#i made three gifs i liked and then for the life of me could not find any more shots that would fit with them so this is a very random set

[iydiamartinx]

UNEXPECTED GUESTS III

jason x reader, platonic!damian wayne

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto & @omi-resources word count: 737 synopsis: Jason’s secret relationship is discovered by Damian—who keeps showing up uninvited. Jason’s patience is tested, popcorn is made, but at least Damian brought cinnamon rolls.

Jason had rules.

One: No surprise visitors.

Two: No crashing without asking.

Three: No team meetings in his damn living room.

Naturally, all three were broken by Friday.

It started when Damian showed up with a duffel bag.

You opened the door, expecting him to just waltz in like usual. Instead, he stood there—bag slung over his shoulder, hood up, and absolutely no explanation.

“…Is that a sleepover bag?” you asked slowly.

“It’s tactical preparedness,” he stated, stepping inside. “You said we might watch two movies.”

Jason, halfway through a protein shake, froze. “That doesn’t require a duffel bag, Damian.”

“It does if one’s staying at your apartment,” Damian replied, already unzipping the duffel. “You have no throw blankets, your couch is stiff, and your meal portions are inconsistent at best—putting me at risk for low blood sugar.”

Jason blinked once. Twice. “Damian, you are twelve.”

“And I am cold,” Damian snapped, already unpacking a hoodie, pajama pants, and an aggressively folded sleep mask.

That alone would’ve been fine. Maybe manageable.

But then Stephanie showed up.

You barely had time to pause The Princess Bride when there was a knock on the door.

“Did someone say movie night?” Steph beamed, already pushing her way in, balancing takeout in one hand and a pillow under her arm. Her eyes landed on you, wide with curiosity. “Wait—you’re the civilian who tamed the demon.”

You blinked. “Uh—guilty?”

She grinned, completely unbothered. “Stephanie Brown. Spoiler, Batgirl—“

“—Also known as the chaos gremlin—” Jason rolled his eyes. 

She ignored him. “—I brought tacos and terrible opinions.”

Jason squinted. “Why do you have a pillow?”

“Why do you live in this shoebox instead of the manor?” she shot back cheerfully.

Then came Cassandra.

Silent, graceful, and practically materializing behind Steph, Cass gave you a small, warm smile and a nod.

You smiled back. “You must be Cassandra. He talks about you.”

Her brows lifted with interest as she stepped inside and offered a hand.

“I’m Y/N,” you added, shaking it. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Cass’s smile widened, as she returned the nod as if to say you too before joining Stephanie on the couch. 

And just like that, you had four vigilantes lounging in your apartment, trading snacks and movie quotes while you tried to remember how this became your life.

Jason came home from patrol later than usual, hoping—praying—he could slip in, shower, and have a quiet night in bed with you.

What he found instead was chaos.

Shoes by the door. Pillows on the floor. An entire army of fuzzy blankets colonizing the couch. Stephanie arguing over whether a vampire or a werewolf would make a better boyfriend. Cass was silently braiding your hair with laser focus while Damian sat beside you reading, pretending not to be invested in the debate.

Jason stood there, helmet under his arm, staring into the eye of the domestic storm.

Tim walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and a borrowed towel. “Hey, you’re out late.”

Jason blinked. “Why are you here?”

“You said the shower pressure here’s better than the Cave.”

“I was being sarcastic!”

Tim shrugged. “Still true.”

“Okay, no,” Jason said finally, tossing his helmet onto the counter. “This is not a Batcave. This is not a bunker. This is not a public gathering space.”

“You’re just mad Cass took your blanket,” Stephanie called, swaddled like a human burrito.

“That was my blanket,” Jason snapped.

Cass just smiled, warm and sleepy, and patted the couch beside her. Jason looked personally betrayed.

Damian—now in sweatpants and sipping tea like a 40-year-old divorcee—barely looked up from his book. “You could always move back to the manor. There’s more space.”

Jason gave him a look.

You grinned from the kitchen, where you were plating up leftover tacos. “You could just stay here and deal with it.”

Jason walked over to you, leaned in, and whispered, “We could also fake your death and move to the Alps.”

You kissed his cheek. “But then who would make Damian’s tea right?”

Jason groaned and dropped his forehead against your shoulder. “I want you. Not the entire rogue’s gallery of caffeine-addicted vigilantes who have colonized my life.”

“You want me and a quiet apartment. You can’t have both.”

He looked at the living room—Steph singing off-key, Cass stealing Tim’s hoodie, Damian glaring at his tea like it wronged him—and sighed.

“…I’m going to the Batcave.”

← Previous Chapter ✯ Next Chapter →

Tag list: @stormz369

[ilovolderman]

The Match

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: While secretly dating You, Bucky gets roped into a dating app by Sam

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, light jealousy

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What" (this is already part 5, so yes, im calling it a series.) It doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

The kitchen was warm and quiet, filled with the soft morning light pouring in through the big windows. You were curled up on the counter in one of Bucky’s henleys — technically yours now, since you’d claimed it after “accidentally” falling asleep in it two months ago. He hadn’t asked for it back.

Bucky stood between your legs, his hands resting gently on your thighs as he stole tiny sips from your coffee cup every time you lowered it.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him as he swiped it again.

He smirked, brushing a thumb over your knee. “Can’t help it. Yours always tastes better.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward anyway, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He caught you halfway and turned it into a real kiss — slow, unhurried, the kind that made time feel irrelevant.

You sighed against his lips. “If you keep kissing me like that, we’re never gonna eat.”

“We can skip breakfast,” he murmured, voice low, teasing.

“And deal with Sam’s ‘someone didn’t have their Wheaties’ speech again? No thanks.”

Bucky groaned and stepped back, reluctantly, while you hopped off the counter. You started prepping your coffee again, and he leaned close to watch.

“One scoop…” he counted aloud.

You snuck a glance at him and grinned. “Three.”

“Three?” he fake-gasped. “You planning to vibrate through walls?”

“Says the guy who had four yesterday.”

“Three and a half,” he corrected, deadpan.

You snorted. “Uh-huh. Keep lying to yourself, grandpa.”

He gave you a playful glare but said nothing, instead leaning over to steal one of your toast slices like a thief in the night.

And then — of course — the kitchen door swung open.

“Okay, what the hell is this domestic energy?” Sam’s voice boomed as he walked in. “Am I interrupting a rom-com or—?”

You and Bucky practically jumped apart like teenagers caught red-handed. You reached for the peanut butter like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Morning,” you both said, far too casually, far too in sync.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Weird. Anyway…”

He turned to Bucky, eyes narrowing as he opened the fridge. “You look grumpier than usual.”

“I always look like this.”

“That’s what worries me,” Sam said, pulling out the orange juice. “You need a little somethin’ in your life. A spark. Some romance.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Wow, subtle.”

Sam shot you a grin. “I’m serious, Bucky. You look miserable and I’m sick of it. Your need to get out there. Meet people. Real people. People who don’t, y’know, punch aliens for a living.”

“I’m not miserable,” Bucky muttered, taking a very aggressive bite of toast.

Sam ignored him. “You need someone to, like, hold your hand and remind you that the world isn’t complete garbage.”

“Y/N does that,” Bucky said before realizing. His eyes flicked to you. Yours widened slightly.

“Uh— I mean…” he coughed. “You could. You’re good at pep talks.”

Smooth. Real smooth.

But Sam was too busy with his phone to notice the weird energy. “Anyway, I’m gonna download Spark for you.”

“Oh no,” you whispered.

“Oh yes.” Sam grinned, typing furiously. “It’s like Tinder but for people who still believe in feelings.”

“Delete it,” Bucky said immediately.

“Too late. Already making your profile. Okay — full name?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sam looked up. “Fine, we’ll just put ‘Bucky B.’ You sound like a retired DJ. Age... one-oh-six... but we’ll round down to thirty-five. Close enough.”

You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stop from laughing. Bucky looked like he was actually malfunctioning.

“Give me your phone. I'm deleting it.”

“Nope.” Sam sidestepped him and kept typing. “Bio time. What do you want it to say? ‘Strong, silent, may or may not have trauma, will kill spiders for you’?”

“Sam.”

“Oh! And profile picture.” Sam’s grin went feral. “I’m gonna use the one from Clint’s barbecue.”

Bucky froze. “No. Not the one where—”

“Yup,” Sam said, turning the phone around dramatically. “The one where you’re smiling. A real smile. The people gotta see the goods, man.”

You wheezed. “That’s actually a really good picture.”

“It is,” Sam agreed, tapping to save the profile. “Now we wait. Trust me, you're gonna get matches faster than Tony blows money.”

Bucky looked physically pained.

And then… the phone buzzed.

“Oh snap — you already got a match! Girl named Olivia.” Sam said, scrolling like a man on a mission. “Look at this—she hikes, she volunteers at animal shelters. Honestly, Buck, she’s like a Hallmark movie in human form. You should totally message her.”

You blinked.

Something inside you twisted — that unwelcome, unmistakable burn of jealousy curling in your chest.

Bucky looked… surprised. And then cautious. “That was fast.”

“She’s cute,” Sam said, scrolling. “She said you have nice eyes. You should message her. Or better yet, go on a date. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You forced a laugh. “Yeah, Buck. You should totally go.”

Bucky turned toward you slowly. His smile had faded into something softer. Thoughtful. He tilted his head, studying your face like it was a puzzle he was halfway through solving.

“…Maybe,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word.

You smiled a little too tightly. “Good for you.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, like he could see right through you.

You lasted approximately six hours before cracking. Not that you were counting.

You’d spent the day trying not to think about Olivia. Or her "kind eyes". Or the fact that Bucky had apparently matched with her in under a minute. Not that it mattered, obviously. You were cool. Chill. Entirely unaffected.

…Until Bucky found you in the hallway on your way back to your room, grabbed your hand, and wordlessly tugged you into his.

He shut the door behind you, arms crossed. He didn't look mad. Just… knowing.

You tried to play it cool. “If this is about the last cookie, I swear I thought it was mine.”

“It’s not about the cookie.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding. “Then what?”

Bucky’s eyes didn’t waver. “You told me to go. Like it didn’t bother you.”

You scoffed lightly, trying to brush it off. “I was just being cool. Y’know, chill. Unbothered.”

“You were seething, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest tightened. “Okay, maybe a little. So what?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. He just watched you for a second, his silence pressing gently around your walls. Not demanding, not accusing — just waiting for you to be honest.

You exhaled and leaned back against the door. “I know I said it didn’t bother me, but the second Sam said you matched with someone, it was like—like my stomach dropped out.”

His brow furrowed, stepping closer.

You continued, voice softer. “I know you love me. I do. But the idea of someone else getting even a piece of you… I hated it. And that scared me. I didn’t want to be the clingy one or the insecure one or the girl who flips out over some dumb dating app.”

Bucky’s face softened completely. “Hey.”

He closed the gap and cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You are not insecure. You’re not clingy. You’re human. And you love me.” He kissed your forehead gently. “I want you to care.”

Your chest cracked wide open, and you let yourself lean into him.

“I don’t want to share you, Buck,” you whispered. “Not even a little.”

“You never have to,” he murmured. “You’ve got all of me. Always.”

“…So what about Olivia?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He shrugged. “I unmatched her hours ago. Right after you said good for you like you were trying not to cry.”

You gaped. “You what?”

Bucky smirked. “The only person I want… is you.”

Your heart stuttered, full and aching and impossibly light all at once. “Bucky—”

“You’ve had me from the moment you stole my henley and never gave it back.” His voice was barely a whisper. “You don’t have to be chill. You don’t have to play it cool. You already have all of me.”

Your laugh was shaky, but your smile was real. “Even if I get all weird over fictional matches on dating apps?”

He grinned. “Especially then.”

You leaned into him, your fingers curling around the hem of his shirt. “So you’re not going on a date with Olivia?”

“Nope,” he said, nuzzling your nose with his. “Unless you change your name and start volunteering at animal shelters.”

You snorted. “I would for you.”

Bucky kissed you then — sweet, slow, soft. The kind of kiss that made you forget all the awkward moments of the morning. The kind that made you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

You laughed into the kiss, your fingers curling around his shirt. “You absolute...”

“—Boyfriend material?” Bucky finished, hopeful.

You smiled, lighter than you had all day. “Absolutely.”

Somewhere down the hall, Sam shouted, “I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DELETED SPARK—!”

You broke apart, laughing breathlessly. “We should probably tell him.”

Bucky sighed into your neck. “Or we fake our deaths and disappear into the Alps.”

“Tempting.”

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd

[freshbakedbreadstick]

Advantages and Disadvantages - Smoke x F! POC Coded! Reader x Stack BLURB - SINNERS (2025)

Smoke & Stack x F! POC coded! Reader

Summary: Thank goodness you got stuck with those two.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Reader uses she/her pronouns and is described to have a vagina. Reader's appearance is not mentioned, HOWEVER, I wrote this with women of color in mind!! NO SPOILERS! Mentions of vaginal fingering, dirty talk, probably out of character because I haven't seen the movie yet, dirty talk, reader is referenced to be a childhood friend of the twins, THREESOME, no incest between twins just sharing.

Word Count: 914 words (only a blurb sorryyy)

A/N: Wrote this while waiting for my delayed ass bus 😭 anyways it's unedited so I hope it's not so bad ! ! ! Anyways I need to watch this movie BADLY but I'm swamped in work rn 🙃 need the lord to throw me a bone and let me watch this movie ASAP I need it ! Enjoy !

Being childhood best friends to twins had its advantages and disadvantages, as all things do. But lately it seems like it's advantages were outweighing it's disadvantages...

It's disadvantages included always having two people teasing you whenever you knocked something over or fumbled your words when ranting about your day. It included being scared not once but twice in a day, the same familiar face yelling out "BOO!" as you rounded the corner, making your heart fall down to your toes. It also included having not one but two people to constantly worry for, including both in your nightly prayers and under your breath curses.

It's advantages included having four hands, two mouths, two dicks, and two very beautiful sights.

You don't know who to thank or praise for sending you these two, for borderline attaching them to you since you were a child, making you the three musketeers in every situation. Their names were synonymous with your own, constantly being seen as Smoke and Stack and You.

You were never alone, no, not since those two came into your life. It was hard to ignore them, you definitely tried in your teen years after vicious hormone infused arguments. It only ended with brown eyed gazes, soft touches, and gentle cooes being uttered, buttering you up until you couldn't ignore them any longer.

It was unbearable.

It was like, at this point, they knew everything about you and exactly what buttons to press to get you to do what they wanted. Like how to sweet talk you into giving them another dessert after helping make dinner with their mama, how to get you to avoid lecturing them after they came clean about something stupid they did, and how to make you cum the hardest.

You made a mental note to come back to this thought, whether them knowing you so well was an advantage or disadvantage, you could care less right now. All you could think about was how good it felt to have a large hand gripping both your wrists behind your back, the other hooked under your right leg, holding you up with firm arms. Another pair of hands was on you too, one hook under your left leg, holding you firmly against his body, as his other hand worked your pussy just right.

"Ohhhh fuckkkk," you garbled, eyes screwed shut and skin shiny under the light of the candles in the room. The feel of his thumb pressing right up against your clit, rubbing messy circles as his middle and index fingers plunged into your drooling cunt made your mind start to go blank.

"There she goes," Smoke cooed, voice rough with need as his hand worked you.

Stack groaned from behind you, rutting his hips gently into you, "I want a turn..."

Smoke bit his bottom lip, eyes moving from watching the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head down to where his hand moved between your shaking thighs.

"Not yet, brother," he purred, "Gotta make her cum at least one more time, then you can play with her all that you want..."

Stack chuckled, lips pressed against your ear, his hot breath making you shiver.

"Shit..." you hissed when Smoke's fingers curled at just the right spot.

"Ohhh," They said in unison, eyes widening, sporting matching grins.

Your hips bucked, chest heaving as you let your head fall back against Stack's shoulder. He cooed, pressing his lips against your skin. He bit you gently, sucking before pulling back to kitten lick an apology onto the growing mark.

"Shit baby," Smoke murmured, admiring your cunt, "This pussy squeezes my fingers so well..."

Forget replying, the words couldn't even find your tongue with how foggy your head was. The only thing keeping you grounded was the slick, wet noises echoing the room as Smoke's fingers worked you closer and closer to coming.

"Oh babydoll, you close?" Stack whispered into your ear, eye gazing down to where your cunt drooled over his twin's fingers.

"Mmm look good enough to eat..."

You couldn't even tell who said that at this point, too lost in the feeling of the swelling in your belly, the pleasure climbing to its peak.

"Wanna cum," you managed to slur out between gasps, sweet sweet oxygen barely making it into your lungs with every quick breath.

"Oh she wants to cum...?" Stack chuckled, "You hear that? She wants it so bad..."

His teasing tone made you buck your hips, feeling his hand splayed against your thigh grip a little harder. Smoke was quiet, focused as his brother whispered teases into your ear, your head lolling to the side.

"Need it bad, baby? Can't handle a couple more minutes? Wanna cum all over my brother's fingers? Gonna let me lick that pussy up after?" you hated how smug he sounded.

Your bleary eyes managed to open to see Smoke in front of you, brows furrowed and lips parted as his hand moved. His gaze slowly swept up over you, locking with your own. It made you gasp the way you saw his pupils blown so large, eyes dark as his own chest rose and fell quickly.

"Let go for me baby," he muttered, "Need to feel you cum for me, need to see you..."

Stack continued his whispers between chuckles and bites of your neck, taking the sensitive skin between his teeth to mark his spot.

Okay so there definitely was more advantages than disadvantages to this "friendship".

[internetdaddy98]

The Opening Gambit

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist]

Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!SeniorResident!Reader Summary: From the first subtle brush of your shoulder to the featherlight graze of your thumb, you don’t flirt, you control, cool and calculated. Every touch, every murmur, every glance is measured and deliberate. You work seamlessly beside him, professional and sharp, but just close enough to fray his composure.

Word Count: 1 K Content Warning: Medical procedures, blood, will most likely be medically inaccurate at times

The shift started like any other: chaos thinly veiled by protocol. A multi-car pileup on I-279 had half the ER running on caffeine and adrenaline before noon. Trauma teams rotated like gears, syncing movement with muscle memory.

But you weren’t here just to keep up.

You were here to test gravity.

And Robby? He didn’t know it yet, but he was already falling.

You saw him the moment you walked in. Standing at the board, stylus pen between his fingers, brown locks glinting at his temples under the harsh light. His scrub top was wrinkled, his jaw shadowed with a salt and pepper beard, and you had never seen anything more devastating in your life.

“Morning, Dr. Robby,” you said, soft and rhythmical as you passed him, your shoulder brushing his ever so slightly.

You weren’t just being polite.

You were starting something.

He didn’t look at you right away, but his hand paused. You saw the twitch of a muscle in his cheek. Heard the shift of his weight.

“Morning, Sheri,” he replied, low and even. But his voice had a rasp in it that hadn’t been there yesterday.

The trauma pager went off before either could say another word.

Room Four. Level One. Blunt trauma. Male. GCS 8. ETA three minutes.

They moved like a unit, you at his side, anticipating his decisions before he made them. In the resus bay, the air was dense with urgency, but your focus never wavered. Not on the patient. And not on him.

“Needle decompression,” you said confidently, your gloves snapping on. “Right side. You want to confirm, or do you trust me?”

You didn’t say it flirtatiously. That was the genius of it. You said it with that steady, cool voice you knew he liked, that made him respect you.

And you meant it. But still, your eyes flicked up to meet his as you said it. And you held them there.

He paused for half a second too long.

“I trust you,” he said finally and you nodded with a smile.

You worked like clockwork and when it was over and the patient stabilized, you stayed behind to clean up, letting the others filter out.

He lingered near the supply cabinet, reorganizing gauze.

You slipped beside him, close enough he could smell your skin, lavender and antiseptic.

“I like it when you let me take the lead,” you murmured, quiet enough that it was for him and only him. “It suits you.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But you saw the way his fingers curled around the shelf. Saw the tight line of his jaw. The heat in his eyes when he finally turned to face you.

“That wasn’t the time to flirt,” he said gruffly.

“Oh,” you said, lips quirking, “was I flirting?”

And you left him there, too stunned to answer.

You moved through the ER with controlled grace, your expression calm but unreadable. Except he could read you. He’d known you long enough now to sense when you were holding something back. When you were leaning in instead of away.

You didn’t linger when you handed him chart updates. But your fingers always brushed his, and once, only once, your thumb skimmed his knuckle, deliberate and featherlight.

Long that he’d felt it for hours.

Later, you stood beside him as he dictated notes at the computer. You leaned in slightly, not touching, but close. He could smell the soft, clean hint of your shampoo, lavender and something warmer beneath it.

“Good phrasing,” you murmured under your breath when he dictated a particularly precise differential. The words were harmless. But your tone wasn’t.

You said it like a secret. Like a confession meant for him alone. His fingers hesitated on the keys. A flicker of heat curled low in his abdomen.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t look at you. Couldn’t.

Another trauma came in, motorcycle, late thirties, open femur fracture with significant blood loss. The room was loud, packed with motion, but Robby still felt your presence behind him as you prepped the surgical tray.

“IV established,” you said, then added softly, “I’ve got you covered.”

It should’ve been nothing. A reassurance. A common phrase.

But your voice lowered just enough that the words twisted into something else entirely, subtly charged. Personal.

He didn’t look at you then either. He couldn’t afford to. Not with blood on the floor and adrenaline humming through his veins.

But later, when the room emptied and he was washing his hands at the sink, he realized he was gripping the faucet too hard. Water too hot. Skin flushed.

And not just from the trauma.

The rest of the shift passed in a haze of carefully orchestrated tension.

You stood a little closer than necessary when reviewing imaging with him. Let your hand brush his forearm as you reached past for a chart. Tilted your head and gave that slight smile when he caught you watching him.

“You okay?” Mel asked once, nudging you while you reviewed a pelvic fracture.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes flicking toward Robby down the hall. “Just...trying something.”

Santos caught your look and grinned knowingly. “Poor man never stood a chance.”

You stood behind him again as you both reviewed a CT scan on the monitor. This time, your hand ghosted over the small of his back, not quite a touch. Just… there.

His breath caught. Brief, sharp. He said nothing.

But every nerve in his body lit like a flare.

At 7:02 p.m., as the shift wound down, Robby cornered you by the lockers. The hallway was empty, residents already changing, nurses clocking out. He stood close. Too close for it to be professional.

“You’ve been testing me all day,” he said, voice low and tight. “Why?”

You looked up at him, all wide eyes and innocent calm. “Testing you? I thought I was just doing my job.”

“Don’t play coy.”

“Who’s playing?”

He stepped closer. The tension coiled so tight between them it could’ve shattered.

But you only smiled. Tugged your pink hoodie from the locker. Brushed past him, one last slow, deliberate drag of your fingers across his hand.

And with a whisper in his ear, said, “But if I was playing, I think I’m winning.”

Then you left.

And Robby stood alone, fists clenched, heart racing, one breath away from forgetting every line he ever swore not to cross.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Family addition

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Lando (stepbrother) x reader, let me know if you want a part 2 :)

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

Everything was perfect. I was studying journalism at one of the best universities in the country. I had a close-knit group of friends I could always count on—Friday night dinners, spontaneous road trips, endless inside jokes. And I had Daniel. Tall, soft-spoken, impossibly kind. My boyfriend for nearly two years.

Life had fallen into place in a way that felt safe. Predictable. Good. Until Mom decided to start dating again.

Now, I wasn’t some heartless daughter who didn’t want her mother to be happy. My dad passed away three years ago, and I had made peace with it—some days more than others. But I knew she deserved to smile again, to fall in love if she wanted to.

And then came him.

Adam was nice. Too nice, actually. The kind of guy who laughed at his own bad jokes and remembered my favourite dessert after just one dinner. I couldn’t hate him if I tried. But his son? That was another story entirely.

Lando. Lando freaking Norris.

First time I met him, he sauntered into the house with his messy hair and cocky grin like he owned the place. He tossed his car keys on the counter, gave me a once-over that lingered a little too long, and said, “So you’re the golden child?”

I hated him immediately.

He was infuriating. Loud, arrogant, and far too aware of his own charm. He teased me every chance he got—poking fun at my serious nature, rolling his eyes when I had a book in my hand instead of a beer, and constantly referring to me as princess in that smug tone that made me want to throw something at his head.

“You know, not everyone finds journalism interesting,” he said one afternoon, leaning against the kitchen counter, eating the last piece of the cake I’d specifically labeled as mine. “But I guess someone has to write about the weather.”

“I guess someone has to be a walking cliché of a spoiled boy with a sports car,” I shot back.

He just winked at me. “You noticed the car? I’m flattered.”

Ugh.

It didn’t help that he was… attractive. In a rugged, annoying, irritating way. And worse—he knew it. The tension between us wasn’t just anger, and we both knew it. But acknowledging that would be dangerous. It would mean admitting that part of me noticed the way his eyes sparkled when he was making fun of me. Or the way he smelled like expensive cologne and trouble. Or the way my heart raced when we fought.

No. This was war. Lando Norris was now my stepbrother, and I was determined to keep my perfect life from turning into a complete disaster.

Mom insisted on having a “family dinner” once a week ever since the engagement, which basically meant me gritting my teeth across the table from Lando while he found new and creative ways to drive me insane.

This time, he showed up late. Of course.

“You’re twenty minutes late,” I muttered under my breath as he walked in, dressed like he’d just stepped off a yacht. White shirt, sleeves rolled up, and that same smirk that made me want to scream.

He flopped into the chair next to mine, completely ignoring me. “Got caught up with some friends,” he said casually, grabbing a piece of bread and eating like he hadn’t been raised with basic table manners.

Mom didn’t seem to care. She just looked at him with the same affectionate smile she always wore when he was around, like he was a little lost puppy she’d adopted instead of a grown man who purposely unplugged my laptop last week while I was writing a final essay.

“So,” Adam said, clinking his fork against his glass, “we have some exciting news.”

Oh no.

Mom beamed. “We’re going away for the weekend. Just the two of us. We thought it would be nice to spend a little time together before the wedding.”

“Oh, that’s great,” I said automatically, even though I already knew this was leading somewhere terrible.

David cleared his throat. “Which means the house will be empty.”

“No problem,” I said quickly. “I’ll stay with Daniel.”

“No,” Mom said, shaking her head. “You have a paper to work on and I don’t want you distracted. Lando will be here too, and it’ll be a good chance for you two to bond.”

Bond.

The word echoed in my head like a death sentence.

Lando turned to me with the most obnoxious grin. “You hear that, princess? Looks like we’re roommates this weekend.”

“I’d rather sleep in a tent,” I muttered.

“I can pitch one for you in the backyard,” he offered sweetly. “Or we could just share a room. You know—for the bonding.”

I kicked him under the table. He yelped, then laughed.

Mom and David were too busy to notice, lost in their rose-colored love bubble. And just like that, it was official: I was going to spend an entire weekend alone in a house with the one person on this planet who could make breathing feel like a competition.

I stared at my plate, appetite gone. Lando leaned closer, voice low in my ear.

“This is going to be fun.”

[dioslesbianwife]

Can I please request the Jojo's with the most wholesome cinnamon roll partner the type of person who cried because she stepped on a bug and now the bug family must miss them.

Their partner making the cutest lunches ever with notes saying how much she loves them 💖

sure this is so cute, i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting :33

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan is already the human embodiment of a golden retriever boyfriend, so when he meets someone even softer than him? He’s absolutely smitten.

When you cry because you accidentally stepped on a bug and whisper, “What if he had a little beetle wife and three beetle children…” Jonathan kneels down beside you and holds your hands so gently:

“Let’s say a prayer for him, my dear. May his beetle family find peace.”

He's genuinely touched by your compassion. Your gentleness gives him strength, and he tries to match your level of empathy in everything he does.

The first time you pack his lunch, he’s shocked by how beautiful it is. You cut the fruit into little hearts and arranged tiny sandwiches shaped like flowers. And then he finds the note.

“To my brave and handsome gentleman ♡ ♡ ♡ I’m so proud of you!! Eat lots and don’t forget you’re loved ♡  –Y/N”

He tears up. In front of everyone.

Joseph Joestar 

Joseph acts like a goof, but when he sees how sincere and tender you are, it absolutely melts him.

He teases you when you cry over the squished ant (“Was his name Tony?! Did you kill Tony the ant?!”), but when he sees how genuinely sad you are, he immediately goes full boyfriend mode. “Hey, hey, c’mere- how about we save a worm from the sidewalk next time? Bug karma, right?”

When you start packing his lunches? He brags to EVERYONE.

“Look at this adorable rice ball!! Shaped like me!! She made it with love, Caesar, try to compete with that.”

He reads the notes out loud with a sappy voice and kisses the paper like a drama king.

“To my one and only, the most heroic dork in the world- ♡  GOD she loves me so much- wait, what’s this? A stick figure of me punching a vampire? I’M FRAMING THIS.”

Jotaro Kujo

At first, your overflowing affection and softness confuse him.

You wept for a full 10 minutes because he killed a spider that “wasn’t hurting anyone!!!” and now you’re pacing the kitchen whispering, “What if he was bringing food home to his babies-”

Jotaro: “…You want me to go dig a grave for the spider?”

You: “... Could you?”

He does it.

He acts annoyed by the cutely packed lunches, but he never misses a single one. They always disappear. Every single time.

The first time he finds a note that says, “Don’t forget you’re amazing, Jotaro, Star Platinum isn’t the only one who’s got your back!” he hides it in his wallet and reads it on lonely nights.

Jotaro isn’t good with words, so when you cry over injured pigeons or send him off with “have a heroic day, my angel!” he just blushes and grunts,

“…Yare yare… you're too good for this world.”

Josuke Higashikata

The minute he realizes you have that kind of softness? He vows to protect you with his life.

Josuke is good at matching your emotions too, so when you cry over accidentally stepping on a caterpillar, he’s right there with tissues like,

“He probably had a name… like, uhh… Mr. Squiggles or something. It’s okay, babe. We’ll plant flowers in his memory.”

When you give him a lunch box shaped like a cat’s face and inside is a smiley-face made out of rice and seaweed?? He SCREAMS.

He takes selfies with his lunch every day and sends them to you with captions like:

“Best. Girlfriend. Ever. Look at this masterpiece!!!”

He keeps every love note, even the silly ones like “you’re the king of my heart (and my favorite pompadour ♡)”

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno is so used to cruelty and cold ambition, he doesn’t know what to do when he meets someone genuinely sweet.

You once cried because a bee drowned in your tea. Giorno silently used Gold Experience to make a new one, then handed it back to you like nothing happened.

You whispered, “You’re my hero,” and he literally looked like you just stabbed him with love.

He sees your kindness as revolutionary. He’s so moved that you choose to care so deeply about the smallest lives.

Your bento boxes are art. You include color themes, edible flowers, and once even made a tiny pastry version of his ladybug brooch.

Giorno is silent when he reads your love notes… then folds them carefully and tucks them into a hidden drawer.

They remind him of the world he wants to create: gentle, safe, and full of warmth.

Jolyne Cujoh

Jolyne pretends your wholesome vibes are way too much for her, but secretly? She’s obsessed.

“You’re crying over a bug again? Ugh… c’mere you soft weirdo, let me hold you.”

(She’s rubbing your back while you sob about how “he probably had tiny dreams and little bug hopes-”)

When you start packing her lunches- either from outside the prison or getting to the lunch line early to make the gross cafeteria food at least presentable- She’s shook.

You make every meal look so cute along with a note that says:

“You’re the coolest girl in the world and I love you more than butterflies love sunshine and nectar ♡”

She straight-up flexes that lunch in the prison yard.

“Yeah, I’ve got someone who actually loves me. What about it?”

She’ll act like she doesn’t care, but she reads those notes before bed every single night.

Johnny Joestar

Johnny has a lot of pain in his heart, and when you show him so much softness, he doesn’t know how to receive it at first.

He asks, confused: “Why… do you care so much about everything?”

When you gently explain that the world has enough cruelty, and you want to be something kinder in it, he stares at you in awe.

One day you’re sobbing because you accidentally kicked over an anthill and you’re whispering, “I’ve destroyed their kingdom… the queen is probably weeping,”

And Johnny just strokes your hair and goes, “Damn… I love you.”

You pack him the cutest lunches full of squishy fruit gummies, sandwiches shaped like horses, and smiley cheese cubes.

He reads your notes with trembling fingers and starts believing- really believing- that he deserves love after all.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

Josuke is extremely confused at first. You’re the first person to be so affectionate and pure.

The first time you cry because you stepped on a snail, he thinks he did something wrong. But you just whisper, “Snail heaven better be nice…” and he realizes you’re just like this.

He gets really protective of you. He doesn’t want the world to crush your spirit.

When you give him a lunch with strawberries cut like hearts and a note that says, “No matter what happens, I’m proud of you ♡”-he hides behind a tree to cry.

He keeps the notes in a shoebox under his bed and reads them when he’s anxious. They mean more to him than you’ll ever know.

[thewertsearch]

There are still a few characters I haven't killed yet. I almost forgot about them.

Homestuck's an awfully trigger-happy webcomic, it has to be said. Even the damn frog got whacked.

Most of these characters have the status you'd expect them to have, but there's still plenty of interesting information here - some of it rather unexpected.

First of all, it seems as if the introduction of Dad Crocker qualifies as a 'resurrection' of Dad Egbert. As far as the comic is concerned, these two are, in fact, the same person - and thus, they share a symbol.

Next, Sollux is apparently half-dead.

The last time we saw him, he was overexerting his psionics like crazy to accelerate the trolls' meteor towards the Green Sun. My theory is that he tapped into his Doom Aspect to achieve this feat - and that doing so has permanently reduced his lifespan, as if he made a deal for the Shinigami's Eyes.

Sollux isn't dead, but he's less alive than he used to be.

Clover's far too lucky to die, so I'm pretty confident that a question mark indicates that a character is still alive; they just haven't yet been revealed as such.

Therefore, the same is probably true for Spades Slick.

I don't know how he could have survived the destruction of a universe, but I'm not complaining.

Jane's confirmed dead, but there's a question mark appended to that death - so I think she did die, but it's not going to stick. Her Life powers are about to kick in.

And WV is the same!!

Fuck yeah! Give us our Mayor back, Hussie!

I was planning on totally messing with them in the short window of time they're in the same universe as me!

Right, right - because right now, John and Jade are in the weird, pseudocanonical dimension that Hussie's writing the comic in.

I wonder if that'll have any effect on their reality, or their awareness of the Fourth Wall? Are they currently 'non-canonical' versions of themselves? Since they're outside the comic, has everyone inside the comic forgotten that they exist?

Hopefully it isn't too late.

Let's see. They should be traveling near the speed of light across a distance of one yard, giving them about three nanoseconds before they crash through the other wall.

Wait, they're moving relativistically?

In that case, their trip should only last three nanoseconds from an observer's perspective. From their perspective, the trip's length should be different. Potentially very different, although it's impossible to estimate the degree of time dilation in effect without knowing the exact fraction of c that they're travelling at.

Anyway, Jade's powers now apparently include relativistic acceleration - which stretches time, as well as space. These two Aspects are joined at the hip, and to control one is to control the other.

Maybe I'll just level up these kids before they go, and that's it. They've earned it after all, don't you think?

And with some rare generosity from Hussie, it's time for John and Jade to experience Elder God Tier.

[schemmentisimpasours]

You Belong With Me

Gif as always by @babytakeittothehead

Summary: This was a request by @schemmentisfavoritegirl (why is it not letting me tag you the hell).for Teen Reader that Melissa takes under her wing. Listen this one got away from me and the ending is a little muddled... but it's because I think I want to do a spin on the idea for a series. But I gotta wrap some series up first.

Pairing: MOM!Melissa Schemmenti/Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Bullying, Group Home, Small physical violence

Masterlist

2.4k words

PS: This is scheduled to post while I'm away on a mini vacation so if stuff is messed up I'm sorry! I'll fix it and post when I come home Tuesday. If I'm not stressed out and annoyed from this damn trip 😅

-

“We have 15 high school students from the National Honor Society who will be joining us for a week to help in classrooms for their community service hours. Whenever you are ready, come up and grab their file and then take them with you,” Ava announced at the quick lunch meeting she had called , pointing to the students lined up on the wall.

Melissa was the first in line and pointed at you. You were off, standing in the corner by yourself, tapping your fingers rapidly in time to the music in your AirPods, “I would like her.”

“You sure about that Schemmenti? Teacher said she is a real piece of work. This is apparently her last chance, or she faces suspension. ”

“I’m sure,” Melissa said, taking your file and walking up to you.

At her approach, you removed your earbud and placed it back into your jacket. The first thought that popped into Melissa’s head was that you were respectful, unlike the other teenagers still scrolling their phones as they were approached. You didn’t shy away from her daunting presence, but Melissa could see underneath all your hard exterior that you were scared. Like with one wrong move, everything would fall down around you.

“Come on, kid you are with me,” Melissa said, and you nodded wordlessly.

You followed behind her, head held down, until you entered her classroom. Your mind kept replaying the worst-case scenarios, trying to prepare yourself as much as you could. You had heard about Ms. Schemmenti the fiery redhead of Abbott Elementary and knew one foot out of line and you would be screwed. She pointed to where you could put your stuff, and you couldn’t help but smile at the outrageous math lesson that was on the whiteboard. Fractions of various foods like pizza, apples, and cookies were drawn with a steady hand.

“You like math?” Melissa asked as you continued to stare at the lesson.

“It’s my favorite,” You said with a smile, “The only thing in life that has one answer. No other possibilities or options. Just right or wrong.”

“Alright math wiz, you can help the kids in small groups when they get back from lunch,” Melissa said simply, and it was settled.

Every day you came in, you helped with the math lesson with the kids who struggled just a little more than others and needed the extra support. Melissa watched as you slowly opened up, revealing a little more about yourself every day. And with every fact she knew, Melissa found herself getting a little more attached to you. You worked hard when you were in her class. Taking any critique from her without flinching and doing everything you could to make sure the kids were keeping focused. You always came in with your head down, earphones turned loud, but as soon as you entered Melissa’s class, you lit up all smiles and sarcastic jokes.

Then, when the final bell rang, you would make sure you had completed everything Melissa had asked of you before running off to the bus, avoiding the other kids the best that you could. She knew by day three that you were the outsider of the group. Never talking to the other kids who arrived with you and often being pushed around like you weren’t there at all. It made Melissa’s blood boil for a reason that she couldn’t name. She had watched this type of behavior unfold in front of her before and, of course, had been bothered. But this was different. This was pure rage she felt building in her. She waited for the day that you would snap back and wasn’t surprised when it happened. She was just furious that it happened in front of her eagles.

You had been helping take the kids to the gym when another boy walked by blatantly running into you. Melissa knew this kid, the one who had been put in Morton’s classroom but who often walked around free range. He had been the one to pick on you the most. Always seeking you out just to torment you.

You had brushed off the shove like you usually did until he said, “Eat any good pussy today dyke?”

Melissa had gone to snap at him for the language used in front of the kid, but before she could, you had already punched him square in the face. His head snapped back, blood immediately running down his nose as he fell to the floor. You went to kick him, but Melissa wrapped her arms around you, pulling you away. You kicked against her trying to get back to him as she pulled you into an empty classroom.

“Stay here for a damn minute!” Melissa swore and you flinched at her anger.

You let tears of rage fall down your face as you waited for her return. Why did you have to snap? Why did you always snap? It had brought you nothing but pain and sorrow and you didn’t know how to control it.

“Come on kid,” Melissa said curtly and you followed obediently behind her.

The little eagles were gone and the boy absent. All that was left was Mr. Johnson cleaning up the blood. He gave you a small nod and mouthed the words good job. You nodded back with a small smile.

“Listen I'm really sorry Ms. Schemmenti. I didn't mean to take my shit out in front of the kids like that. I just got… upset,” You said defeatedly once back inside her class, “You heard the awful thing he said to me. It used to be a comment here and there but it is constant now. I just blacked out and next thing I knew I was fucking punching him”

“Ain’t your parents teach you how to behave around other kids, especially the young ones? You take the fight somewhere else if you gotta swing. Away from witnesses,” She asked, anger still riddled in her voice, “And watch your language in my room.”

You shrugged, looking down at the floor. " I haven't seen them since I was ten. I have been in and out of group homes since then. Six of them due to my aggressive behavior. But in my defense I had to. When you are the only queer kid shi…stuff gets bad quick. All that has taught me is to fight first and ask questions later. It’s the only way to survive.”

Melissa was stunned into silence as you played with the sleeve of your jacket. Her lack of response made your anxiety rise. You gathered your stuff, not looking at her, “Look you don’t have to sign the paper. I'll go back to my teacher and tell him it’s not a good fit. Ava can write me up and call home. It will be fine don't worry. I made this mess. ”

Melissa knew that it would have been the end for you there. If your teacher found out you had lost another volunteer placement because of physical violence again, you would have been suspended. Your grades were already hanging in the balance as is, and this teacher already believed that you couldn’t and wouldn’t succeed. She had read most of your file when Ava said that you were the one to watch, but in it, there had been no mention of the group homes or the bullying that came with it. And by the sounds of it with one phone call you could be ripped from there too.The world was constantly trying to break you down, and the dark circles under your eyes told her that you were losing the fight.

“Wait,” Melissa called out to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Ava is already handling the boy and you ain’t getting in trouble. She watched what happened and we all vouched for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” you whispered.

“Of course I had to. I have been watching him bully you all week. It had to stop,” Melissa sighed, “And listen mistakes happen and I ain't gonna let you off easy but I'm not abandoning you either kid. You belong here. You belong with me.”

Tears filled in your eyes as you looked up at her, “You really mean it?”

Melissa wiped away the tears from your cheeks, “Of course I do. You remind me a lot of myself at your age. Angry at the world and thinking the only way through was to go down swinging. But hun, you keep swinging, you are going to hurt more than just the bad people. You gonna push away all the good ones too.”

“I don't want to be like this anymore,” you sobbed and Melissa hugged you close to her.

“I know,” She soothed kissing your head, “And you don’t have to be. I got you, we can work through it together.”

She let you stay there for a couple of minutes, pressed against her, clinging tightly, like she might disappear before she gave you one final squeeze. She wiped away the remaining tears from your face, kissing your forehead lightly, “You got the tears out, now it’s time to work on fixing what you broke. Starting with our little eagles. You gotta go apologize for scaring them.”

Which is exactly what you did when they returned from the gym. You apologized for scaring them, but not for defending yourself. Melissa had made it clear to the class that what was said to you was not nice and that the older boy was in more trouble than you were. It felt nice to have someone stand up for you for once. And when the end of the day came and the bus was there to take you back to your group home, you ran into Melissa’s arms terrified to let go and return back to that world. Her coworkers stared as Melissa clung to you just as fiercely before giving you a kiss on the head and telling you to stay safe.

That night, you were sprawled out on your bed, working on a project for school, doing your best to focus through the typical chaos, when your caseworker told you it was time to pack your things. Your single duffle bag felt like it was full of bricks as you wondered where they were shipping you off to and when you would see Melissa next, if ever again. The fear pounded in your heart all the way up to the driveway of a house that had a huge Italian hanging from the porch. Your face twisted in confusion until you saw her. Waiting for you at the top stair was Melissa a broad grin across her face.

Before the car came to a full stop you were out the door and running up the stairs. She opened her arms and you barreled into her. She laughed holding you close to her, “Welcome home baby girl.”

That night Melissa taught you how to make spaghetti. It was simple but was just a glimpse of the many meals she would teach you. When the plates were cleaned and the table wiped down she sat down and looked through your school portal. Glasses perched on the edge of her nose she ran through your missing assignments and what teachers you had. By the end of the week with many baked zitis involved your missing assignments were turned in and your grades up. The National Honor Society Teacher who had bullied and belittled you was fired and ran out of town. You would never ask how but knew Melissa was involved when a gleam in her eye showed as you told her excitedly of the teacher who replaced him. The boy who had bullied you had gotten expelled for a different incident that week as well and you never heard from him again. You finished the year with honors and enrolled in advanced courses for your junior year.

Your room got filled with posters of celebrities and books that were crammed in every free space. Twinkle lights hung from the ceiling and you hung pictures of you and Melissa on every wall. Your bed was covered in soft blankets and squishmallows you used as pillows. When your friends were over Melissa would sit in the living room listening to the giggles and loud music glad that you were comfortable and safe in her home. When it was just you and Melissa couldn't sleep at night she would stand in your doorway for just a moment to confirm that this wasn't all some elaborate dream. That you were hers just as much as she was yours.

The Thursday before Mother’s Day when you were 17 your adoption was finalized and you became an official Schemmenti. You had been calling Melissa Mom since your first month in her home but something about that mother’s day felt different. A breath released that Melissa didn't even know she held when she remembered you were a Schemmenti. Bound not by blood but by love and devotion to stay no matter what. A huge party was thrown in honor of the adoption and Janine and Jacob could be heard down the street screaming in excitement when they were named your godparents. You gave Melissa numerous gifts that day but her favorite one was something that you had made in art class. A collage of every single photo you had taken with her creating a heart around the quote: I love you Mom. Today, Tomorrow, Always. She had sobbed not caring that all of her coworkers were watching and hugged you so tight you lost your breath for a second.

During your senior year you were selected to participate in a year long mentorship program where you taught alongside a teacher for the last couple hours of the day. You worked alongside Baraba who wrote you a glowing recommendation for University of Pennsylvania’s teaching program. Which you were accepted to with a full ride scholarship and your teaching internship was completed with Barbara. Who when you graduated slipped into retirement leaving you her spot at Abbott Elementary were you worked alongside Melissa for another four years.

When you brought home the woman you would one day marry Melissa had loved her instantly. She walked you down the aisle in tears giving the best speech of the night. She was there every step of your pregnancy and welcomed her granddaughter with a smile and a kiss. Retiring to become the best Nonna she could be transforming your old room into a space her granddaughter could play and stay every weekend.

As you stood watching your daughter sleep in her bed surrounded by the stuffed animals Melissa bought so many years ago she came up beside you and hugged you close, “Told you that you belong with me.”

-

@yoyo-w

@cupldscntrl

@milfslvr

@liliapleasesteponme

@milfjuulpod

@schemmentisfavoritegirl

[pankowcrumbs]

Click X Austin Butler (Requested)

MasterList

The desert sun had no mercy.

It beat down in steady waves, the horizon rippling like a mirage, and every step I took on the sandy ground kicked up a faint cloud of dust. The heat clung to my skin, and even though I’d lathered on sunscreen and was wearing my trusty cargo trousers and sleeveless button-up, I could still feel the burn beginning.

But I didn’t mind. Not today. Not for this job.

Because standing twenty feet in front of me, the wind tousling his sun-bleached hair just so, was Austin Butler. Wearing double denim—a faded jacket over his jeans and a crisp white t-shirt, tucked in the front, effortless. He had on a Breitling watch that shimmered subtly in the light every time he adjusted his stance. He looked like a vintage Marlboro ad had come to life, all blue eyes and jawline, like he’d strolled right out of the '70s and into my viewfinder.

And unfortunately, I was meant to focus on said viewfinder.

“You good, love?” he called out, one brow quirked, his drawl managing to sound both casual and dangerously teasing. “You’ve been squinting at me for a solid minute.”

I quickly lowered my camera, heat crawling up my neck not just from the sun.

“Just framing the shot,” I lied smoothly, hoping my accent would distract from the obvious. “Stay like that.”

He didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head and smirked.

“Like this?” he asked, raising one arm to adjust his jacket, muscles flexing beneath the denim. The pose should’ve looked ridiculous too aware, too staged but somehow he managed to make it look effortless. “Or should I pout more?”

“Please don’t,” I muttered, aiming again.

“You sure? I’ve been told I’ve got a killer pout.”

“I’m trying to work, Austin.”

“Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Brilliant.

I exhaled through my nose, pressed the shutter. The camera clicked. The sound was comforting, grounding. This was my craft, my world. I’d done shoots with rockstars who’d smashed guitars mid-session, models who’d cried over their eyeliner, and actors who insisted their ‘good side’ was the only side. I could handle one unnervingly attractive man in denim.

Except that this unnervingly attractive man was now walking closer.

“We done with the long shots?” he asked, coming within a few feet. His eyes were hidden behind dark lenses, but his smile was visible and maddening. “You wanna do the closer stuff now?”

“You’re in charge of posing. I’m just here to capture it.”

“I dunno, you seem like you’re in charge of a lot more than that,” he said, reaching up to tug off his sunglasses. “Like whether I get to see that little smile you’ve been hiding.”

My mouth went dry.

This wasn’t fair. There should be a rule against this. Being flirted with by someone who looked like that while I was trying to do my job. He was all Californian charm and movie-star magnetism, and I was about three seconds from misfiring my shot because I couldn’t stop staring at the curve of his lips.

I cleared my throat. “Alright, Austin. Over by the boulder. Facing the sun. Watch your shadow.”

He gave me a look half amused, half obedient and sauntered over. Yes, sauntered, like a man who knew exactly what he was doing to me. I wanted to scream into the nearest cactus.

I adjusted my settings, letting the sun wash his profile in gold. His hair caught the light perfectly, his skin glowing with that too-good-to-be-real kind of tone that only ever seemed to happen to people with stylists and personal chefs.

“Alright, chin down slightly. Look toward the camera no, not at it. Just off to the side. There. Hold.”

I clicked.

He moved again. Subtle shifts, like he knew every angle, every inch of what made the lens love him. But he didn’t just pose he played. He kept catching my eye in between frames, flashing a grin, biting his lip slightly, like he was daring me to react.

And the worst part?

It was working.

My palms were sweaty. I had to wipe them on my trousers between shots like a nervous intern. I was acting like I hadn’t been in this industry for eight years. Like I hadn’t shot celebrities before.

But none of them had looked at me like this.

Between takes, he grabbed a water bottle and tipped it back, head thrown, neck exposed. His shirt clung to him now, just slightly, and when he saw me watching, he winked.

“Catching the behind-the-scenes?” he teased.

“I’m trying not to.”

He chuckled, tossing the bottle aside. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

I didn’t respond. Mainly because my brain had short-circuited. I turned away to adjust my backup lens, trying to mentally recite my grocery list. Eggs. Bread. milk. NOT AUSTIN BUTLER’S COLLARBONE.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer again. “You alright?”

I nodded, tightening the lens with a click. “Yep. Just hot.”

“Tell me about it,” he replied, wiping his brow. “Sun’s a killer.”

I looked up. He was watching me again, not in a cocky way, but... curious. Intense. Like he wasn’t just looking, he was seeing me.

It was a dangerous look.

“We’ve got about fifteen minutes of good light left,” I said quickly, stepping around him. “Let’s make it count.”

He followed me back to the shoot area, no longer cracking jokes, but his presence was still loud like a storm brewing just outside the frame.

I snapped more shots closer now, the angles sharper. I directed him silently, using my hands, my eyes, and he responded like he was reading my mind. The chemistry...dammit, the chemistry was undeniable.

“You’re really good at this,” he said, softer this time, during a break. “I’ve done a lotta shoots. Never felt this easy before.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“You always this quiet?”

“Only when I’m trying not to be inappropriate,” I said before I could stop myself.

His grin was slow, devilish. “Oh? What were you thinking?”

I groaned. “You’re awful.”

“I’m really not.”

“You’re wearing double denim. There’s no recovering from that.”

“You’re the one who approved the look, babe.”

I blinked. “I didn’t call you babe.”

“No, I did,” he said, stepping in close again, his breath warm. “And you didn’t tell me to stop.”

I swallowed. Hard. “Do you flirt like this with all your photographers?”

“Only the ones I want to take to dinner.”

I looked up at him, heart thudding.

“After this,” he added. “Once you’re done being professional.”

I should’ve laughed. Brushed it off. Made a joke.

But I didn’t.

I lifted my camera one last time.

“Alright,” I whispered. “Give me one more. Make it count.”

He looked at me like he knew exactly what that meant. His expression changed smoulder, longing, a whisper of something deeper. He turned his head slightly, let the light catch his jaw.

I clicked.

The shutter echoed in the silence between us.

And then I lowered the camera. “That’s a wrap.”

He smiled.

“I still want that dinner.”

I bit my lip, feeling like the sun had set inside my chest.

“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”

The restaurant was tucked away on a side street in downtown LA moody lighting, exposed brick walls, the kind of place that was somehow both trendy and timeless.

God help me, the man looked like a dream.

Cream linen shirt, sleeves rolled, necklace peeking from underneath. His hair was pushed back like he’d run his fingers through it a dozen times, and his grin when he looked at me made my stomach dip.

“You clean up alright,” I said, pretending to sound casual.

“You look incredible,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me, eyes sweeping over me shamelessly. “Red lips. Kinda unfair.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” He leaned forward slightly. “Now I won’t be able to focus on anything else all night.”

I took a sip of wine and hoped he couldn’t see the heat rising in my cheeks.

Dinner was... a flirtation in motion. He teased, I dodged. He complimented, I redirected. But it was fun effortless. The conversation ranged from music and photography to desert sunsets and what kind of cereal was superior. He swore by Lucky Charms. I told him he had the palate of a child. He laughed and said, “You like it.”

And maybe I did.

By dessert, the tension between us was humming palpable. But nothing happened. He walked me to my car, hand brushing against mine, and when we stopped, he looked like he might kiss me. He didn’t.

Just smiled, warm and soft. “Let’s do this again.”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Let’s.”

But neither of us exchanged numbers.

Stupid.

The campaign dropped two weeks later.

I’d known the shots were good I’d gone over them a dozen times, picked each one meticulously, edited with precision but I hadn’t expected the reaction.

The images went viral.

There he was, denim-clad and windswept, smouldering under the desert sun. Breitling had posted them at midnight. By sunrise, every fashion blog, Twitter thread, and fan page had picked them up. “Austin Butler Looks Like a Cowboy Who Could Break Your Heart.” “That Watch? Who Cares. LOOK AT HIM.” “Give that Photographer a Medal.”

I laughed when I read that one.

My inbox flooded. Clients. Agencies. A few very enthusiastic watch lovers. But one message stood out:

Private assignment. NDA required. One-day shoot. Discreet location. Interested?

I signed the NDA without hesitation.

It was a studio out in Topanga Canyon secluded, rustic-chic, all wood and steel with floor-to-ceiling windows. The assistant who met me wouldn’t say much, just gestured toward the back room where the subject was “waiting.”

I walked in.

Austin was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, lips tugging into a smirk.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I blurted.

“I missed you,” he said with zero shame. “And I forgot to get your number. Rookie move.”

I just stared.

“This was the only way I could think of seeing you again without looking too desperate,” he added, pushing off the wall and strolling toward me.

I raised a brow. “You booked a whole secret shoot just to see me again?”

He stopped in front of me, close enough to smell his cologne clean, woody, slightly spicy. “Well. The way I see it... you already know how good I look in front of your camera. Figured I’d remind you how much fun we had.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You like it.”

Unfortunately, I really did.

I sighed dramatically, turning away to unpack my gear. “What are we shooting today then? More watches? Or just you being ridiculously photogenic in various states of undress?”

He laughed. “They left the concept pretty open-ended.”

“Dangerous.”

He stepped behind me, voice low. “So take advantage of it.”

I turned slowly, camera still in hand. He was watching me, expression unreadable for a second then soft. “Seriously though. I wanted to see you again. And I didn’t want it to be some rushed thing between meetings or on a red carpet.”

“So you hired me.”

“I like working with you,” he said. “And I like watching you work. You’re in control. Confident. And when you laugh behind the lens... I dunno. It does something to me.”

I stared up at him, heart skipping a beat.

“Are you flirting with me again?”

He nodded. “Constantly. Always. Forever.”

I bit my lip, caught somewhere between amused and breathless.

“Let’s shoot,” I murmured, stepping back, raising my camera. “Then we’ll see where the night takes us.”

The shoot started professional.

For ten whole minutes.

He posed near a leather armchair, bathed in warm studio light, wearing a loose grey jumper and tailored trousers. The set was minimalist, industrial, the light catching the sharp angles of his face just right. I directed him like normal, but there was an edge to everything electric, buzzing beneath the surface.

And then it shifted.

He sat, legs splayed, fingers running through his hair, and I caught the shot mid-motion. He looked straight into the lens. Not at the camera at me.

I lowered the camera slowly.

“Come here,” he said.

It wasn’t a request.

I stepped closer. He reached out, fingertips brushing my wrist, trailing up to the strap of my camera, gently tugging it from my hands and setting it aside.

I swallowed. “Austin”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.”

“Neither have I.”

He stood, inching forward, until my back hit the wall. His hand cupped my jaw, thumb tracing my cheekbone. “Should’ve kissed you.”

“You can now.”

And he did.

It was soft at first...tentative. Like he was checking if I’d pull away.

I didn’t.

It deepened quickly, hands finding hips, bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces. My fingers tangled in his hair, his lips never leaving mine for long. There was nothing performative now, no posing, no audience just heat and urgency and something that felt dangerously close to... real.

He kissed me like he meant it. Like he’d been waiting. Like he wasn’t going to let me slip through his fingers again.

When we broke apart, breathless, his forehead rested against mine.

“This might’ve been the best idea I’ve ever had,” he whispered.

I smiled, dazed and dizzy. “Book me again then.”

He laughed, full and bright.

“Oh, I will,” he said. “But next time? It won’t be just business.”

[stardustamaryllis78]

Hey, do you guys remember when these two were actually compelling characters?

Yeah, neither do I.

Bait is by far the most interesting character of these three and I'm not even joking.

But lets start at the beginning shall we?

Let's start off with Callum, the protagonist.

He is the son of Queen Sarai and step son of King Harrow 🐦 and the big brother of Prince or King Ezran, depends on which part of the show you're on. I guess spoiler if you haven't got past episode 3 where Pip dies and Harrow is forced to eat bird food for the rest of his life. (I have MASSIVE feelings about that "plot twist" but that's a potential post for another day.)

He struggles with the idea of being a prince because he believes he's not good at horse riding and sword fighting, things a prince should be good at.

Ignore the horse, Bait is the one clearly in charge, Callum doesn't know what he's doing.

All (kind of) jokes aside, he was dorky without being too annoying and him getting the Sky Primal Stone which in turn allowed him to use Sky magic which made him feel like he was for once good at something was interesting to watch, especially after he had to smash it to hatch a dying Zym and learn the Sky Arcanum through other means. A good well rounded character.

Then we have Rayla, who used to be one of my favourite characters.

Not anymore.

She was originally so snarky, sassy and feisty but in such a fascinating kind of way. She also had a kind and gentle heart and would do anything to help those in need. Plus, she had the inner struggle of being an assassin who cannot kill but that didn't really matter because she used her skills for the greater good anyway.

Its a shame her first and only kill in the show came in the form of herself.

Character assassination at its finest.

How did Rayla go from this:

To this:

Best Dragonguard of the century guys 👏

From a girl who would do anything to help others in need, even a dragon that would torch tons of innocent people to legit turning her back on a dragon in distress. This is not Rayla.

But how did it come to this you may ask? Well curious Tumblr reader, I have one simple answer. One simple answer that will burn so much of The Dragon Prince's fandom down and will cause an all out riot but let me just tell you, I'm speaking nothing but the truth.

The answer is:

Rayllum

Yep! Them becoming a duo literally murdered their characters and I still o7 them to this day 🫡

What was once two interesting characters who found solace in each other and set off together (and Ezran was there as the third wheel) to stop a war spanning centuries became a poorly written soap opera.

So where did it go wrong?

I'm gonna sound like a broken record in saying SEASON 4 📢 HAHA!

But no, not season 4, it was actually before that.

It starts with Rayla leaving Callum the nicest birthday present anyone could give someone - ghosting them.

Now you'd think that Rayla would at least wait a day or two after Callum's birthday so he can have an enjoyable day first but nope! She decides to dip on whats supposed to be a happy day for him and make it miserable. What a woman! 👏

Now you could be saying to me, "But she needed to go with full urgency!" To which, no she did not. She went because it was a mission of revenge, something she LITERALLY said herself so she could have waited a few days but she chose instead to make someone she's supposed to love miserable on a day of happiness.

But okay, she dips and leaves Callum sad and miserable on his birthday. Surely when she returns, she apologizes right?

...Right?

I don't think arc 2 Rayla would understand the word sorry if it bit her right up where the Moon don't shine.

Anyways, its two years later (Yes, you heard me, two years) and Rayla decides to finally unghost Callum.

Now, Callum is understandably upset with Rayla after taking off on his birthday and leaving without saying goodbye. So whats Rayla's stance on this? Is she understanding?

Of course not, this is arc 2 Rayla we're talking about.

Imagine letting the guy she let down have some room to sort things out in his head. Crazy right?

But anyway, he eventually relents to Rayla because she won't shut up in typical Rayla fashion and they both snooze on the couch.

This kind of soap opera drama goes on for THE ENTIRE SEASON while they just gradually "make up" and its just such contrived conflict. Especially as nothing came of Rayla leaving for those two years and it happened off screen.

Plus, her not taking accountability for her actions is a big deal.

Sadly the writers did it with this ship. ^

I love Red Herring story lines that are spent so much time on and are SUPER built up only to have literally no impact on the plot whatsoever. 🤗

Loved wasting my time on the Dark Magic Callum story line.

BUT HEY, he did get some great looking tooth-paste in his hair! 🪥 Looks great on you Callum. 🤥

Now however, I must talk about the most beloved of all seasons and no, I don't mean season 6 or 3.

Clearly I'm referring to season 7, aka, facing sucking the season.

Like seriously, if I ate a Moonberry Surprise every time Callum and Rayla snogged, I'd end up needing medical attention.

That's not the offender I'm talking about though. It's Rayla's super selfishness and Callum choosing her over his grieving brother.

Somehow, the writer's thought that was okay.

Remember, this is the same girl who left him for 2 whole years to put her need of revenge before his feelings.

Callum betrayed his brother for her.

But it's not even just that, it's just the selfish nature of Rayla in season 7. Ezran has just had Katolis burnt to a crisp, and all she can think about is herself and her own needs. Ezran's feelings? They don't matter. As long as she's happy, that's fine.

I don't even want to talk about them all buddying up in the Silvergrove happily while Ezran is still dealing with Katolis' fallout.

Plus remember, at this point, Callum still believes that Runaan killed Harrow. I get forgiving someone but bro is literally choosing the guy who assassinated the guy who raised him over his grieving brother. It's actual insanity to me.

There is much more I have missed but I have reached my Rayllum limit for the day. This ship is as fun as watching paint dry so I want to do something that is going to actually bring me joy. Besides, I think I've got enough people to light their torches and sharpen their pitchforks! 😃

Have a good day everyone! Peace! 🫡

[jade-green-butterfly]

Today...is a very special and important day for me, folks~💝😊Three years ago, a certain special troll became the highlight of my 2020 during rough times and immediately won my heart from the moment I knew he would have his own destiny and journey to find others like him...and his family. Since the first Trolls movie, I have always admired dearly him from afar and the moment I saw him during the Trolls World Tour trailer, my heart literally poured out him and I have truly loved him for just being his wonderful, lovable self ever since~💘🥹 And that certain special troll, is none other than...Cooper~💗🌈✨

I have always been a big fan of him and he’s always been my favourite troll to begin with but every time I see him and hear him, my heart always beats so much for him, making it aflutter and words cannot describe how special he is to me...how he means the whole world to me~💞🌈💗🌈💞I mean...can you blame me? >//w//`< How could I resist and say no to such an adorable face to go with such a darling like him??💖😍💖😍💖 Cooper is more than just the goofball that we all know and love...he’s my goofball and so much more...~💗🥹The most amazing troll with such talent, a unique voice and a dazzling yet loving royal family to go with him...~🌟Cooper is also the prince of my heart, who deserves all the love and happiness in the world...and I feel so blessed to be the one to give it all to him, along with my heart~🥰💝💗💝🥰 April 24th 2020 was the day I drew Cooper for the very first time, and when I started shipping myself with him. And together, him and I have remained strong and inseparable ever since!🫶🏻😌💕We’ve had such happy memories together - becoming part of his world and family, sharing one another’s lives and music, even officially marrying and creating our own dear little life together~✨🧁💜💗💚🦋✨And I wish to keep on loving Cooper forever and evermore~💓🤗

Which is why I dedicate this very special piece above (two versions above PLUS, a video I made!!🤩) to us and since it's our 5th anniversary, I wanted to make it truly extra special and create a tribute video (which can also be found on YouTube here ;3) featuring one of me and Cooper's love songs from the underrated animated classic, The Thief And The Cobbler called 'It's So Amazing'. I thought the song itself really suited Cooper and I, because we are from two different worlds and the true love we feel for one another, really is...ooh, so amazing beyond words~🥰💜💗💚🥰 I've always wanted to make a video dedicated to two of us and I am SO happy I finally got the chance to make it a reality!✨😭It came out so great and just how I imagined it~💖🥹

I would like to deeply and gratefully thank many wonderful peeps out there for helping bring my beloved OTP to life, such as my lovely @x-elyssa-x, @kaitlinexe, @gloryraiin, @vampireflowerarts, @jaguardorado16, @zoey-nillesen, @king-trollex-fangirl, @glitchy-witchy1994, @angoraram, @artstar1997, @klaudia96art, @yeenstrollart, @asa-de-ouro, @devoted-krystal, @starshard17 and many more, for all the beautiful commissions, gift art and loving support you have given me over the past four years, and for putting all your fantastic work and effort, and heart and soul into every single one which I absolutely love to this very day~💞🌟💙💜💛💚🌟💞 I can’t thank you all and the rest of the Trolls Fandom enough for how amazing and welcoming you’ve all been to me when I first jumped onto the bandwagon, and I am so happy I did too!💖🤗Thank-you all so much for everything, including all the dear friends I’ve made and all the loving supporters I have gained - bless you all and don’t stop being awesome~!✌🏻🤩✨💕

And finally, thank-you ever so much for everything, Cooper...my cupcake king and sweet jellybean~🩷♛🧁🫂For always being there for me, making me feel such love and happiness I never could imagine~💝🥰🌈I am truly blessed and the luckiest lass alive to such a wonderful darling like you in my life and by my side~💗😇🪽U///w///U

🎊💜♓💗♎💚🎉~Happy 5th Anniversary, Cooper...my beloved prince, my one & only...~💕I love you so much with all my heart, more than life itself...and I will keep on loving you so, forevermore and beyond~🎉💜♓💗♎💚🎊

*~Reblogs are also deeply appreciated as well, so please do reblog as well as like! Thank-you kindly!~*

Cooper (c) DreamWorks Trolls/DreamWorks Animation

Trollsona Jussy/Justina Butterfly (c) @jade-green-butterfly​ (Me~!)

'It's So Amazing' (c) The Thief And The Cobbler, sung by Bobbi Page & Steve Lively

[politedemon]

YOUR MONSTER (2024) dir. Caroline Lindy

[davestaresatthesun]

sprite/pannel edits ive been doing the last couple days bc im gay an autism [olive blood is my trollsona and the jade blood is one i made for my partner ^^]

[chuluoyi]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

husband and wife, at the pinnacle of their love. on a night filled with wonders, you will know that he sees only you and everything that you are

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, explicit smut: slightly rough & drunken sex, fingering, missionary. you and zayne have a daughter (her name is meirin!)

note: god what have i written... the anniversary banner pv made me do it T^T anyhow, this is also a direct prequel to the upcoming angst fic in the name of love :))

“Whoa, so that’s Dr. Zayne and his wife...”

Soft whispers rippled through the crowd the moment you and your husband stepped into the pristine ballroom, all eyes subtly drawn to your arrival.

Tonight, you were accompanying Zayne to Akso Hospital’s anniversary dinner party. His sharp gaze and immaculate three-piece suit made a striking impression. Naturally, you matched his sophistication in every way—your flowing black dress accentuated your figure, while your hair styled into an elegant updo.

A sight for sore eyes, that was what the two of you were.

“Mind your step,” he murmured softly, his voice reassuring as the two of you gracefully ascended the stairs. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but notice the envious gazes of the ladies fixed on you.

“How does such a perfect couple even exist?”

“She’s so pretty… Of course, Dr. Zayne only wants the best.”

“Oh! And I’ve heard they already have a daughter too!”

A smile curled on your lips, a subtle boost of confidence washing over you as their murmurs reached your ears. You felt giddy too—on most days, you were a hunter in a life-and-death situations, rough and rugged. But tonight, draped in elegance and arm-in-arm with Zayne, you felt like a princess.

“Don’t smile that wide...” he suddenly whispered to your ears, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “You’ll look like Meirin when she’s munching on her cookies.”

You shot him a frown. “Wha?”

“All those praises are going straight to your head.” Even in a prestigious event like this, Zayne couldn’t resist teasing you. “Sooner or later, it’ll get too big for me to handle.”

Fixing him with an unimpressed glare, you deadpanned, “Shush, you!”

When you reached the main hall, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air, blending with the elegant music playing in the background. The hospital director, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted you both along with his wife.

"Zayne, thank you for coming," he said, shaking your husband's hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder. His gaze then turned to you. "Ah, this must be the stellar hunter wife of Dr. Zayne. You look absolutely radiant, madam."

"Ah, please don't call me that..." You mustered your most polished facade, supplying a soft, graceful laugh.

The director's wife grinned and added, "Why didn’t you bring your daughter here? Everyone’s looking forward to finally meet her already."

"She's a handful," Zayne immediately replied with a smile, his tone warm and affectionate. "And she gets fussy when her bedtime nears, so we decided to leave her with my in-laws tonight."

The director let out a hearty guffaw. "No matter how fussy she is, she must be really adorable with a mother this beautiful, eh?"

Throughout the night, it was a compliment you frequently heard. While you were flattered, a thought lingered in the back of your mind—what were your husband's true thoughts about all this attention to you?

Zayne was keenly aware of how captivating you were.

There was a surge of pride whenever he had you on his arm. Just like any man out there, he too wanted to show his hot wife off and flaunt her so everyone could see, as if saying: This is my woman.

But he too knew that it was in a human's nature to covet what they didn't have. And it was rightly proven when he stepped away for just a moment, only to return and find you engaged in conversation with a man.

The hospital director's son, no less.

"Miss, I've heard you're part of the Hunter Association?" he asked you inquisitively. "What a noble profession it is! Keeping all of us here safe on daily basis."

You responded demurely, "And those in Akso do the same, don’t they?"

Your conversation was harmless, and Zayne was a rational man, so he didn’t feel the need to intervene. He just made sure his gaze was on you every so often.

But when the director’s son began persistently offering you drinks, filling your glass time after time, Zayne's patience began to wear thin. The sight of the man’s insistence grated on him, stirring a possessive unease he couldn’t entirely ignore.

. . .

You could’ve sworn your vision swam a little after the third glass of alcohol. The warm buzz coursing through you also made everything seem a little brighter, and left you feeling just slightly off-balance.

"Miss, the white wine here is the best—" the man standing before you declared with a convincing grin, swirling the bottle in front of you. "Don't you want to try some?"

"Ah, no, sir..." you replied with a polite laugh, raising a hand in subtle refusal. "I've already had whiskey and gin just now—"

"Just a little! You really have to try it!"

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck as the alcohol already coursing through your system made your cheeks flush. You didn’t even like alcohol much and only drank socially, but this was the very son of your husband's boss. Refusing outright seemed rude—

“Can you kindly not make her drink too much?”

Or so you thought, until your knight in three-piece suit suddenly stepped in and saved you from your plight.

Zayne’s tone was gentle yet firm, his words striking an authoritative balance. He flashed a placating smile. “My wife doesn’t have a very high tolerance.” Swiftly, he grabbed the glass from your hand and, without missing a beat, downed its contents in one go.

“If you’re looking for a drinking partner, let it be me instead.”

You knew better than anyone that your husband didn’t have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol either. Yet, for the next 30 minutes, you watched, equal parts impressed and concerned, as he matched the man drink for drink, deflecting further offers directed your way with a subtle, protective grace. Though Zayne’s words remained measured, you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

And soon, you’d witness just how far his limits had been pushed.

“Zayne! Are you alright?”

Worry laced your voice as you placed both hands on Zayne's cheeks, your brow furrowing in concern. Somehow or another you managed to drag your husband away and led him to the hotel room.

The warmth of his skin was unmistakable, and his face contorted in discomfort as the vertigo hit him full force. “Oh no, what have you done? Why did you even drink that much!?”

“I’m fine,” Zayne grumbled, his voice thick.

“You’re drunk!” You couldn't help but scold him as you started pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, trying to help him breathe easier. “You can’t even handle alcohol properly, and yet you’re trying to keep up with him...”

To Zayne, your voice somehow felt comforting. His mind was hazed, but your touch—your hand against his neck—felt like a cool splash of clarity.

His pretty wife... The dizziness was making it hard to stay upright, but the sight of you grounded him, and he instinctively leaned into you—

“Zayne—!”

You barely managed to catch his weight, instinctively wrapping your arms around him. He was so warm against you, his breath uneven, not to mention the slight tremor in his body. "Are you alright?!" you asked in a flurry. "Oh, let me get you some water—"

"You talk too much..." Zayne murmured, his words slurred as everything around him swayed.

Gripping your shoulder to steady himself, his unfocused gaze lingered on you, drawn to the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your neck, and the outline of your cleavage.

How can he have a wife this ravishing and do nothing?

And suddenly, he was sober. Very sober.

Or maybe not. It was simply just him finally giving in to his desires.

In one go, he seized your wrist, yanking you against him with sudden force— and with a quick tilt of your startled, precious face, he devoured your lips in heat.

"—!" It was like a spark igniting, burning through every thought. His mouth was urgent, demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel the rush of your closeness. His kiss was intoxicating—almost overwhelming—as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tilting your head to gain better access.

Zayne's hands moved to your back, pulling you into him, so close that the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then those sinful hands wandered to your hips, guiding you toward the desk. With reckless urgency, he swept everything off the surface, sending objects crashing to the floor with a sharp clang and made you sit on it.

"Ah, Zayne, you—!" You accidentally pushed him back, and he growled the moment your lips parted.

"Are you trying... to escape?" His gaze turned dark with lust, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Why? Isn't this exactly how you wanted me to be...?"

In that moment, you gulped as your heart thundered in your chest. What was even happening now? How did it escalate into this?

You stuttered, eyes widened, "Z-Zayne..."

But your husband had shed all traces of his usual composed self. In the haze of his muddled thoughts, he was driven purely by need. He swiftly removed his glasses, tossing them aside without a second thought, and this time—

His lips went straight for your neck, which, unbeknownst to you, had looked so enticing to him all evening.

"Hahh..." His breathy grunts were hot against your skin and his touch no longer gentle but firm and possessive. His mouth moved with a mix of hunger and desperation, and you struggled to contain the moans as his hands slipped inside your dress, and—

A shiver ran down your spine when he spread your legs, and you couldn’t help the titillating gasp that escaped when inserted his two of his fingers in you all at once, edging you.

"Ungh, ngh! Hah—" Your body jerked and you clung to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. Zayne wasn't usually this brash, but tonight it was as if a screw had come loose.

"Louder," he commanded in your ear, and your heart pounded at his authoritative voice. He pushed his digits deeper as if punishing you, that you yelped. "Do not hold back."

He lifted you by your waist, effortlessly pressing you against the small table by the window. You were on the 20th floor, the world below far out of sight, but the thought that anyone might catch a glimpse was somehow... thrilling.

"I-I'm close—" you stammered, and the moment you did, your husband vigorously moved his fingers inside your squelching folds, "A-ah!"

The room felt smaller, the air thicker. The way your walls took his fingers alone made your thoughts scatter, and when you came undone on him, you latched onto him, your head resting against his chest as your breaths came in shaky, uneven gasps. "Z-Zayne... please..."

He pulled out his fingers, looked at your cum coating them, and brought them to your lips. You, still trembling, sucked the essence off with teary eyes.

Sweaty, disheveled, lips swollen and cheeks flushed... how he had reduced you into this state was gratifying.

Zayne’s gaze darkened, his breath heavy as he stared down at you. "Are you ready to take me now?"

You nodded.

He gave you a small smirk, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw gently. "Good girl."

He lifted you over to the bed, and you gasped in surprise as he tossed you onto the soft sheets, the motion quick but not unkind. You barely had time to react before his intense gaze locked onto yours, his presence domineering above you.

“Spread your legs.”

Was this man really your husband? Sometimes, you still struggled to reconcile the tender part of him and the man consumed by a unrestrained intensity before you now.

By now you had swallowed all shame and did so. You wanted to look away, but then unable to when the sight before you caught your breath—

All the while, he had his eyes on you. Zayne pulled at his tie with deliberate intent, then he shed his suit pieces, casting them to the floor with a casual abandon, before undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest altogether.

Your husband looks so hot. The way he gazed at you throughout it all too...

He glanced at the space between your legs. “Wider.”

You complied, letting your face burn impossibly hotter, anticipating him.

He eased in slowly, starting with just the tip. You whimpered at the intrusion.

"Hurts?" he questioned with a frown.

"No," you refuted quickly, desire too burning in your gaze as you met his eyes. "I can take more."

You arched your back as Zayne sank deeper, his full length filling you. A moan tumbled from your lips as your walls clenched in response, and he pushed himself completely inside you.

"Hah..." You inhaled sharply, giving yourself a moment to adjust to his entire length, and seeing you like that, your husband cradled the side of your face with his palm.

"So beautiful..." Zayne whispered, his glazed gray-hazel eyes fixed on your spent face. His other hand clasped yours, pinning it beside your head. "My wife... is so incredibly beautiful."

It was heart-fluttering to know that your husband found you pretty. Everyone might compliment you the same way, but his were the only one that truly mattered. After seven years of marriage, your heart still skipped a beat every time he held your gaze like this.

Without warning, Zayne started to move his hips. Your moans got louder and unabashed as his movements were slow at first, before he picked up the pace and thrusted in and out of you with fervor.

"Ahhh!" You threw your head back as his thick cock messily dragged itself against your walls. In, out, in out— Stars began to blur your vision, your nails digging into his shoulder as you reached for him.

You could see that excited glint in his eyes, the lust exploding at the sight of you. He watched you intently, savoring the way unbound desire twisted your face, each mewl you made filling the air. Your thoughts turned into puzzle pieces—

Thrust. So full, you are.

Thrust. What if... this time— you become pregnant again?

Thrust. That would be... nice. You can call it “New Years’ baby.”

Everything was incoherent. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, each hit to that one spot sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, pushing you to the brink of tears and screams.

Then, unexpectedly, he reached his climax first. His cum shot through, filling your womb to the brim in spurts after spurts, and you cried, trembling beneath him. Your release followed suit though, and you went limp in the aftermath.

Zayne collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, his name still falling off your lips as a whisper in his ear, a gentle song laced within moans. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, panting heavily against you.

“I love you.”

The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a tangled web of desire.

The first thing he heard was your whimper.

With a groan, Zayne cracked his eyes open the morning after, instantly recognizing the dull ache in his head—it was a hangover. But before he could press his hands to his temples, his gaze fell on you, curled up in a blanket next to him.

And the whimper came again, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

“What’s... wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice, turning toward you, his hand instinctively reaching for you despite the pounding headache. “Are you alright...?”

You blinked up at him, a flicker of resentment in your gaze, and Zayne gathered you into his arms. The events of last night came back to him in fragments, and realization dawned on him.

“Are you... sore?” he murmured, concern edging his tone.

“I hate you,” you retorted in a scratchy voice, mushing your head in his shoulder. Zayne widened in slight surprise, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Is that it...? I’m sorry...”

He gently patted your head and back, trying to soothe you. The sight of you—vulnerable and distressed—made his heart tighten with a pang of guilt. Just how rough had he been with you last night?

“There, there, it’ll pass...” he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “It’s normal... because we went longer and more vigorous than usual... Probably just mild irritation in your—”

“Don’t pull medical facts on me,” you muttered sullenly, weakly punching his chest. A smile made its way to his face at your mini attack.

“But it’s true though?”

How endearing. He couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his heart softening at the sight of you, even in your grumpy state.

And in that moment, Zayne thought, nothing could've possibly ever shatter his world ever again.

[screampied]

#WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER? t. fushiguro

☆ sum. you know girl, usually when someone’s about to get stabbed, they scream—not moan. ghostface is supposed to be scary, intimidating, terrifying. but what happens when he’s tall, hot, and has a scar that runs down the right side of his lip? maybe his motive this time was to make you scream out his name in another way. welcome to act three.

wc. 7.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghostface!toji, pwp, roleplay, unprotected, slight dacryphīlia, glove / mask kink, scream spoilers + references, dumbification, knīfe play, biting, he's crazy but your pússy's crazier, fīngering, riding his face mask, hair pulling, first time squīrt, cunnīlingus, pússy drunk toji, spīt, praise, dirty talk, petnames.

➤ kinktober mlist.

“now girl, what the fuck was that,” a husky voice that sounds a bit muffled murmurs out to you. you’re laid on the ground, quite literally seeing the life flash before your eyes as the edge of his jagged knife glimmers against the ceiling light. peeking one open, you’re met with the covered soulless eyes of an infamous ghostface mask, and he’s tilting his head at you. “did i hear ya right?”

as he hovers over you, you speak in a breathy voice. growing sheepish, you glance away. “um, hear what?”

“you moaned, doll,” he replies, and the cottony flaps of his costume brush against your skin the closer he gets. as the coolly aerating air turns dead silent for a few moments, you could hear the sounds of his irregular breaths – deep sinister breaths . . and for some reason, it makes your thighs clench, and not in fear. “right as i said i was gonna gut ya like a fish,” and your own breathing hitched once his gloved finger strokes down your lip. “and i put the knife riiiiiight down here,” he slowly drags the prop down your nearly torn top, “you moaned right as i was about to strike. why?”

“i think . . you’re hearing things,” you rub the back of your neck, but you left off yet another moan the second he slides a knee between your legs.

“nah,” the masked man jibes, and it’s as if he’s staring right through your clothes. with a gloved hand he pulls up his mask, only showing part of his face. he pulls it down inches below his nose as you glance at his scarred lips that show. “think i heard quite well, princess,” and he slowly grazes the soft end of the knife further and further down your skin. “besides, like i said earlier. . i wanna play a game—and we can start with me asking,” and he pauses, leaning up close to your shell of your ear, warm breath tickling against your lobe. “you’re not wearing panties right now, are ya, princess?”

right at his words—your thighs stuck together and you felt a shiver run down your spine. it’s cold, and it made your eyebrow twitch at how insanely turned on you were.

usually, most people would scream or run—hell, even fight back. but it’s different when it’s you.

as he continued to straddle over you, you could have sworn you saw this movie before. .

and now, here you were—helpless indeed and on the floor as he hovers his weight over you, waving a his knife—(a knife that looks like a sort of cheap knockoff version of the one michael myers walks around with) in your face while his other hand mockingly cups your cheek.

“and if i’m not?” you mumble, fixating your eyes solely on the hole parts that shield his eyes.

it’s like you were staring at empty black voids, and no matter how hard you squinted – you just couldn’t see him at all. all you could make out was white and black plastic mask, and as he tilts his head again, he’s returning the gaze. fuck, each time he head tilts and cocks his head to a certain degree—it’s like he’s challenging you, taunting you even, and you’d constantly feel your thighs squeeze together tighter and tighter.

“ah, well,” he thinks for a moment, feeling his covered eyes bore at your body. in his mind, you looked so pretty sprawled all out and underneath him. with your chest heaving in and out as he continues to strum his gloved fingers down your exposed skin, he hums.

“maybe i’d just have ‘ta take a look for myself,” and your breath hitches again once he slowly drags the whetted edge of the knife down your polka dot blouse. with a loud tearing ‘shiiiiek’, a few of your buttons go loose as he’s easily dividing through the fabric with the blade. “cute, i’m assuming you’re not wearin’ a bra either,” and you felt yourself throb the moment he pauses his hands, staring at your perked tits. “phew,” he whistles, giving your pretty physique a nice three second stare. “nice rack.”

“you . . aren’t gonna—”

“—what, kill ya? oh, no doll. now that wouldn’t be fun,” he purrs, finishing your sentence.

it was almost embarrassing at how your body responded to him. you didn’t just wanted more, you craved it. staring right back at you were those same dark holes of a mask that you desperately wanted to see his true identity.

just who was he?

but judging from his voice though, it was a raspy low. . somewhat sounding of a way of smoker would speak. the voice sounded a bit older and of course—he had the body shape of a fucking tank.

as he lets off a low sigh, he shrugs his broad shoulders. “you’re too pretty for that. besides, i’m hard ‘n that little moan you did nearly ruined me if i’m bein’ honest.”

as a small impish smile forms against your glossed pursed lips, your nerves lessen. you stare up at the man before exhaling slight sudden relief. so you were gonna be in the sequel, score.

“so . . . what, is this the part where i’m supposed to beg for my life, mr. ghostface?” you had nothing really to lose, so why not play around with him for a bit – reverse psychology.

“actually,” he clicks his tongue, swiping a thumb down the keen edge of his dagger. it’s an eerie dead pause that whistles in the air once his gloved hands brush against your skin before he continues.

“this would be the part where you scream,” and as he presses his mask all the way against face, he’s so close that you get a glimpse of his scarred lips that poke underneath the cover. “but fuck it. since y’er not scared yet, guess i’ll have ‘ta get that heart racin’ one way or another.”

and toji—who was apparently his name, does this in no other way but propping himself right between your legs.

long story short, everything escalated quickly. so quickly that one minute you were on the floor quote and quote “fearing” for your life and the next . . ? you find yourself being tossed on your velveteen cushioned sofa, voluntarily spreading your legs out for him like some slut out of a cheesy predictable horror movie.

if you were being completely honest, the real killer was his tongue . . because for the life of you, you just couldn’t get over how sloppy he moved it in different directions.

toji kept his mask on the entire time, but it’s pulled up just a tad bit to where you’re only getting a tiny glimpse of the lower part of his face. the fabric just barely shields the bottom part of his nose as his scarred thin lips press their way against your sopping folds.

“fuuuck,” you’d whimper, preferring this over death any day.

right away, you spot the scar that slashes straight down the right side of his lip and it’s a small but attractive feature. every few seconds, he’d purposely smear that part of his mouth against your cunt, earning out a candied ‘ooh!’ from you. within seconds, your numbed thighs were already starting to stick together – like glue.

letting off a sharp drawn out gasp, you glance near your nightstand and the alarm that sits above it. the time was a quarter past two . . and well, some would ask how you’d even get yourself in this situation.

truth is, you didn’t really know either but you damn sure weren’t exactly complaining either. toji found you a bit strange though.

usually people would run from him but you . . you moaned right as you were about to meet your maker. weird, and he’s heard countless screams but never once like yours. that’s kind of because yours wasn’t even a scream, it was a literal moan.

and he wanted to hear more and more of it.

it intrigued him – you intrigued him, and he sort of wants to make you scream in a whole other way though, especially since he’s got you right where he wants. sprawled all out, legs fucking spread . .

“do you . . have to keep this stupid thing on?” you breathlessly grouse, a cute pout curling against your lips as your hands grab the top of his head.

it sort of irked you how he kept his ghostface mask on the entire duration he’s positioned between your legs. with a tight grip, you yank him forward and he groans against your cunt. toji peppers sloppy kisses against your pudgy folds before staring up at you, a faint smirk twisting against his own lips. huffing out an annoyed exhale, you grump. “ ‘s not like ‘m gonna turn you in or anything. i never even found ghostface scary anywa—”

toji snickers. “yeahhh, right,” and you shiver, watching with low hooded eyes as he gathers a glossy string of spit in his mouth.

as your legs quivered from the single grip of one of his hands, he spits right on your teary pussy, watching the lustrous trail of slime drag down his chin. “i’ll think about it,” and he laps his own mess right up, dexterously creating nasty slosh sounds with his exaggerated smacking lips.

with a teasing pat of his gloved hand, he smears the slick puddle that rests on your entrance before humming. “cute, seems like y’er pussy’s tryna seduce me though.”

you let off a whimper, not knowing how long your legs could remain open as he’s toying with your clit. fat clothed fingers drag their way down your slobbering cunt, drawing various circles and shapes around your knobbling nub as a breath snatches from your full lungs. “s- shit, spit on it ‘s more,” you’d weep, feeling your own lips part into a curling ‘o’ shape as you’re in carnal awe.

“now, doll,” he’d whisper against your folds, slurping you clean and savoring the taste of your bittersweet fervor on his tongue.

toji brings two thick fingers toward the outer part of your clit before it slowly starts to disappear inside. it’s like a magic trick — you watch them slowly disintegrate inside of your sopping cunt and you whimper, feeling them curl their ways inside.

as he’s preparing to pump both digits inside, your tummy caves in and you let off a sweet moan the second his long digits start to scissor inside of you. “since ‘m gonna spare ya, i think it’s time we set some ground rules,” and as his hot breath continues to fan against your twitching sex—your grip tightens near the top part of his mask. “don’t tell me how to eat, yeah?”

a timid whimper was your response and you watch how his lips carve into a haughty smile. with a second thought, toji spanks your cunt and he hums, hearing the wet back-talking chatter of squelches leave from your pussy.

as you’re twitching and pulsating from the tender stimulation—you feel him starting to lay his long tongue flat. starting from bottom to top, he eats out your cunt as if it was served to him on a silver fucking platter. “afraid ‘m gonna need an answer, little girl.”

“y- yes,” you let off a soft shrilling gasp, feeling his callused fingertips prod deep inside your gummy clenching walls. toji’s gloved digits felt scorchingly warm inside you, and with just a swift motion, he twirls them ‘round and ‘round, barreling each long inch inside of your pretty pussy.

god, if his fingers were this long, you only imagined imagined what his dick would feel like. the feeling alone made your stomach flutter uncontrollably as your teeth sink into the skin coating your bottom lip.

this was bad, this was really really bad . .

you were probably breaking every cliche horror movie rule in the book . . or in this case, the script. you were supposed to run, not open your legs. but, what’s the saying? you only live once, and that’s if you survive his tongue.

toji was ruthless.

his head moves back and forth as he munched on your pussy, playfully nipping the pearly edges teeth against your clit. each time he does that, you’re sensitive and you whine out a sweet battle cry, rutting your hips further into his greedy slick mouth. your legs nearly suffocated him but he didn’t care, and each long stripe that he creates with his sticky tongue earns out a bundle of whiny whimpers from you.

you had no panties on, and he was basically eating you out with nothing but a skirt that’s pulled up toward your waist—clinging against your jerking, active hips. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you abruptly gasp, feeling your legs already starting to weaken.

by this point, he’s not even eating your pussy anymore, he’s damn near making out with it. toji’s making out with your pussy – with tongue, and lots lots of it.

he’s creating darting motions with the pointed tip of his tongue, barely batting a single lash of an eye that his chin’s starting to glimmer with sheeny slick. your sheeny slick. as you occasionally look down, you only see that same part of his face that’s shown—but it makes you throb regardless, just imagining just what he really looked like.

you knew he was tall—that much was apparent, a strong burly build and a cocky persona to match.

“yeah? give it to me then,” he interrupts your thoughts as a wolffish grin spreads across his lips like butter.

toji’s thick fingers resume to mercilessly plummet in and out of you and he feels his jaw locking. your taste—he couldn’t get enough of it, and pretty soon he’s the epitome of pussy drunk.

you tasted so sweet, and you let off a whimper once he pulls up his mask just a little bit further. “heh,” he huffs out, and he stops it just at the hem of his button shaped nose. as that same wry smirk compresses against his lips, you spot his dimples stretching out near the corners. leaning all the way in, toji gives your cunt a three second sniff before cupping his lips over your pulsating cunt. “mmph—actually, hold on doll.”

as you’re panting heavily, a look of confusion marinates against your features once you watch him prepare to take off his mask. with a bubbly ‘pop’, toji slowly slides his fingers out of you before glancing at your impatient face.

“ah ah, close ‘em,” he clicks his tongue, watching your pretty clit twitch at his demand.

you pout, feeling a brief sting as you’re being delayed of your long awaited release. with a cute sigh, you place a hand over eyes, your vision turning completely dark. “good girl . . now,” he huffs lowly, and you hear a bit of shuffling. toji sits you up and you feel something place underneath your legs. his voice was close, and it sounds like he’s near the side of you. “cum on my mask, pretty girl. can ya do that for me?”

“uh, okay,” you shakily reply, feeling him prop up your hips to sit right up against the ghostly mouth part. it’s eerily carved into a long hanging oval shape and you moan—feeling how warm it was from the front. it makes you pulse, knowing that his mouth was just behind that exact spot a few seconds ago.

even though your eyes were still covered with your own hand, you feel a daunting chill run down your spine yet again, sensing his cold haunting presence.

whoever he was, he was watching you right now, get off . . on his mask.

you let off a quiet moan as your hips started to rut against the propped plastic. you were drenched, and a bit of slick sticks down against your thighs.

toji feels his dick strain in his ripped jeans as he openly stares like a stalker — pretty, you looked so pretty like this. grinding your sweet cunt against the mask he wears on a daily. now that he thinks about it, it’d be a pretty good souvenir.

“touch yourself too,” he’d rasp, kneeling down closer to you. toji gets behind you, and you whimper once you feel the frigid edge of his knife slowly drag down your skin. he starts a trail, and he’s safe surprisingly—making sure to not nip your skin, but it’s close enough to where you feel the coldness of the steel.

as your needy whines pitch louder, you find yourself now guiding a hand near your bouncing breasts. a bit of the ripped fabric of your blouse runs against your fingertips and toji feels himself getting more hard just watching you. “yeah, baby. that’s it. get my fuckin’ mask wet so i can taste it after.”

“tojiiii, ‘m cumming—fuck,” and as he’s got one of his own hands grabbing onto your left tit, you end up finishing.

you’re cutely hysterical, creaming all on the mouth part of his mask as shame swells in your chest. “ngh, fuck fuck.” you babble, your thighs submitting defeat as he pulls you back against his chest. it felt hard, and you couldn’t help but imagine how built he probably was.

toji presses a cold kiss near the left side of your neck. his frigid lips makes you whimper as your head tilts to the left.

his touch . . you only wanted more, and he could tell from the way that the hand that was at first cupping your breast now starts to reach toward his wrist. “atta girl,” he whispers, and right as you were about to remove your other hand off your eyes, he places his own back over your face. “nice try, sweetheart. gotta be patient.”

you continue to pout, and toji slides the drenched front part of his mask from underneath your legs and brings it up to his lips. “mhm, would ya look at that,” and as you’re panting on his chest, still frantic from your recent orgasm, you hear him cleaning it off with his tongue.

he trails his tongue to where your cunt sat against the mouth part, lapping it up and relishes in your sweet taste entirely. “fuck, sweetest thing i’ve had in a while.”

you dig your nails into his thigh as you’re trying to get over your high, speaking in a needy voice.

“t.. toji,” and he finds it cute how you’re speaking through gritted teeth. he could tell you were annoyed with him, how you weren’t fond of his teasing at all.

“hm, what is it?” he replies, giving his mask a satisfied glance once he finishes. it shines in the dim light—and he licks his lips as the right side of his mouth twitches into a devious simper.

“can . . can i have a kiss?” and the words came out of your mouth oh so sweetly.

you don’t know what came over you, but your body was just fed up. something was screaming at you, hollering at you to get a taste. you throbbed, secretly yearning to feel his lips crash on yours. the entire time he was buried between your legs, it was all you thought about, constantly.

toji hums, tilting his head as he faces you. “a kiss, huh?” and he’s still got a hand covering your eyes.

he ponders about it for a while before a low guffaw leaves from his thin lips. “aw, you want a taste of yourself too, don’t you dirty girl?” and once you shamelessly nod in response, toji’s shoulders drop. “fine, you’ll get that kiss. c’mere,”

and you could feel him inching closer and closer closer. toji’s cologne was loud—it’s a manly musk of what you think was rosemary and cedarwood.

it practically blinds the insides of your flared nostrils the more he closes the awkward distance between you both. your cunt’s pulses start to quicken before he’s merely just inches away from your lips now. “stupid, stupid girl,” he pulls your bottom lip down with a gloved finger, and that’s when he stares at your pretty plump lips before whispering. “beg me.”

“i’m not gonna—”

“no beg, no fuckin’ kiss,” he cuts you off, and you grumble. it was almost embarrassing at how your pussy gave away your true dirty feelings. you continued to twitch, and you let off a defeated sigh once his smears a thumb over your wet lips.

“please . . please, kiss me,” and as you speak, he continues to softly caress the curvature of your mouth. you could hear him breathing from behind the mask. it was short raspy breaths and what would usually frighten most people, turned you on.

toji runs a hand through his jet black tresses before a cunning smirk pierces the corners of his lips. “that’s more like it,” and his lips were almost touching yours – almost, a mere breath away.

you could never get over how deep his voice. it’s as if he didn’t need a voice changer like the ones they’d always use in the movies. his was naturally just as gritty, just as husky.

“obedient . . good,” and as he playfully licks near your bottom lip, toji grunts, “mouth, open.”

you moan, feeling his hand reach between your legs, squeezing your pussy. once your lips part and your mouth opens, toji spits right inside, staring as your cute tongue tries to catch it all.

it’s quick, and before you knew it – his lips hurriedly crash onto yours. within seconds, teeth starts to clash amongst each other and you helplessly whine in his mouth. this, this was what you wanted. a kiss.

one gloved hand of his remains covered over your eyes whilst another snakes its way between your legs. toji’s rubbing against your cunt, feeling your cute hips grind against him as you try to squirm and writhe. you were still so tender. his mouth was cold, and you can’t help but moan at the literal taste of yourself washing back against your tongue.

you feel his scar that slants down the right side of his lip rub off against your lips and his lips curve into a sly smirk. “nasty girl,” he murmurs between hot kisses, and you gasp once he starts to maneuver quicker circles against your cunt.

you were soaked already, still sensitive from your recent release but that’s when he lies you back down. as you fall down on the sofa, toji deepens the kiss for a few extra seconds, abruptly pulling away. a pretty decorated string of glittery saliva tugs away from both lips and he wipes your wet mouth, snickering. “such a damn baby. got me spoilin’ you already, tch.”

he’s still got your eyes covered, but that’s right when you reach out . . not expecting your hand to grab near his hardened bulge that hides underneath his cloak.

toji pauses, staring at you before you squeeze it and he groans. “what now, doll? still not satisfied?”

“fuck me,” you murmur, but it’s more of a pathetic whine.

you didn’t care anymore—you were at your wits ends. the erotic two words and six letters easily flowed past your lips as if you were dying to say it for the longest, and in this case – you were.

toji’s amused more than anything, and he’s well aware that you’re far not like the others.

this wasn’t just a usual psycho killer versus helpless victim, this was something more . .

“strong words, baby,” he purrs against your ear, licking a stripe down your neck. toji holds your weak rickety hips in place, still shielding your eyes with his palm before showering a good part of your collarbone with a plethora of sloppy kisses.

uh oh, he was starting to get attached. already, he could feel it . . and he knew you were gonna be nothing but a fucking problem in the long run.

a problem he didn’t mind tampering with for a bit.

“say it again,” he whispers, and this time he picks up his knife once more.

it gradually tears down your blouse all the way from the center, openly staring your tits spring open. “tell me what you want me ‘ta do to you again,” and as his husky voice lowers a single octave within each coarse sentence, you squeeze your thighs together.

toji focuses the edge of his knife against your skin and you shiver, feeling it softly brush against the bristles of hair that coat your skin.

the thing that pissed him off though was that you weren’t even scared of him . . no, far from it actually.

you were aroused—hell, maybe even just as crazy as him.

“fuck me, toji.” you repeat, taking it upon yourself to grab the handle of the knife. he raises a brow as he watches, and you bring the wooden end up to your lips, deciding to be a tease and lowering your mouth down it. toji huffs, growing annoyed at your audacity — but fuck, he’s into it.

and all he’s imagining at the moment is your pretty lips that’s wrapped around the handle of his knife being wrapped around his dick instead. you start sucking on it until it taps near the scaled back of your throat, reaching past the roof of your mouth and he scoffs.

brat.

“got some nerve, suckin’ on my damn knife, girl,” and he snatches it away, softly turning you around, pushing you near the right arm of the couch.

you gasp, feeling him swat a hand against your bare ass before he grabs your hips. his movements were so fast that you could barely keep up let alone react. “fine, i’ll fuck you,” and he’s not covering your eyes anymore.

right as you were about to turn around, toji grabs the back of your neck with a gloved hand, tittering. “don’t try me. eyes forward, head down,” and you moan, feeling him pick your hips up—making your rear grind and jostle against his hardening bulge. “ass. fuckin’. up.”

you kiss your teeth, feeling another breath of air leave out your lungs before you whine. toji’s rough, and he’s got a firm grip against your waist before springing out his dick. he grunts, rolling his eyes as he watches you impatiently wriggle your ass, hoping he’d hurry up already.

“can’t wait, can ya baby?” he utters, stroking his length.

as a thumb of his nearly grazes his throbbing vein, his eyes gaze toward your sopping creamy pussy. all wet, and just for him. the antagonizing wait for him to just fuck you like you wanted became almost unbearable, and the second you feel his tip side-swipe against the entrance of your cunt it was over.

a swollen fat tip smacks vigorously against your pussy, and one smack turns into two, then three, then four. .

as he’s slapping his mushroomy cockhead against your drooling pool of heat, you hear a low chortle from behind you. “god, she’s a fuckin’ wet one, ain’t she?” and you whine, hearing yourself squelch each time his angry tip whacks against your poor soddened flaps. ‘whack’ after ‘whack’ and the sounds of his dick slapping against your pussy slowly started to clank through one ear of yours and out the other.

but doing so—the pulsing sensation between your legs only increased, and by now, you were starting to chew on your tongue.

anticipation was eating away at you as you let off a moan, cutely grumbling. “just fuck me already.”

“how ‘bout i leave you ‘n let you fuck yourself,” he snaps back, matching your sass.

oh. you weren’t really used to someone matching your energy—especially a masked man walking around in a ghostface mask but well, that’s besides the point.

toji’s still got a gloved hand wrapped around his hefty length that’s covered in lighting-like twitching veins before he groans.

he’s so fucking hard . . and the more he stares at your pretty sobbing cunt, the more he understands why. “don’t think you’d like that now though, would ya?”

“n- no,” you reply truthfully, letting off a pornographic moan once he starts to align himself between your gaping slit.

it’s fat, and you could tell from the feeling of the size of his monstrous tip alone. you sort of wished you were facing him but alas, you’d just have to use your imagination for now. “fuckk,” you breathe, already starting to feel your eyes rolling back.

the stretch, god the stretch. you thought his fingers was something but it’s nothing compared to his cock. your toes were already curling up, and oh, you knew you were fucked.

toji’s got a few curly black specks of hair that resides near his base—and as he’s slowly easing himself inside, he feels you tightening. right as you do, you feel a vein that runs down his shaft prod.

he feels it – you feel it, and you both hiss in unison. “goddamn,” he grumbles, staring as your own sappy slick starts to glue against his sculptured pelvis. tiny glimmering strands stick and tape against his skin all because of you and it’s just messy. toji smacks your ass one more time before lightly pushing your head into the satiny covered pillow. “move, move those hips or ‘m gonna pull out, doll.”

“mmph—s- so fuckin’ big,” you babble, bringing a bawled up fist into your mouth.

your sweet moans become muffled as his dick’s gradually expanding through your gummy walls, leaving his very mark with his tip. he’s rummaging through every part of you and you gasp—feeling your cunt welcome him wholly, your squelches becoming louder and louder. your tummy starts to churn the more he sinks in deeper and your lips form into a cute gasping shape. “oh, fuck. ‘s gonna break me, toji.”

“pft. don’t be dramatic doll,” he purrs, swatting another smack against your ass. the shape brief sting that only lasts for about five seconds makes you moan once your hips finally starts to move.

it takes a few lengthy seconds before with a wet ‘pop’, he bottoms out. so . . much . . girth, your empty brain was spinning cogwheels, trying to process just how could a guy be this fucking big.

your reaction to how well he stretched you of course, fueled a good portion of his highly cocky ego.

toji’s got a hooked curve too—and you feel it all. toji teasingly gives you one thrust, just one single thrust and you felt like you were gonna snap in half. it was that much power of his hips—you felt the wind get snatched out of you and the prettiest moan left from your lips.

biting down on your lip again, you’re feeling all of his hefty length massage the insides of your cunt. milliseconds shortly past before you then start to feel yourself shamelessly drooling on your split knuckles.

“fuck, fuck,” you chant in a quiet mumble, seeing nothing but inky black as your eyelids continue to flutter open and close.

toji had the kind of size that left butterflies in your tummy – a school of them to be specific, and you felt every single inch of him plummet its way inside. as you’re still babbling incoherent whimpers and whines at how snug he’s buried in you—toji starts to move faster with you.

with two hands, he holds you in place. darkened brows of his crease into a furrow as he sighs. “mhm, atta girl. see, look at you,” and you could hear the playful sarcasm seeping off his tone.

“takin’ it like a fuckin’—champ,” and right at that last word of his sentence, he starts to roll his hips just a bit quicker.

toji tries to match your berserk movement with his own hips, but he ends up beating your pace entirely. you’re trying to keep up but failing miserably and it’s just so cute. . but your face probably wasn’t as cute.

you probably looked a sight—mouth all open, jaw dropped and dangling, eyes bulging, pathetically drooling for more and more and . . you get it.

“hng, harder. fuck me,” you whine, the sound of skin and hips clashing repeating in your ears.

your sloppy cunt’s soaking him from the back, and his backshots were just brutal – killer.

each thrust serves its purpose every time and you’re left speechless. after a while, both bodies start to move rhythmically as your jaw’s just dangling.

damn, randy meeks would be shaking his head, tossing ‘n turning in his grave if he saw this.

under no circumstances . . never ever fuck the masked killer, and yet here you were.

but, who gives a fuck about movies?

you didn’t—not really, and when he had a mean stroke game like toji, you weren’t the type to complain. he’s hitting you deep with his fat splitting tip, filthily cruising his hips into you at such precise vigor until you’re just spouting a whole load of nothin’.

“ugh, right there. right fuckin’ there, fuck,” and you let off a cooing mewl once toji’s hand wraps around your throat.

with a few fingers, he gives you a safe squeeze that earns out a faint gasping croak from the back of your throat. toji uses your neck as leverage as he’s pounding into you rawly, ravaging your insides and all. your pearled clit’s repeatedly getting hit with his plump crown and you gasp, squeaking loudly once he taps against your precious g-spot.

all of a sudden, your brain’s fuzzy and you’re seeing stars—somewhat like a cartoon character. you were silly, literally being fucked silly. “fuuuck!” and it catches you by surprise.

once he reaches past that cute ‘lil spongey barrier of yours, it was over.

you were pronounced dead—dead from cock, and pretty soon you were starting to feel yourself go into a lewd white fantasm for a few seconds.

you’re dumb, dumbly fucked stupid from his sloppy enticing hits that you could barely speak coherently. it felt good, it felt so fucking good, and as you feel his heavy base slam back into you again and again, you start to moan. “yeah, i know, i know, baby,” toji huffs, and your cunt’s just addictive. your walls cling onto him tightly, hugging around him like a vice—threatening to never let go.

your sheer sweltering warmth from the inside makes his head slightly toss back to a certain degree and it’s sexy. if only you were to see it. “god, clampin’ down on me so good. work those hips baby, yeah. give me a fuckin’ show.”

as you try to match his crazed tempo. . eventually, you start to feel a tender feeling arise in the lower part of your tummy.

its familiar, and you can recognize that hot brewing sensation from anywhere. you’re close, and as wanton shrilling whines continue to drag away from your lips you start to spasm.

“fuuucck, toji something’s coming,” you whimper, dragging out your words, and you don’t think it was a regular orgasm.

it was far different . . the feeling was equivalent to someone harshly pressing a palm down on your stomach. your eyes squeeze shut before you repeat yourself through quivering glossed lips. “toji, ‘m gonna—”

“yeah yeah, i heard ya,” he maunders, and he’s feeling himself reaching his inevitable peak too.

it doesn’t take long before he feels the undersides of his meaty thighs starting to burn with hot intensity. toji’s fat cock continues to drag in and out of your goopy walls, hearing you squelch over and over him and he snarls. “fuck,” and he punctuates his thrusts, watching as your ass swiftly slams back into him at such speed. his abs that hide underneath his dark cloak tensing. “same time, baby. finish with me.”

“o.. okay,” you moan, and he’s still got a gloved hand wrapped around your throat the entire time. a thumb of his caresses down your nape, humming at your pretty twitching body underneath him.

it’s a sight he’d love to get used to.

as you’re both chasing your delirious orgasmic peaks—toji presents to your cunt one final thrust that sends your entire body into a crazed stupefied state. your plush cheek near the left side of your face smushes against the pillow before you whimper, starting to feel yourself spritz on him.

your eyes widen as it happens. a spraying geyser shoots out you as you let go—and oh, you’re soaking toji right with you, glossing his entire cock from the base down.

“oh my god, fuck, fuh—fuck!” you sob in craving pleasure, flapping eyelids sticking together from the pretty glassy tears that start to form. so good, it’s a feeling you’ve never felt before and you felt like a weight was gradually being lifted off your shoulders . . including your sweet pussy.

toji finishes seconds later and he groans, stilling his hips against you. creamy velvety bundles of ribbons pours into your cunt and he lets off a low growl. “fuck,” and his hand smacks against your ass again for the nth time.

you felt warm as he’s continuing to spill such a mass amount whilst at the exact same time, you’re drenching his cock – putting faucets to shame at just how damn wet you were.

toji’s cock eventually turns flaccid and soft as his tip and peeled frenulum spits a good amount, watching your body limp underneath him.

with a sly exhausted grin stretching across his scarred lips, he traces his fingers down your spine. “my, oh my,” and you whine, finally finishing. toji stares at your body, feeling you weakly writhe your hips before finally submitting defeat. “did you jus . . fuckin’ squirt on me, pretty girl?”

you did,

and you end up dampening up the cushions of your burgundy colored sofa in the process. you felt like you were floating, panting and heaving ridiculously like a dog. toji brings his hips to a sudden stop, gazing at the ivory wads and ropes of cum that fill inside of your cunt.

slowly but surely . . it starts to race down the crevices of your thighs, splotches of white splattering against your skin. in a dirty, filthy way, it’s pretty – in toji’s mind at least.

he luxuriated at the sight of you all fucked out and speechless. not a word came from your lips except for the occasional whimpers and moaning sobs that would tear out your throat. you were still arched over, moaning once you feel him slowly starting to pull out. “ain’t that a pretty sight,” he rasps, hearing his cock sweetly ‘pop’ out of your creamy fat folds.

you’re oozing out with so so much of his gooey lush cum and it makes him licks his lips. you looked delicious, and he couldn’t help but swipe a finger down your runny cunt, bringing his eager digit up to his lips just to get a taste for himself.

toji was a nasty man—but with the way you tasted, he was even nastier.

as he licks his gloved finger that contains the concoction mess of both sappy liquids, he hums in amusement. “mhm,” and as his leafy viridescent colored eyes linger down towards your cunt, he smears his leaky tip over your pussy.

toji grunts, making sure to paint the entirety of your entrance with his pasty cum that sobs down parched folds. “good girl, good . . fuckin’ girl.”

toji stays like that for a while, and it’s only after an abrupt pausing moment that he makes you turn around to face him. he makes you lie flat on your back, and there, you’re met with the eyes of a handsome smug man. his features were as sly as his attitude, and his ruffled black hair was naturally messy.

“surprise,” he mutters, and you intake a breath once he gets on top of you again. toji doesn’t have the mask on anymore—but he still has on the costume part, a ghoulish black cloak that had slits near the edges of his sleeves. “scared yet?”

“not . . really,” you sheepishly say, slowly trailing your eyes down his body.

squinting just enough, you saw right through the outline of his muscular frame. he was fucking ripped, and you felt yourself throb the moment you started to imagine him wrapping those big burly arms around your—

“figures,” he scoffs, though his tone’s a bit more playful than annoyed. toji runs a big veiny hand through his hair before bringing his watch up to his face. wrinkling his nose, he hums. “gotta run, doll. ‘s been fun.”

a pout pulls against both sides of your lips as he says he has to depart. sure, you didn’t exactly expect him to stay . . well who were you kidding, you sort of did. but you knew he had to go.

your thighs stick together as he remains on top of you, watching him pull his mask back on. with a slightly worn out voice, you murmur. “you can’t stay?”

“no, i can’t stay,” he snickers, knowing you wanted more. toji’s head friskily tilts as you stare at him with a cute doe-eyed expression, still pouting and he rolls his eyes behind the mask. “god, fine. greedy little thing aren’t ‘cha?”

and you hear a bit of shuffling, watching him fish a hand in his pocket as his jeans were now pulled up and made presentable again. toji grabs a sharpie out of his pocket before pulling your waist closer toward him. “tsk. stay still,” and you’re curious to what he was about to do, not daring to move an inch.

you’re all bare and exposed, and you let off a soft exhale once he starts to write something right below your belly button. just a few more inches down and he’d be writing on your pussy.

it lasts for about seven seconds before he stops, adding a heart near the end of what was a ten digit phone number.

“alright, princess. here’s my number. whenever you’re feelin’ horny, just give me a call, yeah?”

and before you could even reply, he leans up to you—pulling up his ghostface mask over his lips, giving you a long teasing kiss. you moan into his mouth, smelling a scent of his cologne before he leisurely pulls away. toji whispers against your lips for one final time before pressing a thumb toward your throat.

“i’ll always come back.”

[dioslesbianwife]

Can you do bucci gang with reader who has The world as their stand? Or made in heaven.

I just wonder how they would react to a powerful stand.

But like also the reader is too afraid to use it? Feel free to ignore this request

sure, i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting <3

Giorno

Giorno immediately recognizes how powerful your Stand is- and just how rare a gift it is.

But he’s also deeply compassionate. When you tell him you're afraid to use it, he doesn’t pressure you.

Instead, he gently encourages you to talk about your fear.

“You don’t have to be ready now. But your power is yours. You don’t owe it to anyone to be perfect with it.”

He gives you small exercises- pausing time just for a second, maybe to catch something before it hits the ground. No pressure. Just moments.

He wants you to understand that your Stand doesn’t define you. You define it.

Bruno

Bruno sees your fear, and it reminds him of when he first took a life in the name of justice. Power can be heavy.

He sits beside you, lets you speak, and nods softly.

“Fear is a sign of your humanity. It means you understand the weight of your power.”

He never tries to force you to use The World, but he does gently remind you of one thing:

“One day, your power may be the only thing standing between someone you love and danger. If that day comes, will you be ready?”

He trains with you when you’re ready. Quiet mornings. Supportive eyes. Not as a capo, but as a friend.

Fugo

Fugo immediately understands the sheer weight of having such a powerful Stand and being terrified of it.

“I’d be terrified too.”

His empathy comes from knowing what it’s like to lose control (hello Purple Haze) and how scary your own power can feel when it has real consequences.

He doesn’t push. In fact, he’s cautious with you at first.

“You don’t need to use it. Just… understand it. Study it. Know the rules. Fear thrives in the unknown.”

He offers you his notebook- pages of scribbled notes on Stands, yours included. Helps you analyze The World like a puzzle instead of a weapon.

Narancia

At first, Narancia is just STOKED like,

“YO YOU CAN STOP TIME?? THAT’S INSANE!!!”

But when he sees your discomfort, his whole energy softens. He’s surprisingly empathetic.

He doesn’t quite understand the fear, but he respects it.

He offers to go into stopped time with you. Like, just hang out.

“C’mon, just for a sec! We can toss popcorn in the air and unfreeze to see where it lands!”

You laugh. It's the first time you stop time without fear. Because with Narancia, it felt fun, not terrifying.

Mista

Mista is the king of jumping before thinking, so he has a hard time understanding why you’d hesitate.

But once he gets it, he becomes your biggest cheerleader.

“You could literally pause time to slap someone and then unpause and they’d never know. That’s awesome! You’re awesome!!”

He encourages you through humor. Makes silly situations for you to pause time.

The moment you accidentally use it to save him- like stopping a bullet or a fatal blow- it leaves him speechless.

He just pulls you into a hug.

“You saved me… You really are amazing.”

Trish

Trish relates to the fear. She didn’t even want to be part of this world at first. She understands what it means to be thrown into power unwillingly.

She’s firm, though- not because she’s mad, but because she believes in you.

“You’re allowed to be afraid. But don’t let fear write your story.”

Trish wants you to own your power the same way she came to own hers.

She’ll stand next to you as you practice. One second. Two. Three.

When you finally manage a full pause and don’t panic, she cheers louder than anyone.

“There she is! That’s my girl!”

Abbacchio

Abbacchio… is complicated. He doesn’t handle fear in himself well, so at first, he comes off cold.

“If you’re afraid to use it, someone else will use you instead. That’s reality.”

But he’s not trying to be cruel- he’s trying to protect you.

He softens in quiet ways. Leaves you notes with advice.

One night, he tells you the truth:

“I wasn’t strong enough to protect what mattered once. I don’t want you to make the same mistake.”

And after that, every moment you push yourself, even a little- he notices. He never says it, but you see it in his eyes.