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[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

[fixdex-fastening-technology]

FIXDEX & GOODFIX sincerely wish all happy Chinese new year 2023

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [9] - Tranquility

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your patience! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Simple days can be calming.

Word Count: 2853

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

Well.

This was very fun.

“I mean to repeat, I do have a hammer at home,” you said, leaning your elbows on the cart as you pushed it slowly and Logan raised his brows.

“Just a hammer?”

“Yeah, I wanted to put up that framed picture of me and Theo so Jamie brought it and then forgot it.”

“Exactly why we’re here.”

Home Depot wasn’t really your favorite place to shop in, you couldn’t even remember when the last time you had been there was. Needless to say, you felt a bit overwhelmed as you looked at the aisles with many tools and construction products, but Logan seemed right at home there, and the simple act of going shopping together -whether it was at a store you were familiar with or not- made you feel all warm inside.

Who knew the aftermath of breaking your bed would be fun as well?

Logan grabbed a pack of what seemed like tiny pieces of metal to put it in the cart, and you looked around, then gasped.

“Let’s get these, they look prettier!”

“Screw anchors?”

You tilted your head.

“Well if you feel that strongly about them…”

“No I mean— that’s what they’re called.”

“They’re yellow, I like yellow!” you said, grabbing the pack off the hook to hold it up and Logan chuckled.

“Sweetheart, if we’re going to use them on your bed, they need to be metal. Your bed frame is metal.”

You looked down at the pack. “Oh, these look plastic.”

“Mm hm, they are plastic.”

“Well, where do people use these?”

“On drywall, mostly,” he said. “When you’re hanging—hold on, did Jamie just put a screw into the wall for those frames you mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

He blinked a couple of times, then cleared his throat and took the pack from you to put it into the cart as well.

“Yay!”

“Anything else you want from here?”

You looked over at the shelf, then shook your head and Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to himself as you both went into another aisle.

“So wait, you need to put stuff into the wall to put stuff into the wall?”

“Mm hm.”

“Why?”

“Well, otherwise the screw can slip out of the wall when you hang something,” he said. “Anchors make sure whatever is on the wall doesn’t fall on anyone. It’s the same logic with anchoring furniture.”

“None of my furniture is anchored.”

“Babe, you have a mirror in your living room.”

“I just leaned it to the wall,” you pointed out and Logan heaved a sigh, then gently guided you into another aisle.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a drill?”

“Good guess—Logan, we’re not buying a drill!”

He went closer to one of the shelves to grab one to check it. “Why not?”

“I’m not gonna use it.”

“I’m gonna use it, I don’t want that mirror to fall on you.”

“It’s on the other side of the room.”

“Accidents happen,” he said. “That thing needs to be anchored along with God knows what. Every home needs a drill.”

You scrunched up your face, leaning back to the shelf.

“Debatable,” you said. “Every home needs a medicine cabinet. A drill is just something people in home makeover shows use.”

“What are makeover shows?”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my God, you’ve never watched those? We’re so watching those, I need your commentary.”

Logan turned the drill in his hand and you bit inside your cheek, trying to fight the urge to jump on him in the aisle of Home Depot. Clearing your throat, you tried to focus and crossed your arms.

“Not that one,” you said and Logan turned his gaze to you.

“Why not?”

“We should get that one,” you pointed at the other drill on the shelf and Logan bit back a smile.

“Babe, that one is 12 volts. This one is 18.”

“Volt isn’t everything,” you said as if you knew what you were talking about and Logan pulled his brows together.

“It is kind of important in a drill—”

“Yeah but Logan, that’s orange,” you said and grabbed the pack of yellow plastic anchors out of the cart to hold it up. “See? They’ll match if we get this one!”

Logan stared at you as if he was trying to find the right words to disagree with you but you pulled your brows together before putting the pack next to the drill so that he could see it better.

“Same shade!” you insisted as you pressed your finger on the drill, looking up at him and the corners of his lips twitched, that fond light shining in his eyes before he nodded slowly, then put the drill in his hand into the shelf to grab the one you were pointing at.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get the matching drill then.”

                                                 *

At first you had been worried about being too much of a bother when Logan said he’d be fixing your bedframe but now, sitting on the couch eating the snacks you got on your way back home, you couldn’t help but notice Logan looked very comfortable and happy to be helping you out. Right after you got back home, he fixed your bedframe but apparently having a drill and a toolbox within his vicinity had awakened something in him that he was now working on what could be “fixed” in your living room.

You could’ve sworn his face had lit up like a Christmas tree when you mentioned you had shelves somewhere that you had been procrastinating on putting up.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” you asked as you popped a piece of chocolate in your mouth and he shook his head, holding the shelf against the wall to draw on where he’d put it up.

“No need princess.”

“I could help, I have some experience in it,” you pointed out. “Not very pleasant experience but experience nonetheless.”

“How’s that?”

“Um, when I was a child, whenever something broke in our house my dad would want to fix it himself,” you said. “And he’d ask me to hold the flashlight and but then scold me for pointing it at the wrong place.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah.”

He looked at you over his shoulder before grabbing the drill and turned it on, making you grimace at the loud noise. He drilled two holes in the wall, then grabbed the plastic anchors and the hammer to nail them in.

You’d had a wet dream like this.

“How did you learn how to do all this?” you asked him and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve been around for some time. You pick up hobbies.”

“And that’s your hobby?”

“I like fixing things,” he said. “And building stuff.”

You sat up straighter, your whole attention on him.

“Okay, so I can add it to the list of things I know about you,” you said with a bright smile. “I’m quite proud of myself you know, growing that list isn’t the easiest thing in the world.”

Logan shot you a small grin. “Subtle.”

“Hey I’m just warning you beforehand,” you said, holding your hands up. “You won’t even see me coming and before you know, you’re opening up to me.”

“Oh is that what’s gonna happen?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m too stubborn to quit.”

Logan’s smile was calm before he took a deep breath, then started working on the shelf again.

“It’s just…” he murmured. “A long story, you know? Too much to tell.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly. “I’ve got time. And until then, you can listen to me talk about absolute nonsense.”

“I like doing that, in case it escaped your notice.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you took a deep breath, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“So yeah, I apparently held the flashlight wrong. And there was also that one time—I’m just not the best at fixing things, there was that one time Julie tried to teach me how to change a tire but I ended up convincing her to go get mimosas instead. She’s really good at all that, I swear she and IKEA manuals have something going on that the rest of us human kind cannot understand, she built my wardrobe and I honestly just provided her with cookies—oh my God, Logan!” you said with a gasp. “Do you want cookies?”

A fond smile curled his lips as he looked at you over his shoulder.

“No seriously, I know you liked the chocolate chip ones but I’ve been dying to try this new recipe, it has mint chocolate—do you like mint chocolate? I hope you’re not one of those people who say mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste because I am a ride or die mint chocolate lover, but I think I can also make—”

You were cut off when he strode to you to lean down and kiss you, cutting you off before you let out a giggle.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling back to look at you better. “I’d love some.”

You beamed up at him and stole another kiss from him.

“So yes to the mint chocolate cookies then?”

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone, that loving look in his eye making your heart skip a happy beat.

“Sure thing sweetheart,” he said. “Yes to the mint chocolate cookies.”

                                                        *

The more time you spent with Logan, the giddier you felt. You knew that you were supposed to keep yourself in check and play it cool considering everything between you two was very new, but it felt as if since you two had got together, you hadn’t been able to stop smiling.

Or it could’ve been just mind-blowing sex.

Either or.

“I’m not really much of a TV person.”

“And I respect that, but not having seen Titanic is simply just not acceptable,” you said as you poured the popcorn into the bowl and made your way to the couch. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you to his lap, making you let out a squeal as you straddled him with a giggle.

“You’re not distracting me this time,” you told him, pecking him on the lips before getting off his lap to sit beside him, still holding the popcorn bowl tight. You grabbed the remote to start the movie while Logan frowned at the screen as if it had personally offended him.

“I mean I heard about it,” he said. “It’s romance, right?”

“The best romance in the history of humankind.”

Logan pulled his brows together.

“So low expectations, got it,” he said. “The title suggests it’s not gonna end well?”

“Listen, they may have only known each other for four days—”

“Four days?!”

“Yeah but it was true love,” you said in a solemn manner, nodding your head and Logan’s frown deepened.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, babe.”

“That’s totally how it works,” you said. “It’s like opposites attract wrapped in star-crossed lovers wrapped in a tragic love story. I watched it for like 50 times, it’s my comfort movie. I always cry at the end.”

“Your comfort movie is a movie that makes you cry?”

“Yeah,” you said and grabbed at his arm when turned to look at the screen. “Look, that’s Jack! That’s who Rose falls in love with—wait, Logan, I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“So you were around when Titanic happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember it?”

“I remember the news of it, yeah,” he said. “Everyone was shocked by it.”

You took a deep breath to ask him another question but your doorbell rang. You turned your head and stood up but Logan was faster than you, so he walked to the door to open it and as soon as he did, Julie’s voice reached you.

“Holy shit you’re tall.”

“Julie?” you asked as you approached the door and Logan stepped aside. “Hi!”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t…” she motioned at Logan. “It’s just that I texted you and you didn’t answer, and I was on my way here anyway because who just got out of a terrible argument with her ex dickhead of a boyfriend and needed some distraction?”

“Jesus, that asshole again?” you asked and she nodded.

“Yep.”

“Come in!” you said and Julie shook her head.

“No no, I really don’t wanna interrupt your sexy time.”

Logan tilted his head while you shot her a lighthearted glare.

“Come in,” you insisted, pulling her by the arm before closing the door. “We’re watching Titanic. Logan, this is Julie, my best friend. Jules, this is Logan—” you paused for a moment, trying to find the right words.

Boyfriend was a big title and you hadn’t really talked about it before, and you actually didn’t know where Logan stood on this whole thing so you decided to play it safe.

“I told you about him,” you ended up saying and Logan extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Julie said, shaking his hand. “You really are a good looking dude, and I was so right about the lumberjack vibes.”

Logan blinked a couple of times as if he didn’t know how to answer. “…Thanks?”

“No problem.”

“I’m pouring you wine,” you said, making your way to the kitchen with Julie following you, and Logan lingered in the hallway for a moment before going back to the living room.

“Are you sure it’s cool I’m crashing your date?”

You took out a wine glass before pouring some wine in it.

“I’ll be offended if you ask me that again,” you told her and she hugged you, making you smile and press a kiss on her cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to like, buy a baseball bat and threaten him?”

“Nah I’m fine,” she said as she pulled back to take the glass from you. “It’s just fucking frustrating.”

“Screw him, he’s an idiot,” you told her as you held her other hand and you both went into the living room.

“Hey man, sorry about the interruption,” Julie told him, flinging herself on the armchair and Logan shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. No interruption other than me trying to figure out how these two people will have the ‘greatest love story’ in four days.”

“It is true love!” you said, smacking the back of your hand into your palm to emphasize each word and Logan chuckled.

“Yeah alright, sorry. True love.”

“Weren’t you around when this happened?” Julie asked, motioning at the screen and you grinned.

“We share one braincell,” you told her and Julie crossed her arms, looking at Logan.

“Did you meet Thomas Edison?”

Logan looked almost confused. “Uh, no?”

“Good, he was an asshole. Did you meet Victor Hugo?”

Logan paused for a moment, then turned to look at you. “Are you guys all secretly French?”

“No, we just watched Les Miserables one hundred times,” you answered while Julie sighed.

“A masterpiece, if you will.”

“Better than this whole true love in four days thing?” Logan asked, motioning at the screen and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Careful there buddy, you’re on thin ice.”

Logan shot you a grin, making you smile back before you turned to Julie.

“Seriously, what happened with that jerk?”

“Oh you know, the usual drill. He called me drunk, started with begging and then that whole thing turned into him listing every single bad thing about me.”

“He was the one who cheated on you.”

“Yeah and you’d think he’d remember that.”

Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him.

“I can beat him up if you want,” he said in such a matter-of-fact tone that it made you look up at him in confusion. Julie let out a small laugh.

“You, I like you,” she said, pointing at him before she looked at you. “I approve.”

“Aw thank you.”

“That being said,” she said. “Logan, you seem like a really nice guy but make no mistake, if you upset her in any way, I’ll get the biggest magnet I can find and point it at you so that I can pull that metal skeleton of yours out of your body.”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening and Logan’s smile widened as if he was merely amused. “Don’t listen to her. She’s nice to me and terrible to everyone else.”

Julie blew you a kiss and Logan nodded his head.

“Noted,” he told Julie and Julie grinned at him.

“See? You and I are gonna get along just fine.”

You heaved a sigh, then grabbed the bowl to hold it out for Julie to take some popcorn. She grabbed a handful, then leaned back to watch the movie while you leaned your head on Logan’s chest, trying to pay attention to the movie. Logan nuzzled into your hair and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your stomach do a happy flip and you felt a smile warm your face before you bit on your lip, then turned your gaze to the screen again.

[justsayyes1]

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[dotthings]

Some spn Cas history (because yay facts!! Facts are fun!!)

Misha was a guest star in S4. Castiel was originally planned to be a 3 episode and done character, but Misha was so electrifying as Cas, had great chemistry with Jensen, and Cas turned out to be such a compelling character, the show kept him around.

Misha was promoted to regular in S5 and continued in S6.

He was dropped from the show for S7 because Gamble and Singer decided to write out Cas. The network did a lot of fans a solid for once, called up the EP's, and went "hahahaha you aren't really planning to get rid of that fan favorite pretty angel are you???? hahaha ok no really bring him back" and literally refused to let spn get rid of him.

There was for sure a listlessness factor in S7 once Cas was removed. J2 were the anchors in the early seasons. In later seasons, J2M really became the show's center supports, more than just J2. (No, this is not arguable. This is reflected in canon story, and Cas's growth as a character and plot role and emotional role and in promotion for many years. No, I don't care who is offended that I said it. It's not a point of argument).

Jeremy Carver took over as showrunner in S8 and brought Misha in for an 8 episode arc, so Misha was a guest star in S8. Carver wanted to rebuild the character and in S9 Misha was promoted back up to series regular, and he stayed at that status the rest of the series.

Originally, Misha's regular status was denoted by having him third in opening credits after Jared and Jensen, before the "guest starring" section. Eventually Misha was given an "and" credit.

The "and" credit is a contract status thing. It's for series regulars of particular note, usually for a particularly noteworthy performance. Tony Head was "and" status on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. When he stepped back to recurring, Alyson Hannigan became the "and" status.

Some have tried to paint Misha's "and" designator as a sign of his lesser importance, but it's the opposite. It's a promotion and a sign of respect.

A further note, zero fans have attempted to supplant Jared and Jensen as the "top leads" of the show, but it's abundantly fair to label Misha a 3rd lead, given the proportion of Cas's plot and emotion impact on story and Misha's longevity and status. It's semantics, really. If someone gets offended if you say he's a 3rd lead, they're aren't worth your time. Eh, okay, "main character" isn't wrong either, but I'm suspicious of people who break out in hives over calling him "3rd lead"--but main character is a descriptor for Cas's role. SPN at times had 3-4 series regulars, with J2 as the only two constants the entire run of the show, which is why we say J2 are the 2 top leads. But Cas and Misha's importance are also facts.

Misha was "guest star" in S4, 7, and 8. Eventually he got "special guest star" credit during his guest starring era on spn, another indicator of an actor/performance/character of note, but not a series regular. He was a series regular for S5, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15. (No this is not arguable. These are production facts. Some people still, after all this time, try to erase his regular/main character status on spn, and they aren't working in facts).

[dlstmxkakwldrlarchive]

Partly for the prolific volume of projects artists release each year and partly for the fluid definition of an album (running anywhere from three to 13 tracks), an annual ranking of K-pop albums is never easy. As South Korea continues to extend its global musical influence, certain projects transcend hit-song compilations, presenting larger visions and conceptual narratives.

In 2023, stars like V, WOODZ and ONEW used their latest solo projects to share the music that inspires them at their core as artists and let listeners settle into sonic worlds they’ve developed.

[...]

First Place: Onew, Circle The First Album

While it’s somewhat criminal to think that 15 years after ONEW’s debut with SHINee in 2008 we only just received his first full Korean album, the singer-songwriter himself would say that now was the perfect time for Circle. A musical journey unlike anything released this year, ONEW shared that he had attempted to record the album’s title track before dropping his Dice EP in early 2022, but felt it wasn’t at the level of perfection it deserved and held onto the song. ONEW then involved himself in every aspect of Circle‘s production process, from meticulous mixing and mastering to tuning, beats, recording and mastering, attesting to the singer-songwriter’s dedication to artistic expression.

The single “O (Circle)” opens the album with an intriguing blend of electronica and strings, while its gospel-tinged chorus emphasizes lyrics about the circular nature of life and how memories, feelings and dreams are all fleeting. The 10 tracks on Circle develop unique transformations from start to finish: the breezy melodies in “Cough” are paired with loneliness-themed lyrics and a melancholy instrumental breakdown, while “Rain on Me” starts with aggressive acoustic guitar strumming before transitioning into an atmospheric, percussive ballad. Sweet surprises abound, too: ONEW scats on the jazz-rap hybrid “Caramel” and gives a glimpse into his indie-rock side on “Parachute.”

The album’s effortless flow is anchored by ONEW’s famously solid yet understated vocals. As Circle concludes with the tender piano ballad “Always” which addresses themes of loyalty and resilience, the listener wonders if it’s an allegory for ONEW’s public journey through health challenges, including vocal cord surgery. Even without any writing credits on Circle, ONEW’s presence is undeniably felt in this seamless collection that boasts an emotional depth brought on by 15 years in the game. That’s the kind of introspection you can’t rush or doctor through A&R but need to cycle through and arrive at when the moment is right. From scheduling this album’s release to the messages on the final track, time is definitely on ONEW’s side to deliver such a project. — J.B.

source

[concreteburialplot]

Banana Spa

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!reader

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 9.6k

summary: you decide to treat your boyfriend to an at home spa day before he leaves for tour again :)

warnings/themes: established relationship, sugary sweet fluff ???¿ who am i??¿, briefly sad??, light sub/dom dynamics, soft dom nick, sub reader, massage, praise kink?, pet names sorry not sorry, bathtub sex, use of a shower head, v fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, orgasm delay, pnv (unprotected), riding, semi-realistic? aftercare, caregiver nick, MUSHY SORRY, again nick has a big fat one, don’t think too hard about the logistics ok, 18+ MDNI

a/n; this originally began as a nice short fluffy piece but... alas, the sad and horny demons took hostage 😅 it's just who i am okay 😭 only sad for a bit though! kinda

a/n: don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

You stamped a knee at each side of Nick’s sides, settling yourself in his lap. His hands instinctively found your hips to have something to anchor to.

“Alright babe you gotta cooperate with me, okay?” You giggled, taking his cheeks in your hands.

He blinked up at you with his aqua eyes gleaming, so enamored with you to even care what you were doing in his lap, simply happy that you were there.

You began brushing hair out of his face and gathering it into a low, untethered bun to expose the entirety of his features. He was beautiful, nothing new to you of course, but at times like then, you couldn’t help but be awe-struck of him. He was yours and you were his.

You reached over to the table beside you to pick up some toner and soaking a cotton round with the liquid. You took it to his face, starting at his cheekbones. He hissed at the coldness of it against his warm skin.

“This smells so… chemically, are you sure it’s safe?” He asked as a half-joke and with a slightly nervous chuckle.

“Very sure my love.” A reassuring grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You think I would put harmful chemicals on your pretty face?” You swiped the cotton round down his nose and used it to boop the tip.

A barely visible peach coated his cheeks, if you hadn’t been so close to him, you would’ve missed it.

“I don’t know, maybe you wanna scorch my face off so the fans stop liking me.” A playful smirk draped over lips.

You rolled your eyes and squeezed his cheeks between your fingers, tilting his face upwards to meet your gaze. “Oh honey,” You cooed playfully. “The fans would simp over you even if your nose fell off.”

A true laugh rumbled through his chest and tumbled out of his lips. “Yeah, whatever.” He brushed off the statement as if you just told him the sky was green. “What’s next?” He inquired genuinely, letting his eyes drop back to your arsenal on the table.

“Hmm…” You peered over behind you and tapped your fingertips on your chin. “Oh! Yes, I forgot I got this for you!”

Your fingers plucked a small yellow glass vile. You twisted the lid and squeezed the rubber part between two fingers then released it to let the pipette fill completely.

“Let me know if this smell reminds you of anything.” You slowly and carefully slid the tip of the glass pipette across his cheek, disposing serum along the way.

His nostrils flared and restricted in short consecutive spurts trying to let the aroma fill his nose entirely. His brows knitted for just a second as he processed the smell before his eyes grew sparkly and excited. “Banana?” He asked with hesitancy still lining his words, regardless of the indistinguishable scent.

You giggled and love filled your entire chest at his adorable reaction. “I knew you’d love it.” You sighed happily and utterly love drunk.

“Hm, I love you.” He countered, admiring the pointed, concentrated face you wore as you focused on rubbing in the product. “That stuff’s made from bananas?”

“I love you too baby.” You smiled and leaned down to gently grab his face again, this time to bring your lips to his. A smile curled onto his lips against yours, sweetening the kiss. You couldn’t help but mirror the grin and savor the adoration. “Hm, I think banana enzymes or something? I don’t really know.”

You straightened back up in his lap again, using your curled index finger to tilt his chin up and swivel his face from one side to the other analyzing his skin.

“Admiring your work?” He laughed, feeling a little silly and a little insecure from being studied so closely.

“Just trying to see if you have any spots that need a little extra attention.” You hummed. “But surprise, surprise the man that only uses face wash has perfect skin.”

His chest puffed out a little involuntarily, as if you just invigorated him with newfound confidence after being so foolishly insecure. “Well, would you look at that.” He smirked.

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off jokingly before reaching to pick up a thin packet from the table. “Still gonna make you do a face mask though.”

He groaned, “No, no not the clay stuff again.” He winced at the memory of the chalky mud you had once put on him that somehow ended up all over his hair…and eyebrows, and ears, and fingernails, and ʘ necklace, and his favorite Paul Rudd Fanclub shirt.

The Great Face Mask Incident of 2023™️

You couldn’t help but laugh at the same memory. “No, no. I would never put you through that again.”

Nick let out a relieved sigh as if he had just gone through some war flashbacks. “Thank god.”

“No, I think you’ll quite like this one.” You pressed your lips together to not give away just excited you were to show him the mask you had in store for him.

You carefully pulled the folded sheet mask from the packet, letting any excess drip back into the pouch before setting it to the side. You then began delicately unfolding the thin fabric of the mask. Nick’s brows knitted together, and his head cocked to the side slightly like a confused puppy as he tried to gather what sort of potential torture device you were preparing for him. Finally, you unveiled the round sheet with the likeness of a cartoon tuxedo cat.

His silver eyes lit up the second he realized. “It’s Jerry!” It melted your heart at just how wide his smile got, all toothy and reaching his eyes.

You giggled and nodded, “It sure looks a lot like him, doesn’t it?”

Once you were able to keep him from wiggling around, you put the mask on, tugging it here and there to get it taut and symmetrical.

“There, now you look just like your son!” You chuckled behind your hand, looking at how adorably ridiculous your boyfriend looked.

He smirked as much as could beneath the mask, “Yeah where do you think he got his good looks from?”

You rolled your eyes and gently smacked his arm but there was no malice behind either action, “At least Jerry has humility.”

He gazed up at you with a small, sweet smile painted on his lips and love coating the soft curves of his features. “Yeah, that he got from you.” He said casually, like it rolled off his tongue without even thinking twice about it.

Your heart swelled so big in your chest that it was threatening to breach your ribcage. Nicholas had Jerry long before you entered the picture but since getting together a little over a year ago, Jerry had become your biggest fan. Since day 1 he followed you around everywhere and if you were resting on any surface, he was there to claim you as his temporary bed. In your time together Nick had never once even joked about you being Jerry’s other fur-parent. It was a small frivolous thing, but you knew the weight it held. You didn’t know if he had just said it without realizing or if he truly meant it, but in your heart, you were choosing to believe the latter. Either way you opted out of making a big deal about it.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You gasped at your own brain urgently reminding you of a crucial step. You nearly leapt off him and bolted to the kitchen. Within seconds the project at hand was executed and ready for placement.

You scurried back over to him, this time standing behind his seat on the couch. “Alright, close your eyes and tilt your head back.”

“You got it boss.” He teased and did as you asked. It made you wonder just how much he’d cooperate with taking other orders – but that was a daydream for a much different day. “Cucumbers?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You held back a giggle and placed two banana slices over each closed eyelid. “Okay, all done!”

His nose scrunched up towards the objects on his eyes, “Bananas?!”

You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding back and placed a kiss atop his head. “Now you got all your favorite stuff, cats and bananas!” You circled around his seat and climbed into his lap again.

“And you.” He smiled softly while his callused hands instinctively found your hips again.

Your cheeks heated up and your stomach filled with butterflies. No matter how silly he looked, he could always get you to melt in his hands. “Oh, shut up.”

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” He asked.

Your grin faltered a bit at his question, and you paused to think about your answer. You let your hand fall gently just below his neck, sliding down slowly while your fingers softly laced beneath the silver chain of his necklace. You let the thorny pendant rest on your fingers as you admired it. As much as you hated the calm before the storm and selfishly despised the reason for it, you knew it’s what you signed up for and what brought him the most joy. Your thumb ran over the thorny crown, grateful for the amount of time you’d been able to spend with him during this break. This was maybe your 3rd or 4th run at him leaving for tour and while you could tell that it was getting easier, it was extremely slow progress. It seemed as though each time felt like the first time all over again. Your eyes fluttered closed in a feeble attempt to tame the burning in your eyes and the tears threatening to appear. You took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in your throat knowing that letting him see you like that would not only ruin the moment but make him feel guiltier than he already did, which was exactly the opposite of what the activity meant to accomplish.

“Baby?” He pressed after you’d gone silent for a bit.

You cleared your throat and blinked the tears away, forcing a smile onto your face so that it could be heard in your words. “Sorry love,” You wrapped your hand around the pendant just hard enough that the thorns stabbed into your palm, perhaps hoping that the pain could force the ache away, or maybe in hopes that if you stamped yourself hard enough with him, he could always stay with you. “Just got distracted. What did you ask?”

“I asked why we’re doing this? I feel really silly right now.” He laughed, though a little less bright than before. You hoped that he hadn’t picked up on your energy shift.

“Oh, um,” You looked down and released the hold on his necklace, letting your palms rest on his chest. “Just wanted to pamper you a little, before you have to go work so hard.” You tried your best to keep your voice light, but the sadness in your voice was unmistakable, at least to Nicholas.

His smile fell into a small frown, and it made you wish you had just lied, but you were never much of a good liar, especially not to him. He reached up pulling the banana slices off his eyes and placing them on a paper towel on the table. Somehow, he looked even goofier with the bananas off his eyes.

You suddenly felt flushed under his gaze – regardless of the cat mask still adorning his face. It was unclear whether it was the normal affect he had on you that was making you blush, or rather the vulnerability he’d caught you in.

“Baby,” He let out a sad sigh, “Is that what this is about?” His hands moved up to envelope your hips again, rubbing small comforting circles into the flesh beneath your shirt.

You shook your head vehemently, “No, no, I’m just tryin’ to spoil you honey, you deserve it.” You tried for a smile but couldn’t quite reach.

It was clear in his eyes that he wasn’t buying it. “Oh, let me get this cursed thing off of me.” He said, his hands already going to peel up the edges of the sheet mask but failing miserably.

A grin did pull at your lips watching him struggle and decided to take over. “Here, let me do it.” You laughed, gently swatting his hands away and pulling it off yourself and setting it on the table next to the forgotten bananas. “For someone who’s so good with his fingers, that sure was hard for you, huh?” You teased, attempting to deflect from the seriousness you’d just caused. All you wanted to do was go back to the soft, happy bubble you’d created before.

His inked hand trailed up your body to cup your cheek. “I’m gonna miss you so much, you know that right?”

You rolled your eyes trying your best to hold up your strong exterior, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, we don’t have to do this. We don’t have to talk about it, okay?” It took every bit of energy you had to yank each edge of your lips into a smile.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He frowned. “Maybe I wanna talk about it?”

“But you dooon’t though.” You whined, pressing on his chest slightly. “We were having a good time and I ruined it.” You whispered. Your eyes fluttered down to where your hands met his abdomen, faintly crinkling his faded Slipknot shirt between your fingers.

“Hey.” His hand found your chin and tilted it back up to face him once more. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He reassured the obvious.

“I know.” You mumbled and found your eyes dropping once again, not bearing the strength to look at him for too long. “I know what I signed up for. I know that it’s part of loving you.” Your hand rediscovered his necklace, flipping it between your fingers for comfort.

“Just because it’s part of the deal, doesn’t mean it’s not hard, y/n.” His voice was more firm that time, trying to cement the severity of his words.

“I know.” You groaned, frustrated that he wouldn’t just drop it.

He sighed, “I’m just saying it’s okay to be upset about it. And it’s okay to talk to me about it.” His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, enticing you to look at him. “We’re a team, remember?”

You released a long exhale finally relaxing a bit under his touch. “I know, Nicky, I know. I just didn’t want you to feel guilty and,” Your hand went up to wrap around his wrist and your eyes darted somewhere far away from him. “I didn’t want you to think that I can’t handle it.” Before he could respond your fingers gripped his wrist harder and the burning in your eyes returned. “I can handle it, I can.”

The crack in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by the male and all he wanted to do was scoop you up in his arms, but he knew better than to smother you when you were that emotional. “I know you can baby.” He said gently, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that was on the verge of escape. “I never questioned that. And if I ever do, then we’ll work through it,” He gently tapped the side of his thumb on your cheek to bring your attention back to him. “Together. Okay?”

You nodded against his palm, nuzzling into his touch. “Together.”

“That’s my girl.”  He smiled and pulled you down into a sweet kiss.

You pressed your forehead against his gazing into his eyes, tonight they were particularly grey. “You’re too good to me.” You said so quietly that if he wasn’t nose-to-nose to you, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He shook his head as much as he could without disturbing the moment, “No, I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not tr-“ You began but were quickly interrupted by his lips on yours again.

“Ah, ah.” He hummed once he pulled away, “I won’t be taking any back talk.”

Your cheeks burned bright cherry red that time, no amount of makeup could conceal it. Even though his words were light, you knew he wasn’t joking. Nicholas was an expert at imbedding dominance in featherlight touches and sweet nothings.

“Yes sir.” You replied instinctively.

The energy spiraled between you two had shifted from silly to emotional, to something entirely different now. His hands trailed up your sides beneath your shirt to rest both on your lower back.

“C’mon, you took such good care of me, now it’s your turn.” Without giving you any warning he scooped you up. You squeaked at the sudden action but instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“Where are you taking meeee.”

“Well, we’re having a spa day, aren’t we? What’s a spa day without a bubble bath?”

You melted into him, loving the idea of a warm bath accompanied by him.

Nick began drawing the bath making sure to add all your favorite additives as you stood patiently waiting instruction. Once he was satisfied with the way the tub was filling, he sat on the edge and beckoned you over. “Come here angel.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth at the name, taking a couple steps to stand between his legs. He began tenderly undressing you until you were completely bare in front of him.

He wasn’t shy with the way his eyes wandered down your body. “God you’re beautiful.” His words riding an infatuated exhale.

The strawberry pink already present on your cheeks only worsened. “Shush.” You wave off his compliment and used your arm to cover your chest.

He stood and took your chin between his index and thumb tilting your gaze up at him. “I won’t ever stop reminding you of how stunning you are.”

You shook your head out of his grasp. “Shut up Nicholas.” You said shyly.

He took your cheek in his grasp instead this time, getting more control of you. “What’s wrong baby? Am I getting you all flustered?”

You were sure your face was beet red now. “C’mon Nicky, stop messin’ around, the bath is getting cold.”

A satisfied smirk tugged one edge of his lips, finding amusement and pride in your blatant embarrassment. “As you wish princess.” He began to undress himself until he was matching your nude attire.

Your eyes did the same as his did earlier and raked down his body, lean and inked on almost every bit of him. You’d been with him for over a year and you still managed to find new tattoos on him that you’d never seen before. His body was a spectacular and endlessly interesting museum only you had the key to.

He didn’t wait for you and stepped over the porcelain into the large oval tub, letting his body sink down into the steaming water. Almost instantly your exquisite museum was engulfed in mountains of bubbles. “Well, you comin’? You were the one complaining about water ‘getting cold’.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes and cautiously dipped your toe into the water. You hissed and recoiled at the scalding temperature. “Fuck that’s hot.”

Nicholas chuckled at your reaction, “Still think it’s getting cold?”

“Shut up.” You mutter.

“Just take it slow baby, let your body get acclimated to the water.” He sounded patient but his eyes didn’t match – the longer you were under his gaze, the more you felt like an animal of prey being stalked.

After a bit of time getting your lower body get used to the water you were finally able to sink down between his legs and rest your back against his chest. A small sigh of relief left your lips at the feeling of soothing comfort with him. No matter the problem or hindrance, Nick always made everything okay. He made you feel safe and taken care of in a way you’d never felt before. Getting that feeling from a rockstar who’s constantly touring wasn’t something you ever imagined possible, but somehow, it was with him. It took a while for him to earn your trust, especially at the very beginning, the first time he toured just a month or two after making things official. But he made sure to prove his faithfulness in a multitude of ways – from sharing his location to sending pictures and videos frequently to even sending you flowers or other small gifts to let you know he was thinking of you. Life with Nicholas wasn’t perfect, but it was a dream.

His fingers first found your shoulders, digging his thumbs into the wound-up tense muscles at the base of your neck.

“Mmm.” You hummed at the sensation and leaned further back against him. “That feels so good baby.”

“Yeah?” He asked, kissing the side of your head.

“Mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you sank a little further into the water.

He spent some time working through the knots in your neck and shoulders. Wherever he pressed his fingertips felt like he was releasing a world of tension.

“That’s it, just relax.” His hands drifted down past your shoulders and onto your sides, using his thumb to rub circles into the muscles of your back - as best he could in your position anyway.

As his hands trailed lower you felt a flutter fill your tummy and settle in your core. You didn’t even realize you were squirming until his hands found and gripped your hips hard. “Stay still.” He ordered quietly just below your ear.

A shiver ran through you at his gravelly voice stealing the air in your throat. You did as he said, as much as you could, and hoped it’d be good enough for him. His fingertips lowered, beginning to run up and down the curves of your hip bones. The close proximity of his fingers to your core was starting to make you dizzy. You sucked in a harsh breath when his hands traveled further down to massage your thighs. His fingers were diligent and determined with their placement and tempo, using his thumb to rub tight circles into the flesh of your upper inner thigh. There’s no way he couldn’t feel you nearly vibrating under his touch, and you had to restrain yourself from grabbing his hand to put him where you needed him the most.

You felt his lips curl into a sinister smile against your neck. “What’s wrong princess?” He asked condescendingly. “Am I not helping you relax?”

“No, no. You are.” You almost stutter out, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“Hm.” He hummed, gliding his fingers up the inner side of your thigh. “I wonder… what you do when you get all wound up like this when I’m away?” There was an edge to his question that erased any indication of genuine curiosity.

Your eyes widened at the question and your mind went fuzzy blank. “Well…I…um.” Was all you could get out, pathetically.

“Oh, c’mon baby.” He lowered himself to just below your ear. “Use your words for me. Tell me what you do.”

Your heart felt like it was colliding against your ribcage incessantly while simultaneously pooling your rampant pulse in your clit. “I-I,” You took a breath in a feeble attempt to steady your breathing. “I touch myself.” You blurted out, knowing it was both the truth and what he wanted to hear.

You didn’t need to look at him to know how wide and proud his smirk was.

“Good girl.” He hummed. “Why don’t you show me where you do that?”

Your eyes widened once again, this time swallowing all the saliva available in your mouth. Hesitantly, you reached out beneath the water and took hold of his wrist, bringing it between your legs. “Here.”

He used his hand to slowly cover and cup your core before carefully running his fingers through you. You wanted to whine at the small sensation but knew how pathetic you’d sound. “Thank you for showing me baby.” He acknowledged your obedience. “But I want you to show me exactly what you do.”

You’d show him anything at that point to keep his fingers on you, so you nodded and covered his hand with your own. You guided him to your clit that was buzzing and begging for his attention. Your middle and ring fingers pressed into his and prompted them to start moving in circular motions.

“Mmm.” He pressed a kiss to your neck before nipping at the skin like a predator taste-tasting his meal. “That feels good doesn’t it?”

Your head lulled itself on his shoulder, already getting lost in the pleasure blooming at his fingertips. “Mhm.” You mumbled with drooping eyelids.

He took control of the movements almost instantly, starting a display of one of his many talents. He let you savor his actions for a bit, knowing that the further gone you were, the more pliable you’d be in his hands. “Is this all you do baby? Or is there somewhere else you touch?” He asked already knowing the answer, just wanting you to say it.

His plan worked, as it always did, and you were nothing but an obedient ragdoll for him now. Every cell in your body wanted to bend to him – he had magic in his touch, you were completely certain of it.

Without any verbal response you just guided his working hand down to your entrance. That’s all the convincing he needed and carefully slipped two fingers into you. He let out a small, low groan the feeling of how tight you were around his fingers. You could feel his already hardening cock throb against your lower back. The sensation of his member against your skin while he was using his fingers to fuck you was bittersweet because now all you wanted was his cock filling you up instead.

“God you’re so fucking tight.” He nearly growled against your throat. “I’m gonna miss burying myself in your pretty cunt.”

You felt like you could disintegrate into thin air from how good you felt – yeah, his fingers working magic was one thing, but his words melted you completely. Being complimented and wanted, no – needed – by him was a high that no orgasm could ever touch.

“I need your cock, Nicky please.” You whined without caring how desperate you sounded. “Please, I need you.”

“Oh bunny, you know better than to rush me.” He tsked before moving to do something you didn’t expect. He kept his one hand fucking his fingers in and out of you rhythmically while curling in ever so slightly but brought the other back down on your throbbing clit.

A gasp left your mouth as he effortlessly used both hands to fuck you in the most delicious way. You had already been close just from his fingers curling right into your sensitive spot but now with his fingers rolling against your nub you were seconds from oblivion.

“Fuck.” You spat out urgently. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close – s-so fucking close.” You whimpered out, squeezing your eyes closed trying to keep from coming undone before you were allowed. “Fuck baby, please let me cum. Please can I cum?”

All he did was hum an “mhm” against your neck before you were seeing stars. Tingles seared across your body and your walls pulsed around his fingers.

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

The praise only intensified the orgasm, causing your back to arch from him. Your face lulled into the crevice of his neck letting him vividly hear all the noises you were making for him. Nick loved your noises as much as you loved his words – he made a mental note to record you next time so he could have something on the road. He could get off on the sound of you alone.

He gently pulled his fingers from you and slowly tapered his action on your clit, but not completely. He retained an agonizingly slow pace on your now overly sensitive nub. He kept the pace slow enough so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for long until you started to feel good again.

You felt him reaching beside you for something but were too fucked out to pay attention. “Tell me baby, have you ever used this to help relax?” His voice was buttery smooth like blue suede.

Your brows furrowed above your closed eyelids, wondering what he was referencing. When you blinked your eyes open, they rounded to see him holding the detachable showerhead and was suddenly grateful for the extra-long cord you’d opted for. You shook your head and answered honestly. “No.” You’d always been curious but never actually tried.

Nicholas was an expert at knowing when you were lying so he believed you. “Here.” He tenderly scooped up your hand, cupping it in his own like a spoon. With a flick of his other thumb on the showerhead, a crazed stream of patterned water jutted from it. He brought it to the hand he was holding and let the stream hit your palm. “Is that too strong?” He questioned genuinely wanting to know your comfort level.

As much as the strength of the water inspired some more flurries in your core, you nodded shyly. “Too strong.” It was typical for your responses to become minimal once you entered any level of subspace. Having that amount of trust to even fall into that headspace was a luxury you only ever found with Nick. Trusting him was easier than you’d like to admit, it came as naturally as breathing air into your lungs.

“Okay.” His thumb spun the filter onto another setting. “How about this one?” He questioned even though he figured it would be a no since it was thin streams of water lining an empty tunnel.

That one made you giggle and shake your head since it obviously wouldn’t provide much pressure. Nick smiled at your adorable giggle, filling his chest with so much warmth and love, he had no idea what to do with it all. He pressed a kiss to your head before flipping to another setting.

A perfectly tempered stream danced in your palm – not too strong, not too weak, and the jet pattern was an enticing rhythm. You bit down on your bottom lip and nodded. “Good.”

Nick’s free hand found your tummy, pressing it flat against your stomach and slid down painfully slow between your legs. Your breath caught in your throat at the anticipation of his touch. He tenderly spread your legs further apart before using his fingers to spread your lips apart, baring you open so that the jet stream of water could land precisely where it was needed.

“Now sweetheart,” He began. “You were so good for me. You did as I asked, you used your words, you asked for permission.” He lowered the shower head into the water, and you felt the jet stream hit your thigh. It was stronger than you expected and suddenly both fear and excitement pooled in your core. “I want you to know that this is a reward. This is what good girls get. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks grew warm, and your breath hitched in your throat at his words. Before you had time to properly prepare, the strong pressure of the stream pummeled into your sensitive nub. You let out a loud squeak as intense pleasure coarsed your body and down your limbs.

“Baby. I asked you a question. Do you understand that I’m allowing you to feel this good? That this is a privilege?”

Your hands gripped his thighs at each side of you and nodded your head enthusiastically, “Yes sir, I do.” You barely got your words out past your heavy breathing.

He smiled against your neck, “That’s my girl. My best girl. Now what do you say?”

Your heart flooded with lovey pride and your brain filled with nothing but him. He encompassed your very being, every cell of your composition belonged to him. “Thank you.” Your head fell back on his shoulder as he brought the shower head closer to your cunt, only intensifying the pressure. “Thank you, thank you.” You repeated like a prayer.

“God, I can’t wait to fill that pretty pussy up with my cock.” The end of his words resembled something like a growl.

His evident need for you went straight to your stomach, helping to weave a knot that was ready to snap. You were surprised you’d lasted this long since this was easily one of the best feeling you’d ever felt. Knowing that something as convenient as a shower head held so much power was dangerous, especially now that you associated it directly with him.

The jet propulsion on your clit was deliciously brutal, each wave hitting you harder than the last as your sensitivity increased. Your legs began to tremble from the sheer amount of pleasure building up in your body begging for release. “Nicky.” You heaved out while your fingers dug into his thighs. “I can’t hold it, please.” Your request drenched in utter desperation. “Please let me cum, I need to cum baby please.”

Nicholas hummed at the request, mulling it over in his head. If this were any other day, under any other circumstances, he’d string out your orgasm as far as he wanted, but it was a day of relaxation after all.

“Go ahead,” He whispered, bringing the shower head just a tiny bit closer to nudge you over the edge. “Cum for me, will you? And don’t fight it okay? I wanna hear you.”

And with that, another orgasm blinded you, this one ripping through you more violently than the last. Your entire body was in sparking, euphoric bliss. Curses, screams and moans poured from your throat, all laced with his name.

“Oh, that’s it princess, let it all out for me.”

And you did just that. He kept the stream on your bud through your high and somewhere between his grainy voice talking you through and your overstimulation, another wave of pleasure washed over you. Your throat grew sore from your incessant noises that now probably sounded like gibberish sprinkled with his name.

He slowly drew the metal shower head away from your core to carefully lull you from your high. You were nothing but a heaving, shakey, fucked out mess in his grasp.

“Good job baby.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “You did so good for me.”

A lazy smile spread across your lips and nodded slightly. His warmth was the only thing tethering you to reality.

He let you recover from your orgasms before moving on. His hands found your hips once more and pressed you against him. You felt his own arousal thick and hard against your lower back and it reminded you of the ache between your legs that only he could fill.

“You wanna turn around for me baby?”

While you felt like utter mush in his hands, his offer sparked the potential of having him inside you, and that was something you didn’t plan to pass up on. You nodded and shifted around in the water, letting the liquid slosh around tub even spilling out a bit unintentionally. “Oops.” You giggled.

“Hi angel.” He says softly with a crooked smile painted across his lips the second his eyes meet yours. Sure, he held the reigns in the bedroom and most other areas of your relationship, but it was no secret that you were the one with complete control over him. You made him weak in ways he never imagined being, he would give you anything you wanted if you just batted your lashes at him. He was putty in your hands, and he loved it.

He looked so beautiful, and you suddenly felt scammed knowing that you had your back to him looking like that the whole time. His raven hair had fallen from the makeshift bun from the couch and was now splayed over his shoulders, the ends now damp and pointy. You couldn’t wait one more second without his lips on yours, so you scooped up his face in both hands and met his lips with yours. You broke the kiss to press your forehead against his, wanting to engulf yourself fully in his stormy eyes. “I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too.” He replied matching your whisper. His hands found your hips again, pulling you towards him – not out of desire to intensify the moment, but simply to have you closer. “God, I love you more than anything.”

Peachy pink dusted your cheeks and the smile that his words brought to your lips was embarrassingly wide. You shied away from him and shook your head, “You’re being silly.” Out of all the grand things in his life, you were sure that you were the least exciting or interesting part.

His hand trailed warm water up your arm to pick up your chin, “I’d never joke about that.” His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, cupping your cheek. “I’m so grateful for the patience you’ve given me, given us. You might be the best thing to ever stumble into my life.”

Every atom in your body begged to mesh with him. It only took one exchanged look between you two for your bodies to rearrange so you could sit on his lap. Your lips collided, followed by a messy display of clashing teeth and hungry tongues. Your passion was fueled only by the blind love you had for him and your desire to prove that his love for you was warranted. Your fingers tangled into the base of his dark hair, tugging at it slightly needing every bit of him entwined with your very molecules. He kept one hand on your hip while the other held tangled in your own wet hair.

As much as you wanted to keep telling him how much you loved him, you couldn’t bear to break away from him even for a second. If you couldn’t tell him, you’d show him.

You rutted your hips up his thighs until you felt the base of his member rest against your bare cunt. He let a groan out into the kiss at the feeling of you against him. One of your hands fell from his hair to his length, your fingers instinctually molded around the silky soft flesh. It never ceased to impress you at just how big he was and no matter how many times you’d had him it never eased the ache of taking him.

His sizeable cock was decorated with bulging veins from the blood that coursed through him. Even though your fingers had grown to be expertly familiar with his anatomy, you still loved exploring him, tracing each vein with your fingertips. This earned you another grunt from somewhere deep in his chest and you pridefully smiled against the kiss.

You finally gave him what you knew he wanted, wrapping a hand around this girth and began palming him slowly. His member had a delicious upward curve to it that helped to reach the deepest and most sensitive part of you. Your mouth was watering at just the feeling of him in your hand – in that moment you could’ve sworn that you would do absolutely anything to have it inside you. It was not a want, but a carnal need.

He finally had enough and pulled from the kiss, “Baby, please.” He breathed out against your lips, his love drunk eyes heavy with lust as he looked up at you. “I need your pussy.” His chest rose and fell in time with yours, needing you just as badly as you needed him.

You nodded quickly against him before lifting yourself up enough to hover over him. Regardless of how much you wanted it, you still had to mentally prepare yourself for the initial pain. Nick helped align himself with your entrance while keeping a supportive hand on your hip bone. You exhaled a deep breath.

Sensing your hesitation, he gave your hip a small squeeze, “You can take it baby, just go nice and slow. We have all the time in the world.” He reassured you, letting you set the pace.

You nodded and carefully began to sink down on him. A hiss escaped your mouth at the way his width stretched you open. Your hand fell to his shoulder for support as you struggled to pull yourself further down.

Nicholas’ eyes couldn’t soak you up enough, he was mesmerized at the sight of you. He wished he could burn it into his brain. “God, you look so fucking pretty taking my cock.”

His compliment only made you more determined to push past the pain and discomfort. When you felt your cervix land on his tip you knew that was as far as you could take him. While you couldn’t reach his base fully, you were still surprised and proud of yourself for being able to take so much of him in that position.

He let out a low groan at the feeling of your cunt tightly enveloping his cock. “You feel so fucking good.”

You expelled a breath then swirled your hips with him still deep inside you. The goal was to adjust to his size before riding him. The stretch burned but you knew it’d sweeten once you started moving.

The way he gazed up at you made you weak and your body gave into him, falling into the crook of his neck. You began placing open mouth kisses on his tattooed throat while your hips started swiveling on him. Light, airy moans tumbled from you lips and onto his neck. His hands gripped your hips tighter, letting out a grunt from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” He groaned, letting his head fall back into the ledge of the tub. “I need you to move baby, I need more.”

You nodded quickly, needing it just as badly. Your hands slipped off him to stabilize yourself on the porcelain ledge. It gave you enough balance to raise your hips up almost fully, before dropping them where he filled you the fullest.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good.” He groaned out, his eyes droopy and drunken by only his love for you.

The praise helped motivate you to keep going even though the stretch burned. But you got to control the pace and the depth you could handle – although part of you wished he did have control so that he would forego any hindrances and use you up fully.

You gained momentum on him, bouncing up and down on his cock. Water splashed everywhere, over the ledge and all over the floor but that was the furthest thing on your mind. The room was filled with moans, grunts and cursed from both of you. You felt the knot beginning to form in your tummy as did he. But his surprises weren’t done yet.

He reached over to where he’d placed the shower head, easily flipping it on to the previous setting. Your eyes rounded as he began to lower it towards the water and you shook your head vigorously. “No, no, no.” You cried. “I won’t last, please, no.”

His other hand drifted down your spine with a feather light touch. “Well, that’s the point sweetheart.” He hummed. “Don’t you wanna cum again for me baby?” He questioned patronizingly. You knew that tone and you knew it meant it wouldn’t be as easy as he was eluding.

He continued his actions and aimed the powerful stream of water directly at your clit. A jolt of pure electricity zipped up your spine and down your thighs. Your entire body shuddered at the sudden and intense sensation. Your fingertips curled into his skin, surely branding claw marks into his flesh. “God, fuck.” You exclaimed loudly, barely able to move.

“Now, baby, remember that cumming is a privilege remember? I could very well leave you all worked up with your pretty pussy clenching around nothing if you misbehave.” He warned. “Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly, slipping your tongue between your lips. But that of course wasn’t enough for him.

His hand tightened on your hip and brought the shower head a bit closer to heighten the sensation. “I believe I asked you a question darling.” His voice deep and raspier than normal. “Do you understand? You know I need to hear it.”

“Yes,” You shuddered out. “Yes, sir. I understand.” You couldn’t seem to catch your breath, the air in your lungs completely vacant. Your heart thumped so hard against your ribcage you thought it might shatter and burst in front of him and splinter his own chest.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Now, I don’t remember telling you that you could stop moving.”

You whined in near agony, squeezing your eyes shut and slowly beginning your movements again. “Fuck.” You lulled your head back, buzzing pleasure spreading through every bit of you.

“Faster.” He commanded. “Or I’m gonna make this very unpleasant for you.”

His sweetness was long gone and replaced by the Nick you had grown very familiar with. You’d never guess by his normal relaxed and reserved demeanor that he’d have this overwhelming dominance in bed, but you loved it. It was as though something in him would take over, like he’d try to fight it to stay sweet and romantic, but it rarely lost the fight. It was thrilling to watch his internal battle; you’d seen it so often that you had memorized the shift in his eyes and subtle change in his cadence.

You rarely chose to challenge his threats and today was no different, So, you began lifting and dropping your hips against his lap, taking in fully – or as much as you could anyway. His free hand slithered up your side to cup your breast, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp. His stare couldn’t seem to stay on any solid one part of you, darting from your tits bouncing as you moved, to your face contorting with the overwhelming pleasures you were experiencing, to down where you were connecting with him. He looked at you the way people look at monuments or ancient architecture. He didn’t care about a single other wonder in the world because he was convinced you were the only one in existence. You were an art museum to him, every single installation he could study for hours and never grow bored of your beauty and the delicate nature of your soul. He was utterly infatuated with and devoted to you.

It became difficult to continue riding him without getting sloppy from another orgasm building quickly in your stomach. Your clit was buzzing and threatening to tip you over the edge at any moment. The way he filled you up only made it worse – being full of him made the time without him even more empty. You’d never had someone fill you up so much, he made it hard to even clench around him. It was an incredible experience and one that would make having anyone else subpar. He had set the bar so high that it made it impossible for anyone else to measure up to him. If he ever decided he’d had enough of you, you’d spend the rest of your days seeking bits of him in anyone you ever let touch you. He’d certainly haunt you worse than phantom ever could.

Thankfully, from the way his cock throbbed and bounced inside you, told you that he was getting close too. Your heart thumped so hard in your throat that you questioned if you’d even be able to speak.

“I-I’m close.” You whimpered out. “Can I cum?”

He tsked at the request. “Now baby, I taught you better that. You’re forgetting my favorite word. Try again.”

Your palms dug into his chest at his rebuttal. “Fuck.” You closed your eyes attempting to stave off your orgasm. “Fuck, please.” You begged. “God, fuck, please, I need to cum. Please can I cum?”

“Hm.” He feigned a thought. “No, not yet. Hold it.”

You shook your head vigorously, “No, no, no, please I can’t. I won’t make it, I’m so close. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop it.”

“You can and you will.” He said simply. “And if you don’t, you don’t wanna know how much you’ll regret it.”

His face was serious, but you could tell that the excitement was growing in his belly too. You swore that he thrived over your desperation, he loved seeing you squirm and bringing to the edge of your limits. It was sadistic the way he was fueled by your anguish. You don’t know if you’d ever admit it, but you enjoyed being commanded and used like a plaything. Being at his mercy was a thrill you loved chasing, especially knowing he’d always catch you.

You scrunched your eyes closed and bore down on your teeth holding on to the tattered thread left holding you on to your sanity. “Fuck.” You breathed out. It was almost painful how your sensitive nub throbbed beneath the powerful stream of water and how tight the knot in your tummy had grown. His tip assaulting your cervix intensified everything and overbearing pleasure was looming merely seconds way from shattering your resolve. “Fuck, fuck.” You whined. “Fuck, please, please let me cum, I need it so bad. Please I don’t want to disobey you but I’m so close, I need to cum, please – fuck, I can’t hold it, fuck fuck, please can I cum?” Your pathetic groveling was a pitiful display, but it was one that Nicholas could barely handle himself. He could get off from the hymns of your desperation alone.

“Fuck I love when you sound like that.” He groaned. “Fine baby, cum all over my fucking cock.” If he hadn’t been so close himself, he surely would’ve stretched out the torture.

As if you needed anymore help, he brought the shower head even closer. The heightened sensation instantly blinded you, causing your entire body shudder as sparking euphoria bloomed from your core. This orgasm was more powerful than the others due to the delayed pleasure and his length hitting your sensitive spot directly. The moans and curses that left your mouth were vulgar and smeared with the unholy devotion you had for him. Every cell in your body belonged to him just as he demanded it.

Your walls tightly clenching around him was his tipping point. “God, you look so fucking good with my cock so deep inside you.” He growled, gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises behind. “Fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum.”

You were too lost in your own bliss to really hear what he said until you felt his length twitch inside you followed by his warm seed filling your core. If you weren’t so overspent, the feeling alone could’ve sent you into another orgasm – but seeing as you were still working through your own, you weren’t that concerned about it.

As you both came floating down from your highs, he flipped off the shower head and set it to the side ledge. You had fallen on his chest while your heaving chests rose and fell in time with each other’s. His fingertips raked through the slightly damp hair of your scalp. You purred and smiled at the affection gesture.

He grinned at the reaction, “I love you.” His buttery words fell from his lips in a tone just above a whisper.

Nick would never admit it, but he was extremely talented at almost anything he ever picked up. If he gave it a good honest try, it wouldn’t take long for it to become second nature. He never imagined that there would be anything in the world that would come easier than a graphite pencil or tattoo gun or almost any instrument he picked up. He knew his tattoo gun and his favorite guitar like the back of his hand and while he’d never fully believe it, he already knew you that way too. As with everything else, just because he was a master-of-all didn’t mean there were never any bumps or challenges or hardships – pencils snap, tattoo guns malfunction, and sometimes strings don’t want to tune just how you want them - above all else, Nicholas knew that the most. He knew the best things in life were never easy, but that never stopped him before and it certainly wasn’t going to stop him now.

“I love you too.” You muttered sleepily into the crook of his neck.

The satisfaction of inking a particularly difficult design or mastering a challenging new riff could never compare to the feeling he got from hearing you say those words.

“C’mon, let’s get you dry and warm.” He gently patted your hip and you nodded, using every bit of strength in your body to sit yourself upright.

Nicholas was incredible in his element. It’s one thing to be able to take control sexually, but it’s a whole other thing to be able take gentle control outside of that – and he did, effortlessly. He carefully pulled you off him and got you standing on your feet. He only allowed the air conditioning to dance on your skin for a millisecond before he wrapped a big fluffy towel around you. You tugged the terrycloth fabric so tight against your skin that you were sure you’d have imprints of the threads embedding into your skin. When you lifted your leg over the porcelain, you felt the familiar ache between your thighs that always came from loving him. It wasn’t the worst you’d felt, since you had set the pace, but the water supplied no lubrication, and you were definitely feeling the repercussions.

Nick wrapped a towel around his waist and unplugged the bath drain. When he finally made his way back over to you. When you were both barefoot it really emphasized just how much he actually towered over you. The water droplets glistening across his tan, inked skin made him look like a work of art. Your eyes traced his collarbones and landed on the thorny pendent you were fidgeting with before.

“Oh yeah, before I forget.” You didn’t realize what he was doing until he pulled the necklace from neck and gently draped it over your head. It landed way longer on your chest but it didn’t matter. Your fingers found the pendent and immediately rubbed it for comfort.

“I can’t take this.” You claimed, but the smile that had already made home on your face said otherwise.

He smiled and took your jaw into one hand and placed his other hand over yours covering the necklace. “I’ll always be with you now. If you miss me or get anxious just squeeze it, and I’ll be right there with you. Okay?”

Tears burned your eyes, but you were determined to keep it together, the last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of him naked and shivering. You nodded quickly, “Thank you.” You whispered, hiding a sniffle.

“You’re welcome baby.” He said and placed a quick kiss to your forehead.

He gently grasped your shoulders giving them a little rub to warm you up before guiding you back into the bedroom. The edges of his lips dipped into a frown the second he noticed your limping.

“Oh baby, did I hurt you? I knew we should’ve gotten out of the bath-” He always began to panic ramble if he thought he might’ve hurt you or not taken care of you properly.

You giggled at his worrisome nature and placed a finger over his lips. “It’s okay, really.” You reassured and watched his anxiety disappear. “But it does hurt.” Your lips pulled together in a pout. “Fix it?”

A small smile pulled across his lips and he nodded knowing exactly what that meant.

The time after with Nicholas somehow always felt more intimate. He was driven to love you the best way he knew how, and you relished in the safety he wrapped you in. No matter how rough he got in bed, afterwards he always handled you like a freshly plucked gardenia. He was convinced that if he even grabbed you the wrong way you’d crumble. But he loved it, he was sure that if he was put on this earth to do one thing, it was to take care of you.

After applying some numbing cream where you ached the most and getting you into some fresh pajamas, you were finally exactly where you wanted to be. You were tucked right into Nick’s side, cozy under the covers, sharing a pint of pistachio ice cream while watching reruns of your favorite mutual comfort show.

You looked up at him when he laughed at something silly in the show and the glow from the tv illuminated his features beautifully through the darkness. In that moment, he gave you every bit of reassurance you needed to handle him being gone. You were his and he was yours, and as long as you loved him, he’s always come home to you if you let him.

He glanced down at you, catching you in your admiring stare. The edges of his lips pulled taut into a wide, toothy smile.

“Bob’s Burgers is over there you know.” He teased, tilting his head across the room.

You giggled and burrowed your face into his chest. “You’re much more entertaining.”

He chuckled in disbelief, “Am I?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, getting sleepy the second your head touched his chest.

He laughed softly and precariously plucking the empty pint of pistachio from your dozing grasp to put on the bedside table. He pulled you closer to him and tugged the fluffy duvet higher to cover you both.

Before you let sleep envelope you, you felt his fingers tenderly massaging your scalp. “I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Nicholas.” You hummed back lovingly, nuzzling into his chest.

Taglist; @neverknoah @lma1986 @baddestomens @deathblacksmoke @philomenie @blacksoul-27 @thcfountain

A/N; Thank you so much for reading, i hope you liked it, lmk if you did<3

[bengiyo]

BL 2023 Review

I wasn’t sure how I wanted to write about BL for this year. I was originally going to do a The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly framework for it, but that feels meaner than I actually am about it. Instead, I think I’ll just write out some sections and unpack some things I felt along the way.

I Watched Too Much Again

Last year I engaged with about 92 productions around the world. This year it was 99 (I tracked stuff I completed here). Sure I dropped 18 of them this year, but goddamn. The problem with watching as much as I did this year is that I worked full time this year and also maintained a separate hobby. I also continued my twice-weekly watch sessions with my friend Emily, so there are an additional 100-ish watch sessions in here of rewatching, plus a few other rewatches (Theory of Love and My Ride most notably).

One of my struggles at this point is I’m far too familiar with the genre, and find myself feeling impatient and irritable with shows that aren’t to my taste the way I used to. Throughout the late summer and fall I found myself increasingly grumpier about the genre, and it didn’t get better until I had a holiday and basically slept a day to get some energy back. I also found myself growing apart from fans I’ve known and followed a long time. It’s been a difficult year for me as a long-time fan because my tastes, habits, and friendships in the genre have changed even if the amount I watch hasn’t really.

I Wrote a Lot This Year

I recently converted my watch tag away from my gaming internet persona to just my shortname, so all near-1000 of my Stray Thoughts posts can be found under #ben watches now. I’ve also been going back and adding #ben writes to some of the standalone pieces that I really liked. In reviewing them, the pieces I’m happiest about are my ode to Framboise from Kabe Koji Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to Be Recognized, my post begging everyone to watch La Pluie, my post about what it means to actually like queer men, my SBS ep 10 post that ended up being wrong, my post about the Lavender Scare and Be My Favorite, my Tokyo in April is… post about the breaking of the BL line,

However, the two posts I am most proud of is my half-joking response about why I think tagging each other back and forth across Tumblr in our writing is so important. and The Knowing: Being Queer in BL because I had so much great conversations with folks as a result of both of these posts.

Looking back at my own blog, this is probably the most active I’ve been in my entire time on this website, so thank you to everyone who interacted with me this year, because it really is people talking to me that gets me most inspired to write things down. Big shout out to @lurkingshan who will bug me repeatedly until I blog something that I said in passing.

We Started a Podcast!

After hanging out with @shortpplfedup since Bad Buddy, she got inspired and really wanted to bring something different to the BL podcasting sphere. I had time, and liked talking with her enough, so we started @the-conversation-pod. Now we’re a full year into it and planning out future stuff. It’s been so much fun being able to get things off my soul and break poor NiNi in our recording sessions.

From this year, I think my favorite episodes we did were The Moonlight Chicken Episode, the Eighth Sense episode, the ITSAY Anniversary Episodes,  The Wedding Plan episode, , and The Holiday Clip Show. Huge shout out to @ginnymoonbeam for anchoring the transcription process, and @lurkingshan for editing.

The VIIB Awards will begin airing soontm so look forward to that.

Favorite New Term: Business Gay Performance

Let’s be clear, Bump Up Business is not good. It is an obvious BL cash grab from OnlyOneOf that seeks to comment on the fake nature of BL while doing everything it can to trick the audience into believing that the BL pair is real.

Before we got deeper into this year, I was a big fan of a certain pairing, and then their fans took it too far and it affected the way I engaged with their performances and their work. I like that we have a new term for “fanservice” that communicates that you understand that this is for work. (thanks to NiNi for this comparison) I can look at the latest behind the scenes video from Last Twilight and say that I think Sea really understands the work they’re doing, and he and Jimmy have a very relaxed and mature version of BGP without feeling like I’m feeding into shipping.

Do I think they’re dating? No. Do I like the way they fake it? Absolutely!

I can look at one of @respectthepetty posts about Yin and War having personalized, color-coded mics, and we can talk about the next level BGP between the two and both communicate that we know that this is a performance.

It actually makes the extra PR work fun for me again, because now I can just shout “BGP! BGP! BGP!” and it not feel like I’m giving myself brainrot.

Thai BL Needs to Finish Stronger Next Year

Let’s get into some of the show stuff. This year was defined for me by Thai BL starting strong with good premises and then squandering them by not focusing on the details that mattered or leaning into baseless melodrama. Time for some reads. Some of these shows were generally good, but they failed at these things:

609 Bedtime Story: The world building crumpled in the back half and both endings are flat.

A Boss and a Babe: Cher is a pro gamer who worked for a gaming company and there was no plot point about this at all, or collaboration between the two groups.

Bake Me Please: Why was a show about cake so lacking in flavor?

Be Mine SuperStar: You had a real opportunity to explore a fan and idol romance and had Punn show so little growth. I hope the footage of First’s range is helpful now that Ja is out of BL.

Be My Favorite: You redid that whole amusement park date and muddled so much of what the hell happened on that day.

Between Us: You had years to make this interesting. Why are there five pairs and why is the end of this a JC Penny catalog photoshoot?

Dangerous Romance: What the fuck happened to the Sailom we had in episode 1 and 2 before that gun incident?

Hidden Agenda: Tee, what the hell was this? Twelve weeks of this?

I Feel You Linger in the Air: You may be the most beautiful show, with some of the most impressive performances of the year, but you absolutely botched this ending. Finish the goddamn season next time.

Love in Translation: I love you, but that whole kidnapping plot was so stupid at the end.

Low Frequency: I like your OST. That's about it.

My Dear Gangster Oppa: No examination about how gaming friendships become close quickly because of the combination of anonymity and teamwork (shout out to @twig-tea for this excellent summation).

My School President: Saving your gay commentary for the final episode felt like a conservative choice. I want more from you next time.

Naughty Babe: You retconned your own characters to tell a worse story. Unforgiveable.

Never Let Me Go: You didn’t know if you wanted to be a high school BL or a mafia story. It was difficult to watch.

Only Friends: I cannot believe you did Boston like that at the end. Either give Force’s character a clear personality next time, or keep him enigmatic; half measures make him and Book look worse. Sand was absolutely embarrassing. Boeing was a waste. Ending on all of them paired like that felt so unearned.

Step By Step: You forgot to ground Jeng’s external dreams at the end, so the final two episodes are just frustrating.

I’m glad I got that off my chest. We can go into the next year now.

Korea Put in the Work This Year

I really like the efforts from the various Korean studios this year. I really hope we get a Strongberry joint next year, but I want to acknowledge that we had 18 Korean BL dramas I watched this year, and at least three of them I think are must watches: Our Dating Sim, Sing My Crush, and The Eighth Sense. Beyond that, I think Love Tractor, Unintentional Love Story, and A Breeze of Love are easy recommendations.

It’s really impressive how the complaint for me this year with Korean BL is not about them using their time poorly. It’s more about normal drama concerns, where I think characterization is a little weak, or a theme doesn’t land squarely. This rapid iteration from the Korean studios is really impressive to watch, and I’m excited to see what some of the recognized players do next year.

Taiwan and The Philippines Have Been Quiet for Me

I wasn’t really able to connect with much from the Philippines this year except for The Day I Loved You. I never wrote about The Day I Loved You, but this beautiful and heart wrenching show is one of my favorites from this year. I wasn’t too keen on the Oxin Films offerings of this year, and I’m still chasing down the ones from The IdeaFirst Company.

As for Taiwan, this new BL project from the end of the year just isn’t hitting. Kiseki: Dear to Me also ended up really hurting me with the way they used Wayne Song and Huang Chun Chih. I love that angry little man with the white hair, but I’m still salty about Wayne and the general mess of that show.

Japan was Busy This Year

I watched 16 new shows, a few older ones, and a few movies this year from Japan. We haven’t gotten this much from them ever. I continue to love the Drama Shower project from MBS, and my beloved What Did You Eat Yesterday? returned this year. We had pretty stellar outings with Our Dining Table, If It’s With You, and I Cannot Reach You.

I think a third of the Japanese BL I’ve tracked on MDL actually released this year. That’s huge.

Still, I am going to side eye Minato’s Laundromat 2. You were the show that let me down the most this entire year. More than Only Friends, more than Step By Step, and even more than Kiseki. You absolutely blew it. You were telling a great story about a man with an acute case of internalized homophobia coming out of his shell and learning to love his younger partner and you blew it for stupid amnesia nonsense. I will never forgive you for this.

Where Were All the Uncles This Year?

Really, without Jim from Moonlight Chicken, and without the men from What Did You Eat Yesterday? we had an alarming dearth of older gay characters passing on knowledge and wisdom to the youngsters this year. What the hell happened?

Rare Dynamics Won: Second Chance Romance and Friends to Lovers!

We had so much second chance romance this year. It’s really my favorite version of gay romance because gays don’t always have ideal settings when they’re young. We had Our Dating Sim, Individual Circumstances, Jun & Jun, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, Be My Favorite, Love Class Season 2, and A Breeze of Love. I am satisfied.

Friends to Lovers is actually so rare in romance and we have so many to choose from this year! The best examples are I Cannot Reach You and Sing My Crush, but we also have one of the pairs in Love Class Season 2.

Gay Thoughts

I had a couple of ongoing thoughts this year about queerness in BL.

First, I want to return to my post about Sing My Crush and La Pluie, and how I assert that Men Need to Be Angry Sometimes. More than giving men grace to be righteously angry or upset about things, along with letting them express it in ugly ways, I really want to get into how we engage with these shows. I will stop engaging with moralistic reads on characters in 2024. I will no longer engage with asks, reblogs, or meta gripping the fandom where we're judging the moral fiber of the character.

The question that really only matters for me at this point is: Is this act from the character justified from their characterization, the narrative, or genre conventions; and is it interesting? Whether or not the character is good or bad reeks of the lame arguments about good and bad representation, and I am not watching BL like I’m being graded in Sunday school.

The second thing I really want to acknowledge at the end of the year is that the gay sex is finally getting better again. I watched The Novelist this year, and we have taken so long to get back to the space that show took us on the portrayal of male-male intimacy. We are in the genre about people with dicks. It should feel like it. There should be a masculine component there that feels specific to queer intimacy.

I will acknowledge 2 Cutie 2 Pie, A Boss and a Babe, Be Mine SuperStar, Bed Friend, Candy Color Paradox, For Him, I Cannot Reach You, Kiseki: Dear to Me, La Pluie, Love Class 2, Love in Translation, Love Mate, Middleman’s Love, Naughty Babe, Only Friends, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, and Wedding Plan for your contributions.

Final Thoughts

I like how broad the genre felt this year, and I enjoyed how much speculative fiction is entering into the conversation. I don’t know how I feel about there being five vampire stories in the works next year, but overall I’m glad that we’re getting more experimental concepts. I’m burnt out on the college engineering BL, and would like to see more shows about working adults.

Despite how grumpy I was for at least three months, I think this has genuinely been one of the best years we’ve ever had in the genre. I made a lot of new friends in BL this year, and I’m excited to see what comes next. Thank you all for spending some of your time with me this year and I’ll see you in the next one.

[agoodroughandtumble]

Zoro x Reader - Lost & Found

Status: Complete Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader Summary: Zoro is, unsurprisingly, lost Warning(s):  None

Roronoa Zoro was, more often than not, lost. Of course he would be the last person to admit that fact. His pride and stubbornness surrounding the matter were infamous amongst his fellow Straw Hats – an unfortunate consequence of his drive and determination. After all, his mind was focused on becoming the world’s greatest swordsman, on protecting his crew, on helping Luffy fulfil his dreams; Zoro didn’t have time to be memorising atlases. Usually he just shrugged it off – arguing that he always ended up where he needed to be eventually – especially as he wasn’t actually lost anyway, so shut up. Besides. He was sure that if he just kept walking he would reach the Sunny eventually. So that was his plan. Just keep walking and eventually he would reach the ship, or at least someone who could point him in the right direction. He might be lost but he wasn’t lost.

Because being lost and being lost were two completely different things. The former he could deal with – just keep walking. The latter, not so much. The latter was a feeling only reserved for you. You made his head hurt, his heart race and his stomach drop. Each part pulling him in completely different directions and he was a futile navigator. From the moment you had joined the Straw Hats Zoro had found himself in unchartered waters, desperately searching for the relief of land. For any opportunity to remove the anchor you had so deeply buried within his chest, and the chain that dangled so carelessly in front of him. Not even his swords were strong enough to cut himself off completely.

You were both his captor and his saviour – the chains binding you together either a death sentence or a lifeline. But God, he didn’t care. He could happily die so long as it was by your hands, happily seek salvation so long as it was by your mercy. He could do all of this and more for you, because of you, despite you, in spite of you. As long as there was you.

Ironically, the situation wasn’t lost on him. Neither was the knowledge that whilst you were indisputably his anchor, he wasn’t yours. It wasn’t surprising, really, if he thought about it. You were bright, a beacon in the dark, his personal north star guiding him home. He was a storm, a hurricane, only useful for destruction. The product of a life dedicated to violence and bloodshed. The product of a life to keep you away from.

In his more selfish moments, Zoro would allow himself to revel in the chains you had unknowingly imprisoned his heart within. He would allow himself to be lost in the ardently naïve hope that you would find him again – that the chains binding him to you equally pulled at your heart, at the fibre of your being. He could admit to being lost, to being a captive to his own desires, to your every whim as long as you were too. If not… well then he was truly lost. Drowning in that unchartered sea, navigating that starless sky, at the mercy of the storms he had once thought to seek solace in.

It was, somewhat cruelly, that whilst he wandered aimlessly he heard a familiar voice. “Zoro!”

He turned around, trying to neutralise his expression lest you realised he had spent this entire time thinking about you. “What do you want?”

You rolled your eyes. Nami had asked you to find Zoro and bring him back to the ship at least an hour ago, but obviously Zoro was going to claim he’d only been gone ten minutes. “I came to find you – Sanji’s already starting on dinner,” you grabbed his arm to interlace yours into his, “So come on. I’m starving.”

His heart skipped a beat at your words. I came to find you. It was innocuous on your part – no subtext, no promises of anything more. He turned his head slightly, a small smile forming on his lips as you started berating him for getting lost again and how you had been all over the city trying to find the “grumpy green haired man with too many swords”. You found him. Regardless of whether you knew it or not, the chains secured themselves more firmly around his heart – and for once, he relished the feeling. He always ended up where he needed to be eventually.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Codename Bravo

Oneshot Summary; Price finally tells you about task force 141.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word; 5.1k

Warnings; mentions of abuse/torture, mental health discussion, PTSD-triggers, kind angsty with fluffy ending ngl

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: This turned out much more angsty than I'd imagined, but I think it progressed their relationship in a good way.

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

"Love", you answer John's call with a hum from his en-suit, massaging in the last product of your morning skin-care routine. Your eyes flicker to the doorway in the mirror when he steps into it, leaning against its frame. His hands dig into his jogger's pockets as he does. 

You fan your face, trying to help the moisturiser dry quicker, greeting him with a small smile. 

John's hair has grown longer, not as neatly chopped during his home visit. He's probably racked a hand through it as he left the bed or pulled on his jumper, trying to neaten his bedhead, concerning it seemed to have hastily been swept upwards and to the side. 

"Have any plans today?"

"M'no". You turn, blue eyes following you when you walk forward. As you stop before John, you raise your hands, brushing your fingers over his face to gently rub any residue cream onto his skin. His nose scrunches, instinctually closing his eyes, making you chuckle.

"Done with your onslaught?" John asks when you drop your hands and he cracks his eyes open.

You peck his lips, mindful that your still dewy skin doesn't come in contact with his. "Yes". You smile, walking back to the sink to wash your hands. After flicking the access water from them, you reach for the towel hanging beside his.

"Thought about somethin'", he begins and your eyes find him in the mirror as you cock a brow. "Think I'm ready". Your hands halt their movement of running between the fabric. You look over your shoulder, holding the towel rather than drying your hands.

"You mean?"

John nods. "Have thought about it and I've decided, wanna talk to you about... everythin'".

"Yeah? Alright", you quickly dry your hands and turn to him. 

It's been two weeks since the visit at the pub that brought not only a guy trying to hit on you but the ordeal Ghost helped you through. You hadn't brought it up afterwards. Or at least you hadn't asked John about what he would consider sharing, not wanting to pressure him. 

Your man had, however, expressed how much it meant to him. Not necessarily through words, but he spent considerably more time with you, if it so was while cooking or if you did any routine of yours. He also touched you more, arms anchoring around your waist at each given opportunity, kisses pressed more frequently to your forehead, lips or neck, a hand always resting upon your skin when you sat together watching a movie or doing your separate things.

But you hadn't talked about it. The incident, if you may. You wanted to, yet left it up to John to decide the when. And that seemed to be now. 

You walked over to him, hands settling on his waist as you looked at him. "What do you say about taking it downstairs? I can make us a cup of tea?"

His smile was warm when he nodded, agreeing to the idea with a kiss to your hairline, aware of your freshly fixed skin.

You try not to work yourself up. Try not to imagine what John might tell you. And still, there's a jittery feeling in your body disturbing the otherwise slow air of a weekend morning. 

You can't help but look forward to John opening up about his work, filling the gaps he intentionally left vacant and those you didn't want to speculate about. At the same time, what should you expect?

Your fingers tap against the kitchen counter as you watch the kettle boil, hot steam billowing from the opening. Your eyes fall to the little plastic bit still pushed down and shining blue. Soon done, you think. 

You're so focused on the kettle that you don't even notice the man who slides up alongside you until an arm circles your waist and breaks your attention.

Glancing to your right, you find John standing there. 

"Nervous?" 

"I... yes, no?" Your brows furrow. "I just don't know what to expect", you shrug, offering him a smile.

His blue eyes search yours, head tilting. John gently tugs at your waist so your body angles towards his. When it does, his other arms also circle your waist. Your hands naturally fall to his abdomen, sneaking under the knitted sweater he's wearing. Even the walking heaters seem unable to withstand the late autumn temperatures that creep into his house. 

"Never asked if you felt ready to talk about it. If you don't, we can take it another time?"

"Been ready for a long time, John, don't worry". You shake your head to dissolve any worry of his. "Just don't want to make you uneasy by reacting badly or something", you admit sheepishly. 

The military has ingrained many things in him, minor and not-so-minor ones. Some you know, others you don't. One of the ones you'd picked up on was that he always worried about others before himself. Captain, your mind whispered each time you noted it. He was used to caring, leading others, shouldering their safety. You didn't need to know about the things he guides his subordinates through to admire him for it. And yet, you knew that at the moment, John worries more about you than himself.

And the fact is he shouldn't. John was the one who needed to become comfortable enough with even the thought of speaking about anything concerning that part of his life. You can only imagine it hasn't been easy despite not noticing he's behaved differently. So, for him to finally take the step of fully explaining things to you? You didn't want him to regret that choice just because you've grown unsure of yourself.

It wasn't crippling doubt that crept into your bones while you've been waiting for John to determine when he's ready. Even so, you've replayed what happened at the pub, wanting to know more about what may be the cause. You'd felt powerless then, not knowing what was happening or how you could help. You haven't thanked Ghost. But, you're grateful for how he'd stepped in, not knowing the result of the situation otherwise.

"If you're expressionless the whole time, that would worry me more", John chuckles, keeping your gaze with a soft expression in his eyes. "Don't worry too much about your reactions. I want you to tell me if it gets too much or if you have any questions. Can you do that for me, eh?"

"Promise", you nod. He smiles, ducking his head to press a lingering kiss to your lips, pleased with your reply. 

What breaks you up is the tick of the kettle, signalling the water has reached the simmering temperature adequate for a cup of tea.

"Go sit down. I'll bring these over". You leave another quick peck on John's lips before stepping out of his arms towards the two awaiting cups.

"Spoilin' me this mornin', are you?" You roll your eyes as he presses a kiss against your temple when he passes.

"Rather making you comfortable", you look over your shoulder as John heads to the living room. That softness in his eyes grows warm, the crows-feet in the corner of them becoming more prominent as he returns your smile.

Preparing the tea, you catch John rummaging behind you. You put in the teabags and a dash of milk in John's cup. As you walk to put back the carton in the fridge, you throw a look in his direction. 

The man who always prefers milk in his tea when he's home, concerning it's not a luxury he always gets when deployed, is currently tending to a fire. He's kneeling before the fireplace, apparently having had an easy time with the wood and matches as the flames flicker with an orangey colour, lightening his face in a warm glow.

Returning to grab the cups of tea, you head over to join him. 

You hadn't envisioned this being how your morning would play out, but the crackling fire adds to the relaxing atmosphere and eases whatever nerves you previously harboured.

When you stop by the couch, John has left the fireplace and walked over to join you. You hand him a cup before settling down on the plush pillows with your back leaning against one of the armrests. He follows, naturally sitting down only to lift your legs and shuffle closer, draping them over his lap once comfortable. 

You momentarily place your mug on the coffee table, reaching for the blanket thrown over the backrest close to your head. You unfold it over the two of you, John accommodating your shuffling by raising his mug to not spill any of the liquids inside. Not until you settle down again with your cup in hand does he cock a brow at you.

"Cosy?" The firewood crackles and you tilt your head sideways against the couch's back, hands clutching the warm mug in your lap.

"Yes", you answer with a smile. 

You raise your cup, sipping the warming blend as you watch John, waiting for him to start talking. But he sits in silence, one hand repeatedly skimming up and down your blanket-covered shin. His eyes had shifted to the fire. The flames lighten his eyes, making them appear as if the blues in them are alive. From how he keeps quiet, your brows knit together.

"If you have changed your mind, that's alright". Your voice is gentle, reminding John you're taking this at his preferred speed. His eyes return to you, brows raised.

"No", he waves his hand dismissively, holding his mug steadily on your legs with the other. "Just... gatherin' my thoughts. Don't really know where to start". John's sentence is a short chuckle followed by a shake of his head. He knocks his head backwards, resting it against the couch's upper ridge, tilting his face towards you.

You hum in return. "One day, you can maybe tell me your backstory. But today, it's enough to brief me on things you consider essential to know".

This time, John's chuckle is genuine as he nods. His fingers tap against the mug in a quick rap of each digit beside his thumb hooked in the ear.

"You know I'm a Captain, part of SAS". He brushes past the things you already know. "But, there was a reason I said we ain't technically affiliated with the army the first time we met and ain't only because of bein' special forces".

You remember the initial reluctance and a later lighthearted but brief description of their profession. "How so?"

"You were onto it with that clever mind of yours. There's a reason we spend so much time together". John's head cocks to the side and you understand he refers to the absent presence of Ghost, Johnny and Kyle. "I handpicked the lads".

Your head cocks. "For what?"

John exhales heavily, eyes flickering away as he raises his mug to his lips. He sips the tea, leaving your question to hang in the air until he turns to face you again, gaze locking with yours. 

"Taskforce 141, a multinational coalition comprised of various top members from special forces specialising in counter-terrorism. The British SAS is one of them". Your eyes widen, that you hadn't anticipated.

It wasn't a light fact that John dropped on you. It wasn't 'I'm just in the army' or 'A soldier in the SAS', both of which you would've understood why he didn't want to go about mentioning to every soul he meets. But this? Captain in a task force only assembled by special forces? It explained a whole lot more.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" You blink out of your stupor, not noticing your eyes have dropped until you raise your gaze to John's again.

He was tapping his mug, watching you closely, gauging your reaction.

"Just... that it makes sense", you chuckle, briefly glancing down at the mug in your hands before your eyes find his. "I hadn't guessed it, but at the same time, I'm not surprised".

He smiles at that. "Said it, too clever for the pretty facade". You shake your head at how he squeezes your leg, the side of his mouth tugging upwards.

"Despite that, I have a question", you return. John nods, encouraging you to ask. "You mentioned you handpicked them. Feels like you need a high-level authority for that?"

"I am a Captain", he quips, making you nudge his thigh in amusement. Both of you knew that might not be the sole requirement to choose who gets selected for such a task force. "Had a part in launchin' the 141 a few years back, too many loose ends for my likin' that ought to be tied up, which makes me highly involved in who gets picked".

You make an ah sound before speaking. "So the others, why them?"

"The lads have all advanced within the SAS. I met Ghost when he first enlisted and worked with him a fair share while he rose through the ranks. Soap and Garrick, I discovered later but still early on in their careers, came to work with the latter a lot when he became a sergeant", John explains. You can't help your smile. He's talking proudly of them.

"So you lot are the core of it then?"

The corner of John's lips twitches upwards as he hums. Before answering, he raises his mug to his lips. "Can say that, at least of the British branch", he says once he swallows his tea.

"What other branches are there?" He sends you a look, one that isn't hard to decipher. "Let me guess, classified?"

He hums an affirmative in return. "Some things are, even to immediate family. Other times, it's more of a safety thing. The less you know, the less valued you are". 

Your brows furrow. Something about how John said it made an uneasy feeling infiltrate the air.

"What do you mean by that?"

"In our line of work, there's a reason not everyone entertains a life outside the base, not more than a functionin' one. Some view attachments as dangerous". 

You swallow. "Why?"

"We soldiers are a different kind, ought to be", he shrugs. "But, we also deal with desperate and dangerous people, and when those people also want power, it can go south quickly". John's voice is even, factual, as he explains the circumstances. "Some don't dare evolvin' civvies with that".

"What's your view on that?" You watch him closely.

"I'm sittin' here with you, love". John's smile was gentle as he rubbed your shin over the blanket. "Got worried?"

"For a second, yeah". Accompanying your reply is a sigh of relief.

He offered you a gentle smile and squeeze of your leg. "Bigger chance you'll leave me".

Your frown at him. "Why would you say that?"

"If you haven't noticed, I am an old man in the military." John chuckles, but the sound grates your ears. 

Despite you teasing him of the occasional back pain or just for amusement, John isn't old. You'll remain firm on that belief. So what his sentence insinuated didn't sit right with you.

"Sure". It's more you filling the silence than affirming anything as your thoughts process. John's lightheartedness is a poor attempt to mask how his eyes avert from yours after the sentence. It's fleeting but enough for you. "Is that something you worry about? Genuinely?"

John looks momentarily taken aback. His brows shoot high on his forehead, lips dropping from the mug's rim a second before he lowers it. He looks at you through his peripheral before facing you fully, gaze locking with yours. He must see it then, the same seriousness contorting your features in concern as what previously laced your voice. 

"Have passed my mind, yes", he exhales the truth. Sinking further into the couch, the hand at your leg stills. He looks forward, eyebrows setting while his tongue swipes over his bottom lip.

"Do you believe that, John? That that's a reason I would leave you for?"

"Enough of reason in my ears, love".

"Then, well, you're going deaf". Blue eyes find yours. "I won't leave you for a reason that ain't true. Sure, you've been a soldier for long enough you've become a Captain. But, in my book, you're definitely not an old skeleton sitting on an army base".

"Might as well be. The shit we see-". John shakes his head. "It just sticks with you sometimes, hollows you out, s'hard to let go and not always the easiest for others to handle".

"Is that what you feel like?"

"I feel like I don't want to burden you too much with it". John rubs your leg again, smooth motions up and down. For your sake or his, you don't know. "If not for what happened at the pub... would probably not have this conversation already. Afraid it might scare you off".

You clench and unclench your fingers around your mug, playing with its ceramic ear as you watch its liquid contents swirl. There's a part of you that shrinks at that. You feel bad. 

Did he think you would walk out the door the second everything isn't sunny days? Was that why he needed time to think about telling you?

A hand enters your vision seconds before a gentle nudge against your chin raises your head. Blue eyes meet yours and you see how John has leaned closer. 

"Remember, speak your mind", he gently reminds you of your earlier promise.

You sigh with a nod, and he drops his hand to your thigh. John remains near when not retreating to his previously upright position. 

"I hope you didn't feel forced to have this conversation".

"I felt ready". John doesn't hesitate when he answers.

"So why say we wouldn't have had it if not for what happened?"

"Can't say the military is known for lettin' you open up about how you feel", he exhales. "So it's hard to do it other times as well, despite suspectin' you wouldn't shun it after the pub".

You can't help but think about what happened at Marissa's place. How John initially had been so adamant about repressing what triggered him, his frustration and shame for reacting like he did. You do understand it better now. Nonetheless, a gnawing sensation nestles in your skull when you learn that if not witnessing what you did, John would probably have continued to bottle things up. 

He'd mentioned how he hadn't let go of something from his last deployment, how something still was fresh enough to rip open like an invisible wound. You didn't know the things you now do back at the pub. Despite this, it hurt you that John thought he had to carry that weight himself. 

"I know we talked about how hard it was for me while you were away when you returned. But we never-". You bit your lower lip. "I never asked how you got on, not more than briefly. I know it probably would've been too soon to ask then, but concerning what happened at the pub, did everything really go to plan?

He swallows harshly, giving you a curt nod. "Can't tell you much... but said it went well, and it did. We pursued some leads that brought us to somethin' we've been lookin' for". John turns his head, looking into the fire as he continues. "Also found somethin' we hadn't anticipated, the thing that held us up", he motioned with his fingers as if referencing the conversation you had over the phone the day he returned to base from two months of no contact.

And then, he grimaces, lips curling into a thin line as his hand comes up to drag across his beard. 

"The men we were after grew paranoid, believin' someone sold us information concernin' how close we followed them. They weren't mistaken, but they looked in the wrong place. We found a base with civilians, beaten up quite badly. All of them...". He lets out a painful huff and a single shake of his head. "All of them were women".

The corners of your lips fall downward, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. A glum sensation, almost tasting round and cold in your mouth, washes over you. You feel for John. You feel for what he witnessed. 

You sit up, placing your mug on the coffee table as you bring one of your legs from his lap, crossing it in front of you so it rests along his thigh. You reach forward, placing your hand upwards on John's leg, letting him be the one to initiate contact. 

You don't have to wait long before one of his hands lands on yours, his fingers intertwining and giving you a single squeeze. 

Relief washes over you when John doesn't pull away, likewise when he turns to look at you. Even though he must have been distant, reliving the moment he described, the faraway look previously evident creating the perfect blank slate to reflect the fire as if mirroring his memories. He's with you now.

"The lad at the bar... it triggered the memory of when we found them".

It isn't hard to follow the same path John's mind must have. The man. His raised hand. You. Those civilians. Even you could see the eerie resemblance to what he witnessed not more than a month before during his deployment. 

Now, both your hands hold his, cradling it as you rub delicate circles with your thumbs before you raise it to your lips. You press a soft kiss over his knuckles, right atop the little strips of silver marring his skin.

"I understand". You murmur against John's hand, leaving another gentle kiss before you drop it to your lap, continuing the soothing motion of your thumbs. 

John sighs, leaning forward to let this mug join yours on the table. When he settles back into the couch, he turns his body towards you. You shuffle to accommodate as one of his legs joins yours on the couch. Even so, the knee of his bent leg rests partly on top of yours. You don't mind the weight, not when it makes John feel closer to you.

He lets you hold his hand while he worms his other beneath the blanket and your joggers, seeking the slightest bit of your skin to graze as he readjusts your leg, now resting closer to his hip.

"Sometimes it just feels like it never stops, so neither can you. It's hard to go home, take time off and rest when you know they don't do the same. Far too easy start thinkin' about, and then, it can overwhelm you". You nod, showing you understand. "S'what happened at the bar". 

"Should I assume it's stress-related?"

"Somethin' along those lines. I don't struggle with the disorder type. Med-evals cleared those. But despite years in the field, some missions are always harder to let go of immediately after comin' home". John admits. Now, his thumb draws circles into the skin between your thumb and index finger.

"How does it- did it feel?" You ask with a tilt of your head, referring to the only instance you can relate to. He'd hastily explained it in the confines of Marissa's office but must still have been high-wired from the sensations.

John's brows draw together and he purses his lips, possibly contemplating how to answer.

"Feels like gettin' stuck in your head when you shouldn't, like too many thoughts which provokes adrenaline. But, it's no productive thing, mind battlin' itself as you know it's not needed while still gettin' the injection. Feels like a quiver here-", John points to the spot not far from the top of his ribs, right between his pecks. "-fight or flight bein' on the verge of explodin' and already fadin' all the same, an unsettlin' feelin'. At the pub, there were too many connections, similarities with our mission". 

"You know, I may be good at reading people, which helped me notice something wasn't right that night, but that only helped me so much. I didn't connect the dots, I guess because I couldn't place what was happening, never seen it before". You shrugged, defeated.

"It's not a big shift for the eye, but it's noticeable if you know what to look for", John explains before adding, "The more you're around it, the quicker you notice".

"I... I need to admit, John, I think it was a long time since I felt so helpless", you confess, head dropping forward as you remember how it felt having John standing there seeming so far away. "I could do nothing but watch Ghost help you, not knowing what was happening. I felt so out of my depth". 

You feel a hand on the side of your neck then, raising your face with the help of the thumb notched beneath the hinge of your jaw. As you lift your eyes, you catch how John had ducked his head. He didn't need to say anything this time for you to speak your mind.

"I tried to help, but it didn't...". You trail off as the image of John shying from your touch while accepting Ghost's flashes on your frontal lobe. The image creates a lump in your throat that you try to swallow. 

"Please, love", he coaxes you, brows knitting together upon your grimace. Disliking the pleading look on John's face, you release an unsteady breath before you speak. "It kinda hurt seeing how you reacted to Ghost compared to me". Despite trying to keep your voice strong, it grew small at the end of the sentence. 

Something flickers in John's eyes as you stare back at him, something that creates a fogginess hiding away the glint in those blues.

"I understand, but know that I didn't want to". John soothes, voice the most delicate you ever heard it. "I saw you, heard you...though when your brain slowly diverts to the same thought pattern as on the field... it gets hard not reactin' like that. With all the time I've spent with the lads, you grow used to differentiate them from others".

You must have done something that suggested his explanation wasn't what you wanted to hear as panic flashed deep in his eyes. His lips part, probably about to apologise, either for his wording or something else.

"I know I can't fault you. I know that. I'm not upset about the fact". You intercept before John has the chance to say anything. "I understand that Ghost, fuck, even Kyle and Johnny know what you're going through and can catch onto it quicker to help you out of it. I understand there's a different bond between the lot of you that I can't copy. It's just that I want to know how I can help you if something like that happens".

John swallows, eyes flickering between yours. "You're not wrong, but I don't want that kind of bond with you when I have a different kind". 

John couldn't be more glad you didn't enlist. If not for the selfish reason that he probably never would've met, and even if so, entertaining a relationship would've been difficult, maybe even inappropriate. Then, because he knows the army robs any man or woman enlisting from their former self and future normalcy as if permanently hooked up to IVs with terrors or troubled insides.

"Love, I want you to know that you give me something they do not. You give me peace". John raises your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. The bristles of his beard tickle your skin when it drags across his chin as he drops it into his lap. "You might not steer me through those episodes like Ghost can and did. What we know- what we do, is the same as in the field when softness is no alternative, when momentarily reprieve is the only choice. But, you can help ease me through them-".

"But how, John, how do I do that? I tried to touch you, but you flinched away. You didn't respond when I talked to you and gave me no sign you heard me. My options were running low, if not non-existent". The words tumbled out of your mouth as you tried to make your point through the desperate emotions the conversation roused.

"I-". John stops himself, momentarily looking to the side. He takes a deep breath that he exhales before facing you again. "I can't swear it's a one-solves-all remedy. But, talk to me at first. If you notice touch doesn't work, set it aside for a while and when you try again, begin with non-critical places. Today's a good example. Take it slow, be gentle, leave it as open as possible for me to take the step", he jiggled your intertwined hands.

You bite your lip, looking at your hands. "I guess today was easier because I knew this may be a touchy subject and no matter what kind, you can't brute-force those. Last time took me off-guard", you breathe out, eyes returning to meet the blues already watching you.

"M'not holdin' it over you. Just grateful you didn't tuck tail and run".

"I wouldn't do that". John watches you, scanning your face with a soft look, replacing the look of self-doubt and worry now fading from his eyes. 

His left hand drifts to your cheek, thumb brushing your cheekbone before he beckons you closer. You follow his request and he meets you with a kiss. 

His fingers curl into the back of your head, massaging with slight presses into your neck muscles. You exhale through your nose, falling further against him. Knowingly or not, he helps work the nerves out of your body with the gentle pressure changes. 

John is the one who pulls away, but you don't mind when he keeps himself close by letting your forehead rest against one another.

Your eyes are still closed when you speak. "Thank you for opening up". 

"All because of you, love".

"No need to flatter me". You lean away, smiling kindly, voice light. John's eyes flutter open not long after, his blue eyes happier as they shine in a way you hadn't seen before.

"I'm serious". John's hand presses against the side of your face briefly. "You help me relax, slow down the thoughts, make me feel present". John's tone is steady, eyes never averting from yours as he speaks. 

A warmth rises in your chest, blooming to envelop your ribcage. Your cheeks gradually strain from how your smile slowly unfolds, from a pout to pressing your lips together in a line that soon bows upwards. The way it does when words are too sweet and immense to accept quickly.

The slow unfoldment mirrors the feeling in your chest and you can't help how the weight of emotions turns your words into something between a choke and a laugh. "Oh, John". 

Your hand lifts to his, holding it as you lean into his touch. Some of your fingers sneak beneath his hand, resting against his rough but warm palm, while your thumb settles on top of it. As your head tilts against the couch's backrest, it traps your hands close. You can't move your thumb much, but you draw a circular motion into his skin the best you can.

You gaze back at John. There are slight creases beside his eyes, those crows-feet. At the moment, the smile tugging his lips brings them forth. The blue of his irises seems to shine, to be alive. They're glittering in a way that isn't entirely thanks to the fire but from something inside.

You want to spew everything welling in your chest. How grateful and proud you are of John. How much this conversation mean to you.

Yeah, you wanted to tell this man all the feelings he roused, feelings you hadn't felt in a long time, if ever.

[anneapocalypse]

On Dragon Age II's Ending

The ending of Dragon Age 2 has always felt to me like the least morally ambiguous of any of the games' mage-templar decisions and frankly one of the least ambiguous "big" decisions in the series.

DA2 makes it extremely obvious that the Circle mages are about to be executed for something that absolutely none of them had any part in and no one, not even the Knight-Commander, is arguing that that isn't the case. You can feel whatever kind of way about what Anders did, and still recognize the staggering injustice of killing all the Circle mages for something that everyone, including the Knight-Commander calling for their deaths, is fully aware they did not do.

And just in case that wasn't clear, someone made a point of dropping in that bit of ambient dialogue telling us that Meredith is already trying to get clearance for the Right of Annulment before the explosion; she's just looking for an excuse. The game is pretty clear about the injustice of this situation, regardless of how many demons and blood mages there may or may not be in Kirkwall.

I'm a chronic replayer who enjoys making up new characters every time to see things I haven't seen before and I didn't have a particularly difficult time coming up with in-character, circumstantial reasons why a character might annul the Circle in DAO or recruit the templars in DAI and believe they're doing the right thing. For the former: dwarven noble who knows little about magic and believes what the Knight-Commander tells her, and chooses the wrong dialogue option with Morrigan in the party so Wynne attacks and therefore is not present in the party as an emotional anchor and a voice for the mages, and listens to Cullen when he says it's too dangerous to let any of the mages live. For the latter: non-mage human noble from a Chantry-connected family who just implicitly trusts templars, as he was raised to. Or Dalish elf who walks into Redcliffe, sees a magister stinking up the place and says "Well, the Dread Wolf take the lot of you then" and turns around and marches straight to Therinfal, conscripts the templars, disbanding the Order in the process. Just a couple of easy examples I've actually played.

But the ending of DA2 is a choice between "Yes, I will help to execute these people for something everyone knows they didn't do" or "No, I will not do that and I will help them defend themselves and escape." Of course it's possible to come up with in-character reasons to make the former choice, and I have! But it's much less of a choice a character could just stumble into, and you have to do a lot more ideological contortions for a character to do that and believe they're doing the right thing.

Yes, there are a lot of blood mages and demons in Kirkwall. While we don't get a lot of opportunities to treat blood mage NPCs with much nuance apart from Merrill as most blood mages are programmed to attack on sight (and this is likely a product of the game's tight development deadline), the game itself offers an explanation for this in the writings of the Band of Three, the Enigma of Kirkwall codex entry that you can collect throughout the story. While you have to look to find it, this history does make it clear that Kirkwall is meant to be an outlier, for reasons both political and historical (which is another post for another day). And Merrill herself, whether you agree with her viewpoints or not, does offer an important counterpoint: a character designed to be sympathetic while giving a more nuanced perspective to the player on why a mage might choose to use blood magic.

And yeah, even with the fact that the game makes you fight Orsino in the mage ending, I still think this. It's clumsily executed, yes, but Orsino going all blood magic harvester abomination is just one more example of what the game has been showing us all along: that mages (like most people) turn to extreme measures when they're backed into corners with no sense of hope, and the templars then use those extreme actions to justify further abuses of mages. I don't think it was strictly necessary (and for what it's worth, Mark Darrah agrees with that; it's a decision that was made out of concern for gameplay balance more than narrative and in hindsight he's said that he thinks it was a mistake), and I definitely think it could have been executed better, but as it stands it does fit an ongoing theme, and Orsino's actions still do not justify the murder of every other mage in the Circle.

And then there's that thing where Hawke can only receive the support of the nobility and become Viscount if they side with the templars, thereby agreeing to uphold the existing power structures in Kirkwall. It's easy to miss if you've never played through the templar ending (and also because Hawke doesn't hold the position for long and Inquisition doesn't really acknowledge that they ever did Correction: It is actually mentioned in the Champion of Kirkwall codex entry, and possibly other places as well, my memory just failed me), but to me that outcomes is absolutely inspired. It serves to highlight how deeply intertwined the nobility are with the Chantry. The nobles of Kirkwall want Meredith deposed because they feel she's overstepped her bounds by denying them a proper viscount, but they are not anti-Chantry or anti-Circle; they still want mages locked up, and they probably also remember what happened the last time Kirkwall's nobility decided to try and contest the Chantry's power in their city (see: Perrin Threnhold).

I find the templar ending genuinely interesting to play through in terms of seeing the story from that angle, and in terms of what it has to say about power structures and politics in Thedas generally and in Kirkwall in specific, which I also wrote about recently. (To say nothing of how differently it frames Varric in Inquisition when the Hawke he idolizes is the Hawke who slaughtered Kirkwall's mages to a one.) I would honestly recommend playing it at least once for lore reasons if you're into that sort of thing. But I would hardly say that you as a player come out of that ending feeling like you're playing the good guy.

And I'm not even arguing that all choices in the games should be this in-your-face. On the contrary, I don't think they all should. I like it when it's possible for a character to make a choice with unintended outcomes, or get accidentally locked into a worse choice because of previous decisions (like annulling the Circle and then being forced to kill Connor or Isolde). Those are some of my favorite kind of choices in these games. In this particular case, I do think the extreme nature of the choice is important to the story, both as the catalyst for the mage rebellion and to underscore why Anders did what he did.

So when people tell me that DA2 "both sideses" the mage-templar conflict... I respect that it's possible to feel that way about it, but I just don't see it. The game allows the player to role-play a character who might make various choices within its narrative; that is not the same thing as presenting all choices as morally equivalent in-universe, and it has never been the same thing, in any of these games.

If you're looking for one mage-templar choice that puts the injustice squarely in your face, I think the ending of DA2 is very much that.

[neuerswaist]

Füllbitzer Viking AU — your heart & my home.

His hand, sunken in the fur coat draped around his shoulder, feels numb. But it's not the cold that seeps underneath and slips inside his woollen tunic that makes him shiver.

No, it's the view of the ship coming towards their harbour.

When he had come up north, he didn't know what to expect. Back in the south, back home, he was a leader, quick and smart; his swiftness was viewed as a great asset, but here, they see his lean figure as unfit for war.

Their fighters are built differently.

The men that set sail are big, their strength both proven and visible beneath the layers of armour and leather. Watching them, it's easy to see that their violence is but a by-product of their physicality. Some of them are stupid, following each other into fights for the sake of bloodshed; others are looking to provide for their families.

And Sabitzer never expected to fall in love with such a brute, but fate had other plans.

Out on the sea, a cool breeze blows uneven waves that carry his lover's longship home. But the sight of it is what makes Sabitzer worry. A few oars and shields are missing, the dragon head is damaged, and ravens fly out to greet the men.

His men.

It had taken time, but this place and these people are his home now.

The horn of the Werder blows, announcing their arrival to the rest of the village. Another horn from the village’s guard echos the noise.

Sabitzer is the only one who was already waiting by the harbour.

Many drop what they're doing and walk towards their returning men.But unlike the other folks, Sabitzer takes off, sprinting to where the ship lays anchor, and the fighters start to bleed out of the ship.

It's a gruesome sight—blood and gore among grim faces—but an air of victory hangs around those who walk unassisted.

Füllkrug is one of those, and Sabitzer, for the first time since the Werder had set sail, finally feels relief.

His lover's face is covered in soot, with long streaks of sweat running deep lines into his handsome features. A cut on his forehead colours a few strands of his long hair crimson. But despite everything, a smile breaks the cover of Füllkrug’s beard and warms Sabitzer’s frozen body.

He's home.

—————————

for the one and only @doodlingbees

[decimal86]

Failtopia Headcanons 2

Title says it all. Gonna say now that this list is a mix of serious and non-serious ideas, plus a few ideas for post-S2. Shared a lot of these with one of my mutuals, but I figured I'd share more with all of y'all. Enjoy!

While all fitting for warriors of some kind, there are a few minor specific differences in Erica, Orion, and Bob's starter gear. (Ex. Orion's armor is more well-kept and matching, since he was part of the royal guard. Meanwhile, Erica's is more worn down and mismatched since she at this point doesn't know how to maintain it and likely bought it on a budget from how much of a spur-of-the-moment decision it was.)

Bo's weird floating hands are more akin to an incorporeal extra pair to grab otherwise untouchable objects and interact with other undeads. Essentially, that one D&D ability, Mage Hand.

Due to being part fish, Shrimp is more heat sensitive than the rest of the cast. Neksdor would hypothetically be tough but doable, while Karkaton or the Powdered Peaks would be almost impossible if traversing alone. Luckily, she's not :D

Orion takes Slapo out trick-or-treating with whatever costumes she wants, so long as they're appropriate. One year, she was a brick. After S2, Chat and Petunyawn go, too with C!Failboat accompanying the latter.

Erica spent weeks after Bo's transformation into a vampire trying to raise her defense so her partner wouldn't have to stress over piercing her flesh while kissing and accidentally turning her into an undead.

Mar has an alcohol tolerance higher than any other living thing, being a demon, and thus has never been intoxicated. Still, he does his best to cure whatever hangovers may the others have with only the finest recipes he knows; if there's one thing he was passionate about since the start of his redemption arc, it's food.

Erica and C!Failboat remain close friends as, despite their less than ideal relationship in S1, Fail was Erica's first true friend after her string of terrible parties, and similarly, Erica was one of the first people that made him consider as more than a character—a real person, with struggles and emotions—that made him try taking his job seriously.

Deko now lives a quiet life in an off-the-map village somewhere in the Fey Realm. He works as a scout, finally able to live out his wish to help protect a community without fighting gods or being stuck in an overly tight demon suit. He also makes sketches and edgy poetry in his free time.

Chi celebrated her 21st birthday with a bowl of whiskey-flavored ice cream but, surprisingly, never felt any ill effects besides slight dizziness and a sugar crash.

Part of Piranhyawn being a terrible boyfriend comes simply from his species not requiring two individuals to mate, with both he and his daughter being a product of budding. (Note: not a justification, only an explanation)

Lanc was forced to learn how to play piano from their royal background—however, they dropped it and now play the accordion in their off time. Chi, of course, loves it.

C!Failboat actually does own some other clothes besides the cat onesie: a single white anchor-patterned button-up with jeans and tennis shoes, plus a full-on captain's uniform for some reason. He only wears it when the cat suit's in the wash.

While they haven't met yet, I'm certain Slapo and Purple Shep would get along perfectly.

I'm not sure if post-game can even be considered canon anymore, but the Deltarune fan song Megalo Clamour plays in Spamtang's head when he fights. Like the canon character's theme, but slightly more put-together and malicious.

Erica's actually more skilled with a spear than a sword, but only learns how to use it after the finale due to getting more free time to perfect her fighting style.

Chi has an excellent singing voice. Nobody knows why, not even Chi herself.

And that's all for now! Might do a part 3, but thank you for reading.

[greenerteacups]

Thoughts on sydcarmy? (figured i’d ask since you mentioned the bear in one of your asks.)

[normal person voice] THOUGHTS ON SYDCARMY? YEAH I GOT A FEW

To start from the beginning, I've been watching the Bear IRL as it airs, so I've been through all the hiatuses between seasons. And in season 1, I was the conductor of this ship. I was on the train basically from the minute they have that first bit of cooking synchrony in like episode 2 and my obsession with the coworkers-to-lovers trope perked its nose up, but I was promoted to captain when I saw the scene at the end where he grounds himself through a panic attack by thinking about her. Which — hey, by the way, sidebar? Directed to the writers of The Bear? I'm totally on board with the 'let's have more platonic bonds between men and women' stuff, I get why you like that story and want to write it, and seriously, platonic sydcarm, that's cool. That's awesome. But also: visualizing someone's face to anchor you through a panic attack — while in real life not at all inconsistent with platonic friendship — is an extremely loaded scene to drop in the middle of a narrative where the two characters in question have demonstrable chemistry and an intense but ill-defined bond, and your audience, which has been trained to close-read male-female relationships for signs of romantic interest, is going to read that scene as romantically intimate, if not sexual in nature. And they're not, like, ship-obsessed or whatever for thinking that. The visual language of your product does not exist outside of the cultural lexicon where it is being presented, regardless of your intentions. Anyway. [Sidebar over.]

Season 2, and especially the introduction of Claire, seemed to me like a Doylist way to address the SydCarmy train. The upshot to this is they do use this to talk about Sydney and Carmy being Weirdly Intimate Business Partners, and you get a lot of references to Sydney's jealousy, her disgruntlement with Claire, and Carmy's struggle to fuse the two worlds. The downside is that Sydney and Carmy no longer feel like the epic power chord at the center of the show, because Carmy's been shifted into this internal battle between Claire (who in many ways represents being Out of the industry) and Sydney (who, whatever else you can say about her, is very much In). And unfortunately for Claire, Sydney is just way better written. Like, I really did try to be fair to Claire, but it's not even close — and man, I didn't even feel like the writers were trying. Claire and Carmy's crush on Claire are introduced to the audience at the same time, and from there, she has zero scenes without Carm being either present or the subject of conversation. And like, that's so weird, on a show where almost everyone is rich and well-developed, and even the extended family in Fishes get little nods to their internal life. And I — I'm rambling. Point being, I think Season 2 took the wind out of SydCarmy's sails by making their dynamic antagonistic and strained by Carmy's obvious romantic interest in someone else, so I went into S3 with guarded optimism.

And then, like... okay. I'm a Sydney fan before I'm a SydCarmy fan, right? That man's cute and all, but she's the protagonist of this show for me. And at this point, I really do think the best thing for Syd is to get out of Carmy's orbit and go do her own thing. I don't believe in people being "too traumatized" for relationships to work, so I think a lot of the people blowing off Carmy as being "not ready" for love this season are full of hot air — but I do believe that Carmy's trauma is specifically impairing his ability to empathize with and care for Sydney, a fellow restauranteur and subordinate chef/protege, in a way that would make any iteration of their relationship satisfying to me. Getting him to that point would require the writers to dedicate a lot of storytelling and character development in a creative direction that they don't seem to be interested in. They are clearly interested in other things — worthy things! Cool things! Things that can make for a good plot! — but at this point, I was only interested in a version of SydCarmy that existed for about five minutes in the first 1/3 of the show, and it's time for me to face the music. I'm really excited to see where they take Sydney, though. I still trust the writers to do her justice, because they clearly know what a rare thing they have in her.

[redvanillabee]

Deadpool & Wolverine reactions under cut (spoilers alert)

They should have led the multiverse saga with this movie.

Like, this is literally the only time since the multiverse saga began that I feel like the 'prerequisite readings' were worth it. The comic book roots and the many, many, many variations of Deadpool and Wolverine are addressed head on. We get direct and deep cut visual references: the Scarlet Witch temple, B-15 as a boss in the TVA, like I feel that yes, if I had specifically caught up with Loki TV for this movie, I would feel that effort has paid off. I was getting very tired of those very vague 'ah yes Kang has lived many lives' comments from, say, Quantumania.

And because they are actually leaning into the different branches of Marvel products and now uniting them under the Marvel Studios label, they actually properly acknowledged the legacy of these characters and how people feel about them. I loved those behind the scenes clips of old X-Men movies in the end credits. Properly acknowledge their past and exits. Admitting with their chest that yes, we probably won't see Ian Mckellen as Magneto in the MCU, but damn wasn't that a fun time.

(Instead of all this, oh will Tom Hiddleston return as Loki? We don't know! He doesn't know! He said he certainly enjoyed playing Loki for 10+ years! But we will never actually give this character and actor a proper celebratory exit because what if we want him back for a cameo five years later!)

Lady Deadpool really was Blake Lively. Twitter was right. Lol.

Sweary Chris Evans as Johnny Storm was so fun; it's so refreshing to see him as not Stoic Monologuing Cap in the MCU. It just wrong-foots you enough.

At this point is2g Krzeminski is the anchor being of the Agent Carter universe because how else do you explain the complete death and absense of anything Agent Carter in the main MCU. Did like the entire cast of AC/AOS just swear off Marvel permanently. When can we get at least a name drop. I'm desperate here Feige help.

*Logan starts downing a bottle of Jack Daniel's* Me: my boys are finally in the MCU 🥺🥺🥺

Jokes wise, I think the movie was trying a little too hard with the unserious, jokey social commentary angle. Like that whole 'oh my friend identifies as a feminist' thing. Like, look, I don't know what that achieves. To either side of the political spectrum those jokes just end up sounding very clowny. It's not as if Marvel has ever been considered the pinnacle of progressiveness (cutting out gay Russo in Endgame for certain markets? Throwing CM2 under the bus when it was released during a strike? Letting the fans beg for almost a whole ass decade for a Black Widow movie, only to release it when Natasha is canonically dead?) They really don't need those jokes.

All in all: some jokes were a miss, but handled the multiverse and comic book roots pretty well. 7.5-8/10.

[jgroffdaily]

Jonathan, his dresser Hayley King and producer/director Richard Jay-Alexander after the Christmas Eve matinee of Merrily. Richard’s review on Facebook:

I just saw the Christmas Eve matinee of Merrily We Roll Along on Broadway and my heart has exploded! What I witnessed this afternoon was extraordinary. You could hear a pin drop and not a cough to be heard for the entirety of both acts. The production is as close to perfect as one could ever possibly be and the temperature of the piece is right at the edge of boiling water or the popping of a cork. Then .... the eruption. I was in total tears, as the complexity of both the ideas here and the score were in a perfect harmony. The performances are off-the-hook and the entire cast are in alignment with crystalline clarity. But I'd be doing an injustice if I were not to heap praise on the extraordinary Jonathan Groff and the gravitas he is anchoring this show with. It is an emotional roller coaster and I cannot recommend it highly enough! GO! They just extended the limited run. It was the perfect show on a perfect Christmas Eve and there is nowhere in the world I would rather have been that at the Hudson Theatre, on Broadway, this afternoon. Beautifully directed, with a sublime orchestra, thrilling musical direction and wardrobe design, sound, lighting .... ALL OF IT!