#she called him partner that's basically an I love you

[causenessus]

leaving soon. | dazai o.

dazai x f!reader

written in 3rd person bc i can

song recc: the fear of losing this by florist

word count: 2.8k words

notes: use of pet names angel, love, and bella; WARNING for mentions about suicidal ideation,, not heavy angst, it's just dazai. and also the reader thinking she'd be fine dying if she's with dazai. not in a manipulative way, just a way of loving him in every universe and state <3 lots of hurt/comfort, overthinking, and insecurity. basically both dazai and the reader are horrible at communication so they have to figure it out together. established relationship implied. takes place during cannibalism arc after dazai is shot. civilian or ada reader not specified on purpose. thank you for reading!

she was the first person they called when they found out.

well– the first after an ambulance had been called. after that, she was the next most important person to call.

not important enough to have any part in saving his life, though. not just as a doctor; she wasn’t good enough to prevent him from thinking of killing himself every day. she wasn’t important enough to keep him from throwing himself into the way of danger, not worth enough that he thought about what would affect her before he wound up in these situations–

it was wrong of her to be angry at him for something like this. she knew what she’d been getting into when she first met him. when she first started falling for him, and when she confessed. she knew all along what he was like, and she still loved him anyway.

yes, he had a past. yes, he joked about committing suicide every day. yes, he was reckless. yes, he was a mastermind. yes, he was selfless and willing to always put everything above himself. yes, he was bad at communication. yes, he was worthy of love. yes, he could give love.

relationships were a work in progress. they would always be until the day she ended up buried next to him, hopefully. deep down, a part of her had already forgiven him for the episode of panic and stress she'd had as soon as she'd recieved the broken call from atsushi. but the other half knew it also wasn’t wrong of her to feel upset when she'd heard that her boyfriend had been shot in an alleyway.

she knew him well enough to know he knew he was putting himself in risk of danger in that alleyway, whatever he'd been doing there. she reckoned he probably knew he was going to be shot, too. and if he knew all that, she just wanted to know why he didn’t give her a heads-up. she wasn't asking for all the details. even just a text, moments before, saying "hey. i'm about to end up in the hospital. someone might will call you. don't be too worried." she didn't expect them dating to miraculously change him into a man who didn't crave death at every moment, but had it been so wrong of her to hope that maybe being in a relationship would cause him to think twice before getting himself in situations like these, no matter how much he assured her he knew what he was doing?

one day, as much as she hoped it wouldn’t be the case, she feared there’d be something he failed to account for. one day, he'd go missing, and no one would be able to find him, and it'd stay that way. she feared one day they wouldn't be so lucky as to find him bleeding out in an alleyway when there was still a chance to save him.

but there she went again, being angry at dazai, then being angry at herself for being angry at him, and then shoving down her feelings before she even had the time to process them. because she didn’t want to be the overbearing girlfriend who always plagued and worried about her boyfriend, but she couldn’t help it when her boyfriend quite literally wanted and was trying to kill himself.

everyone she had talked to had agreed that it wasn’t wrong of her to feel worried about her partner and that they would support her if she decided to distance herself from him for her own sake, but she could never bring herself to do that. if anything, to be completely honest, she’d rather she die with him than leave him to die on his own. 

maybe she was weird or morbid for thinking that way. maybe she needed to seek help. but all she knew was that she truly loved him, but maybe he didn’t feel the same way. maybe their entire relationship was just temporary for him and he didn’t want to die with her at his side. maybe death was something sacred for him that he wanted to experience alone, or she just wasn't the perfect one for him and he was still looking for that "special one." she wasn��t entirely sure what his thoughts were on the concept, or what he really, truly thought of her. she didn't know if she was really of any value to him.

maybe she could figure it out for herself. maybe she was a horrible, terrible, awful girlfriend for not knowing what her boyfriend thought of committing suicide with her, but she had no idea. she wasn't sure what was okay for her to bring up, and what wasn't. how was one supposed to go about asking their partner's opinion on a double suicide? she had been frozen by this fear as she stood outside her hospital door, but it was something that had been on her mind long before now. the fear of bringing up something that might ruin their relationship started even before they were dating; with even the thought of confessing her feelings. even though she'd gotten past that, it never became easier bringing up touchy subjects with him, out of fear of triggering something without the intention to.

she had been stuck outside his door for more than ten minutes since she'd been left by a nurse to open his door and check on him. she was unsure of what to think of herself, and what to do. her hand was fisted and raised, ready to knock but then she decided ‘i’m the first person on his emergency contacts list. i don’t need to knock; he’s mine. he probably wants to see me. i’m his.’  

she swung the door open.

what was she doing with her face? what was she supposed to be saying? why had she decided to come in so abruptly? she should have knocked after all. she was reminded of the fact that she was not enough to stop osamu from wounding up in a hospital in the first place. she didn't have any right to barge in like this.

then, all of her worries melted away when he turned away from the window to see who’d entered his room and his face softened.

“[y/n],” he whispered, and she saw his bandaged hands loosen their grip on the sheets he'd been holding. his shoulders dropped, and his whole demeanor seemed to relax.

“osamu,” she called his name back, letting her body do what felt normal. she was glad it had a sense of what to do, because she felt like she was at a loss for words. if she opened her mouth, she wasn’t sure if a tone of concern or of anger would come out. 

she took a seat in the chair pulled up to the side of his bed, loosely intertwining her fingers with his nearby hand. the bandages that adorned his skin didn’t bother her. in fact, she was often overcome with an urge to kiss over every inch of his body and tell him how beautiful he was. the hospital gown he wore was what bothered her; she thought everything about him was beautiful and she couldn’t stand the thought that there’d be a scar on his body because of her. because she hadn’t done a good enough job of telling him how loved and important he was. that he didn’t think of himself nor her as important enough to keep himself out of danger.

her lips were pressed into a grim line as she ran a thumb over his knuckles. she wished he would eat more.

“everything go well with the surgery?” she asked, talking softly as if the silent atmosphere in the room was fragile.

he hummed in response, “yeah, they took good care of me. i should be good to leave by tomorrow afternoon.”

her head perked up at the answer, “that soon already? are you sure?”

“yep! as long as i take it easy, they’ll let me go tomorrow which is good. thing are tense between the mafia and agency right now. ranpo and kunikida are fine, but we'll have to work together with them against the one who caused all this, and i’m the only one who can faciliate that.” 

she liked it when he explained everything to her, it made her feel helpful, as if at least he could share his thoughts with someone else rather than keeping them all wound up in his head. she nodded along, trying to push down the concerns she had for him. the mafia wasn’t always nice to work with; even if dazai was right and their cooperation was the best course of action, that didn’t mean they would agree to it–at least not without a fight.

“you are going to take it easy when you’re discharged. right?” she gave him a look, in which he gave her a wry smile in return.

“of course i will, bella! who do you think i am? and i’ll have you, my guardian angel to make sure of it, won’t i?” he laughed, squeezing her hand as he talked boldly.

it had been easy for her to forget that he would want her by his side but the reminder made her smile, “you’re right. i'll be there to make sure you don’t hurt yourself again.” she almost added something else to her sentence but the "again" spoke well for itself, she thought. she didn’t want to ruin the mood so she kept it vague and her mouth shut. dazai looked at her expectedly, as if he was waiting for her to say something else but she only smiled at him, “i think i’m going to go take a walk real quick, just to clear my head. is that okay? i’ll be back soon.” she made an excuse as she stood up, turning to walk towards the door of his room before a hand gripped her wrist, pulling her backward.

she yelped as she fell onto the bed, flush with his chest. she could feel and hear the groan he let out when she hit his torso and on reflex tried to push off of him to lighten the pressure on his wound but his grip remained strong around her wrist, pulling her closer.

the prick of pain that shot through his stomach was a small price to pay for having his girlfriend on his chest, where he had wanted her from the moment she’d walked through the door. he wrapped his arms around her back, keeping her secure and from escaping his arms.

she allowed herself to be held in his arms, knowing it was useless to try to fight it now. she sighed, trying to enjoy the moment as her ear rested against his chest, allowing her to hear his heartbeat while she looked out the hospital window to the orange colored sky. 

“why take a walk away from me?” he mumbled playfully, nose buried in her hair. when she didn't respond, he placed a gentle hand on both sides of her face, tenderly guiding her head up to look her in his eyes; warm, chocolate-brown pools of adoration.

this is pathetic.

how did she come in here upset and worried about him and end up being the one comforted?

“you’re thinking too much in that pretty head of yours, angel. you’re thinking way too much about things way out of your control. that isn’t good. i can’t let you worry yourself to death like this, love. you gotta let me know what’s up. pretty please?” his voice was soft and pleading, but she winced at the mention of the word death, averting her eyes from him, instead opting to lay her head back on his chest, focusing on the steady rhythm inside of it. it was the surest sound in the world, the only thing she felt that could silence her head at the moment.

“sorry, angel,” he brushed a hand through her hair again, “didn’t mean to upset you, but i can tell, you know. and it makes me worried. i want to know what’s upsetting you so much.”

“says you,” she replied, huffing in frustration. he waited for her to continue, and she did, “you think you’re worried? i’m worried. about you! you’re the problem.” his fingers stopped moving at the mention of him. 

“‘don’t worry about me,’ i can already tell what you're about to say. ‘yes i know i was shot but don’t worry it was all part of an elaborate plan i didn’t tell you about after promising to try to communicate better,’” she mimicked him, trying to explain to him her point. she feels the hum in his chest as he processes her words and starts to grasp it. “it’s just– i’m sorry if that’s mean. and i’m sorry for worrying because you don’t need that added to your plate, but i can’t help it. i didn’t want to tell you this at the start because i don’t want to overstep your boundaries or give you one more thing to fix. i don’t care much about you breaking your promise to communicate better because it’s a lot to ask and it can’t always be done. i know you’ve had a difficult past and i don’t mind, osamu. i’m not mad, all i want is for you to be safe. and i know that’s a lot to ask from a suicidal man and that’s why i don’t know where i have a say in all of this– but i love you and it hurts for me to see you put yourself in danger so carelessly without telling anyone, as if i’m not enough to make you think twice before injuring yourself. sometimes– sometimes it feels like i’m just something for you to toy with before you die. something for you to entertain yourself with before you inevitably end up leaving. and i don’t want you to leave. i don’t want you to die, or at the very least without me– but i also know that’s nearly impossible to ask of you.”

he had started to rub her scalp as some sort of apology while she’d explained her feelings to him, and she still couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. she felt pathetic and weak with the tears in her eyes, and even worse when they began to slip from her eyes, no doubt seeping through his shirt and bandages. “you have every right and place to say whatever you would like, bella.” he spoke up after a beat of silence as he thought. still, it didn’t make her feel any better. he could just be saying what he knew she wanted to hear, but what she wanted was the truth. how much time did she have left with him? how much was she worth? was he leaving soon?

“you're the closest person to me and you deserve to say whatever you would like and to know what’s going on. i love you, too,” she could practically hear the smile in his voice as he said those words which made her face turn red as she turned away from the window to hide it in his hospital gown. her own confession had slipped out of her without a second thought, but she hadn’t meant for this to be a serious moment of testing how much he loved her. “i wouldn’t have agreed to try to change if i didn’t want to, but that’s why i made you that promise. i do want to change and be better for you, whatever that entails. i’d rather talk to you about my plans even if you don’t like them so that you know what’s going on rather than leaving you in the dark. because i never want you to feel like you’re just a toy or anything of the sort. you’re so much more than that, bella, and i should show as much. i’ve been and am forever grateful for your love and patience, [y/n]. i don’t deserve either. ask whatever you want of me and i will do it. will you give me another chance, my angel?”

“of course,” she mumbled in response, nuzzling and kissing the center of his chest, finally feeling the truth and love behind his words spread through her body like a warm fire. “i love you,” she whispered, not expecting him to hear it.

“i love you too,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her scalp.

a noise from the window made them both jump as they turned to see a spotted orange cat with a sardine in its mouth waiting outside. it was posed too well to be a normal cat, and the pair shared a glance as she moved to start to get off of him.

“do you want to come along with me this time, bella?”

“always.”

[meanbossart]

Ask Compilation: Blondes, feet, bowl-cut guardian lady.

He did not, they never had sex. But he was in love with her.

For sure. I think she struck him more like a teenager with the black hair and bangs, after the change (both visual and in attitude) she became a far more mature AND attractive person in his eyes.

PFFT, well, if you're saying they meet ALL of the criteria, I assume you mean both in looks and personality and hence be damn near his soulmate. DU drow could overlook weird feet (and a lot of other things, actually) if he were in love with the person in question. He would probably gently request they take better care of them, though.

Nothing special there, I'm afraid! He just has human-like skin - perhaps a little on the oily side but completely within the bounds of normality.

He runs a little hot, if that's anything. Oh! His hair is shockingly soft.

Correct! DU drow only (arguably) looks like a drow. He doesn't have their usual bone structure, height, or associated magical proclivities. He has some dark vision but its nowhere near as good as a drow's either.

I don't necessarily think all Bhaalspawn are the same way, but the Dark Urge IS quite different from the previous game's iterations. DU isn't simply Bhaal's child conceived with a partner, he's a piece of the god that supposedly slobbed off and grew legs and a face, pretty much. So yes, I do think that the Dark Urge at least is it's own unique thing.

The reason why he looks like a drow, is because he was placed in the Underdark upon creation. The metaphor I always use here is that if you place something infantile in a biome that is alien to it, it may try to adapt to it's environment to survive as it develops, to different degrees of success. This is why DU drow looks the way he does.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

You're welcome!

I've received a few snippets here that you can find through the #gift art tag! There is also the fic I'm in the process of writing called A Novel Experience on AO3.

It was just something I was compelled to do when I first drew him! The facial scars felt like they should lead into something else so I just made up a pattern on the spot, minus a tiny tweak here or there, it has stuck basically unchanged. All and any lore relating to the scars came later.

I get a lot of sweet messages but "thanks for your man's penis size" has to be one of my favorites. Thank you!

HELLO!

Thank you so much for the kind message! And that sounds like a fun dream, I love that your Tav got jealous of the attention ASTARION was receiving instead of mad that he had to share in the first place LOL

DU drow is desperately monogamous. He doesn't care what other people do with their lives but he's very much a "one and done" kind of person.

He would be willingly to participate in a threeway/have group sex with a partner, assuming the rules and regulations of said encounter were laid out clearly before or at least mutually understood between them. He would never want to see these people again after the fact though.

She does not, naturally I had no idea that this character was going to turn into anything when i made him, so I just... Made a lady. And since she was supposed to be a "guardian" I gave her a Joan of Arc type of look.

I've occasionally thought about changing this, but... Y'know, sometimes you don't need lore to be that in-depth, LOL.

The emperor gave everyone else a nondescript hottie he assumed they would trust, DU drow just got the same treatment. She's not even DU drow's type but definitely someone he would be compelled to take seriously yet not feel threatened by - so ultimately, her design does make sense.

---

That's all I have the energy for tonight folks, as always thank you for the many encouraging and sweet messages you send me, I'm sorry I can't reply to all of them! 😭

Have yourselves a great week!

[worlds-worst-ships]

I only know three of these and I know this is gonna make a lot of people start crying in the comments "oH My gOd, yOu'Re sUcH a WiLlY hEaD fOr hAviNg a DifFeReNt OpiNiOn tO mE, i'M tElLiNg-" SHUT UP. I'm called worlds-worst-ships for a reason, you whiny noob.

Anyways, under the cut;

Anyway, Mark and Amber is basically my pet peeve. Everything always being your fault, when you don't talk to them for ten minutes your partner is already chatting up someone else at a party, and when you actually have a good reason for needing a bit more time to yourself, its never, ever good enough. Sure, Mark probably should've been more straight up, but I think that literally risking your life and almost dying to save the world every week is a pretty good reason for missing a few dates. I see people everywhere saying this situation ain't toxic, and thats because this sort of shit is NORMAL these days. Be perfect, never miss anything unless you're literally dead in a ditch, or you ain't shit. Even if you're dying of a heart attack, they'd better find your body crawling to go see your girl with a gift in your hand, cuz otherwise if she's anything like Amber, she will spit venom on your name in the eulogy, trust me.

Joker and Harley is straight up every girl in my local area. Joker has committed every crime known to man, many of which were committed on Harley, and she still can't get enough of him. I swear, girls like Harley don't use Tinder, they use Crimewatch, and even after years of the same shit they run crying to everyone else as if they're in any position to help them while guys like Joker are on the same crud until the day they die, its more than toxic, its downright hazardous. And before someone says "oH mY gOd, yOu'rE ViCtIm bLaMiNg, i'M GoiNG tO sPaM rEpOrT yOu fOr 15 HoUrS a DaY oN aLl Of yOuR sOciAlS bEcAuSe I CaN't FiNd tHe X BuTtOn oN mY BrOwSeR LiKe A NoRmAl pErSon", know that I have always said Harley's story makes zero sense. She was living a normal enough life, no glaringly obvious points in her life that would've whittled away her self worth to the point where a loony like Joker could get to her like that, so her falling in love with him isn't a product of some mental health issue, she's literally just a dumbass.

At least with Light and Misa, Light doesn't do consistently heinous shit to her. He at least provides for her to some extent, tries to keep her happy (albeit for his own ends, but still), he's never hospitalised her, cheated on her, (I wouldn't count that thing with that woman in the hotel room, as far as I can remember, no juices were exchanged, he just strung her along for the case), and overall, Misa's situation is actually at least somewhat bearable compared to the others. I've been in the Mark/Amber situation and would rather die than live like Joker and Harley, so yeah, Light and Misa take it for me.

Toxic heterosexuality

I'm not sure what we're voting for honestly, interpret it how you want. (And explain your choice in the notes for fun!)

btw I only know 3 of these ships so don't yell at me too much if one isn't toxic

[gutsfics]

FINALLY I DRAW SOMETHING!!!!!!!

some Joseph, both young (around 1980 i'd say, when he was traveling w Stan a few years before the portal incident) and old (~2017, now an art teacher at Westchester High). i like to think the first one is a picture Stan took of him while they were traveling and the second one is his staff photo at WH. the more things change the more they stay the same. i might give em backgrounds and foregrounds to look like that

he's had that jacket since the 70s. real leather will last you.

no glasses alts + the first sketch below

[glindyupland]

I just think it’s silly that so many people complain about Villain Amaya as “wasted potential” and that “we were robbed” like-

My pals, post canon fan fiction is right there. The desire to free her husband is right there. Either by touching an evil book while being too eager to remember the obsidian oil, or being possessed by contact (ie what she believes is true loves kiss) when trying to reason with him in the dungeon.

We don’t need a rewrite, we can have a continuation. Both can be true. Amaya is a complex character, she can handle it.

[featherymainffins]

Now this might be because I have issues but is it just me or does Slay The Princess feel like an allegory for a relationship?

[weezerlvr228]

why he so mysterious…

demur

[doodle-dog-diary]

@rt-nique

@rt-nique

Ran into an "everything was better in my day" old guy today who was genuinely shocked to learn that he was in his teen years before his mother was allowed a bank account without a man's permission

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. bragging about your oh-so-perfect boyfriend to your friends certainly has its (welcomed) consequences. . .

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff & smut. p in v -> unprotected. missionary. sweet but also nasty and condescending. creampie. body worship. size difference / - kink. nicknames ‘(little) princess, baby’. name calling once. not proof read bcs im sleepy. wc. 2k+

“right! he’s so thoughtful,” you sigh dreamily as you chat with your friends over the phone. you’re laying on satoru’s bed, kicking your feet up while you remove your make-up. of course, you had to call your girls to tell them all about the little date you just had with your boyfriend.

satoru’s in the shower, so you’re taking the time to relive the experience.

“here she goes again y’all,” one of your friends sighs dramatically, to which the others follow with giggles of their own. they know that you can go on and on about your partner. they’ve heard all of it before.

you grin and roll your eyes, rubbing the cleansing wipe over your lips, removing the light pink gloss you had on. you’re all giddy as you recall what satoru has done and given to you this evening. you’ve been pampered—spoiled rotten.

“hey! don’t blame me,” you retort with a chuckle. your friends laugh and urge you to go on since they’re only joking. the stories you tell are always either adorable or heartwarming, and thus they’re happy to listen. plus, debriefing you on your love life is free entertainment.

it’s not unusual for you to stray from the main story. you ramble about the restaurant you’ve visited, the pretty green scenery you’ve walked past, the museum you’ve visited, the way satoru paid for everything and how he made sure to pick activities you’re interested.

you get an occasional ‘aww’ or ‘cuteee’ when you mention your boyfriend’s loving gestures. from the enormous bouquet of flowers he’s gotten you, to the fact that he carried you back into his apartment the moment you told him your feet were hurting.

walking in heels wasn’t the smart move you thought it was, though luckily you had a thoughtful lover by your side.

“he’s just so handsome ‘n stuff. god—“ you squeal, not even bothering to dampen your excitement. you hide your face behind your hands for a split second, gaining a few fan girling squeaks from your friends as well. they’re happy that you’re being treated like deserved.

you don’t hear the door of the bedroom open since you’re too busy gushing about satoru. you’re focused on your small pocket mirror, careful not to forget a spot on your face. you notice that your friends have gone quiet, but you don’t question it.

“his gentle personality is honestly such a turn-on,” you mumble as you rub off the concealer from under your eyes, “and his subtle yet possessive touches? phew, don’t get me started.” you continue to babble on about how hot satoru is when he gets mad, unable to point out a flaw.

you’re about to comment on your friends’ sudden silence when a hand lands on your shoulder. you freeze and finally make eye contact with no one other than satoru—hovering over you from behind. he’s smiling down at you and mumbles a quick, ‘hey, baby’, before kissing your forehead.

you try to explain the situation, yet have no idea where to start. you can hear a friend of yours snickering and another faintly whisper an ‘oh, girl. . .’

before you have the ability to get another word out, satoru cuts you off, waving at your front camera for a second. his smile reaches his eyes and his dimples show;

“hey ladies, mind if i steal my girl from you?” satoru asks as he puts an arm around you. he places his cheek against yours, awaiting an answer. your friends are left speechless at the sudden turn of events.

the white-haired man appears extremely good on screen. he’s basically blessing them with his handsome looks. the towel hanging over his head indicates that he just came out of a fresh shower. there’s a visible vein running down his neck—nearly bulging out of the skin—as if satoru’s holding himself back.

once your friends snap out of their daze, they greet satoru and nod, exchanging quick ‘see you later’s. your boyfriend thanks them with another one of his charming smiles. he waves at the camera again, “bye bye, thank you.”

the call ends and the bedroom falls quiet. you stare at your screen which fades to black, completely dumbfounded. you quickly sit up—your mind a chaotic mess full of thoughts.

“satoru, i uhm, i didn’t know—“ you attempt to form an explanation, though you realise that it’s likely futile. satoru’s probably heard every word that left your mouth. you look up at him, your voice a quiet whisper, “how much did you hear?”

the sorcerer grins. he’s so enamored with you; everything you do is adorable. he grabs your hands and holds then into his larger ones—thumbs gently rubbing your skin. he pulls them up to his lips so he could place chaste kisses on your knuckles.

“everything, princess,” satoru hums, rotating your hands to place kisses on the inside of your wrists. there’s a subtle blush on his cheeks that even reaches his ears. no matter how calm and collected he may seem, he’s still but a complete sucker to your love, “talking about me to your little friends, hm? how cute.”

a shiver runs down your spine. you feel your tummy turn as you’re slowly guided onto your back. multiple kisses cover your body—from head to toe—like a canvas getting painted on. satoru’s taking his sweet time, admiring the art that’s your physique.

every piece of clothing that comes off is a step closer to the grande revelation. the masterpiece that is you. moving from one empty spot - filling it with his kisses - to another. sighs of content leave your lover’s mouth with each reveal, as if he hasn’t seen the sight of your naked body before.

“does this turn you on, baby? my ‘subtle touches’?” satoru mutters against your breasts, remembering your earlier words. his blue eyes stare up at you through his white lashes. not wearing his blindfold may overstimulate him due to his abilities, but he’ll risk anything if it’s to admire you the best he can.

he chuckles when you nod. your boyfriend kisses your hard nipples—taking his time to swirl his tongue around both of them just to feel your back arch off the mattress. your hands holding onto him for life is extremely thrilling. “it turns me on too,” satoru confesses quietly. his slender fingers reach the hem of your panties, “you turn me on so fuckin’ much.”

your breath hitches when your underwear gets tossed somewhere across the room. you’re dripping, obviously. there’s no way you couldn’t get turned on by the way satoru’s been worshipping your entire being.

you can also see the effect you have on him; he’s sweating. the vein on his neck seems to grow more visible when your cunt is revealed to him.

“there she is,” satoru grins in satisfaction. he seems to be in a daze for a second before he regains composure. he looks at you for a quick check, needing to know if he has your consent before he continues. the moment you nod, your lover separates your legs.

you sniff and try to hide your embarrassed expression behind a hand. satoru’s quick to pin your wrist above your head so you wouldn’t have the chance to do any of that. “keep your eyes on me, yeah?” he leans in to place a swift kiss on your lips.

“mhm,” you nod after returning the peck. the white-haired man utters a small ‘thank you’ and undoes his sweatpants with his free hand. he fumbles with his boxers—unable to keep himself from trembling in pleasure from the view alone.

your small body underneath him is a sight he’ll never get tired of. that face of yours morphing into one of pleasure whenever you’re intimate is one of his favorite things to witness. thus why the missionary is his go to position.

“c’mon,” satoru kisses your cheek as he manages to pull his erected cock out of his underwear. it’s standing tall, the tip pointing right at the place it wants to be buried at—your wet, warm and inviting pussy, “you were so loud when talking with y’r friends ‘n now you’ve gone quiet on me.”

satoru pouts, “it’s not fair. i wanna hear my princess too.”

you almost choke on your spit because of how whiny yet demanding satoru sounds. you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, firmly holding your hand down above your head. you’re still flustered by the entire situation. you open your mouth as tears gather in your eyes, “i’m sorry, i’m jus— ngh!”

you can’t even get your words out. the lewd feeling of satoru rubbing his tip between your folds completely catches you off guard. he grins, as if he planned on doing that the moment you tried to speak. he’s such a tease.

“shh, shh, i know,” satoru coos mockingly, acting like he’s not doing it on purpose. you can’t blame the man; he’s been rock hard ever since he heard you praise him so openly through the phone. your lovely voice speaking so highly of him was driving him nuts.

you’re so appreciative for all he’s doing and it makes the sorcerer want to spoil you even more. to give you the love and affection you deserve because of how precious you are—even if you don’t realise it.

he wants to give you more. more, more, more.

without thinking, satoru pushes his cock right through your tight cunt. he shudders at the sight of your poor, small pussy struggling to take his fat dick. he can’t hurt you, he knows. especially with the amount of times the bulbous head of his cock nearly bruised your cervix.

though, it’s difficult not to go all out. you’re so accepting of everything he does—satoru can see that by the way your eyes stare at him. it’s all love. the light reflecting in your pupils makes them sparkle beautifully. he cusses under his breath, “y’re so pretty, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck. y’re making it so hard.”

satoru tries his best not to plunge his cock all the way to the hilt. he reaches halfway with each thrust, the thwacking sound increasing by the second. your legs automatically wrap around his waist and your fingers squeeze his.

“toruuu, fmhh, so big,” you babble, the drool forming in the corners of your lips threatening to drip down your chin. each soft yet firm thrust seems to resonate within you, evoking a sense of pleasurable contentment.

satoru lets out a haughty chuckle at the sight of you going cockdrunk already. he’s still trying to hold his urges back by focusing on your satisfaction alone. “i’ll give you something else to brag ‘bout to y’r friends,” he pants with a confident smirk, kissing your jawline as he ruts into you,

you’re embarrassed by your current predicament. despite that, you find yourself enjoying every consequence that your actions have caused. your moans echo in satoru’s ears, each slap of your bodies connecting sounding twice as loud.

his thick cock is stretching you out so well. your cunt is working overtime to make space for every inch. your boyfriend gently bites your bottom lip, his breath faltering when you clench around him in response.

“‘re ya gonna tell them?” satoru asks through a guttural moan. his hips move non-stop, aiming to please you until you lose your mind. he’ll live up to the expectations set no matter what. he kisses the swell of your breasts, “are ya gonna tell ‘em how you let your ‘lovely’ boyfriend fuck you like this? how y’re a complete slut for his cock?”

you don’t know how to react to his dirty talk. it’s getting you wetter, that’s for sure. your thighs shake around his waist and your tummy feels like it’s doing flips. satoru doesn’t leave it there, “gonna tell them about how good i fill you up, yeah? dirty little girl telling all her friends about our private life, tsk tsk.”

it’s overwhelming. the sudden increase in dirty talk makes you want to cum on spot. you feel like you’re being degraded, however satoru’s touches make you feel appreciated and loved. his hand holding yours above your head never leaves you—a sign that this is still him making love to you.

“am—am not gonna,” you hiccup. the words simply roll of your tongue without much thought. you’re mindlessly responding to your lover. “am not gonna tell them anything,” you continue before cutting yourself off with a string of whiny moans when satoru plays with your clit.

satoru shakes his head, increasing the pressure and speed in which he’s pumping into you. he loves the view of you being so helpless—succumbing to the pleasure he’s granting you. “sureeee, i believe you,” your boyfriend snickers and pushes his pulsing cock in further. his tone is soft but condescending, “i’ll trust my little princess to keep her mouth shut f’me.”

you’re getting so close. your nails dig into his skin and your noises get louder. you’re right on the edge of euphoria. the clit stimulation along with the feeling of being filled to the brim is enough to make you see stars.

satoru nods at your desperate whimpers that alarm him that you’re close to climax. “i got you, baby. cum f’me—i got you,” he places sloppy kisses all over your face and rams his cock in and out of you in a stronger rhythm. there’s nothing satoru wants to do in this world more than to flood your insides with his cum.

his cock doesn’t stop prodding at your sweet spots and it’s making you approach that peak; the peak of pleasure that’s going to push you over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover and he doesn’t hesitate to return the embrace. “it’s okay, do it f’me,” satoru encourages you once again through a husky whisper.

you’re thankful that you have such an attentive partner. he can go from teasing you to comforting you and it’s the most reassuring thing ever. you’ve never had a man hold you so intimately while he’s balls deep into you.

“g’nna cum,” a strangled moan leaves your throat when you try to speak. your chests are pressed together and your heartbeats match—like the perfect pair you are. satoru feels his balls clench with an aching feeling, needing to release every last drop they have stored into your tiny cunt.

just thinking about the way you were bragging about him again, is enough. “take it—fuuuckk—take it all, baby,” the white-haired man takes a deep breath in and can’t help but bury his entire dick inside of you, that one last thrust making you yelp.

you reach your climaxes at the exact same time. your fluids mix as you feel satoru’s thick spurts of cum coat your insides a sticky white. your body spasms and your boyfriend instantly soothes you by rubbing your back. his own legs are trembling a little, but you’re far more important.

you don’t utter a word and simply focus on regaining your energy. all that you can say are incoherent babbles. “easy,” satoru kisses the corners of your eyes and relishes in the fact that he’s fucked you full of his cum. it’s a reminder of just how much he loves you.

a few encouraging words and hugs later and you’ve calmed down. you don’t fully grasp the reality of the situation until the adrenaline and other hormones drop down to a normal level.

you’re suddenly reminded by your previous words and this time, you succeed in hiding your face into the crook of satoru’s neck.

it’s certain that he’s greatly enjoyed overhearing you talk about him to your friends, but it’s still a somewhat embarrassing memory you wish to forget. “not a word, please. j-jus act like you haven’t heard anything,” you mumble quietly now that you’ve come down from your high.

satoru laughs softly. he can’t help but tease you after that—it’s a given. you’re still so caught up on what happened and it’s endearing.

however, satoru wouldn’t be him if he didn’t tease you about your little comments. without pulling out, he tilts his head back and stares down at you with a faint grin, “do i have to act like i haven’t fucked you silly just now too?”

“satoru!”

[clockwayswrites]

Birdritch... something. I hurt so much. It's some number. You'll figure it out. You're smart, darlings.

masterpost over on @clockwaysadmin

Danny stayed at the back, trailing after the rambunctious flock of Waynes as they made their way behind the stage and to the other, hidden side of the theater. It made Danny smile, to see the family bumping shoulders, teasing, and laughing with each other.

His life in Gotham was something that Danny loved. He’d clawed it out from the proverbial grave of his death and everything that came with it: nearly failing high school, his failing health after, the trauma it left him with, the relationship with his parents he left behind. But he’d gotten to the surface. He got his Bachelors and Masters and PHD. He got a job that he traded for another and another until he rose up to where he worked at an amazing company and got mostly left alone to dream up new ways to make the world better.

Danny loved it.

But that didn’t mean that Danny didn’t miss the close friendships that (metaphorically and physically), Danny had moved away from to achieve what he had. Visiting Jazz and Taylor, Sam and her brood, or Tucker and his partners wasn’t the same as living with them close. He missed what the Waynes had with an ache so deep that he had to push it aside so that it didn’t swallow him whole.

“Cass!”

Tim calling his sister’s name shook Danny out of his rumination. He found a little out of the way spot of wall to lean against between some boxes and rolls of scenery.

“You were amazing, darling,” Bruce said as he leaned in to kiss Cass’ cheek.

Bruce handed over the bouquet of white roses and babies-breath that he had brought from where it had been stored in the sitting room. Cass basically buried her face in the flowers and inhaled.

“For real, little sis, your moves were amazing. You have to show me how you hold some of those poses so still,” Dick said.

“As if you could stay still,” Barbara teased with a well placed poke to Dick’s side that made him squeak and move defensively behind Cass.

“Pretty sure she beats you in flexibility now too, dickhead,” Jason said.

“It is okay, love you still,” Cass said in her soft tone. She pulled out one of the roses from the mass of flowers and tucked it behind Dick’s ear.

Dick looked momentarily torn if he should be insulted or fond, though fond quickly won out and he pressed a little kiss to the top of Cass’ head. It seemed to be a signal, somehow, and suddenly all of the family was talking to Cass or to each other. The fatigue was starting to pull too heavily on Danny for him to make out most of the chatter, so he simply closed his eyes and let the happy voices wash over him.

There was a gentle pressure on his arm. Danny blinked his eyes open to a worried Cass, dark brows furrowed above the dramatic white and glitter of her stage make up. Danny smiled, though he knew it probably looked a little drawn.

“Hello, Cass,” Danny signed.

The furrow between the bows only grew as she signed. “You okay?”

“Okay. Tired,” Danny replied before he gave up to talking verbally. The sleep clouded his mind about signs right then. He really would have to practice. “I’m just a little out of sorts, but I’m very glad I came. Thank you for inviting me. You danced absolutely wonderfully. I don’t know much about ballet, but even I could see how skilled you are.”

“Thank you. I am glad you came. Could have not,” she said.

“Of course I had to come, you invited me and it’s an important night for you. It should be!” Danny made himself stand up away from the wall and put a bit more energy into his smile. “I’m fine, really, fatigue just gets me sometimes.”

Cass turned his frown away from Danny and directed it at her father.

“I already talked Danny into letting us give him a ride home,” Bruce replied.

“I really would be fine,” Danny couldn’t help but argue. “I’ve made it home in worse states than this.”

“Oddly enough,” Jason interjected, “you really aren’t helping your case.”

Danny couldn’t do anything else but give an unrepentant little shrug to that. He probably wasn’t, but it was true. Besides, he had already agreed to the ride, not that he felt he had much choice. It was too easy to be swept along by the Waynes.

Barbara may be right that they did absorb people.

[flippinpancakes64]

The Cullens with a reader that REALLY loves to nap/sleep?

This was on my list of ones to do so thank you! And I hope you like it!

Edward:

He got really concerned for a while

There was a period of time, before he started stalking you at night of course, where you would go hours without responding to his texts

He got so anxious one day that he just showed up at your window to make sure you were alright

And you were asleep

Pretty much every time after that if he wanted to know where you were he knew that's what you were doing

When you start dating and he can come and go more freely he'll cuddle up next to you and just watch (creepy)

But then it gets to a point where he gets a bit scared

You guys are out and about and you mention that you're tired and just want to go home and sleep

Or instead of watching a movie with him you'll just drift off

Genuinely asks Carlisle if this is normal

He needs reassurance from both you and Carlisle that this is normal and that sleeping is just fun <3

Alice:

Before you two start dating, when you guys are still just friends, she finds it odd that you won't hang out with her

Like wdym you don't want to spend a whole Saturday shopping

Also finds it odd that you don't want to text or call all the time

She just straight up asks you tho

Almost doesn't believe you when you say it's because you're napping/sleeping

"Okay yeah I toootally believe that you sleep from 7 pm to 4 pm"

But it's true

When she eventually makes her own Edward-style trip to your house in the middle of the day and sees you sleeping she has no choice but to believe it

When you guys start dating she gets a little more annoyed

Like come on you are her partner dammit why are you sleeping all day?

She makes the mistake of waking you up one day

That doesn't go too well

She doesn't do that again

She gets a bit huffy when you sleep all day but just make it up to her by letting her drag you wherever she wants one day and you're good to go

Jasper:

Your relationship is slow to build

You start off only seeing each other in school

Then talking a little bit

Then hanging out at school

Then talking a little bit after

Then hanging out a little bit after

So he doesn't really question anything when you don't talk to him most of the time

He just thinks you don't want to move on to being that close yet

But once you guys start dating, that's when he notices it

For a while he thinks it's just him because he's so used to Alice literally always being there and ready to talk to him

But when he goes over to your house for the first time to hang out and you just take a nap

He puts the dots together

He doesn't mind one bit

He's quiet after all

I feel like he would appreciate the peace since his house is never quiet

And not to mention that he can feel the tranquil and calm emotions radiating from you

You bet your ass he is cuddling with you

He just likes to lay there and close his eyes

Rosalie:

She was pretty quick to notice tbh

I feel like she's one to pick up technology pretty quick

So she's a texter

And she notices that you go dark at like 4 pm every day only to respond again sometime in the middle of the night then stop again

She gets a little annoyed

She thinks you're ignoring her

She gets petty for like, a week

Won't acknowledge you in the hallway or answer your texts

It's only when you basically have a breakdown in front of her that she tells you why

And then you have another breakdown explaining that you're literally just sleeping

So then she feels bad

Cue a week of apology gifts

After that though she starts coming over to nap

Sleep sesh

She brings over a book or a movie to watch while you sleep next to her

She loves it

Like Jasper she loves the tranquility

Emmett:

He'd also notice pretty quick that something's up

Like wdym you don't want to go throw rocks at cars or whatever he does for fun

He would just take it as you being a whimp tho

"You don't want to hang cause you're scared of *insert random thing* right?"

You give in one time and go do something with him and he notices like an hour in that you are yawning like crazy and walking super slow

You explain that this is your regularly scheduled nap time and then it makes sense to him

Unfortunately tho he's not one to just lay around

Something's gonna have to change

Maybe one day dedicated to doing what he wants and then the rest you can sleep as much as you want

Compromise :)

Esme:

Honestly she's down

When you first come over she thinks she's prepared for anything humans would need but then you start drifting off at like 4 and she's like "oh"

Instantly is putting you in a room and telling everyone to be quiet

Is a little concerned but also she thinks it's cute

And it makes her lowkey miss being human and being able to take naps too

LOVES laying with you tho

Will grab a book and lay there with you for hours

Chill queen

Carlisle:

He's concerned

He can't help it

He sees people come in multiple times a day every day with similar symptoms and rarely do any of them have nothing wrong

Once he has learned the extent of your sleeping, he takes you to do some testing

Not even an at-home consultation

You are going into the clinic no ifs, ands, or buts

When he finds that there's nothing wrong though, he'll ease up

Just a little

Is still super concerned though

Will check up on you every once in a while when you're sleeping

He likes spending time with you though

His favorite thing is if you take a nap on the couch in his office

He loves just having you there while he does paperwork for the clinic

Vampire! Bella:

She remembers naps all too well

And she misses them too

Even though she loves being a vampire she does miss getting to rest and disappear from the world for a couple of hours

She will never ever wake you up

Unless there's like an emergency or something

Loves to chill

Again, would be content just reading a book or drawing while you're sleeping

Would like to cuddle too

She likes the warmth and the comfort

Might even convince someone in the Cullen house to buy a nice bed for when you come over (if she doesn't already have one)

[simplyholl]

The Newlywed Game

Summary: You’re forced to play The Newlywed Game with your ex situationship.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Angst. Smuttish, but not my usual descriptive smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

“I can’t.” That’s all the explanation you got when Bucky ended your situationship. You were friends with benefits for almost a year. The only rule he had was don’t fall in love. He had too much baggage and he never wanted a family. He didn’t want anyone to depend on him.

You couldn’t blame him, he was traumatized by Hydra. Trapped inside his own body for decades, he was afraid it could happen again. You jumped in head first with him anyways. You were in his bed after every mission, every meeting, every day. You basically lived in his room, not that he would ever admit that. Then one rainy afternoon, you knocked on his door like always. Except this time, he didn’t pull you into his warm embrace.

He moved out of the way so you could come in, and immediately you knew something was wrong. You reached for him, ready to console him, desperate for his touch. He had just finished a mission with Sam and he’d been gone for two weeks. You missed him, and he was usually so excited to see you.

When you placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing the scruff that had grown while he was gone, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist removing it. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so low you could barely understand. Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Have I done something wrong?”

“This has gone on for longer than it should have. I can’t let it anymore.” Your throat tightens, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You walked out and your relationship with him was never the same. You didn’t hang out anymore.

When you were alone, he would leave. He didn’t sit beside you during the Friday night movie. He didn’t choose you for his partner on game night. The other Avengers didn’t know for sure that you were hooking up. You hid it pretty well. They had their suspicions, but neither of you ever confirmed it.

Tony called everyone to the back yard. “What’s all this?” Steve asks, pointing to the stage he had set up. “It’s my anniversary tomorrow and Pepper said she always wanted to play the Newlywed Game. So I had this built so we could play.”

“That’s great, Tony. But who are you all going to play with? There’s four set up’s and only two couples.” Steve gestures to Wanda and Vision. “Thought about that and Cap, you and Natasha are going to play and….” He looks at the whole team, everyone looking in different directions trying not to make eye contact. Except for Sharon, who hung around a lot lately. She was getting closer to Bucky, obviously wanting Tony to choose them. You roll your eyes. “Barnes and Y/N. There now we have all our couples. I’m going to go get Pep, you guys take your spots.”

You look at Bucky,but he’s busy talking to Steve about how ridiculous it is. You hear Sharon agree that he should have chosen someone else. When Pepper comes in, she excitedly claps her hands together. She points to the other teams, “You’re going down!” She laughs, but you can’t help but protest, “This is rigged! You guys and Wanda and Vision are the only real couples!! How is anyone else supposed to win?”

Tony shoots you a death glare but answers, “Cap and Natasha have definitely bumped uglies before. And you and Barnes are close friends. I thought that would make it more fair. But, I do expect to win.” You cross your arms, but accept his answer. Bucky finally looks at you, but it’s not friendly.

Sam comes out, wearing a suit Tony made him wear to host. “I’ll explain the rules. You all have a whiteboard, marker, and eraser. I will ask a question and you will write your answer on your boards. If your answer matches your partner’s you get a point. I’ll eliminate one couple each round until the final tie breaker.”

You take a deep breath. This is hell. But you do know Bucky better than anyone, so as long as he didn’t ask any crazy questions, you would be fine. “First question. Where is the craziest place you and your partner have had sex?” You freeze. Of course Stark had these wild questions. If you both answered the same, everyone would know that you had hooked up.

You think about lying, but decide the ball should be in Bucky’s court. You’ll answer correctly, and if he doesn’t you’ll know he doesn’t want anyone to know. You quickly scribble your answer, waiting on Sam to call on you. Tony’s answer is Steve’s room and Pepper’s matched. Everyone laughed while Steve said Tony has to pay for his room to be deep cleaned.

Wanda and Vision both answer “in the air.” Natasha and Steve said a table in the meeting room. You turn your board to reveal your answer and Bucky shows his. You look and see that he has answered correctly. “The quinjet?! Damn y’all are nasty!” Sam laughs.

You’re taken back to that moment. You, Bucky, and Bruce were on your way back from a mission. Bruce was driving the quinjet, but activated the mode Tony installed for breaks. As soon as he started snoring, Bucky led you to the bathroom. He took you against the wall, metal hand across your mouth to stifle your moans. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever done. Your suit clung to you in the worst ways after that. His cum dripping down your legs, it was nearly impossible to take off.

The others look at each other in surprise. Scott yells “I told you they were hooking up. No one believed me!” Sharon looks at Bucky so harshly that if looks could kill, he’d be dead. He just shrugs his shoulders. Of course, he would be hooking up with her. Why wouldn’t he? She was pretty and it had been three months since he ended things with you.

The next question was “Who hogs the covers more?” Everyone got it right except for Steve and Natasha. She said that wasn’t a fair question because they never actually slept when they were together. The round continued with four more questions. At the end, Steve and Natasha were eliminated because they had the least amount of points. The rest of you were tied.

“What is your partner’s pet name for you?” Sam asks. That’s easy, “doll”, you write. When you reveal your answers, Sharon looks furious. That must be what he calls her too. It stings, thinking of them together. You don’t have time to dwell on it before Sam asks the next question. “What is the highest number of orgasms your partner has given you in one night?” Your eyes widen, you know the answer, but you don’t know if he will remember.

Tony and Pepper answer three, Tony grins like the cocky asshole he is. Vision and Wanda answer two. Bucky raises his board, “Six?!” Sam shouts, “How were you guys fucking this much and nobody knew?” He laughs. The round surprisingly ends with Wanda and Vision getting eliminated.

But you’re busy thinking about that night. Bucky’s head between your thighs for hours. He barely came up for breath. You were sure he would smother, but he insisted. He didn’t stop until the sheets were soaked, your legs were shaking so hard, you’d immediately fall if you tried to stand up.

He had you screaming his name all night. When he finally started fucking you, he took his time, pulling another orgasm out of you before going back down for another taste. He finally came with you on top. He had to lift your limp body on him, using you like a sex doll. You couldn’t move if you needed too. It was the best sex you’d ever had.

“It’s time for the tie breaker question. Answers don’t have to match, the crowd will vote on the most romantic answers.” Sam states. “When did you know you were in love?” Tony and Pepper immediately begin writing. You’re certain you’re going to lose this one. Bucky was never in love with you. You write your answer, deciding to answer truthfully.

Tony and Pepper’s answers make you tear up, they are so in love. You can only hope you’ll find that one day. You and Bucky reveal your boards at the same time. You glance at his, his answer knocks the breath out of your lungs because it matches yours. The Avenger’s Barbecue. You lock eyes, his gaze softens as he reads your answer.

You’ll never forget such a pivotal moment in your life. All of the Avengers and Shield agents’ friends and family were invited to play games, eat, and have a good time. Emily, who helped coordinate your missions brought her husband and three young children. A baby girl, a two year old boy, and a five year old girl. The children were drawn to Bucky. The two older children swung from his metal arm while he held the baby with his other one.

The image made your ovaries explode. You couldn’t help imagining how he would be if you had kids. He laughed as they asked him a thousand questions, playing on him like a jungle gym. You knew without a doubt, you were in love.

Bucky took a deep breath when he read your answer. Why was it the same as his? Did you know? Was it a prank you were playing on him? Emily’s children were entranced with you from the moment they met you. He couldn’t blame them, he felt the same. They had played with him for an hour before the food was ready. When Tony told everyone to make a plate, you offered to watch the kids while she and her husband got their food.

Bucky watched as you comforted the crying infant. The two older children sat beside you while you read from a book the girl got from their bag. Bucky knew he was screwed. He could see a life like this so clearly. Your belly round with his baby, while you tended to your other children. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted that. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with you.

That night he made love to you, it was softer, slower than the other times he touched you. He knew you could tell the difference too. He placed one last kiss to your lips, willing himself to let you go. The next morning, he left for his two week mission with Sam. He convinced himself that it was for the best if he ended things. He didn’t want to hurt you. You might be okay with it now, but years later you would regret it.

You’d realize having the Winter Soldier for a husband wasn’t worth everything you would have to go through. Then Sharon started flirting with him after Steve rejected her. He hadn’t so much as hugged her, but she acted like she was entitled to him.

Everyone voted for Tony and Pepper to win. They were the real couple and it was their anniversary tomorrow. Tony was going to treat everyone to dinner for being such good sports. You got out of there as soon as it was over. You needed a nap before going to dinner. It was all too much for you. How the hell did you and Bucky make it so far in the game? Why did he have the same answer for the last question? You convince yourself that he knew how you felt.

That night changed everything. The sex was different. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was making love to you. He had to be messing with your head. Somehow you manage to fall asleep even with your thoughts racing.

You wake up two hours later, just enough time to get ready for dinner. You put on the little black dress Bucky loved. If he wants to play games, bring it on. You apply your perfume when a light knock sounds on your door. You would recognize the knock anywhere. “Come in” you call. Bucky walks in, his tight black t-shirt hugging him in the best ways.

“Hey doll, we need to talk.” You put your earrings in, anger surging through you. “Talk about what? How you were trying to humiliate me up there? How you’re banging Sharon now? There’s nothing to talk about. You should just go.”

“Humiliate you? What about me? How did you know the answer to the last question?” He demands, charging toward you. “I answered it truthfully, James. How did you know my answer?” You ask, hands on your hips. “I answered honestly too.” He confesses, his blue eyes sweeping over the swell of your breasts.

“Stop lying! I don’t see what the point is. We have been over for three months. Why are you doing this?” He shakes his head, “I was telling the truth. I realized I was in love with you when all those kids were sitting in your lap. I could see our life together. And I wanted it, the kids, the white picket fence, the big house, you.”

“Bucky, I wanted all that with you too. Seeing you playing with those kids made me realize it too.” You sigh, feeling relieved to finally get it off your chest. His lips crash into yours, hands moving at lightning speed to remove all of your clothing. You’re under him in seconds, panting against his lips as he rubs himself against you.

Bucky moans as he sinks into you. He’s always known deep down you were made for him, now he has no choice but to accept it. “I’m so in love with you.” He tells you between thrusts. You claw at his back, his confession almost sends you over the edge. “I am so in love with you, Buck.” You kiss him gently. “Say it again.” He smiles, as you get lost in each other.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu

[remlionheart]

NSFW Alphabet: Osamu Dazai Edition ♡

♡༊·˚ mdni. ((dedicating this to my pretty gf @bratbby333 since she's the dazai to my chuuya and some of these situations were in inspired by our unhinged 5 hour long facetimes calls, *cough cough* "blood-chilling" *cough cough* ♡)) this was honestly so much fun to write. dazai would be SUCH a diva in a relationship but he would also be so loving and protective ugh. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡༊·˚

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dazai's almost always the first one out of bed after the fact. He already has a shower running for when he comes back into the room to hand you a towel and a glass of water. You tell him that your legs are too tired to walk all the way to the bathroom so he scoops you up into his arms. The two of you laugh as he carries you into the steam-filled room. He lets you get under the water first, squirting a generous amount of shampoo into his palm as he instructs you to turn around. "Suppose your hands are too tired to wash your hair, hm?" You bite back a smile, giving him a pitiful nod in response. "My poor girl." He hums. His long fingers massaging into your scalp feel like heaven. He leaves light kisses along your shoulder, running a washcloth over your body while whispering sweet little nothings like "How'd I get so lucky?" into your skin as he cleans you off. It's hard to believe this was the same man who was making you beg on your knees for him just twenty minutes ago.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Aside from his body's infuriating aversion to death, there aren't a whole lot of things that Dazai doesn't like about his appearance. Aesthetically speaking, he finds himself fairly attractive so it's hard to narrow down one thing he likes best. If he had to though, he'd probably go with his hands. He's always gotten compliments on them, but after seeing what strong reactions they're able to coax out of you so easily, he's realized they're one of his most valuable assets. As cliche as it may be, your eyes are his favorite feature. He finds it adorable how they always tell him what he needs to know without you ever having to say a word. They tell him when you want more, when you want less, when you're about to hit your breaking point. They guide him in the right direction every single time. Plus, they're just so fucking pretty to look at.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The only thing more blissful to Dazai than hearing or seeing your orgasm is tasting it. His head is buried between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out of you deliriously as your thighs start to lock around him. You're spasming for him again, your voice breaking as you call out his name and your hips buck up towards him. "Dazai, I can't -" You whine. "'m so... sensitive -" "C'mon baby, please." he groans, "Just one more f’me." his tongue swirls against you with fervor, his digits still greedily plummeting into you. "Lemme taste it, lemme feel it. You’re sooo close." His fingers curl at just the right angle, his tongue faithfully lapping against you as you finally fall apart for him. He moans at the sweetness that spills down his chin. "You taste like fucking ecstasy, you know that?"

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's not necessarily a secret because in his defense, if you were to bring it up or ask him about it, he'd tell you the truth. But Dazai can't help it that you've never inquired about his exes and he's certainly not going to offer up the fact that he knows every single person you've ever been with going all the way back to the boy you kissed on the playground when you were 4 years old. Or that he just so happens to know all of their current addresses and their moms’ maiden names and where they work and their social security numbers. I mean, does it even really matter anyway?? He just got a little curious, that’s all!!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dazai had been with his fair share of partners before meeting you. Sex wasn't something he was ever shy about. He did a lot of experimenting, especially when he was spending the majority of his time drinking. He's always felt comfortable in his body and never saw the big deal about sharing it with someone. It wasn't until the two of you started dating that he realized just how binding sex could be. That it could transcend well beyond the simplicity of skin against skin contact. Being inside of you was the closest thing he'd ever felt to a religious experience. It felt like coming home after a long day. No matter how many hookups he'd had in the past, there was nothing that could've prepared him for how good you'd feel.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes any position that allows him to see your face. His favorite is probably fucking you from the side though, both of you facing each other with his arm hooked under your thigh, letting him go as deep as he pleases. He gets lost in the way your pupils dilate when he plunges into you. The security of your arms wrapped around his neck as you whimper and wriggle against him. There's something so intimate about watching you come undone from this view. Feeling you drench him while he kisses you over and over. "Let it out, baby. I've got you. Doin' so good - fuck, baby you're doin' so good f'me."

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As passionate as Dazai is when it comes to being inside of you, he's still able to find a level of a humor in just about anything. He's a Gemini, after all. If he's too serious for too long, he'll simply die. You're on top of him with your hands tangled into his for balance as you grind against him. Your hips are rocking back and forth at a pace that's making his breathing uneven. You feel proud, thinking his reaction is a sign of you doing a good job until you watch his head roll to the side, a stupid smile suddenly visible as he tries to bury his face into the pillow. You quickly realize it's not a moan that he's holding back, but a laugh. Your movements come to an abrupt pause. "Dazai." He tries his best to keep it together, but the scolding tone in your voice coupled with the stern look you're shooting him is only making it worse. “Wait, listen -" he tries to explain himself, but he's powerless to his own thoughts. A burst of suppressed laughter fills the room as he covers his face with his hands, still feeling the weight of your glare on him. "R - remember -" he struggles “Last week? When you were telling me about that book you were reading and...." he nearly snorts. "And you described it as -" Your lips press into a flat line, your eyes glazing over as you realize what he’s getting at. You knew the second you messed up that phrase, you'd never hear the end of it. "Are you seriously still laughing about the fact that I said 'blood-chilling' instead of 'bone-chilling?'" "BLOOD-CHILLING!" He repeats with the most obnoxious cackle, narrowly dodging the pillow you throw at him.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dazai spends more time grooming himself than you do. Hours in front of the mirror looking at himself from every angle to make sure what he's done is up to his standards. He's subscribed to one of those manscaping services where they mail him out a surprise bundle each month of new products to try. When you go down on him one night, he asks "...Does it smell like teakwood?" Your head pops up immediately, unsure if you even want to know what he's hinting at. "What?" "Nothing... it's nothing."

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In love, Dazai worships you. He has every inch of your frame memorized and knows exactly what each tiny movement and whimper mean. He's studied your body like it's his lifelong passion and he's learned how to make it respond so well for him. Your hips just barely buck up while he's on top of you and he smirks, his hair lightly brushing against your forehead. "You sure can handle the whole thing? Figured you'd still be sore after last night." You shake your head back at him with the poutiest expression, your core aching for more. "I can take it." you insist, "I can -" He challenges your sureness, giving you another inch only to see your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hand gripping onto the sheet above you. He'd never deny you of anything you wanted, but especially not when you looked this gorgeous. He grabs your hand, tangling his fingers into yours before drawing back and burying himself into you. "That's my girl." he groans, reeling in the way your walls so eagerly swallow him. Your breathing is erratic, your composure completely gone as you writhe and clench around him. He knows you're right there. You start to close your eyes, but he stops you, bringing his free hand under your chin to redirect your attention back to him. "Let me see it, angel. Show me." He slams into you again, giving you every inch of him this time. "Show much you love this." And you do. You show him three times in 20 minutes how much you love it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dazai's the first to admit that he has a high libido and if the mood strikes, he's going to do something about it. He gets bored easily, so he has a variety of different mediums to get the job done - the 'hidden' folder on his phone that's filled with pictures and videos of you, romance mangas, fleshlights, audio porn, hentai. He's not afraid to experiment even when he's alone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dazai is a true switch and will really fall into either being dominant or submissive depending on the situation. There are nights he gets off work and starts throwing out demands like, "On the bed. Now. Legs apart f’me." as he strips out of his jacket and pushes you down further onto the mattress. But, the are other times where he's dying not to be in control anymore. Where he's had to make too many decisions and he revels in the way you take the reins. The way you climb on top of him and whisper "good boy" as he grows hard beneath you. The only thing he loves more than making you beg is begging for you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dazai has a bit of a thing for voyeurism and recklessness so when Kunikida hires a driver to pick the two of you up to take you to a dinner for the ADA, Dazai has no hesitation on hiking up your dress in the back of the limo. Peeking up every so often to see if the driver has even noticed the way your tits are pressed up against the window for passing cars to see as your vehicle speeds down the highway. You arch your back perfectly for him, giving him full control as he plunges into you. Your walls are so snug and gushy, he knows he won't last long. But you're enjoying this just as much as he is, playing with your clit as he grabs your hair and pulls you up to kiss him. "You like knowing that people can see me fucking you?" he whispers, biting down on your bottom lip. "Your cunt’s drippin’ alllll over me.” "Fuck - yes.” You moan, feeling your legs beginning to shake as you let out a strained. “I’d let you fuck me anywhere.” His smirk deepens, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, angel.”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dazai's pretty easy to wind up in general, but he definitely has a thing for asphyxiation. Perhaps it stems from the lingering effects of suicidal ideation, but the feeling of something cutting off his airways makes him feral. When you're on top of him and you reach for his throat, he nearly fucking melts. If he could choose any way to die, he'd request for it to be at the mercy of your loving fingertips digging into the side of his neck.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There aren't many things that Dazai wouldn't do. Not just sexually, but in general. His curiosity almost always gets the better of him no matter the situation. The only time he's ever told you no was when you were being too hard on yourself. He walked in on you picking at your body in the mirror. Pulling your skin in different directions to see what you'd look like if your arms were thinner or what you'd look like if your nose leaned more to this way instead of that way. His heart sank. All of the post-work fantasies he had built up over the day disappeared the minute he saw how frustrated you were. "Hey," he whispered, coming up behind you and gently wrapping his arms around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. "Please stop being mean to my girlfriend. She doesn't deserve that." You tried to brush it off as a joke, leaning up to kiss him while he held you, but he pulled back. "I'm serious." he ran light fingers over your stomach, his eyes locked with yours in the reflection of the mirror. "We're not doing anything until I hear you say at least five things you like about yourself." He could see past almost any crime or murder, but he drew the line at you degrading yourself.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dazai's all about both, but if he's being completely honest with himself, he loves the feeling of your mouth around his cock. How cute you look when you struggle to take the whole thing. The way your eyes widen when he thrusts into your throat. How thorough you are, turning the act of going down on him into a work of fucking art. Even though you’re the one submitting to him when you get on your knees, he still feels like he's at your grace. You feel so good, he'd do anything to keep your lips wrapped around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Just like anything else, pacing could go one way or the other. The thing about Dazai, is he wants to do whatever you want to do. Even when he's in more of a dom role, your pleasure is still his main focus. There's no such thing as wrong time or wrong place as far as he’s concerned. If you wanted him to fuck you slow and sensually in the club bathroom, he would. He'd dim the lights, lock the door, lay his jacket down for you to sit on as he propped you up onto the sink and kissed you passionately. If you wanted fast, rough, filthy sex by candlelight on a bed of roses, he would. He'd wrap his hand around your pretty little throat, mocking the way you're struggling to breathe as he bullied himself into you while you’re surrounded by romantic ambiance. Whatever you want, he does too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If there was a tornado approaching your house at a reasonable speed, Dazai would still find time to have a quickie with you. Especially if he thought it was the last thing he might ever do. He wants to feel you as much as he possibly can. The construct of time really means nothing to him. You have to log onto a work meeting in five minutes? "I can fit under the desk, baby :((( they won't even see me. Just spread your legs and keep a straight face, okay?" Your parents are on their way over? "They drive so slow anyway, angel and the door's locked. Promise we won't get caught." You're waiting for food to be delivered? "Bet I could make you cum twice before the doorbell even rings." Getting to spend five minutes in you is always better than spending five minutes out of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dazai isn't just willing to take a risk, he's usually the one pushing for it. Any time your phone rings, his hands are suddenly roaming along your body, his fingers dipping into the softness of your underwear as he starts to kiss your neck. He knows you're on the phone with your boss, that makes it even better. He wants to see how long you can keep your composure while he torments you. Your eyes are like daggers when you look back at him, but your cunt betrays you entirely, grinding against him needily while he smirks. He picks up the pace, reeling in the subtle way your thighs shake. You're trying so hard to sound so professional and coherent, but your thoughts are everywhere. You're having to hit the 'mute' button every few seconds just to let out a whimper. Dazai nips at the nape of your neck, slamming into you with an extra finger this time causing you to nearly drop your phone. "Ahh ~!" But there's no time to hit mute with how he's suddenly plunging into you. Your boss asks if you're okay and you have no choice but to hang up. "Dazai -" you try to keep your voice firm, but you can barely see straight the deeper he sinks into you. "What - the... fuck -" Each word is a moan, your hand grabbing desperately onto the collar of his shirt. "Dazai," "Somethin' wrong, baby?" "Dazai, you can't -" But he already is. He already is so bad. "Dazai, please." You're not even sure what you're pleading for anymore - if it's for him to stop or continue. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, your heart slamming into your chest as more uncontrollable whines fill the room. "Dazaaiii ~" you whimper again, soaking his hand as his thumb brushes across your clit. "Ohmygod, fuck. You can't keep doing that." "No promises." He smirks, carefully pulling out of you before bringing his fingers to his mouth. "It's not my fault you taste so good."

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It all depends on the mood, Dazai's pretty versatile. Could he fuck you for hours? Yes. Has he? Many times. It's no secret that he loves watching you struggle to walk the next day after having your legs pinned against his shoulder. But he knows he can't do that every time. He generally tries to follow your lead and give your body what it wants - whether that's 20 minutes of gentle, deep, intimacy or an hour of a mating press followed by overstimulation. As long as you're getting off, so is he.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His nightstand is filled with an assortment of silicone stimulants for the two of you. Cockrings and vibrators and bondage kits. Out of all of the subscription services he has, getting a bundle of mystery toys delivered to his house each month is by far his favorite. He always waits 'til you come over to open it. Pouring you both a glass of wine as you divvy them out and argue about decide on who gets to use what on who.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Osamu Dazai lives to tease you. As far as he's concerned, the only reason the sun rises each morning is so that he can find new and exciting ways to make you grovel for him. He'll tie your hands together above your head, slowly unzipping his pants in front of you. Forcing you to watch as he strokes himself above you, groaning out lewd little nothings like, "Oh fuck, 'feels soo good." while he smirks at your pouty little face and the way you begin to squirm underneath him impatiently. “See how hard I am? God, just imagine what it'd feel like inside you." His hand pumping uppp and doownnnn tortuously out of reach. "Tell me baby, would you want me to go hard and fast or reeaall slow and deep?" He fucking moans while you writhe helplessly against the mattress, your neglected cunt throbbing. "Dazai, please." "Poor thing." He mocks, still jerking himself to the sight of you looking up at him with pleading eyes. "You can do better than that though, can’t you angel? C'mon, make me believe you.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

There's no denying that Dazai's loud. You make him feel so fucking good and he wants you to know. He'll have a fistful of your hair, groaning out your name while your tongue swirls around his tip. "Fuuuck.” He whimpers. "Oh - my… god." Tiny hearts cloud his vision as he watches your throat fill with his length, the heavenly sounds of you gagging on him echoing across the room. Your eyes gloss over, spit pooling down your chin when you look back up at him, your tongue still pressed firmly against his base. "S'fucking gorgeous when you suck my cock." His praise only make you go faster, drawing out the prettiest whines from him. "Nnngh ~ don't stop, baby.” His grip tightens in your hair. "Don't. Fucking. Stop." His hips buck up with each syllable, his rhythm unrelenting as lecherous tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You keep going though, drowning in the noises he's making for you. "Right there, right there. 'm gonna - oh fuck. 'm -" You feel him twitch inside your mouth before a flood of warmth suddenly coats your throat. "Swallow f'me, angel." his voice is so heady and delirious, it comes out as more of a beg than a command, "Fuck... Yeah. Just like that, mmm, god, just like that." You take it all in, not letting one drop go to waste. "You're sucha good girl, you know that? Sucha good fucking girl."

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dazai gives the illusion that he's not jealous. That it doesn't bother him in the slightest when you go out with your friends or when you stay at the gym longer than you said you would. He does trust you - completely, actually. He knows you'd never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with him. It’s the outside world he doesn't trust. When you're driving home from work, he's watching you through the location sharing on your phone. He stares at the screen intently until he hears you pull into the driveway. When you’re at the bar, he knows the importance of girls’ time and he’d never spoil that. He simply wants to make sure no one is bothering you. He shows up, stealthily lingering in the background, watching his pretty girl laugh with her friends and dance with a drink in her hand the way she should. He loves seeing you have fun, he doesn’t want to take that away from you. He just follows behind your Uber to make sure the driver gets you to where you're going safely. He's seen too many tragedies between working for the PM and ADA, he can't take the risk of letting anything happen to you. So, he doesn't. There's absolutely nothing off limits to you. The entire world is yours. You just... might see a man in a suspicious looking jacket that bears an eerie resemblance to your boyfriend trailing behind you from time to time while you're out. It's only because he loves you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Standing at a solid 5'11, Dazai's decently tall and slender - surprisingly muscular underneath all of those bandages. His waistline is so pretty and his hands? God, those long beautiful digits have brought you to your breaking point more than a few times. Besides excelling in dexterity, he's also packing. A perfect blend of length and girth that curves ever-so-slightly as if it was made for the sole purpose of hitting your g-spot.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dazai would bend you over in in front of the Pope if you'd let him. He's unapologetically ready to go at any time. He can't help that you're just so gorgeous and that his eyes are always glued to the way your hips sway when you walk in front of him. He yearns for you constantly, even when you're not around. If he could have a 10-hour loop of you moaning his name that's what he'd use as white noise to fall asleep to each night. He can't help that his dick twitches at the thought of you. It's not his fault you're so pretty :((((

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rest has never come easy for Dazai. He's tried every natural (and narcotic) sleep aide he could get his hands on. Put down multiple bottles of Pinot Grigio and still found himself up for days on end. Up until he met you, he didn't think it was possible for him to sleep for more than two hours at a time, but the first time you invited him over to your apartment changed everything. The two of you had been talking for hours - laughing and debating and sharing secrets over a bottle of cherry whiskey. He could've stayed up long past sunrise with you but when he noticed how tired your eyes were getting, he offered to take you to bed instead. Both of you stripped down into lazy pajamas. You, in an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Dazai, in his boxers. You looked so peaceful when your head hit the pillow, he was sure that you'd be out soon, but to his surprise, your body had other plans. Your lips were soft against his, your hands gently roamed along his body as you pulled him on top of you. You smiled at the way his hair tickled your forehead. The sun was just barely creeping through your curtains, grazing your face as he slid into you, highlighting the pleasure that had taken over your features. It was all so hazy and comfortable. Your room filled with heady mid-morning noises while his body thrusted generously into yours. There was something so intimate about it that it nearly brought you to tears. You felt full in every sense of the word. When you were both good and spent, the two of you laid in the middle of your bed with your head nestled into his chest. He played with your hair, watching you fall asleep in his arms. He'd never felt more human than he did in that moment. His eyes closed, his mind turning off for what felt like the first time in years as he drifted off with you.

ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ

‎♡‧₊˚ here's chuuya's version if you're new here ‎♡‧₊˚

[magicbystarlight]

Tú Sabes

Summary: After inhaling a mysterious powder on a mission, your life is put on the line.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+, sex pollen, multiple partners, rough sex, cream pie, Plan B, tad bit of cockwarming, oral sex (fem receiving), cum eating, overstimulation (brief), they’re all head-over-heels in love with you. Minors DNI.

Dividers can found here.

A/N: Translations will be at the end. Please be aware they’re not always word-for-word translations, but meaning/vibes based. I’m like decently confident in my very basic Spanish here, but I’m not fluent. So if you see anything wrong, let me know.

“I told you not to come.”

Maybe you should have listened to Marc. If you had, you wouldn’t have been in that stupid warehouse looking for some stolen relic they had been hired to find. They didn’t need your help, not really, but you just had to go. And Steven couldn’t say no to you.

If you had listened to Marc, you wouldn’t have got caught in a gunfight. You wouldn’t have been next to some stupid ancient sealed jar set on a shelf. You wouldn’t have breathed in the strange yellow powder when it was hit by a stray bullet.

Getting out of that warehouse and back to Steven’s flat was a blur. It didn’t take long to start feeling the effects. The heat. Gods, the fucking heat.

“Could you not do the ‘I told you so’ speech right now?” you groaned, fanning yourself as you sat in front of the fan. “Wait until I’m dead at least.”

“Oye, that’s not very funny, is it?” Steven glared disapprovingly, a look you didn’t quite catch through your half lidded eyes. “We don’t even know what you inhaled! You very well could die!”

Sweat was beginning to drench your clothes. “It’d be a relief at this point.”

There was a huff you recognized as Marc’s.

You peeled yourself off the floor. “While you boys are busy being offended, I’m going to go stand under some cold water.”

They watched you walk towards the bathroom, averting their gaze as you began to pull off your shirt before you’d even made it. Neither of them could understand how you were so nonchalant. They were terrified. You had only been in their lives for a short period of time and they weren’t ready for that time to come to such an abrupt end.

A deep rumble of a laugh pulled the men from their shared worry. Their glares focused on the giant humanoid skeletal bird sitting on the bed who had finally decided to show up after they’d called to him a dozen times.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Marc growled.

“Mortals are so weak. A bit of copulation powder a few millennia past its expiration and they’re on the verge of death.”

“Expired what?”

Khonshu sighed. “Maybe Steven isn’t the idiot.” The god appeared next to the window, seemingly staring into the distance. “That powder was pollen from special lotus flowers Hathor bloomed for some fertility festival after a harsh plague. One whiff caused a rather long orgy in the palace.”

“So she inhaled some old horny dust? That’s it?” Steven relaxed. Better than anthrax.

“Yes, she should be perfectly fine after she gets it out of her system.”

Marc could have hugged the god. You would be fine. “Great, that’s great! How long should it take to run its course?”

“Oh, Marc you are the idiot, aren’t you? She needs to fuck someone for it to get out of her system. Otherwise she’ll die.”

Marc’s gaze locked on the bathroom door as Steven’s voice cried out, “No! There has to be something else. Can’t you, can’t you speak to Hathor? Get a remedy?”

“There is a remedy,” Khonshu stated. “Fucking.”

Steven met Marc’s gaze in the mirror. They had done this to you. If they’d just made you stay behind you wouldn’t be on the verge of death. Marc turned to glare at Khonshu. “You need to go speak with Hathor and find a cure. Now.”

“I’m not going to waste my—“

“Saving her life is not a waste,” Marc growled.

Khonshu bellowed, “It is a waste of my time.”

Marc’s hand curled into fists before Steven folded his arms across his chest. “Alright, you stupid pigeon, what do you want?”

There was a long silence that stretched as the god seemed to contemplate before his shoulders sagged. “I am sorry, Steven. But it would be a waste of time. There is no other cure. She needs to fornicate with another human or she will die.”

Steven continued to argue before his obscenities turned to pleas. He had to save you. He had to.

“He’s telling the truth,” Marc interrupted, stone faced. “He would have made a deal with us even if he thought there was the slightest chance he could save her."

"So that's it, then? We either let her die or we go in there," his finger jabbed towards the bathroom, "and force ourselves on her?"

Marc couldn't meet Steven's eyes in the mirror. "We'll give her that choice."

"It's not a choice! She can't make a choice under the influence of some millenia old sex pollen!"

Marc snapped his attention to the mirror, stepping closer. "So we just let her die?" He hated it as much as Steven did. More. If had put his foot down, kept you out of this life like he wanted, kept you at a distance, kept you safe...but he hadn't. This was his fault. He couldn't let you die. Not you.

“You should make a decision soon. If you won’t save her, a bullet would be kinder than letting her suffer.”

Steven spun on his heel, but the god was gone. Their gaze fell to the bathroom door. The water was still running.

"Pinches pendejos."

—

The water did little to help. The freezing water splattered over you as you slumped to the bottom of the tub. Your eyes squeezed shut. Everything hurt. You'd expected a bit of a fever, maybe an ache, but no. Body wracked with pain, every cell aflame, and a throbbing between your legs that had only been heightened when you'd let your fingers wander. Your head fell back against the edge of the bath.

A touch on your shoulder made your eyes flutter open. You barely suppressed a whimper. They kneeled beside the tub, face uncharacteristically impassive. Through the pain it was difficult to tell which of them it was. "I-it's not helping," you croaked, head lolling to the side. "I feel like I'm burning alive."

Fingers trailed up your neck, your thighs pressing tighter together to relieve the ache. "The dust you inhaled was an ancient aphrodisiac.”

Your mind struggled to process the words, too caught up in trying to place the accent. "Dust...aphrodisiac?"

"Khonshu confirmed it. Hathor made it from some flower," their voice dropped, eyes falling away from your face. "The only way to get the pollen out of your system is to fuck. Either that or die."

The world you’d found yourself sounded ludicrous. A year ago you’d never have believed some sort of sex pollen could exist. You’d just been on vacation in London when you’d turned down several wrong streets one night and accidently stumbled into a fight between a man dressed in a white suit and a few comically accurate bad guys in black masks. They’d thought they’d use your mishap to their benefit, trying to leverage your life for their swift escape. But unfortunately for them—and fortunately for you—they were men who didn’t see the benefit in wearing cups to protect their tender bits. Steven’s excited babbling about it after had Marc’s concerned outbursts in between feel like whiplash. But a magical suit change made Steven and Marc’s situation a tad less outlandish. If a whole pantheon of ancient gods existed and had avatars running around, sex pollen wasn’t out of the question.

Your body felt too weak to move, but your lips still twisted into a lopsided grin. "Are you asking me to sleep with you?"

"I'm giving you the option," they clarified.

You could have laughed if you weren't in pain. “What are my options, exactly? Sex or death?"

"Yes."

The bluntness wasn’t Marc's usual sort and the accent didn’t belong to Steven. Maybe it was just the pollen confusing you. Your head lulled to the other side, eyes closing again. The fingers climbed higher, palm cupping your cheek. Sex or death. What a terribly difficult question. "And you’ll do it?“

“Yes.”

Your hand covered his. "Okay."

The world shifted. Lifted from the tub with water still beating against the porcelain, he held you with ease. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you let out a relieved groan. The contact alone lessened the pain. “Yo sé. Cuidaré de ti, amor,” he whispered with a kiss to your hair. His clothes grew damp as he carried you to the bed. Gently, he laid you down on the mattress.

Your hand fisted in the front of his shirt. "Who are you?"

His lips spread into a taut line. "You know who I am."

"You're not Marc and you're not Steven. They don’t speak Spanish." If sex pollen could exist, so could a third. Your hold relaxed. "So who are you?"

He was quiet for a moment before he responded. "Jake."

"Jake," you repeated, letting your hand press against his chest. "Are you here because they didn't want to?"

"They were stuck on the morality of it and taking too long to decide.” He took your wrist and pulled it to his lips. It’s the faintest of brushes across your skin, but it had you near breathless. “I’m not patient enough to wait for them to come to the same conclusion I already have.” His fingers trailed up your forearm. They continued to your shoulder and traced along your collarbone. When they brushed across the base of your neck you let out a choked whimper. He shushed you. "Yo sé, amor.” His hand curved around your neck and pulled you to him. His kiss fanned the flames, pain consumed by need. Lips rough, impatient, he drank in your desperate breaths like a man deprived of water. When he broke away, you chased after him. Fingers gripped his hair, tugging him back.

You wanted more.

Needed more.

Your nails scraped across his scalp, over his shoulders, down his back, and pulled at his shirt. It was discarded quickly. His lips moved to the side and traieled kisses along your jaw, nipping at the curve of your ear. You let out a soft cry when his teeth sunk into your neck. Hands wandered. Bites and scratches had you squirming beneath him, moaning for more. There was a moment where he pulled away and you nearly cried in frustration. But he was back quickly, pulling your legs apart and pushing the head of his cock into your soaked cunt.

He didn't start slow. Didn't take his time. You didn't want him to. His pace was punishing, fucking into you like it was his life on the line. Fingers dug into his shoulders, back arching off the mattress, cries and pleas pouring from your lips.

"That's it," he rasped.

Your hips rolled, meeting his thrusts, wanting more. He was relentless, biting and sucking along your neck and shoulders. Digging his fingers into your hips, he pulled them closer.

"Jake," you sobbed. It was almost too much. His pace quickened, the sound of his hips slapping against yours nearly drowned out your whines. It was too much. Your nails dug into his back as you came. He slowed but didn't stop, fucking you through the waves. Jake, Jake, Jake. His name became a prayer on your lips. As your body calmed he began to pull out.

But with the high fading the pain returned.

"Fuck," you hissed, eyes screwing shut.

The weight above you disappeared. "Amor?"

"Hurts," you ground out. Your hands fisted in the sheets, tears pooling at the edges of your eyes. It was unbearable. Worse than before. "Gods, it fucking hurts."

He cursed. Your eyes opened as the weight returned. His hands cradled your face. "Look at me," he ordered. You met his gaze, panting. "It was for some fertility festival so I think the only way for it to stop is if I finish in you."

"Finish." The word was foreign. The world spun. "Cum. You've got to come in me."

"Yes."

You swallowed. "Do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Please, please, please. Please. Fuck."

When he pushed inside, you sobbed with relief. The pain was ebbing again. But this time his pace was gentle, slower. One of his hands slid down to your waist. He guided your hips, pulling them higher. Your legs wrapped around his waist. It was too much and not enough. Your eyes shut, head turning to the side, and he growled, "Mírame."

Your eyes snapped open. His dark gaze burned, his thrusts becoming harder. The coil was beginning to tighten again, the heat building. You pled, cried, begged. More. Fuck me. Cum in me. Please. Please. Please please please.

He leaned down and bit the junction between your neck and shoulder, making you arch off the bed. Pain mixed with pleasure as he sucked the skin into his mouth, marking you. A strangled moan left his lips as he pulled away, watching you writhe. A pressure on your clit had stars sparking in your eyes. The coil snapped, a silent scream caught in your throat. He groaned your name, a deep, guttural sound that could have fueled a thousand climaxes. His hips stuttered and slowed. His cock pulsed.

When his arms began to tremble and his forehead fell against your shoulder, you let out a heavy breath. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly as he collapsed.

"Fuck."

He let out a breathy laugh, rolling onto his side and taking you with him. Arms curled around you. You buried your face in his chest, the warmth and the scent of him calming you.

"Fuck," he repeated, softer. "Are you okay?"

Your body was beginning to ache, but it was nothing like the agony of before. "Better."

"Bien. Muy bien." His hand began to rub soothing circles along your back.

You hummed, nuzzling against him. It was only a moment later that the exhaustion caught up. Your body began to grow heavy, mind shutting down. He said something, but you didn't hear. You were already drifting.

—

When you woke, it was slow. Eyes blinking, adjusting to the light, mind groggy.

"How are you feeling?"

Steven.

You let out a low hum. Sore maybe, but no real pain. "Better, I guess."

"Good."

"Where's—" You had to think for a moment. The name was fuzzy, but the accent came rushing back. "Jake?"

It's Marc's angry expression that crossed their face. "That's his name?"

"It's what he told me."

"Told you," Marc repeated.

"Before..."

Steven's brows knitted together, eyes flitting across your blanket covered body. "Did he hurt you?"

"What? No. Gods, no. He was..." You cleared your throat. Less was more. "He thought you were taking too long to decide and did what he thought he needed to."

Marc's jaw set. “We weren’t going to let you die.”

"We didn't want to force ourselves on you, but we'd have done it. To keep you alive. Only needed a minute to come to terms with it, ya know?" Steven's familiar doe eyes pleaded for understanding.

“I know,” you told him quickly, reaching to take his hand. "It's alright. I know."

"We would never, we'd rather die than—"

"I know." You squeezed his hand.

There was a long pause. You were content to watch their face shift. Marc and Steven were one and the same, but you could tell the difference. It was in the details. The way their brows furrowed, how they held their shoulders, the tilt of their chin. It was the little things that changed. Marc's thumb brushed along the back of your hand. "What was he like?"

For a moment you thought he was asking about what the sex had been like. The word amazing had been on the tip of your tongue before his real meaning came through. "Impatient. He spoke Spanish. And he knew me." Your head tilted. “Did you know he was there?”

“Figured there was another of us. Had a few blackouts neither of us could explain. The prick’s probably watching us now,” Marc huffed. “But he’s never tried to contact us before.” He holds up a piece of paper with very neat cursive curling across it. “Said to make sure to get you some Levonelle.”

“England's version of Plan B,” Steven answered your scrunched brows.

"Right, yeah. Cause he had to finish in me." You regretted letting that part slip out.

Marc's eyes darkened. "He...finished? Inside?"

"That fucker."

They got off the bed with a string of obscenities leaving their lips, letting your hand go.

"Wait, wait," you called as they began to make their way to the door. You followed them. "What are doing?"

"We're gonna go find the tallest building we can and jump off it."

"Marc!" It wouldn't kill them, but it'd hurt like hell.

"Oy, the bloke bloody deserves it! Taking advantage of you like that to get his rocks off!"

"He had to!" You took hold of their arm and they turned to you. "It didn't work otherwise. You know, fertitlty festival and whatnot."

It's Steven's wide, doe eyes making their way down your body that had you realizing you were still undressed. "And he had to do all that then?"

Marc reached for your shoulder, brushing over the skin. You flinched as he pushed against a particularly sore spot. "You said he didn't hurt you."

"He didn't."

"You're covered in bites and bruises.”

"He was trying to help."

"You've got fingerprints on your waist."

"He didn't hurt me," you assured, though your words were beginning to falter. The image of Jake, face contorted, lips parted, came rushing back. Your body warmed. "The opposite."

"I don't understand why he couldn't be a little gentler," Steven grumbled.

Marc's fingers brushed across another mark, a bite at the junction of your shoulder. "He wanted to mark his territory."

You pulled their hand away from the sore spot. "Why do you both keep focusing on this? He did what was needed. That's it."

"He took advantage of the situation."

"And he's been taking advantage for who knows how long!" Steven threw his arms in the air. "Who knows how many times he's taken over when we weren't even aware?"

Marc's lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'm sure he was just doing what he thought was best," you tried.

"He's a bloody coward. Hiding away after he got what he wanted, leaving us to clean up his mess."

Your hands folded over your chest and you took a few steps back. Is that how they saw this? How they saw you? "I'm just a mess to clean up then?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Steven stammered, but you had already turned away.

You made a beeline for the bathroom, tears welling. A mess to clean up. A mess. A fucking mess. They didn't want you. They didn't. If they did, Jake wouldn't have had to take over. Your fingers curled around the knob, ready to shut it behind you.

The door didn't budge when you tugged.

"Estas siendo injusta."

You rounded on Jake. "I'm being unfair? They just called you a coward!"

The accusation didn't faze him. Arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the door. "He was right. I was a coward. I should have introduced myself to you a long time ago." He looked past you. "Lockley. Jake Lockley." You followed his gaze over your shoulder to the three paned mirror. All you saw was a reflection of yourself and him. But Steven and Marc would talk to each other like this sometimes. "You were wasting too much time debating the ethics." His eyes trailed back to you and you were once again reminded of how bare you were. "She didn't complain," Jake scoffed, shaking his head. There's a long moment of silence for you, but his face hinted there was a lot being said. When he finally spoke again, it was to growl at his reflection. "I was willing for her to hate me, hate all of us, if it meant she was alive. If either of you had the cojones to let her know about your feelings before, I wouldn't have had to step up."

You were missing a huge part of this conversation. An important part. "What—what feelings?"

His eyes flicked back to you. "Tú sabes, amor. Tambien tienes.” A single step forward was all it took to close the small distance between you. He held your neck with dark eyes boring into yours. "Maybe one day you can have them for me too.”

Your lips parted. Breathless, all you can say is, “Jake…”

“Un día.” His thumb brushed across the bite mark he’d left behind. "I’ll see you soon, amor. Be nice to them.”

There’s a shift in his face. A softening of features. “Steven?”

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean you were a—“

You pressed your lips against his. He stammered and stopped, body tensing. Your hands slid up his chest. He relaxed against you, trembling hands finding your bare hips and resting there. When the kiss broke, you smiled up at him. Doe eyes wide and cheeks flushed, a dopey grin broke across his face. Gods, he was so sweet. "I know."

His forehead pressed against yours. "Maybe this Jake bloke isn't that bad." His head turned to the side, back to the mirror. "You'll have to take that up with her yourself, mate. l've learned my lesson to shut up." A beat later he heaved a sigh.

You knew the change before Marc spoke by the way his hands steady. "We nearly got you killed today. Do you really want to entangle your life in ours even more?"

Your hand came to rest against his face, his eyes closing at the gentle affection. "I'd argue that entangling our lives more saved my life today."

"Baby, I'm serious."

"So am I."

He leaned into your touch. "You deserve better than us. Someone not fucked up."

"I want you. All of you." Your thumb traced his cheekbone. His eyes opened and studied your face. For the briefest of moments, a flicker of a smile ghosted his lips.

"Okay,” he whispered. Anything louder would have shattered the moment.

His kiss was so different from the others. Jake's had been starved. Steven's was awed. Marc's was worship. His arms cradled around you like you're the most precious thing they'd ever held. Your fingers found the curls at the nape of his neck, tangling there, tugging, drawing him closer. You swallowed his groan, tongue brushing along his bottom lip.He lifted you and encouraged your legs to wrap around him. With a few steps, he dropped to the couch. When his hips rolled, his clothed bulge rubbing against your bare cunt, you pulled back, breathless. He watched, enraptured, as your eyes fell closed.

His mouth found the curve of your breast. You whined when his lips wrapped around your nipple. His tongue grazed the sensitive peak.

"Marc."

He hummed in response, the vibrations curling curling your toes. His hips moved again and he groaned against your skin. His hand found your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. Your head fell back with a low moan.

”You are so beautiful." He kissed across your chest, up your neck. Praises murmured into your skin, punctuated by kisses. Your hands tugged at his shirt and he lifted his arms to allow you to pull it off.

Nails raked down his back causing his breath to stutter, mouth falling open. You grinned, grinding down against him. "Baby," he breathed. His head fell to your shoulder. Hands on your waist, he let you move as you pleased.

"Marc." Your voice was soft.

"Hmm."

Your fingers trailed down his chest and over his stomach and grasped the button of his jeans. "Can I?" You could feel him beneath you, hard and straining against his jeans. He wanted this. You. But Marc denied himself his wants constantly.

After a few long moments, he nodded.

The button came undone and the zipper went down. He lifted his hips and pulled his jeans and boxers down just enough for his cock to pop out. You stared down at his thick cock, mouth watering. Technically you'd had it in you already, but it wasn't the same as seeing it.

Your fingers curled around him, giving him a few gentle strokes.

He moaned, hips stuttering. "Baby."

Your hand continued its slow pace, thumb swiping across the tip and smearing the precum gathered there. The pads of his fingers dug into your waist, jaw clenched, lips parted, and eyes screwed shut.

"Please, baby. I need you."

"Need me?"

"Yes."

"How do you need me?"

"I-I," he stammered.

You raised yourself just enough to line his cock at your entrance before slowly sinking back down. "Is this what you needed?" The stretch is agonizing bliss. Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing, adjusting.

"Yes, yes."

You gave yourself a moment to adjust to the feeling before you started moving. But his arms wrapped around your waist and stilled you.

"Hold on, baby. Want to feel you for a minute."

A fond smile pulled at your mouth. Your hands found his hair, running your fingers through it. His lips met yours again and you melted against him. Gentle and tender, like he was savoring the taste.

"I love you," he breathed against your lips.

Breath caught in your throat, your heart skipped a beat.

"I love you," he repeated.

"Marc..."

"I don't expect you to say it back. I just needed you to know." His face dropped to your shoulder, hiding it from you. It's an awkward position, but he didn't seem to mind.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and held him. There was a long, quiet moment. His shoulders tense beneath your arms. "Marc?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Look at me."

With a sigh, his head lifted and turned. Watery eyes flitted between yours.

"I love you too," you whispered.

His mouth parted, brows knitting. "You don’t have to say that.”

You pressed a soft kiss against his lips. "But I want to."

"Really?"

Another kiss. "Really."

"I..."

"Shhh." Another kiss.

You began to rock your hips. He let out a low moan. "I love you," you said, pulling his bottom lip between yours. He swallowed the sound. His arms tightened around your waist, lifting you up and down his length. Your lips found his neck, sucking the skin into your mouth. His thrusts became more erratic, moans and groans turning to pants and gasps.

"Baby," he gasped. "I'm close."

His hand slipped between you, thumb brushing over your clit. Your walls tightened, the coil wound, and stars sparkled in your vision. With a cry, your walls clenched around him, drawing him deeper. Marc cursed. A few more erratic thrusts and he was spilling inside of you, crying your name.

He slumped back into the couch. You laid on top of him, both trying to catch your breath. "Are you alright?"

"Perfect," he sighed, kissing the top of your head. "You?"

"Better than perfect."

"Good. That's good." His thumb brushed along the curve of your waist, but halted. “No, no, don’t you dare—“

A shiver rolled through their body. “Oy, that’s sensitive,” Steven trilled, lifting you enough to slip out his spent cock. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, “Well no, actually, I’m not because he cut in line.”

You let out a huff of laughter. The two squabbled like brothers. Marc was probably equally as peeved.

"That is,” his arms loosened around you, “if you’re interested in my company?"

You pecked his lips. "I'd love it."

“Fantastic.” He stood, lifting you easily. ”Because I’m starved.”

Giggling, you said, “We can grab some takeout from the Chinese place by the pharmacy.”

He kissed your cheek. “Takeout? Sweetheart, I’ve got a whole feast right here.”

For the second time in—gods how many hours had it been? Was it even the same day? Didn’t matter. For the second time in however long it had been, you’re dropped on the bed. Less gently this time. He bounced on the mattress after you, eagerly throwing your legs over his shoulders and diving happily into the mess his predecessors had made. The groan he let out against your core was downright sinful. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging, as his tongue explored.

It’s…surprising how good he is. You’d expected him to be inexperienced. He had been in your fantasies. But Steven seemed particularly skilled at this part at least. His hands gripped your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh. The tip of his tongue ran along your slit, dipping into your entrance and gathering the cum that had begun to leak. He hummed. "You taste delicious, sweetheart." His tongue swiped over the bud, sending a jolt through you.

"Steven."

His eyes flicked up, meeting yours.

"More."

A grin spread across his face. He lowered his head again, tongue tracing patterns. Your head fell back.

"I want to hear you," he murmured.

You didn't need the encouragement.

He began sucking on your clit, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth and humming. His fingers pried your lips apart and sunk into you. One, then two, pumping, curling.

"Fuck, fuck, Steven," you cried.

His tongue flicked your clit.

It's all too much. Your walls tightened, clamping around his fingers. You moaned his name, tugging at his hair. He kept moving, coaxing out an orgasm far too quickly for your overworked body. You shook beneath him, gasping for air. The high ebbed, but his ministrations did not. His fingers continued to pump, tongue continued its work.

"Steven, please," you plead, trying to push his head away

He lifted it, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. "I'm not done."

Your hand fell to his face, cupping his cheek. "Please, I can't. Not yet."

"Just a bit more, yeah?" His free hand slid up your waist, fingers caressing your chest. "I want to feel you fall apart one more time. Please?"

The pad of his thumb brushed over your nipple, causing you to suck in a sharp breath.

"Just keep making your pretty little noises for me, alright? Won’t take long." He didn’t wait for you to deny him, letting his tongue return to its previous endeavor.

He’d reversed your roles. Usually, he’d be the one who couldn’t deny you. Now you’re sure he could ask you for anything and you’d agree with your own dopey grin. The hand on his face moved to the sheets, clutching at the fabric. Fingers curled inside you, pressing against the spot that had you seeing stars. His mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking and licking and humming. Your back arched off the mattress, a silent scream stuck in your throat.

Stars.

Everything was stars.

His movements slowed, fingers and tongue working you through the waves. When the high faded, you could only manage a stuttered breath. He lifted his head. A proud smile had his eyes dancing. He seemed ridiculously proud of himself. He kissed his way up your body, pausing at every bruise or bite mark Jake had left behind. His fingers traced patterns over your stomach and up to your breasts. Whispered how good you were for him, how amazing, how perfect.

You expected to feel his cock prodding at your entrance, but all he did was curl against you with a content hum.

"You don't want...?"

He kissed your shoulder. "Later."

"Steven..."

"Later," he repeated.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

You sighed. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him. He buried his face in your hair, mumbling something about how good it smelled. You could hear his breathing growing heavy through the endless praises.

"Mind if I take a kip before we head out to the pharmacy?”

You kissed his hair. “Not at all, love. Sleep.”

Translations

Pinches pendejos. : Fucking idiots.

Yo sé. Cuidaré de ti, amor : I know. I’ll take care of you, love.

Mírame : Look at me.

Bien. Muy bien. : Good. Very good.

Estas siendo injusta. : You’re being unfair.

Tú sabes, amor. Tambien tienes. : You know, love. You have them too.

Un día. : One day

[avelera]

Parallels between Jayvik and the Phantom of the Opera

I can't believe I haven't seen any discussion yet around the musical theater influences in Arcane S2 so far (besides my one mention of its parallels with Les Miserables).

So as a basic, Phantom of the Opera-loving bitch, can we please take a moment to examine the Phantom of the Opera parallels that are literally shoved in our faces during this opening sequence and what that means for Jayvik?

Viktor is the Phantom. The show opening outright says it. The parallels are there. They're impossible to miss.

And then, when you dig a little deeper, hooo boy those parallels become even more stark. Especially if you read Viktor as romantically pining after Jayce, which 99.9999% of humanity does.

To quickly summarize, Phantom of the Opera is the story of a deformed genius who falls in love with an opera singer, Christine, and then nurtures her talents, only for her to in turn fall in love with a nobleman, Raoul. The ensuing love triangle is the heart of the plot, with Raoul and the Phantom both vying for Christine's love.

This shouldn't be a hard one to see the parallels for.

Viktor = The Phantom. Literally a genius born with a disfigurement, in this case a disability he sees as a weakness and a disease that is sapping away his life and hope of a legacy. He is riddled with jealousy for the person trying to pull his scientific/musical partner away from him, a person who happens to be beautiful and live a life of privilege that Raoul/Mel could offer to Jayce/Christine instead.

Jayce = Christine. Instead of sharing genius in music, he and Viktor share genius in science. Like Christine, he is tugged between the glittering world of politics and privilege, vs his genius and love at a more esoteric skill, in this case science instead of music.

Mel = Raoul. Literally an aristocrat who is far more beautiful than the Phantom/Viktor, who steals away his partner's attention and offers them a glittering life of privilege in the public eye instead of the wonders of their joint musical/scientific pursuits. Whether or not Mel meant to embody this, or steal Jayce from Viktor, this is the role she fulfills in Viktor's view of the world.

But the most profound moment for me of, "Oh wow, they're doing Phantom of the Opera! Actually, they're not just doing Phantom, they're doing Phantom fixit fic?!" was this:

Which, if you'll forgive the potato quality of the screenshots, is literally the moment Viktor has his mask knocked away and then cringes in on himself to hide his exposed face from Jayce.

Which... is literally a scene in Phantom of the Opera? Just after "Music of the Night"?

But we're already in Phantom fixit territory, because Jayce doesn't recoil like Viktor expects! Instead, he embraces Viktor and loves him for all his self-perceived flaws.

And then, AND THEN, in a moment that made my Phantom-loving heart sing, Viktor tells Jayce to go!

And Jayce doesn't.

In the final song of the Phantom of the Opera musical, Christine is forced to choose between Raoul and the Phantom. She chooses the Phantom and kisses him. Flooded by remorse, the Phantom then relinquishes her to the man he knows she truly loves, and when Christine hesitates to leave, he shouts at her, "Go!" and then, of course, she and Raoul leave together.

Viktor is expecting that to happen! I think his order to Jayce very clearly implies that he thinks Mel and Jayce are still together. It's the classic, "Go be with the woman you love instead of staying here and dying with me," trope that we see over and over again in dramas.

But Jayce. Defies. The Trope.

Unlike Christine and just about every buddy war movie out there, he stays with Viktor. He chooses his scientific/artistic partner over the life of aristocracy and privilege that Mel would theoretically offer him. He chooses the masked genius with the disability and calls him perfect. He refuses to go when he is ordered to leave. He stays with Viktor until the end.

And I still can't believe that no one else is talking about this!

[ozzgin]

okay, hear me out: mean girl!reader x nerdy/sub!yandere

nerd!yan who gets bullied by you all the time, with harsh name calling and forcing him to do your homework.

nerd!yan who grows intrigued with you. you’re so confident, so pretty, so cool! how can he not like you?

nerd!yan who’s slowly growing more obsessed. his breath hitches whenever you loom over him with that annoyingly hot smirk of yours, calling him such mean, degrading names

nerd!yan who gets jealous whenever he sees you targeting someone else. you can’t bully them!! you should pay attention to him and only him. oh well, he’ll just have to eliminate the competition, so you can go back to “tormenting” him again.

nerd!yan who’s really such a pervert! he followed you home and was pleasuring himself to your scent that lingered on your clothing… such dirty behaviour!

mean girl!reader who returns home to find one of her classmates in her bedroom, and how can she not smile at the sight? he’s so pretty, such a cute little plaything…

mean girl!reader who had always been aware of nerd!yan’s obsessive tendencies, and played along. but now that he’s been caught red handed…

mean girl!reader who degrades poor nerd!yan for being such a disgusting pervert, but submits to nerd!yan’s fantasies anyway. she plays with him, leaving harsh love bites and scratches over his soft skin, reducing him to a moaning, whiney mess.

nerd!yan who’s basically your pet now, obediently following you throughout school, happily accepting all your orders, no matter how demeaning or gross they are.

people who even dare look your way with romantic interest? they get disposed of in…well, let’s just say, messy. oh, but not that nerd!yan will ever let you see it happen! your precious, beautiful eyes should be shielded from such violent acts. but if you ever ask… tilt your head playfully with a soft smile and ask him to let you watch, he might.

tldr; mean girl and a nerdy yandere that are both equally toxic for each other

have an awesome day!! I would really like to see you write a concept like this <3

-Ash

A/N: I'm including someone else's request as I think they mesh well together: "a mean bully!reader with a yandere!loser, where reader basically just uses him like a pet and has him do whatever she wants" I'll be doing my best, but do keep in mind this is written by a loser nerd so I can't guarantee accuracy. I also don't want to be too mean, even if it's hypothetical, y'know? 😭

Nerd! Loser! Yandere x Mean Girl! Bully! Reader

They say being in the right relationship motivates you to strive for the best version of yourself. Sometimes, the opposite is true. What happens when your soulmate brings out your most depraved self?

Content: female reader, mildly NSFW, obsessive behavior, violence, bullying, loser is meant in a loving way, yandere consents to everything

You really aren't that bad of a person. Or at least you weren't before you met the odd man you now call your boyfriend. How did it all begin? For the sake of full disclosure, alright, you have always been somewhat on the mean side. A little too sarcastic, a little too blunt, perhaps a little too harsh. You don't like soft people and have little patience for their stumbling attempts. But, you can hold your tongue as long as it doesn't involve you.

The meeting, at least from your point of view, was entirely accidental. Despite just starting your university year, your charisma had quickly gained you enough friends and acquaintances to have a stable sample of potential group partners. Except for one class. One single missing person, and you were asked to include a name you didn't recognize. Some young man who almost never showed up to class.

Oh, but he did. He was there for every lecture, for every seminar. His, and yours. His first encounter with you was not what most would call romantic. On day one he'd gotten lost. The crowded halls, the new environment, the noise, the smell, everything overwhelmed him, and he found himself wandering in a panic, until at last he bumped into you. The impact sent him straight onto the ground, books pathetically spilling from his trembling arms. You, on the other hand, remained standing as if nothing happened. "Pull yourself together, dumbass", you hissed through your teeth, looking into his eyes for one brief moment before moving on to your friends: "You have to give it to them straight, otherwise they'll think we're still in high school and someone will hold their hand all the time. It's embarrassing! Grown adults!"

He can't remember anything else from that day. Only your voice, your expression, your stance. Somehow, for whatever reason, that "dumbass" went straight to his heart. To think you'd look after him, a complete stranger. You were right, he needed to recollect himself and figure it out. Something even his own mother omitted to mention.

How he wished he could be like you. The way professors relied on you for discussions, the way your friends flocked for advice. But see, he knew you were faking most of it. That overly sweet smile and exaggerated politeness, all of it was a mask you'd learned to wear at any time. It only came off when dealing with people like him. There was a certain pride in that fact: he'd seen the real you. Not your "friends".

The more he thought about it, the more plagued by need he became. The need to hear you speak to him again, in that raw, unfiltered voice, with that disgusted glare piercing through his entire being. Thus, he did his best - as per your advice - to find another opportunity. The group work. One glance at him was enough for you to remember: "Ah, fuck, you're that dumbass from first day", you whined in frustration. Instant arousal.

And so, your unusual partnership began to develop. Or rather, your game of tormentor versus tormented. (Un)Paid actors and nothing more. It didn't take you long to notice his strange reaction to your verbal aggressions, almost as if the man relished in your ruthlessness. He seemed to know exactly what buttons to press in order to anger you. In return, you decided to see how far you could go until he'd finally cave in. From insults, to flicking him in the forehead, shoving him against the wall, ordering him around like a collared dog. You had your suspicions, but it all culminated when you went over to his little dorm room for a final project review. You'd gotten so upset - what did he even do? - that you pushed him hard into the ground and straddled him, holding onto the collar of his jacket and shouting profanities. A horrified grimace struck his face, and you froze. Have you gone too far? Was he finally going to ask that you stop, and put this strange charade behind? "P-please give me a moment, I..." he panted, frantically trying to move you aside. "I need to take care of myself. I'm so sorry." You hesitantly stood up and noticed the obvious erection in his pants.

You have a strange effect on him. He is not incapable; he knows it very well. And yet, the temptation is too great: to pretend, to exaggerate, to fail, anything to have you take the lead and lovingly scold him in the process. "What do you mean you're too anxious to present your part? Christ, you're useless. Utterly, completely useless." He can't wait to pleasure himself later to the memory of your words. Truly addicting. He doesn't mind being a doormat if it's your feet keeping him down. You bring out his most pathetic, perverted, deplorable self.

The same can be said about you. You've never been this mean to anyone. You hadn't even intended to reach this point, yet something keeps riling you up. Maybe it's his pleading pout whenever he's being reprimanded. The hooded, lustful eyes gazing up at you submissively and waiting for the next burning whip of your tongue. He brings out the worst in you and he loves every second of it.

You unlock the door and march into the bedroom (you've since moved in together). Without a warning, you grip his chin tightly and give the man a firm tug, forcing him to pay attention. "You did something, didn't you? I was supposed to meet with a classmate for coffee and he vanished without a trace. Won't answer my texts or calls." He shakes his head in denial at first, wide innocent eyes glistening in fear. Ah, he can't help it. His lips curl in a crooked grin. He's been caught. You shove two fingers in his mouth, and without delay he twirls his tongue around them hungrily. "What a psychotic bitch you are. You want to be the only one, huh? Is that what it is about?" Between the slurps and the whimpers, you can discern a hurried nod.