, Tim would've taken anything less than complete refusal and tried to change his mind. And had he been wrong neither of them could have taken it.

Secondly, Dick is always left to shoulder the blame of kicking Tim out and of never reaching out. That's bull. And I need to make that clear. Tim was in a delicate point, he tells us this himself multiple times, but the decision to leave was completely made out of his own free will. Another thing he did was put space between him and the people on Gotham. We see only one time in which Dick tries to call him. Tim picks up and tells him he doesn't want to talk. This tells us that Dick respecting Tim's wish of space included almost no (or even no) contact, and Dick calling was not something Tim appreciated or encouraged.

Now. Going into the second year of the run, when he's back in Gotham, there's a few things to talk about and I'm still in the aftermath of Damian and Tim's fight.

I feel it's important to say that even if they are all family, more often than not they're doing their own thing. Like, Babs and Steph are in the Batcave while Dick and Damian are in Wayne Tower, Cass is said to potentially be in Hong Kong and we haven't even heard Jason be name-dropped except for the fact that he went on a rampage at some point.

So, Dick is immediately called away in League business. So he isn't there. Damian is behaving fairly civil besides being a brat, so no one wastes too much effort in correcting what he says. We need to think about the fact that this is a kid whose world was turned upside down multiple times in a short period of time, who has a need to be accepted, and who hasn't yet found his place. All this is to say, that if it's difficult to get him to eat breakfast there's no way they're controlling his every move and that's understandable.

So Dick is away, Damian is still trying to adapt, Alfred has his hands full and everyone else is doing something else.

The whole thing starts because Tim is being kind of cryptic about what he's doing with his hit list and Damian feels left out and goes looking for more. He finds his name in a hidden double side of the hit list marking him as a threat. He understandably feels hurt and angry, because he's a kid, and he's trying, and his predecessor who at this point doesn't even try with him anymore views him as something bad.

So in classic Damian fashion, he falls back on his upbringing and doesn't deal with the situation as one should, talking about it. Instead he cuts team line, hurting before being hurt. It could've been worse, we see in the panel that Tim doesn't have that much of a hard time getting safely to the ground. The problem is that he snaps and starts a full-blown fight he knows Damian won't back out off. (I'm pleased to add that after cutting his line Damian doesn't start anything else)

So they are fighting, Tim has the clear advantage and he knows this, we know this. And that's how Dick finds them. Having just returned from a JL mission, in the place where the Waynes were murdered, with Tim having overpowered Damian.

They go back to the cave and Damian shares his findings, and Dick understands. And Tim tells him he (Dick) knows why he (Tim) did it. Dick agrees, and tells him he should have tried to make it harder to find. Tim says he hadn't thought Damian would try or even care. Dick tells him Damian wants to be accepted.

All in all, so far the only thing this comic has proven to me is that there's a reason comics are the bomb and that fanon has gotten out of hand. I get making things out to be worse for the sake of a story, but everything surrounding these events is basically used as the foundation for Damian and Tim's relationship as well as Dick and Tim's and I don't think I've once read a fanfic where these events are portrayed correctly or even following the real motivations of the characters. This is a disservice to all of them and only serves to amplify the hate towards a character that doesn't deserve it. There's a lot of Damian hate going around. And it sucks. Mostly because people use his actions against Tim to justify it and honestly? I don't think you should be allowed to use that if you haven't read RR and understood what was going on.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR FAKE DATING & GOING UNDERCOVER *  assorted dialogue for muses going undercover as a couple and having to maintain the illusion that they're dating, and all the chaos, feelings, and whatnot that come with it, suggested by dollhidden, adjust as necessary, send "reverse" for the reversal of action prompts

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

come on. at least pretend that you like me.

if we hold hands, that'll sell the illusion even more.

what petnames do you think we'd use if we were actually dating?

please don't make this too difficult on me.

stop letting go of my hand.

you're going to pay for this later.

that was way too close of a call.

[petname]? that's what we're going with?

could you at least look like you like me for an hour? is that so hard?

admit it. i'm not half bad.

didn't think i would enjoy this as much as i am.

did you take acting classes growing up?

excuse me! i'm just trying to sell the illusion!

do you think they bought it?

you don't look like you love me. you look like you're constipated.

way to lay it on thick. i think you might have done too good of a job.

pretend to laugh at one of my jokes.

i guess i didn't expect you to dress up for this. i'm impressed.

you know, if you treated me like that on the regular, i might actually start falling in love with you.

they have to believe we're together. how hard can it be?

quick, pretend like you're about to kiss me.

you clearly care more about the tiny appetizers than you do me.

i'm just here for the free champagne.

you clean up nice.

that honestly wasn't as bad as i thought it would be.

they're looking over here. quick, say something funny.

that... was surprisingly smooth of you.

you don't date much, do you?

we should pretend to date more often.

hey! my eyes are up here!

shit, they're coming. kiss me.

ACTION PROMPTS all of these are written as if both parties are fake dating and going undercover at some specified event, but feel free to add your own scenarios if you'd like!

[ hand ] sender quickly takes receiver's hand in public to avoid getting caught

[ waist ] sender quickly slides an arm around receiver's waist in public to avoid getting caught

[ propose ] sender stages a dramatic fake proposal to further sell their relationship to the crowd, catching receiver completely off guard

[ fake fight ] sender and receiver stage a coordinated fake fight/messy breakup in front of the crowd

[ kiss ] realizing they need to sell their relationship to an important person/people, sender and receiver kiss for the first time

[ coat ] noticing receiver is cold, sender gives them their coat

[ entrance ] sender and receiver approach the entrance of the secret event and discuss their plans for selling their fake relationship to the crowd

[ slip away ] sender slips away from receiver in order to take a break from pretending, and receiver goes to find them

[ off limits ] sender and receiver are exploring an off limit portion of the event space, get caught, and are forced to try to explain how they got lost

[ the big kiss ] to conceal the fact that they're exploring an off limit portion of the event space, sender kisses receiver dramatically once they're caught

[ introduce ] sender introduces receiver as their lover/date/partner to a very important (and potentially dangerous) person at this event

[ family ] sender introduces receiver as their lover/date/partner to their family, who just so happens to also be at the event

[ lost ] sender loses receiver in the crowd and rushes to relocate them before their cover is blown

[ flirt ] when someone else shows interest in receiver, sender steps in and makes it clear they're "taken"

[ exit ] sender and receiver have successfully accomplished their goal, and now must sneak out of the event as covertly as possible

[ spill ] sender accidentally spills their drink on receiver and rushes them to the restroom to clean them up

[ private ] in a brief moment of privacy between the two fake daters, sender admits to receiver that they don't think receiver is as bad as they thought

[matchingbatbites]

Eddie is so gone. He and Steve are hanging out at Steve's house, squished together on one of the pool loungers with Steve's legs draped over Eddies, both crossfaded as fuck.

Steve is going on about something, Eddie isn't really sure anymore because he's so fucking distracted by Steve's mouth.

The way his lips form around words, the way his tongue peeks out every now and then. Eddie wants to feel that mouth against his own, wants to lick inside and taste him.

A curious "Eddie?" comes from that mouth and Eddie looks up, sees hazel eyes staring him down, and something in Eddie's chest shakes free when he sees how blown out Steve's pupils are.

He reaches up and takes Steve's chin in his fingers, mutters a soft "Don't hit me, okay?" as he leans in and presses a kiss to Steve's cheek, so close to the corner of that tempting mouth.

They're both still for a moment and Eddie pulls away, prepares to apologize and pull away completely, but is stopped when a hand grabs his shirt. He meets Steve's eyes again only to see a determined glint in them.

"You missed," Steve says and all Eddie can do is scrunch his face and offer a confused "Huh?"

Steve rolls his eyes and brings his other hand up, taps a finger on that plush bottom lip. "My mouth is here," he says, sounding like one of the kids trying to explain something that goes over Eddie's head, like duh, idiot.

Eddie's mind goes blank at what Steve is suggesting and it takes every ounce of concentration he has to ask "Can I try again?"

Steve grins and nods, and Eddie leans in again and presses their lips together, and oh, Eddie is so gone.