#Then gets praised by River LMAO

[icarusredwings]

Something The Cat Dragged In

A badly written COMEDY oneshot. (I have no clue how to write 11 or amy im sorry) No smut.

Posted: July 31st 2024.

Words: ~7,900

Ships: The Ponds, River/11/Simm

Prompt: The Doctor and River are trying to domesticate a feral Master with clicker training, and it's going about as well as you'd think.

This fic includes: Jealous 11, SFW worshiping kink, Horrible cat puns, Bondage, Amy being a freak, Pet play, Degrading, an Oblivious 11, and Mentions of Cheetah Virus changing a bored master's deoxyribonucleic structure. Consider that your trigger warning.

“Are you sure this is safe?” The ginger man asked, hesitant about the scrappy man that the raggedy doctor had brought on board the TARDIS.

“Absolutely!” He chimed, the smile on his face clearly larger than how much trust he had in this situation being anywhere near ‘safe’.

He knew that smile. That was the ‘I'm lying because I don't want to tell the truth’ smile. The one you had to watch out for. So nervous that fibber was..

“Oh, Amy's going to kill you…”

“I'm sure she will! As for now-” Rory watched as the Doctor jumped around the TARDIS a bit, hitting buttons, pulling levers, twisting dials. The usual. What wasn't so usual though was the fact a half blonde man with about half an inch of dark roots was standing there, Glaring at him. Swallowing, He stepped to the left, and then more towards the Doctor, being tracked by his eyes. Something about the way he smirked with such wide teeth made a shiver run up his spine.

Look, He's met a lot of odd aliens and crazies at the hospital but this guy looked at him as if he'd eat him whole in one bite.

“Doctor-”

“Not now Rory! Busy!” Coming around, He seemed to have this be the entire plan, getting the drop on him as he spun behind him, clamping a thick metal bracelet around his wrist, holding it as he quickly clamped the other. “Hey!”

“There we go! That's better!”

Huffing, the man began to try to take off the bracelet only to emit a small red light and a beeping noise. “Take this off of me! Right now!”

“Uhhhh…No.”

“Yes! Take it off or i'll-”

“You'll what? Hm? Still in the habit of telling me your plans are we? God you've always been like that. So clever and yet.. so dull..”

“I am NOT dull! You're stupid bowtie is dull!”

“Hey! Bowties are cool. Now then, Rory this is-... er.”

“Say it.”

“..er..”

“Go on. Say it!”

Taking a breath, The Doctor knew that no matter what he said would be bad. If he introduced him as Koschei, He'd not rest until he at least stabbed him in one of his stomachs.

“Rory, Master. Master, Rory.”

With a great sense of pride, The Master grins ear to ear, Putting his hands out and bowing as if he had just introduced someone extremely important. Perhaps an old friend that once held such great respect but now it seems both of their minds have gone a bit off their rockers. More so the other's, but they both thought this.

“... should I be worried?”

“Oh, Yes.”

“No!”

“Don't lie to them, Doctor! You and I both know what happens when I'm hungry..”

“Doctor? What's he mean by that?” Giving a look of concern, he backed away just slightly enough to trip over a loose wire. This fear seemed to please the blonde while the Doctor rolled his eyes. “Oh you are fine, I just fed you.”

“He's on a feeding schedule? Like… some kind of pet?”

“Do not speak of me like I am nothing but a pet!! I'm far beyond Your comprehensive abilities! Use your tongue to call me anything below your Master and It will surely be a mistake!”

“Yeah, About that, You're in charge of not letting me forget to feed him, okay? Jolly good, alright, Now! I do have to apologize, Your old room was destroyed but we have bunk beds! Cool right?” He rambled.

“Why do I have to make sure you remember?” Rory asks, scrunching his nose as he took another step forward.

“Do you want to find out?” The Master beamed, quite excited about teasing and gaining authority over the Doctor's fellow companions. If anything, They were pets. Not him.

“I wouldn't recommend that! Lets just say, You don't want to find out. Anywho! Back to what I was saying!” For a third time he turns to his old friend, new traveling buddy, hands clapped together politely.

“Your old room is busted. Gonzo! So you'll have to make a new one. Any requests?”

“Wait wait wait-”

“Good god, Rory what now? You're being quite rude!”

“You can't just bring someone aboard who's going to eat me and fly on by!”

“I thought we already established this. Keep up!”

“Yeah, keep up!” The Master shouted, egging the man on. “And if you can't, get off the ship! Do us all a favor and jump overboard.”

At this, he was met with a cross look and his ear being pulled. “Aye stop that! Now you're the one being rude!”

The days that followed weren't so simple. Between the Master trying to get out the front door, snapping at them, insulting everyone he met, refusing to eat certain things, and both Rory and Amy losing sleep with how much they argued, you could say that things were in fact not going well. The Doctor on the other hand said differently, claiming that it took time to get used to TARDIS living arrangements.

The thing that really got him rowdy though was his vaccines. Between scratching, cursing and kicking, it was a wonder how the Doctor was able to manage him at all, even if his methods weren't exactly filled with the most logic, some being closely related to rewards.

When the Master DID finally escape, his punishment was to wear a bell. That's it. A normal bell. Quite a large one though. Suited more for a large dog then a cat.

When he purposely shoved all the trinkets and containers off of the top of the fridge in order to sit on top of it, The Doctor made him a loft to lay on with his own window.

This seemed to have worked for a while, watching the stars as they floated by. But then when the problem arose of him not eating, The Doctor gave him a bean bag chair hoping having his own special spot would make him feel better.

But it didn't. If anything he only ripped it up, purposely destroying it. Coming back to the TARDIS to that kind of mess was enough for Amy to suggest getting rid of him or perhaps caging him up when they left but the Doctor was just in awe at how relaxed he was, snoring ever so softly while lounging on his loft as if he were purring from curing his boredom for the day.

“Aww Amy.. I couldn't. Look how happy he is.”

“He trashed the TARDIS! I thought you said you were going to take care of him?”

“I am! It's just… oh what's that word?”

“Hard?”

“Impossible?”

“Nothing is impossible.” He says, shaking his head.

“But you said that tons of times..”

“And yet none of them were true!” He says, wagging a finger. “I just have to think.”

So he thought. What else could he do? The Master was bound to rebel. That's been proven already.

“Well you better do it soon or else he's going to rip up your fez next..” this gave him an idea.. quite a large one at that.

“Oh Rory!! Wonderful Rory!” He says, grabbing his face as he holds him tight with that excited but manic glint.

“That's just what he needs!”

The two watched as the Doctor ran off to the console, trying to jump over the billions of beads only to slip, Falling for only a moment, popping back up over on the other side.

“A .. fez??”

“No!- well. Yes. But no. You'll see! Now go on. Don't you have erm-” he waved his hand at them, his brain doing that thing where his words were all jumbled up inside, making it difficult to speak. “Kissing to do? Or something? Don't worry about me I got a lot of cleaning up to do and- OH yes! Amy, are you finished playing that game with the rope? You know, the one you told me about?”

The ginger man's eyes widened greatly as he gave his wife a look of terror. The kind you only get when your head was screaming ‘WHY WOULD YOU TELL HIM THAT?!’

The woman now blushed, Crossing her arms as she returned the look to her husband, implying that she had everything under control. “You mean that one where we pretend to be Fenrir and see how long it takes to get untied?”

“Yes!” He snapped his fingers. “That one! Quite a loud game is it not? Anywho- Can I have the rope back? I'm glad you two wish to practice kidnapping safety but I'm afraid In this era people are going more with handcuffs then rope.”

Amy's eyes became brighter, the kind that scared her husband to death.

“Handcuffs you say?”

“It seems in most situations they're used more often than rope nowadays.”

“Is that so?”

“..Why are you asking like that?”

“I was just wondering…What if we practiced getting out of handcuffs instead then? It would make a lot more sense to practice with modern tools then-”

“Oh will you SHUT up!? Get a room will you?! God. It's bad enough I'm stuck here with you two. I don't want to hear that either!”

Glancing up, the Doctor grinned seeing the Master awake and his same cranky self.

“Oh, be nice! They do have a room!...Still don't know why you'd ever want me to take out the bunk beds though…” he muttered this last part, rubbing his chin.

“Soooo….Doctor? Cuffs?” Amy started, rocking back on her heels.

“Oh yes! Here you are.” Tapping a button on the console, a small drawer popped out as he tossed two sets at the red head, Tapping another as a door in the wall opened up, revealing cleaning supplies. “Now, if you excuse me. I have work to do. And you mister! You're going to help me!” He shouts, only to be given a lazy bird and a “No i'm not.”

Sighing, the Doctor made a face of disappointment but wasn't surprised.

“I suppose you're not… Got it..”

It's been about 2 months since the Master joined their voyages. So far he's only had about 30 true crimes, and by that I mean he caught one of the homes they visted on fire.

About 53 “naughty” days. The Last week though? It's been secretly excellent. The Doctor thought that things were going great.

He's found that by giving the Master MORE freedom, he's actually learned how to behave quite a bit. It seems that separating him from the tasks of everyday life made him feel unwanted and untrusted (for obvious reason).

Hell, even he was shocked when told he was allowed to do important things.

Not only did he now have free range of the TARDIS but he was allowed to do mostly everything. He's even tried his luck at pushing buttons by sniffing around the other companions' rooms, knocking over and purposely misplacing things. All of which were met with a short talk and sometimes a hug.

This confused him greatly. He just broke something, why was he being forcibly hugged and then scolded? The Doctor would tell him to clean it up and if he didn't would get locked in the room (so he couldn't make another mess) forced to observe as the Doctor cleaned it himself.

He still had the bio bracelets so that he couldn't fully man the TARDIS but the Doctor began asking him to pull levers and asking his opinion on things. But why would the Doctor want his advice? He was a mere prisoner… usually captains of a ship didn't ask the people in the cellar for advice.

His bell had been kept on for safety reasons, mainly because he thought it was funny to chase Rory around until Amy came to spoil the fun by spraying him with a water pistol holding a liquid he couldn't quite place. Sometimes it stunk.

Once he opened his mouth to hiss at her and it went straight down his throat, cutting off the noise as he growled, only to realize it was sweeter than regular water. What was that? Sugar water?? No if it was sugar water it wouldn't stink like that..

Looking out his window, he was content as he watched the stars pass by, not entirely sure of what planet they were at but had a close enough idea of which solar system they were in. He could feel that they were extremely far from earth, further then that pathetic planet pluto, further than alpha centauri, and even further than Estello Aqualo, a planet full of nothing but water inhabitants.

Oh how he hated water planets. He much preferred reddish orange planets like Mars, Jupiter And Saturn. They reminded him of home… and the fact that blue was SO Last millenia-

While laying up here, up on his metal loft, He was mindlessly thinking, something he couldn't often do because of the constant thumping in his head but he's found that these bracelets dimmed the sound into a small tap rather than a thump of a hammer against his skull. He still heard it, oh yes he definitely could but it was much softer. Almost like a lullaby.

Lazily tossing the Doctor's ridiculous fez up and down, he wondered if the Doctor would be able to ever take it away… Rassilon only knew just how threaded the beat been woven into his life. And as much pain as it has caused him… He couldn't help but wonder…

What would he be without it?

Would he go back to being who he was before? An innocent child hoping, praying, Waiting until the day he received his Time Robes and was given his own TARDIS 60? Until he was gifted the honor of having his own team to command?

A team of his friends?

Until he was on the same team as Theta…?

No.

He could never stand with the Doctor. Never fully on the same team but yet- He sat up. They reminded him of those cartoons he watched when on earth.

Wile E Coyote and the Roadrunner.

Iron Man and Captain America.

Batman and Joker.

The Master looked at the hat in his hands, pondering if he should put it on.. or perhaps throw it out the window! Or…

“Has anyone seen my Fez? I seem to have misplaced it.”

“Have you checked your room?”

“I've checked my bunk, yes. I've also checked the clothing closet and storage rooms.”

Listening from above, he let out a deep sigh, hoping down with a clattering of the TARDIS grate underneath. Being glanced at, He took a few steps forward, handing him the hat.

“Wha- Oh! Thank you!” Taking the fez he smiled, putting it on as if he seemed incomplete without it only to quickly hug him before bouncing off to what ever nonsense he was up to now.

Returning the hug, He didn't seem to notice until Rory stood there, Staring at him with an open mouth.

“What?” He grunted.

“...You..”

“Spit it out you ape.”

“..You returned his hat..”

“Congratulations. You have eyes.”

“No no no, I mean… you returned his hat.. and hugged him..”

“He hugs all of us all the time, whats your point? If you say something stupid like friendship im going to stab you.”

“But today you hugged back. You never hug back.”

“And? so Wh- Oohh ….” Now freezing, He blinked. He did do that.. didn't he? Why did he do that?!

Why did he give it to him so easily? He didn't even ask for it back and he just.. handed it to him? And not only the hat but he returned his hug too?

….Why did I do that?

Now the two stared at each other, both worried and concerned on different levels for opposite things. One worried if he was getting soft, or possibly being brainwashed, the other concerned that he was about to lose an arm.

The silence only broke when he looked at his hands and muttered “Am I sick?? Don't answer that!”

Opening his mouth to reply, Rory immediately shut it, Nodding softly in understanding. While he was quite a brave man, he was smart enough to know that the Master WOULD in fact eat him. And the Doctor couldn't save him forever…

For the next couple of days, he thought about this heavily, deciding that next time he would rip up the hat on purpose. Yeah that'll show him! As for now, He had been standing by the control console, looking at the destination only to scrunch up his nose.

Oh great. Earth. 44 BCE. Just what they needed. More interactions with uncivilized humans fighting over politics… at least this would be entertaining. Assassinations always were when they succeeded.

Coming up to the console, The Doctor clicked a few things, Petting part of the tubing with a happy hum. The hum was slow and sounded like something he'd heard many many years ago. Something of taste. Yawning, He listened to the humming until the Doctor walked off to do something else before unconsciously bee lining for his room.

Climbing into the top bunk (The Doctor had the bottom one whenever he did decide to sleep so it was barely used.) The Master pulled the blankets up around him. Tugging his pillow close, closing his eyes. It didn't take long until he started making rhymed breaths, a rumbling in his chest and throat starting to form from the amount of comfort under the thick blanket.

He got cold easily, as most Gallifreyans did due to the natural heat that they grew up with. Even during his time as Prime Minister he wore layers. Lots of them, blankets in the Limos and curling up to Lucy in an attempt to steal what little warmth humans had. Why the Doctor favored London, a cold, rainy and cloudy place? He'd never know. He prefered somewhere warm. Usually the warmer, the more interesting beasts to see scare small children.

A few moments later he stopped the purring, opening his eyes with a confused “Wait a minute..” look. Why was he sleeping? He wasn't even tired and it was 1 in the afternoon. His regular nap time wasn't until 4.

What in all things unholy was going on?? Did the Doctor do this? A curse perhaps? Was it these?

Rolling over, he looked at the metal on his wrists and for the 14th time he began to gnaw on the bracelets, growling in frustration. What was going on!? Whatever it was, he didn't like it… Mmh…Oh well. He was already there.

The next day, a certain clattering of pans made him perk up. He was swinging in his rope hammock, batting at the decorations that the Doctor specifically told him not to mess with, climbing on them, tugging them, kicking them, biting them, etc.

Anything to try and ruin it but it was proving to be quite difficult to do and not be caught seeing as it was thick enough to not break easily.

Sure, he could just rip them down with the strength he had but that would be no fun. It would cut the fun by 78% actually. He'd already done the math. Whenever someone could come in, He'd instantly stop and pretend to be innocently snoozing.

The pang of pans though? That was enough to bring him down. Climbing out of his swing, the Master followed the noise, coming to the kitchen as he sat at the table, the chair specifically to the left side, separated from the others. A nice pillow on his chair as well.

Honestly he was quite proud of this one. The Master had thrown a fit for hours straight until the Doctor gave him a special chair and now he sat in it like a king peering over his subjects (when in truth, It's just because everyone else was too scared to sit next to him while he ate, afraid they'd get snapped at or bitten if the Master thought they wanted his food)

Sitting here, he waited. Patiently at first but his patience was quickly running out when seeing no one else was coming. Hadn't they heard? Were they not hungry? Well good. He'd simply have it all then. There was no waste on this ship. None at all thanks to him, except when it came to pickles or cucumbers. He hated them. They looked and smelled foul enough for him to hiss, gag, and vomit all at once.

Eventually, his patience grew tired as he looked to the redheaded woman who dropped these pans everyday. For some reason, the Doctor kept these pans up high and getting them down was a nightmare, even for him.

You had to move the pans in order to get the plates behind them. Honestly, the kitchen's arrangement system made him think of the time the Doctor used to store his robes with his socks and his shirts with his underwear.

Who did that??

“Where is everyone?” He asked her, in which turn she turned to glance at him, having heard the jingling of his bell already.

“What do you mean?”

“It's time for a meal…yes?”

“No?? it's 3 pm. Why would you think it's time for dinner already?” She asked.

The Master paused.. Why did he think it was time? Wait, why did he come in here in the first place?

Oh yes! The pans.

“You.. dropped the pans.” It was said with a questioning tone at the end more than a statement.

“Yeah? I drop them every time because this kitchen is an utter mess.”

“riiighht…”

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Amy was right. This place was a disaster. If he didn't enjoy the chaos of watching the humans try to figure out the unorganized kitchen he'd say screw it and fix it himself. But what fun would that be?

“What do you want anyway?” She grumbled.

“What?”

“You heard me. What do you want? What stupid little plan do you have now? Come to remind me how dumb I am for dropping everything? Going to threaten to eat me? ...Again?”

The master blinked, tilting his head.

“Well… No I-” Wait.. How dare she speak to him like that! But.. yeah.. why did he come to the sound of the pans? It was odd. Even For him. Perhaps he got his hours mixed up?- No. It was something more than that. Something he wasn't able to figure out.

Seeing the confusion on his face, Amy frowned, now feeling a little bad. “Oh… Are you hungry? Do you want a snack or..something?”

“Huh?”

“It's just that.. you ran in here like a cat hearing a can of tuna being opened.”

“What!? I did not!”

“Oh you SO did. Here, I'll ask the Doctor where he keeps the snacks for you, okay?”

“What do I look like a dog?”

“He mentioned something about buffalo lungs the other day.”

As if hearing a magic word, He smiled at her widely, the kind he only did when actually excited. “He did? Where?”

“But I dont know if they're yours or his… he eats some pretty weird stuff.”

“Aye! Are you insulting our culture?”

“Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it, bellboy? He's not going to give you a treat if you keep misbehaving.”

Glaring, his arms crossed. “...You're the one being rude.. the Doctor says I'M not allowed to be rude so why can you? God he was always a hypocrite..”

“Look just-” But before she could continue, he heard a different noise. A known squeak of an in-need-of-oil door. Turning away, he ignored her, taking off towards the door.

“Typical..” she sighed, figuring she might as well go see if the Doctor would share his snacks or not, just incase he came back.

Running through the TARDIS Involved jumping over a couple of things and coming to a stop as he saw that curly headed woman standing in the doorway holding a box.

Stepping deeper into the TARDIS, Her heels tapped, No- Clicked against the tile, humming as she spun around what looked to be a set of keys on a colorful keychain. She was sporting a sun hat and far less clothing than he remembered her from last time. His nose scrunched at the smell of sun lotion.

Peering out the door, he seen tons of reddish tinted sand and a sky of orange, yellow, pink. A sea of red. A large pink moon, visible in the sky from where he stood. Where were they? When did they land?

“Ah ah ah- Not so fast Kitty. Where do you think you're going?” She asks, smirking with that type of affection that the Doctor would give him at times before snapping the door closed. It was so annoying..

Beginning to glare from the nickname, a quiet growl rose in his throat. She called him this because of the bell around his neck and the fact that she had caught him “purring” in his sleep, when OBVIOUSLY it was snoring. Duh.

“Why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, pumpkin.”

His nose scrunched further, Tilting his head like a confused puppy, the way the Doctor does at times. “Why are you calling me a squash?”

“It's a form of endearment! I er- I think?”

Turning, He rolled his eyes. Oh great. Someone else who was annoying- Though… He looked.. different today. His hair was pushed back and shiney, probably with gel. He had that hideous footwear on again too, but now he was wearing a half opened blue palm tree shirt with parrots and coconuts on it. For a moment he was going to question why his shirt was half undone but saw him quickly trying to finish buttoning it up.

“Hello, Sweetie.”

“H-hi” His friend stuttered, trying to stay focused on his buttons and not the fact River was in a two piece and a small cover up tied around her waist.

“What's the rush? You act like you don't want me seeing you.”

“Oh n-No! Nothing like that! Not at all I just thought-”

River leaned in close to his face, that same smirk plastered onto her lips.

“You thought you wanted to make me work for it… Didn't you? Want me to rip it off with my teeth? You naughty boy.”

“I-..” The Doctor swallowed, looking as if he malfunctioned, like a restarting cellphone.

The Master made a fake gagging noise, rolling his eyes even harder as he pointed into his mouth.

“I thought I told you not to be rude?” Was the first thing the restarted phone said once it finished rebooting. Being scolded felt nice. All eyes in the room on him.

“What? I didn't even say anything this time.” He teased.

River smiled wider, fondly shaking her head as she handed him the small Rainbow clicky key chain. It was shaped like a slug and when you shook it, it made noise and moved in a slithering motion.

“You open that box, and it's yours, sweetie.”

“Why are you calling him sweetie?” He asked, stepping forward as If wanting attention too but she ignored him for now. She watched with a pleased grin as he took the box, looking at it, shaking it next to his ear.

“What is it?”

“Spoilers.”

“.. I hate when you say that..”

“I know. I've been having some trouble with it. The box I mean” She explains, her boyfriend now cocking a brow, pouting that the Master was getting more attention then him. If he knew one thing about River, it's that his dear Melody would never give a box to a man if she had trouble opening it. She'd just blow the lock off with one of her fancy guns.

“No you're no-”

She kissed him, grabbing his bow tie and staining his lips that bright red that she wore often. During their kiss, one of his once flat hairs stuck up, flopping over into his face.

Pulling away, he took a breath, baffled at what in the world was going on.

Completely ignoring this, as this was common whenever River came by, The Master was sitting on the floor, shoving One of the dozen keys into the hole, jiggling them around, cursing under his breath whenever they didn't work. Blinking, The Doctor smiled seeing how entertained he was, leaning in close to the woman. “What actually is in that box, River?”

“Oh you two are so much alike. Too curious for your own good.”

“What? No. We're nothing alike.”

“Yes we are. I've been saying this for eons.” the man on the floor muttered, Putting his arms up in triumph as he got the right key out of the dozen.

“What is it?” The Doctor asks, trying to peer over his shoulder.

“It's mine, that's what!” He says, taking out a box all taped up in clear cellophane but he could see the label, grinning widely to himself, keeping it close so the Doctor couldn't see. He knew he'd want to take it away. River was always bringing him treats. As many times as she made him gag, he always knew that her heels meant something good.

Glancing at River with those big puppy eyes, she giggled, taking his arm as she whispered to him. “It's a knife.”

“A what?! Why would you give him that!? You know he's-”

“Ooh hush. Let him have some fun.”

“If by fun you mean killing your parents and possibly me then sure- River why would you-”

She kissed him again.

“Mh- Thank you but you can't just keep-”

And again.

“River!” He whined

And another.

By now, he's learned not to speak or else she'd kiss him a fourth time just to shut him up. Not like it was a bad thing but he really was concerned.

“There's a good boy. Now. Is operation cat-astrophe still happening?”

For a moment or two, he seemed confused until she put her head towards the Master in which he gasped, nodding. “Oh Yes!”

“I see that Door is a check.” She mumbles, remembering how quickly he came when the door was opened.

“We're working on that. Clicky treats is a go I suppose?”

“Mmmhm. You should have seen how happy he was to see me.”

“Good good.. Just wished you would've chosen a different gift..”

“Just watch And see, sweetheart. Goodness so impatient.” She whispered.

During this conversation, nothing else mattered to the Master except biting and tearing through these 10 layers of tape. Growling, he was becoming a bit frustrated, but it only seemed to make him work harder at it, sticking out his tongue for maximum brain operation.

“Oh I love when he makes that face.”

“What face??”

“With his tongue? It's like you and your glasses.”

“What? No-”

“Yes.”

“AHA!!” He had finally ripped open the box, giggling to himself as he took his prize, quickly running off, probably to go attempt a murder.

“Hm. Well that lasted about 5 minutes…”

“How long do you think until he realizes it's bio locked?” She whispered, smirking like ever.

Staring at her, The Doctors grin grew. “Aahh I see.. you..”

“Mhm.”

“So that-”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

“Yup.. aannnd here he comes.” She could hear the incoming jingling from his bell serving it's purpose.

Coming back to them both, he was pissed. He had just tried to stab Amy and nothing happened, The blade just went inside like one of those cheap toys from the supermarket. He felt the blade. It was real, not plastic, So why wasn't it working? It wasn't fair.

“What did you do to my knife!?”

“Whatever do you mean, Pumpkin?”

“Stop calling me a squash you witch! I can't stab anybody! What kind of present is that!?”

“Did you try stabbing… Things?” River says, raising her brows in a pleased, smugness.

“Things?” Pausing for a few seconds, He soon got the biggest shit eating grin, Running away a second time. Moments later, they heard a crash, laughing, and a loud “Hey!!”

The Doctor blinked. “...He just broke your mothers vase..”

“It was a hideous vase.”

“River!”

“What? Now come on. We have some more training to do.”

Later, after the Master destroyed exactly 3 ceramic things, stabbed the table to death, ripped up all Rory's pillows, and used his new toy to cut up some cheese as a snack, He now was curious about the door again.

Sneaking towards it and looking outside like a cat that wanted to go out but was nervous he'd get scolded, he watched as the Doctor set up lounge chairs and towels on the beach.

Again the heels. Part of him became excited. He liked that clicking- But why? Since when did he like River?? He didn't. He didn't like anyone on this damned ship that he was prisoner to.

“Hi cupcake. You wanna go outside sweetpea?”

His eyebrows scrunched. “I'm not a baked goods… Or a flower. Are you insulting me?”

“Terms of endearment, dear. Remember? Anyway, Let's say you and me go outside hm?”

He looked at her with hesitance. She was being suspicious… He wasn't allowed outside. What was this? Some sort of test? Fine. He'd play their game.

“No… I'm not allowed outside.”

“Aww why not?”

“Cause..??” Was she stupid? Prisoners weren't allowed to leave. That's the whole point of his cuffs And collar. Kept on an invisible, metaphorical leash at all times.

“Well… The Doctor and I are going to sit on the beach. Do you want to come?”

The light in his eyes alone was enough to make River want to hug him to bits. Why were Time Lords so cute? Was it some sort of defense mechanism? Or was it the Feline Virus thing the Doctor told her about lingering in his genetic code?

Starting to nod, he quickly stopped, now playing with his hands. “no.. I'll get in trouble..” and just like that, that light died so soon. So short lived. Frowning, she almost felt pitiful for him. “That is true… but wait! Have you ever tried.. you know.. asking?”

“A-asking to go outside..?”

“Yes.”

“He'll just say no. Every time I get out, I get in trouble.”

“But did you ask?”

Poking his fingers together, he made a sound that sounded uncertain. It broke her heart. Now she was going to scold her husband.

“Alright.. well.. if you want to come join us outside, All you have to do is ask. Mkay?”

And she took off her heels, setting them up on the TARDIS dash only to walk out barefoot, the red sands making footprints as she went.

Standing at the door, now he was really unsure. This felt like a trap.. why would she tease him with freedom like that? Why would she give him a knife? And for the love of god- Why did he get excited when he heard her heels clicking on the TARDIS floor?

Slowly, he peeks his head out of the TARDIS, looking around the planet, The sky, the waves, the footprints she left.

“Hey!” Becoming startled, he jumped a bit, ducking back into the blue box. He wasn't entirely sure if these cuffs would electrocute him if he left or not.. even though Amy joked about them being shock bracelets… The Doctor couldn't do that..

Right?

“Do you want a Jelly worm?!” This was shouted from about 50 feet away by a man with his shirt half unbuttoned, holding a bag of candies while River slathered sunscreen all over him.

“I think theyre called Gummy worms, dear.” She mumbled.

“I'm certain they're called jelly worms.”

“Oh yeah? Read the package.”

Looking at the pack, He pouted. “Jelly worms sound cooler.”

Blinking, The Master wondered if he was talking to him or someone else.

“Me?”

“Yeah! You want a ‘Gummy worm'?!”

“What’s a gummy worm?! Can... I come outside?” This was asked in speaking tone rather then a shout.

“What!?”

“What's a gum-! You know what.. nevermind.” he mumbled, frowning as he stepped a foot on the sand, wincing, expecting his wrists to send electromagnetic shocks through his arms. But nothing happened.

Discovering this, he ran out of the TARDIS, circling round it before coming towards the other two, grinning.

“What's a gummy worm?”

“Its a jelly worm.”

“Oh! Yeah. Gummy Worm sounds stupid.”

He mumbled, being given a few of the candies. Glancing at River, The Doctor had a smug look, wiggling his eyebrows at her as she rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” He shoved one in his mouth. “I think-” another “-they're called jelly worms.” A third one.

“That's what I said! See?”

“Everyone else calls them Gummy worms because they're made with xanthan gum.”

“Like Xanax?”

“What!? No!” She laughed. “Goodness. You had some fun as Prime Minister didn't you?”

“What's Xanax?? Is that a fancy drink?” The Doctor asked, shoving some worms in his mouth as the two looked at each other as if mentally playing rock paper scissors to see which unlucky soul got to teach the Doctor about recreational drugs.

“Seeya-” He said, taking off.

“Ah you gotta be kitten me.” She smirks and the Doctor gives her a look as if to say ‘Really?’ Only to giggle too.

“That's just claw-ful!”

River gave a chuckle before sighing.

“Well.. looks like it's just you and me, sweetheart..”

“Fur-ever?” He held out his pinky, smirking as he raised his eyebrows a few times. River giggled, rolling her eyes only to take the pinky, bringing the intertwined fingers up to her lips.

“Fur-ever. Till the end?”

“Until the end of time and more, my darling.” He would never be able to forget her.. not ever. How could he?

A few times, The Master would run away, doing circles, Zoomies as river called it but never seemed to get too far from the TARDIS, returning when offered more Jelly worms, each time recieving a praise and a snack for coming back to them.

Now he was becoming bored of the laps, even going as far as putting his toes curiously into the ocean, realizing that it was warm. Like a water bottle left out in the sun. This displeased him. He was already hot from his laps around the beach, he didn't want hot water all over his body. Hot was an understatement. If it were hot like the baths he'd not mind but it was the gross kind of warm. The kind that felt yucky on your skin. God he hated water..

It was then he realized that outside of the TARDIS he had free will, coming over to lift the Doctor's chair, dumping him over only to run away, manically laughing, giggling almost.

“What the-!?”

“Catch me if you dare!” He yelled, Dashing off, further and further away. A rush of adrenaline and freedom taking over him. This seemed like the start of a fun game… that was until he had run so far that he was panting and the TARDIS looked like a tiny dot from here.

Where was everyone on this planet anyway? He'd come all this way and not seen a single person. Not a hint of a town, and definitely not a city. Part of him cursed the Doctor for taking him to a deserted solar system with no one to play with- and on top of that, For not chasing after him. He knew how this game worked, didn't he? One ran, the other chased. It's been like this for thousands of years.

So why not now? Was it because of that woman? The daughter of Amelia Pond? This still confused him greatly. He understood the concept of time travel, duh, but what confused him is why her parents would let her marry A dingus like the Doctor. I mean really? Why did she lower her standards?*

Eventually, curiosity killed the cat. He ran as far as he could, trying to find any forms of life, only finding himself alone. Completely and utterly abandoned it seemed. This puzzled him. Why would the Doctor want to come here? There was nothing but a waste land of sand.

Later, When he came back into the TARDIS painting, sweating, and whining from all that walking and running. He shut the door, collapsing on the floor as he laid there, feeling her cool air coming up from the grates and her cold metal against his skin.

Just because Gallifreyans were resistant to heat didn't mean that going out in the blazing sun with a black hoodie was a good idea. Especially not when there wasn't anywhere to go. Not even a tree in sight.

“Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in.” The curly haired woman says, Smiling as she sat next to the Doctor on the torn up sofa that they apparently had moved into the TARDIS control room. (For whatever reason)

They probably had just finished kissing (or got interrupted) seeing as there was lipstick smeared over the Doctors lips and he doubted heavily that the doctor applied it himself… He wasn't THAT much of an idiot… He knew how to appropriately apply lipstick.. even he knew that.

“Why didn't you tell me there wasn't anything out there!?”

“We figured you'd find out for yourself sooner or later” The Doctor says, Scooting over, Trying to wipe the lipstick off of him only to smear it onto his hand and cuff.

“Who's we? Come're baabbyyy” River coed, putting her arms out to him.

Without a second to think about it, he began to scramble over to her only, crawling the few feet only to stop dead in his tracks. What the fuck was he doing? And why?

Sure he's laid between them multiple times to purposely frustrate them, but now it seemed as if they were welcoming him with literal open arms. Why? Cocking a brow, He himself was now frustrated, why were they being so… Kind.. to him? For what? His thinking soon sufficed when called for again.

“Come on. Come to mommy. What did that mean man do to you, hm?” She coed.

“I am not! He's just… bad!”

“Oh he's not bad! He's bored.”

"Yeah! There's a difference!" He awnsered And just like that, in her lap he went, being sure to push the Doctor away from her with his feet, trying to be a menace as much as possible, laying his head in her lap as he stared up at her. Petting his head, she giggled, talking to him further to make him feel pampered and praised. If there was one thing she knew, The Master adored being worshipped and given attention. Ignoring him made things 10 times worse, so she's learned that if she petted him long enough he would go to sleep and she could talk to her dear husband some more before the little gremlin woke up.

“What did he do, hm?? So cruel. Leaving you out there all alone?” River smirked as he already was droopy lidded, nodding softly along with the words.

“I did not. It's his fault for running off.”

“Oooh he's done nothing wrong.”

“... It's really hard to teach him when you keep enabling him, love..”

“That's why it's called Paw-sitive reinforcement, Doctor.” She said this in a sing-songy voice, Letting him get comfy as he turned over, Subconsciously nuzzling up to her hands and stomach.

Truth be told, he could care less what they were talking about right now. He was far too tired to listen to them bicker, using it as white noise, hoping it would drown out the drums that pounded in his head every waking moment of existence.

While they were faint, they were still there. At the back of his mind, like trying to smash through a 2 foot thick wall of ice, bound to break eventually, but right now, they gave him comfort. A constant reminder of who he was and that if anything was real? It was the pounding.

The warmth of her hands also gave him comfort, running her pointed red nails through his bleached blonde and trailing up and down his back through his hoodie.

A few minutes pass and the Doctor is now staring at them with a fond look, a shallow pang of jealousy but he wasn't sure about who. He was jealous of River for being able to get HIS best friend so cuddly and he was jealous of the master for cuddling up to HIS wife. It made him want to take him from her, put him on his lap and let him sleep there instead, but also shove him off the couch and take his place. God this was so difficult. How did humans do this relationship thing? It was so… annoying yet.. wonderful! He wouldn't change it for the world. He was so sleepy and… beautiful.

“You're staring sweetie..”

The voice echoed through his brain once, then twice before he looked up. “Huh?”

“You're staring again… Don't worry. You'll get your turn.”

“When?”

“Oooh so impatient.”

“No I mean- I.. When can I hold him?”

Her eyes widened, not aware that she had been hogging, let alone that he would want a turn at all. “Well… You can have him now if you'd like.”

“I..” Man this was embarrassing. “I think I'd like that.”

Carefully, They moved him from one lap to another, Which at first led to a protest of whining and gentle clawing**, Assuming he was falling off the couch.

“Shh shh shh. No honey. You're okay. You're just fine.” She whispered, pulling his hands away, trying to keep him from sitting up by putting her hand up under the thick sweater, scratching his back ever so gently the way he enjoyed before.

Letting out a sigh of relief, His shoulders dropped, curling up the way he liked in the Doctor's lap instead, a deep rumbling beginning from him. “.. He's so tired..”

“From all that running around, probably.” She whispered, enjoying his purring.

“No.. He's exhausted. His last regeneration went a bit..wonky. I don't even know if….If..” He trailed off, the way he did when he wanted to stop talking about something instead of when he forgot what he was saying.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Snickering, He shook his head. “No... I just.. even Time Lords can only take so much and..”

River knew. He watched him die. He burnt his body. He gave him a proper death ***ceremony- well.. about as proper as you could without others knowing.

“So it's a good thing you're taking care of him. Isn't it?”

“That's the thing. It's not that he can't do it himself, it's just that.. He's reckless..”

“Oh and I suppose we aren't?”

“River.. I don't.. I thought I was the last one for so long. I..” He took a breath, swallowing. She could see the pain and fear in his eyes.

“I can't go back to that.. Hell. For the last few months, I've been spraying him with-”

“Doctor..” She muttered a warning, noticing that the purring had stopped, but he continued.

“Catmint tea just so he'd calm down enough to-”

“You've been spraying me WITH TEA!? THIS ENTIRE TIME?!”

The woman smiled innocently, seeing the murderous glares.

“Whoops! Cats out of the bag.”

“River-! Not now!”

*just wait until he finds out she married Jack Harkness while he had the doctor caged up LOL

** clutching/ trying to hold on, he does not have retractable nails.

*** Like Torvic's. Thats why it hurt so bad.

[shellshocklove]

i wanna be your lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy​, for proofreading this

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.

“Do a little dance, make a little love,”

“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”

She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.

Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.

You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.

Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly ­– he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.

Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.

You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…

Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.

Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”

“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”

The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.

“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.

“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”

“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.

“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”

“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”

Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.

“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.

A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.

“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”

With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.

“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.

She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.

Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.

His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.

“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.

With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.

“So– are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.

“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”

With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.

The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.

“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”

“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”

With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.

Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.

It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.

Instead, they fell on a man.

You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.

He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.

You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.

Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.

He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.

The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.

Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.

“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”

The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.

“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”

Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping” to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.

The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.

As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.

“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”

A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.

“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.

You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.

“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.

He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.

“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.

Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.

With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately. 

“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.

“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.

“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.

Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.

“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.

“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.

“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.

“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.

“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.

You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”

He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.

“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.

“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.

You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”

“How about your name?” he suggested.

You turned back to look at him, really look at him.

Had Deborah set him up for this?

You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.

Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.

After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”

He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.

“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.

You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”

He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.

Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”

“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”

“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”

Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.

You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”

As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.

“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.

“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”

“A good one?” Joel wondered.

Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.

“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.

“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.

Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”

“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.

“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.

Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.

“I’m an actor,” he confessed.

You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.

“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.

He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.

The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.

You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.

“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.

“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.

“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.

“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.

“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”

You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”

“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.

“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”

He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.

“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.

He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”

Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.

Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all ­­– you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.

With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.

“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.

“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.

He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.

“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.

“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.

“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”

“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”

Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.

“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.

Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.

“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.

“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.

“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”

You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.

Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.

You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.

“Why?”,

“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.

“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”

“Oof,” Joel frowned.

“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.

“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.”

He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

You gave him a skeptical nod.

“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.

An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.

“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Was it? Was it a problem for you?

The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.

With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.

“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”

“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”

And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.

Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.

“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.

He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.

Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.

When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.

“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”

The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”

“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!

“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.

“Just what, sweetheart?”,

“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.

“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.

Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”

“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.

You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.

Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.

“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”

In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women’s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl. 

With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”

“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”

“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.

Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.

“I-I don’t know… it just is.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “’s this what I look like?”

“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.

“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”

He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”

“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”

You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.

“Why?” you said, a little flustered.

“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.

“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.

“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.

“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.

“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.

Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.

“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”

He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.

“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”

You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.

“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.

Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.

This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention. 

Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.

As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.

You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.

“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”

“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”

You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.

“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.

Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).

“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.

“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.

Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”

His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”

You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.

Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.

“I’d like that.”

He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.

Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.

The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.

“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.

“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.

“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.

“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.

“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.

Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.

“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”

You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.

Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.

It was Joel.

Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.

Why was he talking to you?

He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.

“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.

He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.

Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.

“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.

The next scene had you squirming in your seat.

With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.

Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.

With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.

“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”

He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.

“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.

Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.

“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.

Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.

You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.

With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.

Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.

The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.

Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.

Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”

The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”

With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.

Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”

The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn’t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.

As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.

“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”

“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.” 

Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”

You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.

“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”

Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.

“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.

“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.

“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”

“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”

Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”

“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”

A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”

Bingo.

You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.

“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.

“I am–… what was your favorite part?”

He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.

“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.

“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.

“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.

“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”

“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”

Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.

“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.

“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”

“I can stroke more than your ego.”

Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”

Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling. 

You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”

My sweet girl.

Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.

“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.

“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”

Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.

Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.

Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.

“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.

He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”

Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”

This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”

Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.

“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.

Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.

It was official: you’d left professional at the door.

Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.

“Joel? Can I ask you something?”

He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Can you turn off the light?”

“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”

You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”

He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”

Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.

Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.

“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.

Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”

“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.

“Come?”, he helped.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”

“Right…”

Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”

Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.

“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.

You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.

“Huh?”

“I­– I don’t know… it’s silly.”

“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.

You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.

Nodding your head, you hummed.

“Are you a virgin?”

His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.

“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.

Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”

“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.

“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.

“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”

With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.

“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.

“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”

“The latter,”

“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.

The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.

“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“It just… it hurt.”

You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”

Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?”

You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.

Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.

“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.

You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.

“Show me.”

His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.

“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.

He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”

He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.

You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”

Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.

“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”

You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,

“Good girl.”

You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”

You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.

“You’re so sweet, baby­– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”

“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.

“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.

“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.

His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.

“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.

He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.

“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”

Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you ­– his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.

“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”

You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”

“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.

Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.

Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.

“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.

“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.

A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.

“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.

“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”

Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.

“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.

With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.

Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”

With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.

“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”

Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.

You nodded, “Please.”

A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.

Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.

Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.

“Oh, fuck,”

Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.

“Joel,” you panted.

His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.

“Joel,” you panted again.

“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.

Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.

“Oh, god,”

You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.

With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.

Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.

“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.

“D-did you want to–”

You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.

“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.

“Are you sure­? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.

“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired­… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”

“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.

“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.

With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.

Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.

“Mornin’,”

“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.

“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.

You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.

“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.

Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.

“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”

A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.

“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.

You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”

In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.

Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”

Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.

“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?

The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”

“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.

“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”

His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.

You nodded, and he sighed.

“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”

“I-I’m sorry Joel, I­–” you started, but he cut you off,

 “You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”

Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”

Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”

His words almost didn’t register.

“What?”

This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.

“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring­– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”

“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.

“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.

Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.

You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.

With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.

“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.

“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.

“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.

Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.

You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.

“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.

He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”

“Shit,”

He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.

You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.

“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.

You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.

He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.

“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.

“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.

“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.

“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure. 

Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.

“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.

Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.

He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.

“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”

His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.

“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.

You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.

“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”

“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.

His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.  

“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.

You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.

“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”

i hope you liked this! part two -> here

© shellshocklove, 2023 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[thoughtsforsoob]

ways he shows he loves you - stray kids

a/n: I want to write more to stray kids so here you go! I know I have a bunch of request at the moment and while I do plan on getting to them, I have to allow myself some freedom to create what I want as well! please enjoy and as always, requests are open and so is my 200 event!! (omg im past 300 now and I am so incredibly grateful! thank you so freaking much!)

bang chan - taking you home

I feel like chan considers taking you home as a huge step in your relationship, since ehe seems to love home so much.

he has a nice connection with his family so for you to go meet them means he's basically already planning the wedding

he likes to take you to places he remembers from when he was little (which are probably not too many places because he was just a little guy when he started training)

he also loves to make plans for you, his mom and his sisters hang out together

"you three go out! im paying for girls day"

he enjoys seeing pictures of his favorite people out, having fun together and getting along

the only thing he doesn't enjoy 100% is the teasing that collectively happens between you and his siblings against him but he doesn't;t mind it in the end because it just means you're comfortable with them and vice versa

and when he watches you and berry meeting for the first time...again...wedding bells are going off in his head

minho - supporting your hobbies

I don't see him as someone who is veery comfortable with just saying I love you all the time so he pressers to show it instead of say it

his way of doing so is by getting interested in your hobbies and most likely participating in them

lets just say you're a big fan of collection photo cards and trading! along with that, you also like to make bracelets for concerts! (lmao so cliche but this is what I can explain best! feel free to insert your own interests during the following!)

he definitely buys you albums all the time and when you don't pull him from a stray kids album, he rolls his eyes and keeps buying more until you pull him

he also loves watching you pack trades so he goes stationary shopping with you and buys you the cutest packing materials

he even packs a few trades for you and sneaks in a bunch of extra stickers and other freebies

he will also partake in bracelet making every time you attend a concert!

he loves sitting at the table, making bracelets with pretty beads (he insists on buying you the fancy glass beads for this project), watching a drama and eating snacks.

just seeing you happy and in your element and being able to support it is how he shows his love.

changbin - planning dates

idk about you guys but I feel like guys always leave it to their girlfriend to plan dates and come up with date ideas all the time

changbin is the exception

he knows all of the spots in the city and wants to take you to all of them eventually

he has a running list in a little journal he purchased when he first met you and started going on dates with you

he writes down the names of places he wants to take you to and crosses them out in highlighter when you eventually go so you can still see what he'd written down

he plans trips that vary anywhere from 2 weeks in LA to a evening picnic by the river

his favorite are "spontaneous dates" (in quotation marks because to him, no date is really spontaneous. he always puts some work into it, even if it's a late night run to the convenience store or a trip to the mall)

he's always navigating and making sure everything is perfect

his favorite part of the date is when you praise him for being so thoughtful and creative

he is so happy that he's impressing you and making you happy

he promises to himself that even when you both are old and grey, he's still going to sweet you off your feet with his amazing date ideas

hyunjin - remembers everything you tell him

(no bc...when people remember details about me I feel so happy)

anyways, he is such a good listener and pays attention to detail

whenever you mention something in passing, he makes a note of it mentally or if he knows he'll forget, he will write is down in his notes app

one example of this is during one exam season

2 weeks ago, you had told him bout your finals schedule and when it would start

on the first day, right at 6am he shows up with your favorite coffee order (or anything else if you don't drink coffee) and your favorite breakfast! along with a care package for the rest of finals!

the care package includes: two hoodies of his, you favorite candies, chips, ramyeon, and a couple other things he knew you'd find useful

he remember you telling him you had to get up at that hour to start getting ready for your 8am calc final

when he shows you, you damn near cry because of his thoughtfulness

he eats breakfast with you and makes sure your fueled up and able to focus on your test so you can ace it

the way he also thinks about you when he's out doing things like shopping

Oh I brought you back some eggs because I remember you said you didn't have anymore. also, this new toner because I noticed yours was running low last time I stayed the night."

jisung - never letting you pay

his love language is essentially paying for everything he can for you

if you deny him and tell him you're going to pay, just the thought of you doing something he is more than willing to do for yo has smoke coming out of his eyes like a cartoon character

oh boy and when you actually beat him and pay, he is red in the face

"sungie, I just paid for two coffee's. why are you all red like that?"

"I could've paid! now you have to let me pay for the next 100 things we get together!"

you roll his eyes at him when he makes these silly compromises with you and just rolls with it

for him, it's not that he thinks you can't pay for yourself because ehe knows you are more than capable

if anything, he's proud that his baby is an independent person and can take care of themselves

the reason he does it because he wants you to save your money and spend it on things for you and he wants to take care of you this being the best way he knows how

oh my god...

god forbid you buy him any gifts

he's all flustered and whining about how you shouldn't "waste your money" on him

after talking with him, he lets you pay sometimes but it's rare

felix - matching jewelry

it's all fun and games until you both get exposed...

before we go there, let's talk about how this started

for your first anniversary, Felix wanted to give you something special but had no ides what it should be

he was scrolling through TikTok one night and he came across a repost from you and it gave him the perfect idea

you reposed a couples post about a necklace with the bf's initial on it and he immediately got one made

you better believe hat we went to a famous custom designer and everything to get this made just the way he knew you'd love it

you gives it to you on your anniversary and to your surprise, not only do you have a "f" on your necklace, he get's a matching necklace with your initial on it...

he can't wear it out much but he always put's it on in private

one day...little sunshine over here has to leave to the airport with the group for an overseas concert and he forgets to take off the damn necklace...

"WHO IS (y/i)?" stays are going wild online and trying to find out who it is

from now on, Felix is more careful but now everyone knows his secret :0

seungmin - bring affectionate in front of others

look, this boy is not very affectionate, much less in front of other people

he's a very 'behind closed doors' type of person

when it comes to you though...he's not afraid to show his affection

the first time you noticed it was when he first invited you to meet his member at the dorm for dinner and movie night

he picked you up and brought you inside

you greet all of the members but right afterwards, he immediately just starts to cling to you

he has a hand on your thigh during dinner and during some shot periods, he's actually straight up holding your hand while eating

the boys look at him like he's finally gone insane and you're looking at him with such a confused expression

finally, jeongin of all people, breaks the silence

"hyung? I know you like (y/n) a lot but you're not letting her eat by holding her hand."

his face goes red because he's been caught and he lets go of your hand, putting a low apology to you

when the movie portion of the night comes around, he insists on your sitting right on his lap but if you decline, he is sitting so close next to you that he's literally going to merge into your body

jeongin - sharing clothing/shopping with you

(cw: I know not everyone feels comfy with the idea of sharing clothes for whatever reason and it's totally valid so I made two different options here!)

as we all know, jeongin loves fashion and anything that has to do with it

it's only natural that he wants to involve you into his hobby!

he wants to dress you up all the time!

sometimes, he'll drag you to his room and start to pick items from his closet to replace what you're already wearing...

you have to glare at him so he won't change your whole outfit

he also loves to take you shopping!

he walks into every store with you and asks your opinion on everything because he knows you're actually the one wearing it so you have to like these items too!

shopping can be a very stressful and traumatic experience for some people (ME!)

he understands if this is the case for you and tries his best to give you all the time you need and not overwhelm you with trying too many things on at once and not showing you 101 options all at once

if you don't like how something fits, he will never pressure you to show him anyway

he also never pressures you to go shopping if you're not in the correct headspace for it

there is always assurance from him that no matter what, he loves the way you look in clothes you both pick together!

he also loves to take ootd pics of you and he lets you take his!

he def never pressures you to do this either if you don't wanna

his soft launch of you is a pick of your latest ootd together but your face has a cute little fox sticker over it :D

[hibiscusseaart]

i wanna draw some ideas with AU or even write smth but I feel like shit :')

I'm gonna throw some hcs here and there

Also, question for you ppl! How do you think their kids would call their fathers? I hc that Tobirama refuses to go by any motherly terms (and to break Madara's heart, he doesn't like to be called 'wife' either).

Madara of course takes the more standard position of The Father cuz clan head and all that. Tobirama is more Tobimama cuz he was with their kids the most when they were little.

But I'm asking more traditional terms. Madara as Chichiue/otou-san and Tobirama as Tou-chan and 'papa' when they're little?

Oh and some endearment terms for the pair.

Tobirama uses A LOT of them. At first to convince everyone and especially Madara himself that he is actually in love and then he actually got used to it. Madara doesn't hear his own name from his husband much lmao

Before marriage he'd call him 'Beautiful' and tease him like "Ah, you wanna dance, pretty boy?". He noticed how well Madara reacts to praise, especially of his appearance since he had an ugly duckling phase and had complexes.

Maybe later before the peace treaty and engagement he'd call Madara 'fiancé', cuz the fucker promised

When they're kids he might've call him and "Madara-chan". I mean he still has the experience from his first life and he was around kids a lot and here's little madara running around looking all small cute and funny. Ofc he's Madara-chan or at least -kun.

To be clear Tobirama probably didn't feel anything romantic towards Madara before he turned at least 16, it'd be hella wrong otherwise. Like he trained kids his age before!

But he was definitely fond of him cuz let's be honest Madara is hella cute and funny kid. That was one of the reasons why Tobirama didn't actually kill Madara when he got there. He can't just kill an innocent kid even if he has the potential to destroy the whole world.

Oh and he def called baby Izuna "-chan " just cuz he's a baby too and to see him lose his shit.

So in marriage Tobirama would call Madara lot of endearments. My love, my dear, husband dear, darling, my heart and ect.

But he doesn't like all that mush like cutie patooty or whatever. I cant imagine Tobirama even saying word 'Pookie' 😭

not here kitten whiskers daddy will discuss it later

For Madara it's an interesting story

As kids he'd try to call Tobirama "his future wife" and got thrown in the river or the river was thrown at him. He didn't get the same reaction when he called him "his future husband". Tobirama just slightly nod and Madara would be so happy for the whole day.

He'd also tried to call him beautiful once, but got shy and ran away. Maybe to go fight Hashirama to fight off frustration on himself. He's a good shinobi and he can't even compliment the boy he likes!

But he would initiate some hand holding and even hugs. Even though Hashirama REALLY didn't appreciate it. He can allow hand holding. But hugs? Hell no, "Madara get your dirty hands away from my innocent baby brother!! >:((("

"Anija, please calm down, I don't mind hugging."

"I do!"

Basically this meme but with hugs and baby Hashirama

When they had the fall out and Tobirama orchestrated meetings, he didn't use any terms and tried real hard to forget and bury his feelings cuz Tobirama is an enemy (even if he looks SO good when he fights)

He's an Uchiha and it didn't work. Especially cuz Tobirama still showed a lot of interest and tried to make peace.

Maybe once Madara would try to write some angsty poems about Tobirama's beauty and grace and how they couldn't be together because they're in warring clans. He thought he sucked so much but the poems are quite decent. Tobirama would appreciate it if he finds them.

After marriage he'd call Tobirama "Blessing" a lot. NOT bc of that Blessed AU that's circulating around, but just cuz he truly feels blessed that Tobirama chose him.

Oh and he'd be proud as a peacock to call Tobirama "His husband"

But when he's overwhelmed by feelings he'd be "my wife.... WIFE" - Tobirama really doesn't know where is it coming from, he's not even a proper wife by traditional japanese standards and he doesn't bottom much cuz he doesn't like the whole process of preparation (he's a busy man he can't stretch his ass for several hours straight)

also thinking about how after their deaths Madara's poems and letters to Tobirama while they were engaged but couldn't see each others and Tobirama's journal would be found and someone (probably some of their grand kids?) would edit it a bit and publish as a book as the most wholesome Romeo and Juliette story.

If Tobirama and Madara would get resurrected* again - they'd be like "THEY DID WHAT"

Especially Madara he'd be so embarrassed 😭

*it'd be a good thing for Tobirama to never actually leave any traces of this jutsu in the world, but he worried for his children and left them notes and some of his DNA in case something happens and Konoha needs saving or the whole world once again. Though maybe he'd made something of a counter seal (maybe a tattoo?) or counter jutsu that the person who summoned him wouldn't be able to control him.

ok I got it out of my system, i'm gonna go sleep now

[seabirdtxt]

man idk why but i just kinda want to make creator! reader's backstory SAD like they were tortured (?) just to keep the rest of humanity/teyvat safe.. like i am a SUCKER for sad/traumatic backstories!! just a little brainrot i need to get out!!

i'll keep this short and sweet i told myself. lmao. i forgot i'm a sucker for easy angst

Blood of God

Notes: Sagau cult au, cut-based injuries, blood sacrifice. bunch of fun stuff. Reader is the Creator, golden blood, etc. read at your own discretion

WC. 976

----- ⚘ -----

When you first descended into Teyvat, You were initially met with praise and celebration. Countless festivals were held in Your name. Your beloved characters, Your acolytes, were the first ones in line to beg for Your blessings.

That's when everything started to go downhill.

With the realization that Your physical presence in the world meant no more divine guidance, Your acolytes grew desperate for Your blessings. Blessings that You, as a mortal human being, could not grant. Not to the same degree that You used to, when You played the game and bestowed buffs and upgrades aplenty to all Your teams, and generously ascended even those You didn’t have plans for.

But now, even as You stand before them in flesh and blood, Your godlike abilities have been reduced to mere party tricks. You spoke to the animals, and twisted the breeze. You made flames dance with a single gesture, and grew pretty flowers in your footsteps. None of this helped the acolytes, though.

Interest in Your well-being, in You, dwindled. Your acolytes wished You well, the rare few even questioning Your divinity, and sent You on your merry way.

Abandoned and unarmed in a world full of hostile creatures, You took up jobs with the Adventurers Guild. First, it was fetching and delivering goods for the city citizens. Then, it was carrying messages across the countryside from town to town. Lastly, it was picking off monster camps that strayed too close to civilization.

This is where a few of your acolytes found You, injured and bleeding brass-coloured ichor into the dirt and swinging wildly with Your adventurer’s sword.

Deity or not, Your acolytes were not ones to stand idle while another was put in harm’s way. Into the fray they jumped, and fought by Your side despite their reservations about You.

In the heat of the battle, the acolytes noticed something strange. Those sprayed with Your blood were given increased strength and capability for a short while, until the stain dried and wore off.

Encouraged, they investigated further. Using some of Your blood as war paints extended the duration of the blessing by nearly double, coating their weapons with it would increase the effectiveness of their strikes, and a brave few discovered that ingesting it would boost them all-around for the entirety of the day.

Harken, and rejoice! For irrefutable proof of the Creator’s benevolent presence has been revealed! And You, desperate for their love and acceptance, gave it to them without question.

A beautiful, elaborate temple was built in Your honour, with ceremonial blades scattered throughout the decor and deep channels filled with ever-flowing ambrosia running across the floor. As Your holy blood continued to be spilled, the hue of it began to run a shimmering gold.

Those who sought Your blessings need only visit you in Your temple, bringing offerings of kill trophies and unearthed relics. Then, they would partake of Your divinity by their choice of method, dipping their reverent hands in the rivers of ichor that pulse across the temple grounds.

You haven’t stopped bleeding in months.

It was bearable at first, when the first time the channels were filled You were pleased to discover that they would not run dry for some time. When the acolytes came for lessings, you would only need to refill the trenches every few days.

You asked if they could bring You softer offerings, of sweet foods and thoughtful bouquets. Such shows of softness were dismissed with a laugh. What need did you have for plants, when the strength you gave them could afford you even the rarest and most difficult trophies to obtain?

But the Abyss came. Celestia’s wrathful gaze descended. Your acolytes were fighting a war on two fronts.

They came on their hands and knees, emptying your stores quicker than you could refill them. Eventually, you took to sitting in the golden throne with your preferred blade, sluggishly carving yourself open to ensure the continued survival of your beloved acolytes.

It wasn’t enough.

Please, they begged. Give us the strength You once were able to grant. Show us the stars in your eyes and in your blood once more, that we might fight and win in Your name.

Filled with fear, and hurt, and love, you gave them everything you had left.

Their lips and teeth stained with brilliant auric gore, they took to the fields once again. The Abyss fell before them, the cursed beasts of the land fell into disarray and fled into the winds. Celestia conceded victory.

The acolytes cheered and danced in the aftermath of their slaughter. Eager to show their renewed devotion, they returned home to You.

But Your temple had crumbled, and the deep wells that once held Your pulse have turned to dust. Your blessing was but glittering sand in their mouths as they sort through the rubble to find any traces of You.

There was no way to know who broke first. Your acolytes realized too late the price for Your continued generosity, and squandered Your love on chasing strength and war.

Your temple was rebuilt with petals replacing every blade. The grooves filled with the soil that was steeped with the blood of the fallen, and flowers of all shades of vibrant, terribly human red grew there.

Dendrobium and Mourning flowers. Even the azure Sea ganoderma bloomed in rare patches where water pooled deeper.

Had they loved You as a human and not as a seemingly bottomless resource, would You have stayed? The thought of such a question shamed them. You asked for their love and they’d given You their blades. You asked for sweets and they’d brought you the bones of their enemies.

And yet, You wanted to stay. Even as they literally bled You dry, You had only ever wanted their happiness, no matter the cost.

And heavy was the cost.

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type au part 3!

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7

Their first official meeting face to… well, almost face. Soap’s doing his best.

[Disclaimer: I have been fiddling with this for ages, and just like everything else i’ve written, i’m not quite happy with it but i’m done looking at it. sorry if it’s awful lmao. also it’s around 5 goddamn thousand words]

Another battle won, another victory to add to the general’s reputation, and another fight that left Ghost feeling empty.

Part of him hated that he had become a disciple for the god of death. It was hard not to notice the changes that started after he first left an offering for the god. The way he felt a little less alone, the way enemy arrows would occasionally miss their target, the way the aches of battle faded much sooner, the way the world seemed a bit brighter. The way it gave him hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It tricked him into thinking he was meant for more than just dying on the battlefield. Made him believe that he could have a happy ending.

In reality however, Ghost would live and die a prisoner, having forgotten the taste of freedom. The world was not bright. It was cruel. If there were any good in the world, the other side would have won. Would have slaughtered them like pigs.

Instead, they lived to fight another day. Once the wounded were stable, they moved on. Found a spot to camp on a riverbank. As always, Ghost ran off. Let himself indulge in the falsity of hope.

By now, everyone in the camp was used to his routine. The only one brave enough to confront him was the general and so long as he returned to be his rabid dog whenever he needed, he learned not to care.

So, he left. Continued his search for more temples that once housed devout believers of the god of death. He appreciated the distraction from the real world, a short respite found in half-mindless wandering through abandoned cities or overgrown forests.

Ghost still knew very little about the god. While he knew the story of why the god had been forgotten, he still knew next to nothing about who the god was. They didn’t seem too bad at least; Ghost was still alive and has yet to be punished to an eternity of suffering.

He knew if he tried asking the god, (if he received an answer at all) it would all be what he wanted to hear and not the truth. So, he searched.

Most temples were too dilapidated to glean any information, but the little he had gathered seemed to point in a mostly positive direction. But he still needed to know more. He didn’t even know the god’s name for fuck’s sake.

Wandering through the forest, he wasn’t too worried about getting lost. It wasn’t so dense that shadows swallowed it whole and he could always follow the river to find his way back out.

Over the months spent on this routine, he’d learned a lot about how to find the temples, especially in forests like this one. It was rather simple: find a trail of slightly younger trees and follow them.

The much bigger, much older trees would outline a path that had long been lost to time. While hundreds upon hundreds of years have passed since the god was praised, the evidence was still dug into the earth.

Sure enough, after an hour or two of following a line of newer trees, he found a temple. It was the most intact one he’d found yet, all four walls still up, even if they looked ready to cave in at any moment. The only structural integrity was likely from the amount of vines slithering in through the cracks, acting as rope to hold together a building that wanted nothing more than to collapse.

The inside was surprisingly well lit. The holes in the roof that had been filled with various plants let in a soft green light. In the middle, extending from the back wall was a pedestal atop which sat crumbled rocks. As he guessed, taking a closer look proved it to have once been a statue that had either fallen prey to the passage of time or the anger of the locals.

Turning his attention to the walls, on his right was another doorway that would have led to a balcony overlooking the surroundings. Now, however, it was a simple curtain of vines leading to a pile of rubble falling down the hill. On his left was a wall of vines that was so thick, he wasn’t even sure if the wall was still there. But just peeking out towards the bottom looked to be the bottom edge of something that had been carved into the rock.

Curiosity piqued, he walked over and tugged at the ivy. Most didn’t even budge, but he was able to move enough to see that it was likely a mural of some sort. He hoped it was, at least. He was desperate for any information on who or what he’s been helping.

Pulling at the vines only resulted in his hands becoming covered in ants that had been hiding and he had a vague thought about setting fire to it, but there’s no way it would catch and if by some miracle it did, it would likely cause a forest fire. No other option readily available, he sighed and drew his knife, beginning the long and arduous process of hacking through each individual branch.

There was no easy way to do it. They clung to the wall so tightly that to try and slash them would just scrape the edge of his knife on the stone and ruin the edge. The brambles on them made him very grateful for his gloves saving him from turning his fingers into mincemeat. He worked carefully, pulling far enough to get his knife under the stems and cutting through them one by one.

It took hours of meticulous removal and a smarter man would have stopped a long time ago. But Ghost was determined now, he started the process and he couldn’t leave until it was finished.

He didn’t pay too much attention to the actual mural as he worked his way through them, waiting until he could see the full thing. At some point, he had to stop to light a small torch. Darkness having begun to set in, he didn’t notice he had cleared most of it until he took a step back.

As he suspected, it was a mural of the god, depicting some of his godly deeds. The original carving was already rather simplistic and the aging didn't help in deciphering what story it was telling. He was worried that in brushing off the dirt, the carvings would come with it, so instead he brought his torch closer and tried to figure out what he was looking at.

It seemed to be a set of stories, all of which featured the god as kind, helping people who were suffering. The first carving was of an old man on his deathbed, the god putting his hand over his eyes. The next was of parents watching as the god kissed their newborn on the forehead. The third grabbed his attention.

It was a soldier with a knife in his chest, the god holding his hand.

Months ago, Ghost had been in that exact situation. Dying was certain, and yet instead of doing whatever it is the god of death does when someone is dying, the god saved him. Healed a fatal wound with a golden scar. (And put a flower behind his ear, but he often elected not to think about that when remembering the event.)

All of the carvings were different tellings of the same story. For months he had been asking the same question with no answer: Why was Ghost’s story different?

Ghost shook his head. As always when trying to think about the why of it all, he concluded to not think about it. To just push it aside and ignore it. Whatever snake was hiding in the grass waiting to strike was too hidden for Ghost to see. Until the day comes that he gets bit, he will forget about it.

Pulling himself away from the third image, he turned back to the statue. The mural didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know and hoped the collapsed statue would hold some answers.

Sure enough, it was still just as collapsed as before. There were marks in the rocks that proved it wasn’t the passage of time that felled it, but the anger of a mob.

Now looking at the pedestal with the torch, he saw the shadow of inscriptions on a plaque near the bottom. Kneeling down to get a better visual, he saw that it was four words written in an ancient language.

ᓭ𝙹ᔑ!¡, ˧𝙹⟍̅ 𝙹⎓ ⟍̅ᒷᔑℸ ̣⍑.

He remembered little of the translation, recognizing the third word was “of,” and after scraping through his memory, he was pretty sure the second word was “god.” Either that or fish. His memory is not that great.

____, GOD OF _____.

Well, it didn’t take a genius to deduce what the rest of it said. While he was iffy on the translations, he knew the phonetics well. Excited to possibly have the god's name in front of him, Ghost made a mistake.

Which, he would like to clarify, he knows that he’s an idiot. Stupid, dumb, anything and everything between. Obviously, common sense dictates that when you find strange writing anywhere, but especially in an ancient temple, you DO NOT READ IT OUT LOUD.

However, as previously stated, stupid dumb idiot and all that. In his defense, he wasn’t fully aware he was doing it. It had been a while since reading the dead language and the old carving made it hard to decipher the glyphs.

So, not thinking, he sounded them out. Out loud. Reading a random sentence in an abandoned temple of the god of death, who was abandoned after claims of being a monster. It was not Ghost’s proudest moment.

But, he did manage to read it, saying to an empty temple, “Sau— No… Soap, God of… Death?”

He didn’t know if he read it properly. When he had learned the script, it had been taught with handwritten letters. How they looked on a pen and paper was very different to how they looked carved into stone. He decided to risk delicately brushing away some of the dirt, following the indentation of the letters.

He was still trying to read the plaque when he became aware of someone behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he carefully maintained his position, not giving away that he had noticed the person. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could see their shadow behind him and to the right.

Forcefully maintaining his casualness, he dropped his hand from the plaque and rested it on the ground as if he were just balancing himself. The other went to nonchalantly rest on the buttcap of his sword, holding it like it was happenstance for that to be the more comfortable position. He waited.

They did nothing. They did not move, didn’t take advantage of his weakness, he couldn’t even hear them breathing.

He had a sinking feeling that he already knew what was behind him. And if he was right, his sword would not save him.

Steeling himself, he stood and turned, drawing his sword. At first glance, they were not a soldier, thief, or mercenary. They drew no weapon and barely even reacted to his sudden advance.

It wasn’t human either. It… It “smiled” at him. Every fiber of Ghost’s being was telling him to run, run far away from this thing before it mauled him.

He stood still. No one can outrun Death.

His vision blurred but only when trying to look directly at the god. He was almost… translucent. When he risked a glance to the door, his image began to vibrate, like he didn’t need to hold himself together anymore.

Later, trying to recall any specific features would draw a blank. Eyes, hair, height — anything. He would question if the god had any physical form at all or if he just imagined it.

He needed to get out of there.

It seemed the god was examining him just as closely. Ghost tried to slowly back away, to inch closer to the door, but was stopped by the god circling him. Not having a secure exit made his skin crawl and he was sure to keep the being in his sights the entire time.

In the same way his eyes were warring over whether the god was there or not, he didn’t know how nervous he needed to be. The months spent offering whatever he had in exchange for company and help on the battlefield made him want to relax, to talk to him like he was an old friend.

The lifetime he spent being betrayed and getting used made him want to attack first. The back of his neck prickled at the reminder that he still owed the thing his life. He was not an old friend. He was a deity, the god of death, and would be able to kill him with ease. Ghost kept his sword level with the god despite being all too familiar with its futility.

The god, Soap, stopped his circling and stood in front of him, far too close for comfort. When Ghost backed away, he watched like he was observing a bug he found interesting.

The comparison was far more apt than Ghost wanted to think about.

“Your fellow soldiers call you Ghost, yes?”

It was the first time actually hearing the god speak and it was just as unsettling as he thought it would be. The voice reflected his flickering form, oddly deep and reverberating like it wasn’t meant for this plane.

Subconsciously, his sword slowly drifted down, no longer threatening an attack.

“…Yeah. How do you know that?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“I’ve been watching.”

Ghost didn’t like this. Not at all. Everything in his bones was screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. He readjusted his grip on the sword but forgot to raise it. He needs to get out. Now.

The god laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the first follower I have had in an age. What else was I supposed to do?”

Part of what made his voice sound off finally hit Ghost.

“The god of death is Scottish?” The incredulous tone probably wasn’t doing his life expectancy any favors.

“Aye. And you’re British.”

The god turned and began inspecting the rest of the temple. Ghost didn’t feel the true weight of the god’s stare until it was gone, now taking in several deep breaths as the pressure went away.

“Thanks, I didn’t notice.”

“I thought we were pointing out the obvious.”

The god smiled at him like it was a simple joke. But the annoyance was there. Even if the god was laughing now, that doesn’t mean he would still find Ghost’s disrespect funny in a few minutes. He needs to watch himself and be careful.

“Why do you look all… weird and shit?” Good job, Ghost. Real good about being careful and making sure to overthink his wording. Fucking hell, his own idiocy is going to kill him.

The god pouted his lip. Looking at Ghost with deceptively sad eyes, he asked, “Aw, are you calling me ugly?”

The god returned to examining the ruined temple. Even though he wasn’t looking, Ghost shook his head and raised his hand in a pause gesture. Gods have wiped out entire villages over less. He forced his breathing to remain normal, having to manually count it so as to not panic. Before he could backtrack and likely dig himself in a deeper hole, the god spoke.

“I am still weak. This is the first time I’ve managed to hold onto a tangible form.” Tangible was certainly one way to put it. When he ran his fingers over the ledges on the wall, the dirt and debris didn’t move. Brushing his hands through the vines led to them swaying slightly as if there were a breeze.

Ghost reminded him, “I tried giving you food. You didn’t accept it.”

The god laughed, “I know. The starving man giving the god food.” Ghost wasn’t sure if his tone was meant to be insulting or annoyed.

“Yeah?”

Soap sent him a look he couldn’t decipher, explaining, “Gods don’t eat. Not the way you do. Keep your food.” He made pointed eye contact with Ghost and winked as he said, “I prefer flowers and trinkets anyways.” He turned his attention back to the ruined mural. His eyes were wrong.

Ghost fucking hates gods. What the fuck does that mean?

He pointed out, “If you’re weak, don’t you need everything?”

“I am not that weak. Saving you hurt.”

Ghost prickled further at the reminder, taking a step back. Gripping the handle of his sword tighter, he defensively stated, “I don’t need your help.”

The god scoffed and walked towards him. Ghost tried to back up but the god was faster. The divine being put his hand on his ribs, right where the golden scar sat. With a furrowed brow he angrily stated, “This says otherwise.”

Ghost instinctively jerked away from the touch. It was staticky and cold. Wrong. It was somehow worse than human touch. He was tense, looking to see the gods reaction.

This was worse than dealing with an impatient, angry god. Those were predictable. This one has yet to give him any indication of his limits. Ghost didn’t know what would be the tipping point and could only hope that when it hit, the god would be kind enough to kill him quickly.

To his surprise, the god looked sad. His flash of anger gone and now quieter, he continued, “I was barely in time to save you.” If Ghost didn’t know any better, he’d say the god actually gave a damn about him.

But Ghost did know better. He stared at the third image on the mural. He asked the question that had been plaguing him since waking up from a deadly sleep, “You’re the god of death. Why… Why would you have run out of time? Why save me?”

He sighed, “Healing an otherwise healthy person is easy. Resurrection? Not so much. I do not control death the way people seem to think I do,” the god paused and sadly looked to the broken statue, “…or did. I can help people on their path but not change their course.”

The god was slowly walking closer. Ghost didn’t have much more space to back up, almost cornering himself, he had to angle himself more towards the door, following the wall. It allowed the god to get closer, much closer than Ghost would’ve liked, but it also allowed him to have a realistic escape plan.

Not that he’d be able to run from any god for long. The hope of success was a fickle thing.

Unaware or uncaring of his internal plight, the god happily continued explaining, “You were still on the same path, just veering to the left. Bringing someone back is possible, but not always worth it.”

Not yet learning his lesson about letting sleeping dogs lie, he poked back, “What? ‘They come back different?’”

The god gave a slight nod, “Sometimes, if their soul has been rotted or corrupted. But I meant the cost. Saving you was easy to do with all that you had given. To bring someone back from the dead… Well, there are some fates crueler than death.”

Ghost's eyes hardened, “I’m aware.” The god looked all sad again but he continued before he could interrupt, “But why did you save me?”

The god paused for a moment before simply stating, “You’re kind.”

Ghost scoffed and incredulously repeated, “I’m kind.” He nodded. Ghost continued, “So, you betrayed your own kingdom, domain, whatever to make sure I didn’t die because ‘I’m kind.’”

Soap smiled and for the first time since trying to touch his scar, reached out to him. “Exactly. I like you. You are kinder than someone in your shoes should be. That’s why I saved you.”

His hand hovered next to Ghost’s left. He was waiting for something. The god was still smiling softly at him.

He wants me to close the distance.

He’d rather the god have just grabbed him. Why was he waiting? Why was a god waiting on a mortal? Gods do not ask. They take. Why was this one any different?

When he was a kid, he’d run around trying to pet any and every dog that would let him. He would approach them slowly, holding out his hand for them to sniff. Some would approach immediately, but most took some time. They were half feral and scared of people, hesitant to even approach him.

At that moment, Ghost felt like a scared feral dog. He felt doomed, like there was no way out alive. He didn’t know if the deity was offering safety and comfort, or a quicker and less painful end. Soap’s hand was still extended, still smiling softly.

When a god asks, if you do not give, they will take. And will take more than they would have if you had handed it over to begin with. It’s best to give in before the consequences become worse.

He moved his hand into the god’s hold. It grinned. He tried not to shake.

The god rubbed his thumb along his hand, fingers trailing after an older wound that was on its way to scarring. The touch became slightly more bearable as he grew more accustomed to the peculiarities of the sensation.

After a pause, Ghost shakily contested, “I am not kind. I have more blood on my hands than everyone in the military camp combined.”

Soap, unperturbed, continued messing with his hand, watching the way his fingers bent and twitched. Not looking up, “I said kind, not a pacifist.”

Ghost tried to speak up. The god interrupted. The touch graduated into practically feeling each individual muscle in his arm, like he was trying to remember how a human body is supposed to look.

“However, if you want a more tangible reason, I did, and somewhat still do, owe you.”

Ghost didn't buy it for a second. "What? A god owing a mortal?"

Soap made eye contact once more. Ghost didn’t realize how close he had gotten. The god looked more human, but more wispy as well. His eyes didn’t make Ghost want to turn away before he turned to flame, but he could also see more of the temple through him. Perhaps their meeting would not last much longer.

“I’m sure you are aware that gods can die. the only reason I was still alive was because people would pass the ruins of my temples and remember me.”

He shifted to Ghost’s right and reached for his other arm. Doing the same hovering hesitation, Ghost simply nodded in approval. The god turned his focus to his right hand now, letting go of the left. He did the same examination as before, feeling over his knuckles and trailing what veins he could see up his arm.

…When had Ghost sheathed his sword?

His left arm tingled. He had to tell himself that he did not miss the touch.

“But no one believed in me. I was waiting for another thousand years when I’d be forgotten and could finally die. You not only saved me, but you gave me hope as well.” He accentuated the word by squeezing his arm, or trying to at least. He seemed to be fading fast.

With something in his eyes more earnest than Ghost was used to seeing on even a mortal, the god said, “So yes, I still very much owe you.”

The earnestness was gone and in its place, a joking tone as he continued, “Though, if it’s you I am indebted to, I don’t think that’s too bad of a fate.”

Ghost asked, “So… I don’t owe you a debt?”

Soap looked genuinely confused, “Why would you owe me?” With the way he tilted his head, he almost looked like a confused puppy.

Ghost was at a loss, having no idea how to answer that. The idea that gods just wanted to fuck over everyone they could for their own amusement was so ingrained that to try and put it into words felt impossible.

When he didn’t answer, Soap spoke again, “I like you alive.” His hands moved, one going to feel the pulse point on his wrist and the other sitting over the left side of his chest, feeling his heart. Like he was making sure he was still alive.

The confused furrow did not leave Ghost’s brow at the explanation and he was sure Soap could feel the way his breathing and heart rate kicked up at the touch. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to lean into it and beg him to never let go or skin himself to be rid of the feeling.

“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

Ghost ripped himself away, finally in the doorway of the ruined temple. The orange light indicated that dawn was well on its way. He could not hear any birds chirping nor any leaves rustling. It was still smiling from the edge of the shadows.

The god spoke, “I hope we can meet like this again. I had fun.” With that, the divine being stepped forward into the light and fully faded at last.

Ghost took in several deep lungfuls of air. He stood frozen, watching as if waiting to make sure the god did not return. In truth, he was frozen. When it came to fight, flight, or freeze, he thought he had trained himself out of the latter two options.

But he stood there, terrified to move. He didn’t even shift his weight. It felt like to move was to acknowledge what had just happened, and to acknowledge it was to cement it as reality.

A childish part of him hoped he would wake up to find it was all a dream. Forcing himself to turn his back to the door, he ignored the way his back burned at being exposed and unprotected.

He absentmindedly made the long trek down the hill and to the river. He detached his scabbard and kneeled, splashing his face with water, the coolness of it shocking his system.

He turned to the left and vomited. He was shaking so much he almost collapsed. Locking his elbow, he was barely able to balance just to wipe his mouth.

He turned back to the water. Took in a deep breath and submerged his face. He stayed there, pushing the limit of how long he could stay under. His heart was racing, demanding air. He could feel it rattling against his lungs.

Just as the dizziness and weakness began to take hold, he ripped himself up. Taking long, heavy deep breaths, he looked up. Watched as the last of the stars faded into an orange and blue sky.

Stories and warnings from priests came crawling back to him. About what the presence of The Old Gods could do to a mortal. If he was shaking, vomiting, and scared stiff from seeing him while he was still weak…

Good gods, how powerful can this stupid motherfucker get?

He hasn’t felt so… so… so much in a long time. His brain was warring with itself over how he should feel about the interaction. Part of him felt hopeful, thinking that perhaps he might now have someone who actually cares about him and not what he can do for them. Part of him felt so hopeless that he didn’t see the point in getting up, in doing anything other than trying to die before he could cement his fate as a god’s new favorite human plaything.

He blinked and forced his mind to stop. The birds had returned, singing once more. He stood shakily, grabbing his sword and using it to help him up. It sank slightly in the mud.

Day officially broke. In the forest, shadows turned and ran to hide behind the trees. Animals were just starting to wake, some heading to the river to drink.

Ghost stepped into the water, following it downstream and letting the rush of water cover his tracks. The rapids threatened to sweep him away with every step, rocks underfoot falling prey to the force.

By mid morning, the river led him back to the camp.

The other soldiers stopped and stared upon noticing him but did not say a word. In fact, they fell completely silent seeing him wading through water that would drown a lesser man, muddy sheath in hand, soaked to the bone.

He stepped onto the shore, walking at the same slow speed he had in the water. The general, having noticed the sudden silence stepped out of his tent, demanding to know what the problem was. Seeing Ghost, he hesitated before demanding his attention.

Ghost was already on the path towards him. Face to face, the general hesitated, mouth moving but no words spilling forth. Ghost informed him that he was going to go to sleep. The general had yet to find his voice.

Ghost walked to his tent. Dropped his sword. Lied on his cot. He stared at the canvas above him, forgetting to remove his armor and gear.

When he got like this, feeling disconnected from not just his body but his soul as well, he tried to take stock of himself. Mentally document every ache and pain, how his clothes felt, even what the weather was like.

Instead he became aware of one sensation in particular, one clinging to both of his arms, his chest, and a small part of his lower ribs.

Everywhere the god had touched him felt electric.

How long has it been since someone touched me without hurting me?

He wondered why his skin still tingled. Why he missed the feeling.

[kiirschtein-archive]

⋆ 「 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝. 」 ⋆

toji's tired and doesn't feel like hearing you run your mouth in the passenger's seat of his car. so you find other ways to occupy yourself.

pairing. — toji fushiguro x f!reader

word count. — 893

content. — nsfw (18+ only), established relationship, daddy kink, toji's a lil mean (duh), pet names (baby, babygirl, little girl), finger sucking, masturbation (f), brief mention of penetrative sex.

notes. — i have toji brainrot so bad rn y'all it's not even funny. so i had to write this while working tonight LMAO i just needed to get it out of my brain. hope you enjoy <3

It’s late, and the back roads are lit up only by the headlights as the two of you skirt around curves in his expensive car. You’d bet money that you’re going well over the designated speed limit, because Toji, despite being exhausted from a long day, is still fulfilling his habit of being on the brink of reckless driving. The air is cool where he has the driver’s side window down to let the smoke from his cigarette stream out, and he’s silent as you seemingly burst with energy next to him.

You’ve been rambling on for a few minutes now about something you’ve been particularly excited about as of late, chatting your tired boyfriend’s ear off without realizing it. The low hum of the radio hardly even gets to make itself known beneath your continuous jubilant speech.

“And I can’t believe that—”

“Baby,” Toji’s voice is raised just the slightest bit to overpower yours, cutting you off before you can go on. You watch as he inhales and exhales his final breath of smoke, flicking the cigarette butt outside and rolling up the window. “Can you do daddy a favor and shut your fuckin’ mouth for a minute?”

You can finally hear the radio now that silence sweeps over you and you’re able to absorb the nonchalant harshness of his words. It doesn’t affect you too badly, however. He’s always like this. 

But narrowing your eyes into a half-hearted glare, you declare coldly in his direction, “You’re mean.”

The both of you know that you aren’t exactly heartbroken, nor are you entirely serious with your angry pout and juvenile words, so Toji speaks just as apathetically as before, “Yeah, well cry me a river over it, little girl.” He reaches a calloused hand over to roughly squeeze at your knee. It hurts a little, and there’s no smile from him nor a laugh, but you’re fully aware that it’s his way of being somewhat sadistically playful, attempting to dismantle any potential hard feelings.

Toji loosens his grip but leaves his hand there, letting you feel its warmth against your chilled skin. His fingers are so large and picturesque in a rugged sort of way, thumb stroking absentmindedly as his gaze continues to pierce ahead at the road. It’s so quiet that you suddenly feel the urge to be a little impish; maybe there are other things you can do with your mouth besides talk.

Taking him by the wrist and forearm, you guide his hand up to slide two big fingers between your lips, soaking them in the saliva that freshly pools in your mouth. He tastes like salt and nicotine, all too familiar against the flat of your tongue, and it prompts you to start a gentle suck. Toji smirks and huffs at the feeling of your hot mouth around him, muscles flexing but resisting the impulse to fuck his fingers forward until the tips hit the back of your throat. Instead, he lets you occupy yourself with your ability to take full control.

This new sense of quiet is oddly like music to his ears, only interrupted by the occasional suckling noise and the tiny hums you make in between them. “That’s a good girl,” he drawls and praises with a wicked smile on his face, pressing his fingers down against your tongue for only a moment and stealing a glance over at you as he does so. Then he starts to laugh. "Shit, I shoulda had you doin' this ten minutes ago. Shuts you up nice and good, doesn't it?"

You remove his hand long enough to take a breath and reply, perhaps with a hint of defiance, “Yes, daddy.” It makes his cock twitch when you say it like that.

Toji chuckles again. "That was a rhetorical question, babygirl, but I like where your mind’s at." He never intended for you to stop sucking or being quiet, but he’s too delighted to be bothered by it in the least.

After another minute of working until your tongue is almost sore, the heat between your thighs has increased to an intolerable amount, leaving you yearning for more than just the solution to an oral fixation. You weasel a hand down to work through fabric until a fingertip can gather some slick and swirl it around your clit, causing your cunt to clench and throat to moan around Toji’s fingertips. His head turns to look as you do so, jaw slack, and the car swerves a bit after he loses his focus on driving.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna run me off the road.” He grits his teeth and pulls his fingers from your mouth, gently gripping you by the jaw as he takes a moment to correct the steering wheel. Once on another straight path, Toji looks back over at you stroking your clit and presses his thumb past your lips and onto your tongue. You look at him with furrowed brows and moan, drool now spilling down your chin. 

“Screw this,” he mutters, deciding he’s finally had enough. Within a second he’s pulling the car off the side of the road without warning, throwing it into park and undoing your seat belt with haste.

It doesn’t take long for him to have you sitting nice and pretty on his cock, and he’s not complaining about the noise this time.

[skele-bunny]

Dewther rambles? 🥺 Please Aru?

OIGHGIII OKAY

Been mates since they met, but only made it official after a week. They just connected so well, and Dewdrop was silently head over heels. Loved leaving little shells or rocks he found at the depths of the river at Aether's door, but was too nervous to admit it when Aether asked about it.

Dew was NOT the Dewdrop he is now, constantly lurking around corners to watch Aether and just quickly hiding away when Aether would look over to where he was. Tail just slowly wagging if Aether was even mentioned in passing conversation.

Got caught leaving a little pearl at Aether's door, not knowing he was in the kitchen. When he got caught he just jumped so high, tail between his legs. Aether just handed him a rose quartz back for a little trade. Courted him right then and there, and have been inseparable since!

Ohh Dew is so loud with Aether, loves teasing and making fun of him. Still throws things at him wether it's his baphomet plush, pillows, clothes, or straight up a plastic cup—whatever Dew gets his hands on it's meeting Aether LMAO

When Aether has his migraine episodes, Dew will curl around his head or let him lay on him, just warming himself up as it's one of the things that helps settle Aeth's pain. He's so quiet, just slowly stroking through Aether's hair and deflaking his horn bases.

Dew's BPD splits are usually targeted with Aeth, but he's gotten to the point he can recognize Dew splitting or on the verge of one. They always talk it through, though! Wether it's during or after, they're able to push through it. He's started understanding his triggers for them too, and tries being as accommodating as possible to avoid.

Biggest cuddlers or constantly need to feel one another. Wether it's sleepy holds, hand holding, hugs, tail wraps, they're always touching one another when they're near. Not only does it comfort their shared separation anxiety, but also feels so intimate.

Aether is soooo fucking protective of Dewdrop. Knows his firefly can very much so defend himself, has seen it first hand, but doesn't mean he won't take the lead when needed. Someone starting shit? Dew is intercepted and Aether is either de-escalating with just his presence or pushing back against them.

Aannnd Dew does the same! Satan help you if you even dare to make fun of Dewey's mate. He's gotten detention so many times in the abbey for hitting others. Doesn't regret a single one, especially the time he socked a kitchen ghoul in the mouth for teasing Aether about getting a second serving. Knocked out their front fuckin teeth!

Spicy wise? They're either freak or sweet, not really an in-between.

CW - BLOOD PLAY, BONDAGE, NEEDLE PLAY

*Fat used with endearment.

Aether loves going slow with Dewdrop and complimenting his body, hands delicate over his skin and knows just where to press to make Dew tremble or whine. He always makes Dewdrop feel so beautiful and erases so much self-consciousness he has about himself.

LOOVVEE blood and knife play. Dew is insane about the risk and it turns him on so so much. Aether is methodical, knows where to cut and where not to, he works in the OR. Will gladly make designs on Dew's back that are blood bonds or sigils.

Needles are also a big thing for both of them! Aether knows how to make them hurt, purely decoration, or just to get Dew in that pretty subspace.

Another thing Dew bottoms for is bondage. An absolute rope bunny with Aeth as his rigger. Loves simple harnesses all the way to suspension, it's especially fun with Aether fucks him upside down in it.

OhhHhh body worship Aether kink with praise while Dew just admires him... Dew just kissing his belly, grabbing his love handles. "Love how you look. So fucking soft. So beautiful, love how fat you are. Just for me, only for me." Dew getting smothered by Aether's thighs and ass, snuggling in his chest, just kissing everywhere he can. He loves Aether so fucking much dude

Sleepy morning sex is always a thing for them, or just lazy hand/blowjobs. Always just purring and snuggled as close as they can, soft kisses being shared back and forth.

GAH THEYRE IN LOVE

[visualtaehyun]

The Next Prince Q9 (part 1 here)

We got some stills of Charan and Khanin and a selfie of New with Tang Saksit who plays Tatdanai, Khanin's father.

I am Not Ready for the early-chapter emotional scenes related to Khanin's dad, some of which they likely shot today. I am Extra Not Ready after both director P'Aof and acting coach P'Den praised New for his acting 🥹

- New: "It's a Q that drained me sooo much. Keeping on fightinggg 💪🏻" - P'Aof: "Amazingly done, managed to make me cry toooooo 😘" - P'Den: "You were so good. Every single one of us at the monitor burst into tears! Get a lot of rest~"

- P'Den: "Here's the thing: NuNew, you made me cry. After the cut I just had to run and comfort him! I could use the word 'talented' endlessly, really. Next Q let's keep fighting on together, talented boy~ 🥰" - story via his IG, he used the song Cry Me A River as audio lmao

P'Den also mentioned tomorrow's Q which seems to include some demanding acting for P'Zee 👁👁

"So cute! Get a good night's sleep~ Today was NuNew's day, tomorrow you're in for it, Zee Pruk 😁"

+ bonus: boba eyes PeukPeuk

[colderdrafts]

if it's not a bother, can we know Morgan's reaction to us saying:

to me, your eyes are beautiful! I like to look at them and laugh if you want, but they give me a comfortable feeling, even when you act crazy, they shine in a way that takes my breath away, beautiful like jewels..

Let's say Morgan did something good that deserves praise and we being nice to them, R would probably never say such praise but humor me pls lol

You're never bothering me, and sorry I'm so away lately 💙

Careful hitting them with sentences like that, they might just return the favor. If this came out of nowhere they'll probably wonder if you've eaten too many fermented berries, but realizing you mean it would leave them wordless for a second. Then they'll tease the hell out of you, lmao. Is that so? Maybe I should act 'crazy' more often.

Thanks for the inspo, I did a lil thing below the cut. In which Morgan for once does a good thing on your request, despite being a red-eyed menace.

"It sure is going fast," you comment, arms out to help you keep balance.

Morgan hums in agreement. "It's been raining a lot more than usual lately. The rivers here tend to overflow."

As proof of the statement, the dense forest you're currently passing through offers no easy routes to follow. It's spring. Presumably a combination of rain and melting of snow has been a contributing factor to the abundance of inaccessible flowing water.

You've braved the weather so far, both you and Morgan's clothes still damp from your last exposure to the elements. You follow the river as best as you can, but presumably you'd be unable to cross the deeper waters without being swept up by the current.

Instead, you cross over the outsprings from said river. Though even here it's not easy to stay partially dry when wading through. It has evolved from discarding your boots, to discarding your pants, to considering simply giving up - but that would mean an even longer trek back, and Morgan loathes staying in one place for longer than absolutely necessary.

You look back at your companion once you've reached somewhat dry land again. Morgan wades through the same area you passed easily enough, reaching shore just after you. Their eight long legs gives them an annoying, and very much unfair advantage in this terrain.

"Would you please just let me carry you?" Morgan complains once again, impatiently watching you dry off and pull on your pants. "My legs are long enough, and your added weight will keep me better grounded here."

You start putting your boots back on and glance up at them. Red eyes are staring into you, and you can feel their gentle pull writhing under your skin, trying to encourage you to change your mind. You quickly shake off the sensation to shut them out.

"And your legs will continue to do just fine without me," you retort, ignoring the exasperated sigh Morgan heaves. You finish up and get to your feet. "Let's just move aroun-"

A loud yell from further up the river interrupts you. Morgan steps close to you instantly and looks around, disregarding the argument in favor of locating the threat. Another yell follows, but this time it's high-pitched, not unlike the yell of a child. Looking up, you find the source of the sound.

Rapidly flowing downstream, swept by the river, you see a pair of feather-clad arms waving around in the air, desperately trying to break the surface to breathe. The strong current is flowing over the small body of the child, forcing them along.

Further up the river you see a bigger bird-person giving chase, yelling in distress.

Morgan chitters and squints at the display, curling a pedipalp around your shoulder. "We should move."

You stare up at them, incredulous. "We should help!"

Morgan continues staring dead ahead a while, analyzing the pair. Then, their stoic expression cracks in a vicious smile.

"Well. We shouldn't get in the way of a hunter's noble quest, should we?" Morgan mocks and laughs lowly.

You look at the adult again and, true enough, a spear is firmly attached to his back, jumping around along his movements. If he's a hunter, you'd do well to be out of the way.

But, hunter or not, there is a child in danger. And he's rapidly approaching where you're standing. Morgan might be contend to let him float you by, but you're certainly not.

You think it through. You're no help going in after the kid yourself, you'll be swept under just the same. But if you want Morgan to do anything, you'll have to do so fast. You grit your teeth, prepared to strike a quick bargain.

"Get the kid safely out of the water, and I'll let you carry me until we're out of the forest," you state, glaring up at them.

Morgan cogs their head at you, and smiles wickedly. "I do adore your proposals. Hm. Make it until we reach the mountain."

"That's a day more away!" you protest.

Morgan casually glances up the river, watching the kid's fast approach. "So it is. And it's my final offer. The wet bird has almost landed."

You pinch the bridge of you nose and groan. Of course they'd take advantage of this. "Fine! Until the mountain. Just do something!"

Morgan eyes you again. Purposely drawing out their response. "Do you promise?"

The kid's almost there. You pull at Morgan's pedipalp in urgency, dragging them toward the river. "Yeah, sure, whatever, just grab him now!"

Morgan sweeps past you and strikes their legs into the water, barely making the split second the kid would have passed you by. Thankfully, their aim is true, and they have the kid securely grasped by the collar of his shirt. Morgan hisses, grips the ground beneath them for better purchase, and pulls.

In one smooth curve, the kid is hauled out of the water, and dragged onto the bank of the river. Morgan leaves him lying there, flat on the ground, and steps back over to you.

"Can we please go now?" They ask impatiently, shaking off the excess water. For good measure, they also wipe off their claws in the wet grass.

You ignore them, and quickly kneel by the child's side to check on him. It's a little hard to tell his specific age, but with his small size you presume he's very young, not even close to adolescent. He's not moving, so you put your head to his chest to listen for his breath. Though, a second later, he starts coughing roughly, and you move back to give him some space.

Another shrill yell follows, and you look up to see an adult male bird, presumably the kid's father, rushing towards you. His eyes are trained on his lost child gasping for air. Morgan instinctively hisses at his rapid approach. With practiced ease, you put a hand out in front of them, before they can make the situation worse.

The man falls on his knees next to his child, palming over his face, cooing and babbling apologies. Completely disregarding the potential enemy in the face of crisis. Reassured his son is alright, he holds him tight, and stares at you with beady eyes. "I - I told him to be careful and - blue moons. I'm so relieved. Thank you."

Morgan's hands find your shoulders shortly thereafter, a soft but firm grip. They're not keen to hang around too much longer. But this might just be an opportunity. Maybe Morgan should have a taste of what happens when you try to do good.

"Don't thank me, I didn't do anything," you explain, pointing over your shoulder at your arachnid companion, hovering inches behind you. "They got your kid out of the water."

The parent frowns and looks up at Morgan then, visibly struggling to meet whatever facial expression Morgan has decided is appropriate to wear. You don't blame him. Taking their agitated stare head-on is not for those faint of heart.

The parent subtly leans his child behind him as this goes on, while his son grips his shirt tightly. Nevertheless, the parent nods in acknowledgement, and when he speaks it almost sounds sincere. "Thank you, then."

Morgan sneers at his gratitude. "You're fortunate my sentry still has a soft heart."

With that, they promptly lift you off the ground, and sets you on their back, quickly moving away from the couple remaining on the bank of the river. Your protest is ignored, and you're have to hold on to Morgan's torso for balance as they rapidly leave the scene. Suppose that's all the interaction you'll get out of them.

"That was good," you say after a bit, watching the forest slowly pass you by. Morgan remains quiet, wading through the deep, overflown waters with relative ease. You keep your feet resting high on their sides to keep dry. "Hey. You did a good thing."

"You made me save the child of a hunter. He'll grow up learning the best ways to kill me," Morgan chuckles darkly. "I only made sure we'll have another enemy to worry about."

"So, what, you would have just let a kid drown?" you challenge.

Morgan shrugs. "They would have done the same to me."

"You don't know that."

"I do, actually. My eyes are red, sentry," Morgan counters. "Generally my kind's not someone they wish to save. But especially not someone like me."

"And why does 'red' have to mean anything in this?" you ask. "It's just a darn color."

Morgans hand's absentmindedly trace over your arms around their torso as they think for a beat. You've half a mind to move them, but the warmth of their hands are strangely soothing.

"Truthfully, it makes no difference. You're right. It's just a color. But common-folk seem to believe that it makes me exceptionally nasty," Morgan explains. Then they chuckle. "Well, they're right, of course. So maybe there's some logic to it."

"No logic, except whatever's been cooked up in that frazzled mind of yours," you argue. "I don't think your eyes do that."

Morgan chitters. "Then I'm eager to hear; what do you think?"

"I think your eyes are great, actually," you state. "Pretty when you're calm, pretty fucking scary when you need them to be."

Morgan turns their head to stare at you for a second. Then they splutter, falling into genuine laughter. Their laugh is raspy and low, causing the hairs on the back of you neck to stand on end. "My dearest. You think my eyes are pretty?"

You groan and tug at their hair. "Not what I meant. Don't let it get to your head."

"Oh, it's already deep, deep in there. This will be with us forever," Morgan purrs, leaning back into your hand. Then they focus on you, a more calm look in their eye. You find the red shining there again, obnoxiously alluring as always. "But just so I know for sure. Could you come a little closer and tell me again?"

You grab their chin and forcibly turn their face away from you. "Focus on the road, you weirdo. You're driving."

"And I think your eyes are pretty, too," Morgan teases, and resumes your journey through the wet forest.

[dreadfutures]

I hold in two hands:

everything is going pretty well. I am slowly making friends and deepening friendships IRL in my dream town. relationship w my family is the best it may have ever been in my life. my job is easy and satisfying and eases my conscience and I enjoy it. i am getting back into physical art. I call my best friend from grad school every week. I play DND with my best friends from college every week. I play Pathfinder with a group I've been with for six years every week. I have every cuisine imaginable available to me, there is every kind of hang out spot nearby, transit is cheap, and I'm under very little pressure in life. I have improved my digital art over the years and have the honor of being commissioned to draw people's OCs! I have a story I've been writing for four years that I am still passionate about and invested in with a dedicated readership of 100 or so people every update. I get to participate in exchanges of art and writing about fandoms I love, with people who love them. I have been able to introduce good people looking for communities to good communities full of good people. I have been able to run a (so far!) successful large fan event to celebrate all of that. I have so much I'm looking forward to, games and music and movies and books, travel, visits, museums...

and

I am tired. Depression is coming back for me like the tide and with it comes this irrational unsteadiness. Where things have been certain, solid, steady, and where I've been unconcerned and happy, I'm finding myself insecure, jealous, shy, uncertain, self deprecating, self conscious, unconfident, unhappy. everything I make I question. I can't help but feel the weight of all the things I usually brush off as meaningless. There's no amount of rationalization, reassurance, or interactions that can turn that around.

It just is. Both. All at once. For now.

I am very grateful for what I have. I really am. but I will never not be depressed, you know? Like, if I'm being pulled under by a rip current every few months, at least the water is warm now. And it'll let me out eventually I guess, as it always does, and I'll find my footing again. It's easier to find footing again and not drown than it was 5, 7, 10 years and many prescriptions ago. but right now I just wish I could find a therapist to have an outlet to express, process, experience those feelings safely with another human being who won't be affected by it all. It has been a long time since I've been the kind of childish person who goes crying and wailing about my insecurities to people in search of validation and praise that I would then reject. But watching other people do it makes me wish I wasn't so far along on the self awareness journey and could be so freely pathetic again. Because that behavior does receive so much validation, pretty intensely, lots of preening comments that feel morbidly good and bad simultaneously, you know? But it feels better than silence, even if it comes with the shame of publicly begging for attention and validation lmao. But better than silence is also just having a place to express stupid feelings and cry a river about petty things and then be able to sigh or laugh it off and put those feelings in broader contexts and move on without ruining my life and relationships.

I just fucking wish they didn't all set their appointments by telehealth only, and in the middle of my goddamn work day.

I don't want a room mate again but I wish I didn't live alone. I wish I just had someone who got me, who sees me and loved me, in the same room, day and night. I miss the person who inspired DPDF a lot these days. they weren't the first person I had that connection with and they don't have to be the last. and our connection isn't the same anymore but it's still precious and it's hard being apart but that's how it has to be. There will be others. it'll be fine. someday maybe. in the meantime it's cooling down from this heat wave and there are lunches to attend and weird driveway artisan shows to sniff out and cafes to write in and cute outfits to wear and things to learn and I'll play more good games and I'll get my hair done special and at some point the positive feelings will catch up again and maybe I'll be able to enjoy them fully like a normal human being. at some point I'll blink awake in the middle of a conversation and realize I'm feeling happy and clear again. that's how it always happens and in the meantime I hold both of these feelings in separate hands at once. Tangible. If I say out loud that they're both real then they both can be, again.

[chemicalarospec]

my dad invited me and my brother to watch Firefly with him and it's actually really good??? (idk why I expected it not to be-- probably because the last time I tried one of his old Spaceship Shows (the one with the puppets) it was too sexist and too slow to get through.) First of all it should have been ILLEGAL for them to not have a single Chinese character in this show, but as a Chinese person I do like the aesthetics of the show and how they mashed up traditional Western and Chinese styles. The pronunciation is hilariously bad (IF ONLY THEY HAD A CHINESE ACTOR, HUH), but I like it because it's funny. (Me and my brother do laugh out loud every time.)

But the characters are actually so good?? First of all we got THREE FOUR (I didn't count right lmao) female main characters, no smurfette principal here! One of them doesn't even have any implied romance so far okay technically River doesn't but I was thinking of Kaylee and she has a crush on Simon lol. Kaylee, my favorite -- I LOVE how her appreciation of girly feminine stuff is portrayed as something that should NOT be mocked and does not negate her more "masculine" role as the mechanic and that she can nerd out WHILE being feminine. There's also how Mal, the main character, and Zoe, his first mate, have a longstanding and deep connection that's entirely platonic! Men and women CAN just be friends! Do note, Zoe (who is awesome btw) is married to another man, the pilot who is honestly so far the most boring character, and Mal is interested in Inara. Who, speaking of, I also love how so far Inara's profession as a (unionized it seems!) sex worker is treated with respect. River is the most ~okay~ in terms of sexist writing as a weak and mysterious and mentally unwell but sexy woman, but since she's not the only woman it doesn't feel like a big deal. (I feel like she's going to become more grounded, at least I hope so because I want to see more of her personality!) Misogynistic comments are challenged when made! Of course the writing isn't perfect but it's a LOT better than what I expected (and if a modern show didn't do the things I'm praising here I would be offended btw).

Also River's brother Simon is a complete dandy (I think it would be stereotyping for me to call him gay lmao), I love that for him. Episode one he bleeds from his mouth like a dying c-drama boy-- I just had a Vision of the resemblance and now I can't get it out of my head, all he needs to do his open his eyes super wide and then he'd be a dying c-drama boy. He cares for his sister so much, it's super sweet even though he REALLY sucks at dealing with psychosis(? would that be the term to describe her episodes?). Book is an instant icon of course, he's just there forcibly being the moral compass lol. Christianity in space smh. Despite being mr sexism I also love Jayne's character - he's funny (love a guy who's always trying to kill) and the question of his loyalty is intriguing. Mal is a kind of a Generic Protagonist Man but his backstory is solid enough that means his brooding attitude actually makes sense. The "Badger" side character is funny/interesting too, and my bro says he looks like Captian Sparklez haha. (Wash (Zoe's husband) is there. Sometimes he's funny.)

Going back to the design, I am partial to Victorian or whatever aesthetics, so I love how they threw that in along with the cowboy thing, and there's a lot of individual pieces merging Chinese aesthetics with that that I think do a great job. It speaks to my mixed heart <3. The costuming is actually so fun (mostly speaking to crowd scenes), so many characters get to wear distinctive outfits . Also kind of Killjoys vibes because they say "shiny" haha. I respect how space shots have no environment noise, only cowboy music lollll. Visual effects are interesting; you can always Tell but it does seem to me the best they could do at the time.

Wow this post turned out longer than I expected. So a recommendation for Firefly I guess! Forewarning, the parts with the "Reavers" are pretty dark/grotesque -- actually, there's significant violence throughout the show, the Reavers are just the worst.

[orions-beltloops]

apparently I’m the most incorrect doctor who fan of all time bc I just watched silence in the library and forest of the dead and I fucking hated it. actually the first ep was mostly fine but the second one I didn’t care for. River Song fills me with fucking rage god I genuinely can’t stand her character. she was so annoying. and the fact that she’s probably gonna come back??? I wanna scream. but I looked up the eps to see if other people liked them and apparently they’re like beloved episodes. yikes for me. also ig this was like moffat introing what his writing for doctor who was gonna be like so I’m not looking forward to it now I’m kinda afraid I’m not gonna enjoy his style. and I loved a lot of things within the episodes and I agree with a lot of the points people praised, but I left the episode really unhappy. I think I just really like what the first few seasons have been and the stuff next just might not be my vibe which is disappointing bc I’ve really really loved finally watching Doctor who. I think it’s so funny to post my takes on this shit like fifteen years too late lmao. anyway I’m probably gonna get unfollowed by fellow doctor who fans for this sorry guys. but also if you disliked these episodes hit me up so I feel validated you’re correct and I love you.

[altocat]

Trick or Treat

Behold the sweetfish river running through my beloved hometown. You who seek the Golden Land, follow its path downstream in search of the key.

As you travel down it, you will see a village. In that village, look for the shore the two will tell you of. There sleeps the key to the Golden Land.

The one who obtains the key must then travel to the Golden Land in accordance with these rules.

On the first twilight, offer the six chosen by the key as sacrifices. On the second twilight, those who remain shall tear apart the two who are close. On the third twilight, those who remain shall praise my noble name. On the fourth twilight, gouge the head and kill. On the fifth twilight, gouge the chest and kill. On the sixth twilight, gouge the stomach and kill. On the seventh twilight, gouge the knee and kill. On the eighth twilight, gouge the leg and kill. On the ninth twilight, the witch shall revive, and none shall be left alive. On the tenth twilight, at journey's end, you shall attain to the power of the Golden Land's treasures, once and for the last time.

The witch shall praise the wise and bestow four treasures. One shall be all the gold from the Golden Land. One shall be the resurrection of all the dead souls. One shall be the resurrection of the love that was lost. One shall be to put the witch to sleep for all time.

Solve this riddle and you'll be given candy too.

-- BEATRICE the Golden

Hell yeah lol Are we getting THIS spoopy this early? Let's gooooo lmao

[brujacopal]

it’s a conversation about sexual assault and physical violence for some and that makes sense why people would consider that as a worst case scenario. but it is actually a conversation about global misogyny. sooo many ways you could take this, i have so many arguments and rebuttals that easily come to mind lol.

why would i, as a woman think it is desirable to be with someone who was socialized in various ways to believe i am a lesser or inferior human being.. in a survival situation. (even a white woman is far more desirable to me than a man of my own race)

i don’t see any women arguing that men would maul us on sight like a bear might lol. so bringing up (sexual & physical) assault statistics based on strangers is useless, that’s a cute attempt at a gotcha lmao, but i cite those statistics all the time as someone who was attacked by strangers and the statistics for it are still higher than one might think. i think it’s reasonable for people to bring up sexual assault because men are socialized to place a much higher value on sex than women. (which is why they might still have it on their mind in this case, whereas a woman would likely think she has bigger things to worry about.) also, once you know this man and he doesn’t attack you on the spot, he is no longer a stranger. you don’t have the option of leaving him (that’s choosing the bear), so that is the definition of someone close to you. this is also about what men would do if they knew for a fact they’d get away with it. this is already enough for many women to choose the bear. but let’s put that aside. no, i am not confident that the average man would assault me in some way overnight. men’s subjugation of us is more insidious than that. this debate is not about calling every single man on earth malicious. it is about how malice and ignorance make no difference in this situation (and on a collective level).

so. to begin with, we already know that men are not primed for catastrophe.

women survive longer during famine and epidemics. our bodies are hardier, we are more likely to outlive men through starvation. we have stronger immune systems from our estrogen, which matters in a situation of drinking from river water. let’s say we caught food, a fish. one fish. one could totally see that a man would reason he should get a bigger part of the fish, or even the whole fish this time. men need to consume more calories than women. if we were hunting, a man might insist he especially needs these calories so he could hunt for us. however, he would be better suited to sharing half the food with a woman because men are inferior hunters. they don’t have the endurance for distance. they are more likely to starve especially due to the lack of fat on their bodies, so they should conserve energy and focus on foraging and taking care of the shelter instead.

now let’s set aside physiobiological differences. men are simply not team players. women are socialized to be more nurturing and communal. think of a little girl being given a baby doll as soon as she’s old enough to play with toys. [boys are given toys associated with aggression, competition, and violence - toys that are “things”. girls are given toys that are associated with nurturing and domestic skill (as well as related to physical attractiveness) - toys that are relational.] this contributes to girls’ early age development, we develop empathy and social processing skills due to this. we care for the collective despite receiving much less praise and rewards for it. this plays out in both the workplace and home life/families.

think of a man who thinks he knows better than you do. this is the kind of insidious misogyny i’m talking about. a man may not display unadulterated hatred towards women, yet still believes they need to be protected (protected from who btw?). in a survival situation this contributes to men not being team players. he believes his decisions are the right decisions despite a woman’s input. this contributes to why men are deeply offended and defensive when rejected or disagreed with. why would i, as a woman think it is desirable to be in a survival situation with someone who could drastically change their opinion of me because of a mere disagreement? and what would happen if we explicitly discovered my decision was the better one? and why would i want to be in this situation with someone who becomes very emotional because of rejection, clouding their judgement towards the goal of this situation: us both surviving.

in a hypothetical survival situation, stuck in a forest with a man, the results are just not desirable. men think they are the more valuable counterpart, they believe they are smarter than they actually are (male hubris, female humility), men are less likely to understand what it actually means to be part of a team and to care for each other. and men are less likely to survive in a situation like this, regardless of any other data.

[rocklover719]

Zora Dating Headcanons: Ledo 🐟💚⚒️

Big thanks to @thezoraprince / @hey-llison for inspiring me to write this! I don’t make much content but if you’re looking for more Zora content, please check out their blog!! (I’m literally constantly sending them asks lmao)

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Ledo is definitely outspoken and has ambition. I mean, who else calls out to a stranger from a river?

He is also a very disciplined Individual, as we can see from how highly he speaks about Fronk and Dento. Ledo is someone who takes respect seriously, and is a hard worker by nature.

He has a humorous side to him! He has so many running jokes he likes to involve you in. Anytime he counts something around you he raises his voice and goes “AND A OOOOONEE, AND A TWOOOO… THREEEE..” and so on. He does this just to make you giggle or roll your eyes, because he finds it cute when you give him even the slightest reaction.

Ledo is a craftsman by nature, and as such he would enjoy giving you things he makes.

As he hones his skills taught by Dento, he would practice making different intricate things such as jewelry or small luminous stone carvings when he isn’t working on any big projects for the domain. He would gift these items to you, hoping you’d like them. He might be a bit embarrassed over the slight flaws, maybe even going as far as to apologize and point them out to you. Of course, you’d hardly notice them and you don’t care if there are little flaws here and there because…well, he made this for you! Why wouldn’t you love it?

He would definitely be shy over those little imperfections but hearing your praise would make him 10x more motivated to keep harnessing his craft. In fact, you can bet your tail fins that this Zora is already sketching out each and every anniversary and holiday gift he has in mind just be BE SURE it will be perfect when the time comes!

He would definitely appreciate your company while he works. Some stonework is very tedious, but just having you sitting by him and watching him makes him enjoy the process even more. You two would share light conversation and maybe hum a song together. Bring him some lunch on the job and this Zora would be head over fins for you in a heartbeat!

As every Zora does, he loves to swim. Especially with you. I feel he would casually laze around the rivers with you, floating. Maybe some small splash wars, or observing local rock formations. I could also see him hiding in any river weed or foliage just to mess with you, as his green scales camouflage him. His favorite game is to hide against foliage and see if you can spot him. His golden eyes watching as you look around yourself and calling out to him, as he tries not to laugh.

Ledo is definitely a geology guy. Don’t even look at me and say he isn’t! He would gift you rocks he finds interesting, especially smooth river stones. Perhaps he would try to find one that matches your outfit or hair color, even eye color if he can find it! It’s definitely his way of trying to woo you subtly.

I feel Ledo is an affectionate Zora, and wouldn’t mind some appropriate PDA. Maybe not around Dento, as Ledo would try his best to be as respectful as possible… but this guy would love holding your hand whenever he can.

Chances are, unless you are Zora, Gerudo, or Goron (or maybe a tall Rito), you are shorter than him. And he will definitely tease you about that now and then. He just thinks its cute, even if you are a tall person. Zora appear to be at least 7 feet to me, so even if you are a tall human or hylian…. You’re short bro. He wouldn’t take it too far though, just enough to get a cute pout out of you.

Ledo seems like the type of person who handles arguments very well. He would do his best to communicate calmly, but if things escalate he is quick to back away and put a pin in it. He doesn’t want to yell or get angry, especially at you. He would want his space, maybe seeking out Dento or Fronk for some relationship advice. I could see him giving you the silent treatment in extreme cases, but only because he doesn’t know how to speak to you without the argument getting worse and he doesn’t want to snap and say something he doesn’t mean. Eventually, he’d come around and ask to talk to you privately. With most Zora, communication and honesty is important. He knows every sea has its storms, and he makes the best effort he can to work with you to solve any problems.

I feel like the main thing that would really be a deal breaker for him is if you disrespected his craft or his mentors. He had so much respect for his Master Dento, and his senior apprentice Fronk. If you were to talk badly about them, he would not let that slide.

Overall, dating Ledo would be fun, respectful, and peaceful. But it would definitely have its moments of mirth and adventure!