#i want to out that lounge in the ocean and float away

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Treading Water Pairing: Saxon Ratliff x Girlfriend!Reader

The pool of the White Lotus Resort after midnight was a different world. The daytime chatter of tourists was gone, replaced by the hush of the ocean breeze and the distant clink of glasses from the resort’s private lounges. The water was still, the moonlight casting silver ripples across its surface, and the air was thick with the kind of heat that never truly left, even after the sun had set.

It felt stolen, like you weren’t supposed to be here.

Neither was Saxon.

Yet here you were—waist-deep in water, his hands gripping your hips beneath the surface, his chest brushing against yours, his eyes flickering between mischief and something darker.

“What if your mother finds out?” you taunted, voice low as you traced a single finger down his damp shoulder.

Saxon exhaled a sharp breath, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “Then she’ll make some passive-aggressive comment over breakfast and pretend she didn’t hear you moaning my name in the middle of the night.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, but you refused to let him see it. You tilted your head, nails skimming lightly down his chest. “That’s assuming I do.”

His smirk faltered for a half-second—barely noticeable, but enough for you to catch it. You had him.

He recovered quickly, stepping in closer, leaving almost no space between your bodies. The water made everything feel weightless, like you were floating between a dream and a mistake.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Saxon murmured, his voice softer now, rougher, his fingers sliding down your spine.

You let your lips graze his jaw, not quite kissing him, just enough to feel his breath catch. “You love it.”

A slow chuckle vibrated against your skin, his hands slipping lower, pressing you flush against him. “I love it when you quit pretending you don’t want this as much as I do.”

Your fingers curled into his hair, pulling him in just enough that your lips brushed—a breath away, torturously close—but still, you didn’t close the gap. You wanted to make him wait, make him chase, make him feel what you felt every time he whispered something in your ear at the dinner table just to see you squirm under his mother’s disapproving gaze.

“Beg for it,” you teased, barely above a whisper.

Saxon’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. For once, he didn’t have a cocky response. Just the quiet rise and fall of his breath, his hands skimming over wet skin, the tension between you stretched so tight it might just snap—

His mouth was on yours, deep and impatient, tongue sweeping against yours in a way that was more desperate than smug. His hands slid down, gripping beneath your thighs, lifting you slightly so your legs wrapped around him. He groaned into your mouth, stumbling backward until his back hit the pool wall, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Didn’t stop biting, licking, sucking like he was making up for lost time.

Water splashed between you as he dragged you even closer, kissing you like he needed you, like something in him would unravel if he didn’t. His hands roamed, exploring skin damp with chlorine, thumbs tracing the curves of your waist, nails scratching lightly as he tilted his head to kiss you deeper, dirtier.

You gasped into his mouth when he pressed you against the ledge, holding you there, teeth tugging at your bottom lip like he wanted to ruin you right here, in the middle of the goddamn pool.

“Saxon—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, but his voice was too wrecked for his usual arrogance. He was unraveling, falling apart beneath your touch, beneath the way you were rocking against him. Hard. Desperate. A collision of heat and restraint unraveling all at once. He groaned into your mouth, hands gripping, pulling, deepening—like he was making up for every moment he had to pretend you weren’t the only thing on his mind all night.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, the water lapping against your bodies, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

Saxon exhaled a laugh, low and dazed. “That’s more like it.”

You smirked, running a thumb over his swollen bottom lip. “I’m just getting started.”

Then—a noise.

The shuffle of footsteps on the nearby stone pathway.

You both froze.

The spell snapped, the sharp contrast of reality hitting as Saxon rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard, his fingers still curled around your hips.

“Shit,” he whispered, grinning like a devil, like he knew exactly what kind of trouble you’d just caused. “We should probably move.”

You swallowed, still dazed, still feeling the ghost of his mouth on your skin. But you smirked, running your fingers through his damp hair before whispering—

“Not yet.”

And just like that, he was kissing you again.

[honeydippedfiction]

18 from smut Joe x Angel please

i really hope this is what you wanted nonnie! It's filthy but sooo good🥵

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#18. "fuck, sweetheart." they smear it all over their lips, breathing heavy, and lean down to kiss you with it!!? pairs with #17. maintaining eye contact as they gather the wetness from between your legs with their fingers and they're sucking them off with a satisfied hum.

Joe Burrow x Angel

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The ocean stretched out in a shimmering sheet of sapphire and silver, reflecting the late morning sun as it climbed higher over the horizon. A soft breeze danced through the palm trees, rustling their fronds like an easy whisper. The villa sat perched on a quiet bluff, half hidden by lush green foliage, its wraparound porch opening up to a view that felt more like a painting than real life.

Inside, the floor-to-ceiling glass doors were wide open, letting in the salty air and the occasional call of distant seabirds. Joe Burrow stepped barefoot onto the sun-warmed stone patio, a ceramic mug of coffee in hand, still wearing the LSU basketball shorts he liked to sleep in.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

Angel looked up from her lounge chair, smiling over the top of her oversized sunglasses. Her skin glowed in the morning light, warm and radiant against the soft ivory cushion beneath her. She wore a breezy linen cover-up, her braids pulled up in a high knot, gold hoops catching the light as she turned her head.

“I did,” she said, stretching lazily. “Probably the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. Might be the ocean air.”

“Might be the wine,” he said with a smirk, sitting down beside her and brushing a kiss onto her shoulder.

They both laughed, remembering the bottle of local red they’d shared the night before on the beach—blankets spread on the sand, toes dug into the earth, the sky ablaze with stars. That had become their rhythm here: slow mornings, sun-soaked afternoons, and quiet, wine-drenched evenings under the stars. The NFL offseason had finally given Joe a break, and the two of them had slipped away from the mainland, seeking peace in the hush of the Caribbean.

Joe leaned back, letting the sun warm his chest. “I still can’t believe this place is real.”

Angel reached for her drink—fresh pineapple juice with a hint of ginger—and gave him a playful side-eye. “Well, it should be, with what that NFL contract is looking like.”

He laughed again, and she grinned, loving the way he always took her teasing in stride. Despite his rising fame and success, he was still Joe from Athens, Ohio. Still her Joe.

°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°

Later that afternoon, they walked hand-in-hand down a narrow trail that led to a secluded beach cove, hidden from the usual tourist paths. The sun hung high, casting golden light across the water. Angel kicked off her sandals and ran toward the surf, laughing as the waves chased her ankles. Joe followed, tossing his towel onto the sand.

“Race you to that rock!” she shouted over her shoulder, already sprinting.

Joe grinned, jogging after her, knowing she’d win—she always did. When they finally reached the dark lava rock jutting from the shoreline, they collapsed against it, both breathless and smiling.

“You really don’t take it easy on me,” he said, brushing damp curls from her forehead.

“Where’s the fun in easy?” she replied, tugging him in for a quick kiss.

They spent the next hour floating lazily in the shallow surf, the tide lapping against their skin as if the island itself was trying to lull them into complete serenity. When hunger finally pulled them back to shore, they strolled into the nearby fishing village for lunch. The locals knew them by now—“The quarterback and his girl,” a quiet curiosity to some, just another pair of vacationers to most.

They ate at a little beachside shack with painted wooden tables and no menu—just whatever the owner had caught that morning. Angel beamed when the server brought out a whole grilled snapper, smothered in island spices, served alongside coconut rice and fried plantains.

“Okay,” she said, eyes wide as she took a bite, “I officially need this recipe.”

Joe dug into his plate with enthusiasm. “This might be the best thing I’ve eaten all year.”

Angel leaned in, whispering, “Even better than your mom’s pumpkin pie and snickers salad?”

He gave her a faux-wounded look. “You trying to start a family war?”

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the villa’s terrace, the two of them curled up together on a hammock strung between two trees. Joe wrapped an arm around Angel, her head resting comfortably against his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat slower now, more at ease.

“We don’t get many moments like this,” Angel said softly, her voice nearly lost in the sound of the waves. “Just us. No schedule. No cameras. No noise.”

Joe kissed the top of her head. “I know. That’s why I want to remember every second of it.”

Above them, the sky blushed pink, fading into lavender and finally, deep indigo. The island hushed for the night, the air cool now, touched with the scent of salt and distant bonfires.

For a little while longer, they could stay in this soft world, wrapped in quiet luxury and each other’s arms, far from the pressure and pace of their usual lives. Here, under the stars, Joe Burrow wasn’t the quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals. He was just a man in love, spending the offseason exactly where he wanted to be—by Angel’s side.

°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°

The midday sun was high and golden, casting a honeyed sheen over everything it touched. The villa’s infinity pool mirrored the sky—blue and wide and endless—blurring at the far edge where it met the sea. Somewhere in the distance, a lazy steel drum rhythm floated up from the beach, mingling with the gentle hush of the waves.

Angel reclined on a sun chair, dark sunglasses resting low on her nose, a book open in her lap but long since forgotten. She wasn’t reading—not really. Not when her view was this good.

Joe was in the pool, neck-deep in the water, lazily swimming from one end to the other. His movements were slow and unhurried, a man completely at ease. She tilted her head, studying him with a soft smile playing on her lips. His skin, once a cooler tone at the start of their trip, had darkened under the sun’s steady attention—now kissed with a warm, golden tan that seemed to suit him. He looked healthier. More relaxed. Happy.

She let her gaze linger on the way the sunlight gleamed off the droplets sliding down his back when he paused at the edge. His hair, damp and pushed back, curled slightly at the ends. There was something about the way he moved in the water, confident but unbothered, like he belonged there.

Joe glanced up then, and their eyes met across the patio. A slow grin tugged at his lips.

“You staring, babe?” he called, voice thick with that teasing drawl she loved.

Angel lifted her sunglasses with one finger, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe I am. What about it?”

Joe chuckled, tilting his head just enough for the sun to catch his sharp jawline. “Just sayin’. If the roles were reversed, you’d be calling me out.”

“Mm,” she hummed, closing her book entirely now and setting it aside. “That’s true. But you’re not the one in this bikini.”

His smile widened. “Trust me, I’ve noticed.”

That made her laugh—a low, melodic sound that floated through the heat. She stood, stretching in a slow, cat-like motion that made Joe’s breath catch just slightly in his throat. The bikini she wore—a deep rust color that popped beautifully against her skin—fit like it had been made just for her. She moved with an effortless kind of grace, and Joe, for all his discipline on the field, never had the slightest control over the way he looked at her.

Angel padded across the warm stone deck, her hips swaying, and came to sit at the edge of the pool. She dipped her legs into the water, sighing softly at the cool touch against her calves.

Joe swam over, resting his arms on the ledge beside her. Water dripped from his shoulders, catching in the light like glass beads.

“You sure you don’t want to get in?” he asked, voice low now, more intimate.

Angel smiled down at him, brushing a stray curl off her cheek. “I’m good right here for now. Just enjoying the view.”

“Pretty sure I’m the one who’s enjoying the view,” he murmured, letting his eyes trace the curve of her waist, the way her thighs caught the sunlight, the glint of her belly chain just above the water.

She nudged him playfully with her foot. “Down, quarterback.”

He laughed, catching her ankle gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her foot before letting it go. “Can’t help it. You look unreal.”

Angel’s eyes softened, the playfulness giving way to something more tender. “So do you. This… being here with you like this—it’s been everything.”

Joe pushed himself up slightly, water lapping against his chest. “Yeah. Me too. I needed this—needed you—more than I realized.”

They sat like that for a while, basking in the sun and each other’s presence, their banter giving way to a comfortable quiet. Every now and then, Joe would reach up to touch her knee, or Angel would trail her fingers through the water, brushing against his skin. It wasn’t about grand gestures or big declarations. It was about the ease between them. The way they fit into each other’s space like they’d always belonged there.

Eventually, Joe looked up again, eyes squinting slightly in the bright light. “Come in. I promise to keep my hands to myself… at least for the first minute.”

Angel laughed, shook her head, then slowly slid into the water with a graceful splash, wrapping her arms around his neck as he caught her waist instinctively.

“Liar,” she whispered against his cheek.

He smiled. “Yeah, I know.”

°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°

Angel dipped her legs back out of the water and reached for the silk scrunchie she’d left on the lounger. With practiced ease, she gathered her long braids and twisted them into a high knot on her head, a few golden strands catching the light as they slipped free. Joe watched her the whole time, his gaze never wavering, a quiet intensity settling into his features.

She noticed it. Felt it.

That low, simmering energy that sparked when their banter faded and silence did all the talking. The way the air between them seemed to grow heavier the longer their eyes held. It wasn’t new—but out here, away from the noise of the world, it had nowhere to hide.

She slipped into the water slowly, letting it rise inch by inch over her skin until she was chest-deep. The heat of the sun clashed with the coolness of the pool, making her shiver slightly. Joe was already there waiting, still leaning against the edge with his arms spread wide, but his posture had shifted. He looked… settled. Possessive in the quietest, most subtle way. Like he had no intention of sharing this moment with anyone but her.

Angel swam the short distance to him, her fingers brushing over his stomach beneath the surface as she closed the gap. She didn’t say anything—just looked at him, that familiar mix of curiosity and challenge in her dark eyes.

“You keep looking at me like that,” Joe said, voice low and husky, “and I’m gonna stop playing nice.”

Angel arched a brow. “Playing nice?”

He tilted his head, his smirk slow and deliberate. “You know what I mean.”

She did. She knew exactly what he meant.

Water lapped gently around them as she moved in closer, her body barely touching his, her arms sliding up to rest around his neck. Their faces were inches apart now, breath mingling, tension curling between them like the steam off the patio tiles.

“You’re not the only one staring, Joe,” she murmured, lips just grazing his. “That tan… the way your back looks when you swim across this pool…”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw tightening just slightly. His hands found her hips beneath the water, fingers splaying across her skin like he was grounding himself.

“You trying to drive me crazy, Angel?” he asked, voice rougher now.

She smiled, slow and knowing. “Maybe.”

Joe’s mouth found hers in that moment—firm, unhurried, but full of heat. He kissed her like he had all day. All week. Like the ocean, the sun, the island itself didn’t exist beyond the feel of her body against his. Her fingers tangled in the damp curls at the base of his neck as she deepened the kiss, lips parting, breath catching.

The water moved around them, gentle waves stirred by their closeness. His hands slid from her hips to her lower back, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the quiet restraint he always carried, but here—now—it was fraying.

They broke apart just slightly, foreheads touching, noses brushing.

“God, I missed this,” he whispered.

“We haven’t even left,” she replied, breathless but smiling.

“I don’t mean the island,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “I mean you—like this. All of you. No distractions. No schedule. Just… us.”

Angel softened, one hand cupping his cheek. “Well, you’ve got me.”

Joe’s smile turned softer, but the fire in his eyes didn’t dim. “Yeah,” he said, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I do.”

And for the next long while, neither of them said anything at all. The pool, the sun, the island—all of it faded around them as they lost themselves in each other, suspended in a moment that felt endless.

°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°

The sun had dipped low by the time Angel stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind her like silk. The scent of her body oil—warm vanilla and a hint of jasmine—lingered in the air as she padded barefoot across the polished wood floor of the villa’s master bedroom. She moved with practiced ease, the kind of confidence born from knowing exactlyhow she looked and how it would affect the man waiting for her.

She wore a high-slit skirt in deep bronze, soft and hugging her hips like a secret. Each step she took revealed a flash of her thigh, smooth and glistening under the ambient glow of the setting sun. On top, a gauzy cream blouse draped off one shoulder, the fabric so light it danced when she moved. Gold bangles clinked softly on her wrist, and a single delicate chain rested just above the swell of her chest.

Joe, standing by the window and buttoning the cuffs of his shirt, turned as he heard her approaching—and froze.

“Damn,” he said, under his breath first, then louder as he turned to face her fully. “Damn, Angel.”

She smirked, pausing just in front of the full-length mirror to adjust one earring. “Too much?”

He was already closing the distance between them, his shirt half-tucked, eyes tracing her silhouette with open admiration. “Nah. Just enough to make me rethink leaving the villa.”

She gave him a once-over, biting back a grin as she raked her gaze from his tousled hair down to the crisp, open-collared white shirt he wore. The fabric hugged his shoulders and chest perfectly, but it was the pants that made her tilt her head and really look. Dark tailored slacks, clean lines, and snug in all the right places—especially around his thighs and backside.

“Okay, you talk about me,” she said, stepping up to him and sliding a hand over his hip, “but these pants? I’m pretty sure you had them sewn on.”

Joe laughed, resting his hands on her waist. “Hey, you picked ‘em.”

“I didn’t realize they’d fit like this,” she said, letting her palm run just a little lower before pulling back. “You’re lucky the restaurant’s not far.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips across her jaw, teasing. “You keep talking like that and we’re never making it there.”

Angel turned slightly, adjusting her blouse one last time in the mirror before meeting his eyes through the reflection. “You’re the one who started with the ‘damn, Angel.’ Don’t act brand new now.”

He stepped up behind her, hands resting lightly on her hips as they both looked at each other in the mirror. “I’m just appreciating my girl. Is that a crime?”

She leaned back into him slightly, her voice low and velvety. “Only if you don’t follow through later.”

Joe let out a slow breath, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “You trying to make me lose focus before dinner?”

Angel smiled, turning around in his arms. “Just keeping things interesting.”

Their kiss this time was brief—teasing, charged—but they both knew they were playing a game with a slow burn. The kind of anticipation that came from knowing the night was still young, and they had nothing but time.

As they walked out the door, the sky ablaze in streaks of orange and deep purple, Joe took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“You look beautiful,” he said, tone suddenly softer.

Angel’s heart gave a small flutter, even after all this time. “So do you, babe.”

They walked together toward the terrace path that led down to the beachside restaurant, the sea breeze tugging gently at her skirt and rustling the open collar of his shirt. It wasn’t just a vacation anymore. It was theirs—each moment layered with affection, laughter, desire, and something even deeper.

And the night hadn’t even started yet.

°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°

The restaurant sat at the edge of the beach, half-open to the warm night air, with soft candlelight flickering in lanterns suspended from driftwood beams. The floor was sand, smooth and cool beneath their feet, and the music was gentle—acoustic guitar, mellow and low, blending into the rhythm of the tide just steps away.

Joe and Angel were tucked into a table near the edge, the view behind them endless ocean and moonlight. A string of fairy lights zigzagged overhead, casting a golden glow over everything. It was the kind of place that didn’t need much to be special—just good food, good wine, and the right person across the table.

Angel reached for her wine glass, swirling the deep red liquid thoughtfully before taking a sip. “Okay,” she said, setting it down, “top three dishes of the trip. Go.”

Joe leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he pretended to consider. “Hmm. The grilled lobster from two nights ago—that’s gotta be on the list.”

Angel nodded. “Solid choice. The butter was elite.”

“Then those spicy plantain fritters from the shack yesterday—those slapped.”

“Agreed. What about number three?”

Joe smirked. “Your mango chicken from that night you cooked.”

Angel laughed. “Boy, I said local cuisine.”

“Yeah, and you were here. Local enough.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling as she reached for another sip. “Flattery won’t get you another round of that chicken.”

“I’m playing the long game,” he said, giving her that lazy grin she never quite got used to—even after all this time.

Their banter flowed easily, each comment laced with warmth, each laugh more of a shared language than a reaction. They talked about everything and nothing—how good the breeze felt, how nice it was to not be recognized every five seconds, what new playlist they should queue up next time they lounged in the villa pool.

°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°

By the time dessert arrived—a plate of warm coconut rum cake with caramel drizzle—Angel had a mischievous gleam in her eye that Joe caught immediately. He narrowed his gaze at her as she set down her fork without touching the cake.

“Why do you look like that?” he asked, leaning slightly across the table.

“Like what?” she asked, all innocence, though her lips were already curling into a familiar, teasing smile.

“Like you’re about to start something.”

Instead of answering, Angel stood and, with the grace of someone who absolutely knew the effect she had, slid around the table and into the seat next to him. The hem of her slit skirt shifted as she crossed one leg over the other, exposing just enough thigh to make Joe pause mid-breath.

She leaned into his side, her hand resting lightly on his knee, her lips close to his ear. “Can’t I just want to sit next to my man?”

Joe turned toward her slightly, resting an arm along the back of her chair, trying to play it cool—but his pulse had picked up. “You can. I’m just saying… you have a tell.”

She raised her eyebrows, playful and intrigued. “A tell?”

“Yeah. That look in your eyes when you're thinking something wicked.”

Angel smiled, eyes gleaming under the soft candlelight. “What makes you think I’m not just admiring you?”

“Because you’re touching my leg and pretending it’s casual.”

She laughed quietly, brushing a kiss just beneath his jaw, her lips feather-light. “Maybe I just missed you.”

“We’ve been together all day.”

“I meant like this,” she murmured, fingers trailing slightly higher beneath the table, slow and subtle. “Up close. No distractions. Just me and you… and a very good reason to skip dessert.”

Joe shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat and sending a quick glance around—no one was paying attention. “Angel…”

She looked up at him, expression soft but wickedly amused. “Relax. I’m not gonna get you kicked out of paradise.”

“Not yet,” he muttered, chuckling under his breath as he brought a hand to her bare thigh, squeezing gently. “But you’re making it hard to sit still.”

She nuzzled into his shoulder with a satisfied smile. “Good.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping lower. “Keep that up and we might need to make an early exit.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” she breathed, tilting her head just enough for their lips to brush as she spoke.

Joe’s hand slid further up her thigh, his fingers brushing the edge of her bikini bottom, pausing when he realized there was only bare skin beneath it. He went still, eyes narrowing at her. “Seriously?”

Angel’s smile widened. “Don’t act so surprised. You know I’m not a fan of tan lines.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

She turned her face, catching his lips in a quick kiss, then murmured against them, “Then what are you talking about?”

“This,” he said, sliding his hand further up until she caught her breath, fingers now pressed firmly against where she was already warm and waiting. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Angel.”

“Maybe I wanted to be prepared for anything.” Her breath hitched as his thumb moved in a slow circle.

“For anything,” he echoed, amused.

“For everything,” she corrected, voice catching slightly. “Especially you.”

He bit back a groan, turning his head to scan the area again—no one seemed to have noticed anything. The nearest couple was absorbed in their own conversation, and the server was nowhere in sight. “You’re killing me here.”

“Am I?” she whispered, shifting her hips just enough that his breath caught. “What a way to go.”

Joe shook his head, trying to maintain his composure. “You realize we can’t just…”

“Who says we can’t?” Her lips brushed his ear as she spoke. “No one’s watching. We’ve got the perfect cover.”

He paused, considering, then slowly moved his hand again—she arched into the touch with a soft, satisfied noise.

“Just a little taste?” she murmured, her own hand sliding higher on his thigh, fingertips brushing dangerously close to the fly of his jeans. “To hold us over until we get back to the villa?”

Joe’s resolve crumbled, and he let out a quiet, strained laugh. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

She smiled against his jaw. “You love it.”

“I do,” he admitted, pressing his lips to hers in a brief, heated kiss. “But we need to be careful. Last thing we need is to get banned from the resort.”

Angel’s laugh was a warm puff against his skin. “Then I guess we’ll just have to be very, very good at this.”

Joe’s fingers curled against her, teasing gently. “I thought you said you weren’t going to get me kicked out of paradise.”

“I’m not,” she purred, biting her lower lip as he applied more pressure. “I’m just trying to show you how much fun paradise can be.”

He let out a low, rumbling sound—a cross between a laugh and a groan. “You’re making it pretty damn tempting to find out how much trouble we can get into before someone notices.”

Her breath caught again, hips shifting imperceptibly in her seat. “Is that a challenge, Mr. Burrow?”

“If you want it to be.”

Angel turned her face, capturing his lips in a deep, demanding kiss that left Joe momentarily breathless. When she pulled back, her eyes were dark and playful. “Challenge accepted. But first…”

She reached for her water glass, taking a slow sip before setting it down and leaning back in her seat, all casual grace. “We should probably finish dinner, don’t you think?”

Joe blinked at her, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

She raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “I mean, we did order all this food. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

He stared at her, torn between amusement and disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“Completely,” she said, reaching for her fork and spearing a piece of cake. “Besides, anticipation is half the fun, isn’t it?”

Joe watched her take a bite, the look of pure pleasure crossing her face as the caramel and coconut hit her tongue. He shook his head, laughing quietly. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible?” she repeated, licking a drop of caramel from her lower lip. “Or irresistible?”

He didn’t answer, just leaned in and kissed her deeply, his hand resting possessively on her thigh beneath the table. When he pulled back, he murmured against her lips, “Both.”

Angel’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as Joe stood, pulling her up with him.

°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°°.✩┈┈∘┈˃̶୨୧˂̶┈∘┈┈✩.°

They didn’t make it to the bed.

As soon as they were back in their villa, Joe had his hands on Angel, backing her toward the door the moment it closed behind them. His mouth found hers as he pressed her against the smooth wood, one hand tangled in her hair while the other roamed lower, fingers seeking the slit of her skirt.

Angel arched into him, her hands already working at the buttons of his shirt, her breath catching between kisses. “I thought we were gonna make it to the couch at least,” she managed, a hint of laughter in her voice.

“You were the one teasing me all through dinner,” Joe murmured against her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. “Did you really think we’d make it that far?”

She let out a soft sound, her nails scraping lightly down his back. “I was hoping we wouldn’t.”

With a low growl, Joe lifted her, hands gripping her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist, the skirt riding up effortlessly. Angel gasped as he pressed her more firmly against the door, the hard length of him trapped between them.

“Joe,” she breathed, tightening her legs as his mouth found the swell of her breast above the neckline of her top.

He paused briefly, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. “Tell me this is what you want.”

Angel’s response was immediate, her fingers threading through his hair as she brought his mouth back to hers. “It’s what I’ve wanted all day.”

The words sent a bolt of heat through Joe, and with a swift motion, he turned, carrying her toward the nearby couch. Angel’s laughter was warm against his shoulder, her arms tightening around his neck.

They made it as far as the coffee table before Joe set her down, hands immediately going to the tie at the back of her top. Angel turned, presenting her back to him.

Behind her, Joe let out a low sound of appreciation as he untied the bow, revealing more of her melanated skin inch by inch. “No panties and no bra,” he murmured, fingertips brushing her bare back. “Someone was feeling daring tonight.”

Angel glanced over her shoulder, a sultry smile playing on her lips. “Someone wanted to be ready for anything. Or should I say… anyone?”

Joe’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her back against him as he bent to kiss her shoulder. “You know I have no problem with that kind of preparation.”

She arched into his touch, head falling back against his shoulder. “I know. That’s why I married you.”

His laugh was low and warm near her ear. “Is that the only reason?”

Angel turned in his arms, her top now hanging loosely from her shoulders, caught between them. “One of many,” she murmured, reaching up to pull him into a slow, deep kiss.

As their mouths moved together, Joe’s hands slid down her body, curving around her hips to fill his hands with the soft swell of her ass. Angel let out a soft, encouraging sound, her own hands busy with the last buttons on his shirt.

“Off,” she whispered against his lips, tugging at the fabric.

Joe obeyed, shrugging out of the shirt without breaking the kiss, only pulling back long enough to let the garment fall to the floor. Angel’s hands immediately went to his bare chest, nails lightly scraping down over his nipples and continuing lower.

When she reached the fly of his jeans, Joe caught her wrist, a soft warning growl rumbling in his chest. “Not yet,” he murmured, stepping back slightly to look at her.

Angel’s top had slipped further, now caught at her wrists, leaving her topless. She made no move to cover herself, instead raising an eyebrow at him. “Something wrong?” she asked as she threw the top behind her.

He shook his head slowly, taking in the sight of her. “Not a damn thing. Just appreciating the view.”

Her smile was slow and sultry. “Like what you see?”

“Always have.” His hands found her hips again, thumbs hooking under the skirt, now bunched around her waist. “Always will.”

Angel’s breath caught as he bent, pressing a kiss to her sternum, then lower, following the path the top would take as it fell. When he reached the top of her skirt, he paused, looking up at her.

“May I?” he asked, voice low and teasing.

She nodded, fingers threading through his hair. “Please do.”

With torturous slowness, Joe hooked his fingers under the fabric and began to pull down, revealing her inch by inch. He followed the descent with his lips and tongue, tasting her skin, savoring her soft gasps.

By the time the garment reached her feet, Angel was trembling lightly, her grip on his hair tightening as he pressed a final kiss to her hipbone. “Joe,” she breathed, voice strained with want.

He looked up at her, a wolfish grin playing on his lips. “Yes?”

“Don’t tease,” she warned, though there was no heat in it—only aching desire.

Instead of answering, Joe stood slowly, hands tracing up her sides as he rose. When they were eye-to-eye again, he cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “I’m not teasing,” he said softly. “I’m savoring.”

Angel’s eyes fluttered closed at his touch, a shuddering breath escaping her. “I don’t know if I can stand much more savoring.”

Joe chuckled quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before stepping back. “Fair enough,” he conceded, his gaze dropping once more to take her in—naked, flushed, and absolutely breathtaking.

His mouth watered at the sight between her thighs, already glistening with her need. Without a word, Joe took her by the hips, turning her gently before guiding her lay on the couch.

Angel let out a surprised sound, half gasp, half laugh, as Joe knelt on the floor below her. “What are you—”

Her question dissolved into a moan as Joe gripped her thighs, lifting them slightly to place over his shoulders. “Savoring,” he reminded her, nose brushing the inside of her thigh as he spoke.

“Fuck,” Angel breathed, fingers tightening on the couch cushion as Joe’s mouth found her center, tongue flat as he dragged it upward in one long, slow lick.

Joe hummed against her, the vibration sending another tremor through Angel’s frame. “You taste like paradise,” he murmured before diving in again, this time with no intention of holding back.

His tongue circled her clit with practiced ease, drawing soft cries from Angel as she arched back toward him. One of Joe’s hands moved to her hip, holding her steady while the other joined his mouth, fingers sliding into her with a slow, steady rhythm that had her gasping his name.

Joe groaned against her, hips canting forward involuntarily at the taste of her, the sound of her pleasure. He would never deny his girl anything she wanted, and if what she wanted was him between her thighs? He’d drop to his knees every damn time. Because as much as he loved being inside her, there was something intoxicating about her taste on his tongue, her breathless cries in his ears, the way her body moved with his touch.

He was addicted. To her taste, her touch, her. Nothing would ever satisfy his hunger the same way.

As Angel’s breath came faster, her hips moving in time with his mouth, Joe could feel her getting closer, the tension building. He curled his fingers inside her, finding that perfect spot that made her thighs tremble around his head.

“Joe… oh God, Joe…” Her voice hitched with each breath, the couch creaking slightly under her grip.

He redoubled his efforts, alternating between firm strokes over her clit and gentle suction that had her calling out his name over and over, each time more desperate than the last.

“Joe… God, yes… right there…”

He obliged her pleading, curling his fingers as his tongue kept up its relentless work. Angel’s hips rocked against him, small, eager movements that had Joe growling softly in encouragement.

“That’s it,” he murmured against her, the sound vibrating through her. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

Joe didn’t let up, wasn’t in any rush to end this. His eyes flicked up occasionally to watch her, the beautiful arch of her back, the way her head dipped as she gasped, fingers twisting in her own hair as his fingers brushed against that spot inside her she’d once sworn drove her soul straight out of her body.

She was close, so close he could feel it in the way her muscles tightened around him, the way her breath caught and held, the way her thighs quivered against his ears.

“Come on, Angel,” he murmured against her slickness, the words vibrating through her. “Let go for me.”

Angel’s response was a breathless whimper, her body tensing as the pressure built. “Joe… I’m gonna…”

And just like that, Angel fell apart.

Her orgasm washed through her hard and fast, ripping a cry from her throat as her hips jerked, pressing her more firmly to Joe’s mouth. He rode it out with her, gentling his touch but refusing to stop until the last tremor had worked its way through her body and she sagged against the couch, boneless.

She managed a breathless laugh, tilting her head to look back at Joe as he stood, her slickness glistening on his lips and chin. “Fuck,” she whispered, voice raw.

Joe’s eyes were dark as he drank her in, her naked body draped over the furniture, completely spent and utterly stunning. His own need was a heavy ache between his thighs, his cock straining against the confines of his pants in a way that was bordering on painful.

But there was a sense of satisfaction in the discomfort, in knowing he’d been the one to unravel her so completely.

Angel watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Joe reached between her thighs again, this time not to tease or taste, but to gather the wetness that coated her skin onto his fingers. She bit her lip as he brought those fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low hum of approval.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, pressing his hips forward slightly, seeking relief. His hand dropped to smear the remaining wetness over his lips before he leaned down, catching Angel’s mouth in a filthy kiss that tasted of her.

She whimpered against him as she tasted herself on his tongue, hands reaching to grip his shoulders for support. Joe’s fingers found her clit again, swollen and sensitive from her orgasm, and Angel’s hips jerked at the contact.

“Joe…” His name was half warning, half plea.

He smiled against her mouth. “Too much?”

Angel nodded, a soft sound escaping her as he continued the gentle circles, her body twitching with each pass. “S-sensitive,” she managed.

Joe bit back a groan, pressing his forehead to hers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

He kissed her again, hard and fast. “I like it when you’re like this.”

“Like this?” she echoed, voice catching as his thumb continued its relentless attention.

“Sensitive,” Joe murmured, pulling back to look her in the eye, watching her pupils dilate at the continued stimulation. “Needy.”

“I am needy,” Angel admitted on a gasp. “I need you.”

Something in Joe’s expression shifted at her words, the playful glint in his eyes darkening to something more intense. “What do you need?”

“You.” She swallowed hard, hips shifting away from his touch in a futile attempt to relieve the oversensitivity. “Inside me.”

The words struck a match somewhere deep in Joe’s gut, igniting a fire that threatened to consume him. With a low growl, he reached for his fly, popping the button with trembling fingers.

Angel watched him, lips parted, breathing shallow as she waited. Her hands dropped to his shoulders again, nails biting into his skin as he lowered his zipper, springing his cock free from its confines.

Before Joe could take control again, Angel dropped to her knees in front of him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “My turn,” she said softly, looking up at him with a hooded gaze.

“Angel…” The word was strangled, caught somewhere between a warning and a plea.

But Angel wasn’t listening. Instead, she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock before opening her mouth and taking him in.

Joe’s head fell back on a guttural groan, hips jerking forward instinctively, seeking more of the exquisite warmth of her mouth. His hands found her hair, not guiding, not pushing, just holding as Angel took as much of him as she could, her hand wrapping around the base to stroke what she couldn’t fit between her lips.

She knew just how to work him, fingers teasing just under the head as her tongue pressed flat, the suction just this side of heaven. Every time with her was like this—new, exciting, perfect. Her mouth was magic, and he was powerless against it.

The wet sounds of her ministrations filled the air, mingling with Joe’s ragged breaths and the low, guttural sounds rumbling from his chest. Angel’s other hand slid up his thigh, gripping tight as she bobbed along his length, picking up speed with each pass.

“Fuck… Angel… fuck,” Joe managed, the words slurred together as his hips worked with her movements, desperate for more. “That’s so good… so good, sweetheart.”

Angel hummed around him, the vibration nearly sending Joe to his knees. He held on to her hair with trembling fingers, the sight of her on her knees for him almost too much.

She could feel herself growing wetter at the sight of him losing himself to her touch, to her mouth, his head thrown back and chest heaving. It was intoxicating, knowing she could unravel him so completely.

Determined to push him further, Angel hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as she pulled back, tongue pressing up along the underside of his cock. Joe cursed low and filthy, fingers tightening in her hair as his hips snapped forward.

“Angel, fuck… I’m close,” he ground out, breathless.

She paused, looking up at him from under her lashes. “You going to come for me, Joe?”

He nodded sharply, a strained sound tearing from his throat. “If you don’t stop… fuck, Angel…”

Instead of pulling away, Angel leaned forward again, taking him deep until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, once, twice, before coming up for air. Leaning down and licking at the precum leaking down his shaft.

As much as he wanted to let her continue, to let her take him all the way to the edge and over it, he couldn’t. Not tonight. Tonight, he needed to be inside her with a desperation that bordered on painful.

Because he needed to be inside her. Needed to watch her come apart around him.

With Herculean effort, Joe found the willpower to pull back, sliding from the warmth of her mouth with a wet sound that left them both breathless. Angel looked up at him, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, and more beautiful than any fantasy.

“Come here,” he breathed, reaching for her, gripping Angel beneath her arms and lifting her to her feet. She let out a sound of surprise at the sudden movement, only to gasp as he claimed her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. His hands found her thighs, lifting her, and Angel responded immediately, wrapping her legs around his waist as he walked them toward the bedroom.

As they moved, Joe’s mouth never left hers, kissing her like he needed her taste to survive, like he was starved for her. Angel clung to him, arms looped around his neck as she let him carry her, let him lead.

He shouldered the bedroom door open with a crack, never breaking the kiss as he laid her back on the bed, following her down and pressing her into the mattress. Angel arched beneath him, her fingers sliding through his hair before trailing down his neck, his back, nails leaving faint red lines along his skin.

“Please,” she whispered against his mouth, hips lifting to meet his.

Joe growled in response, reaching between them to line himself up with her entrance. Angel was already so wet, so ready, and when he pressed forward, sinking into her inch by maddening inch, she let out a long, low sound of relief.

“So good,” Joe managed, forehead pressed to hers, voice tight with restraint as he fought the urge to thrust deep and fast. “So fucking good, Angel.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips, heels digging into his lower back, urging him wordlessly for more. Joe obeyed, hips pulling back before sliding home again, setting a pace that had them both gasping.

Angel clung to him, hands gripping his shoulders, his upper arms, anywhere she could reach to ground herself as Joe moved above her. He was relentless, each thrust going deeper than the last, angling them just right to have her seeing stars behind her lids.

“Perfect,” Joe ground out, catching her knee and lifting it higher over his hip. “Just like this, sweetheart. Just… fuck!”

Angel arched sharply, a strangled cry tearing from her as Joe found that spot inside her that drove her wild. He aimed for it again. And again. And again until she was a trembling, sobbing mess beneath him.

“Joe… Joe please… I need… oh god…” Her words were fractured, disjointed as pleasure built sharply within her.

Joe pressed their foreheads together, eyes locked on hers as he picked up speed, hips pounding relentlessly. “Tell me,” he urged. “What do you need, Angel?”

Her nails bit into his shoulders, drawing a hiss from him that only served to spur him on. “You,” Angel managed. “Just you. Only you.”

The words struck something deep within him, that possessive, primal part of him that roared to life at her admission. His fingers tightened on her hip, pulling her harder into each thrust until the sound of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with their harsh breaths and desperate cries.

Angel’s body tensed, her back arching off the bed as she pressed up into him, closer, needing all of him. Her lips found his again and Joe kissed her deeply, tongues moving together in the same rhythm as their lower bodies.

“I love you,” Angel whispered against his lips, the words more breath than sound.

Joe’s response was a low rumble in his chest, a sound of pure want, pure love as he drove into her again and again and again.

Angel came first, her orgasm ripping through her and out of her in the form of Joe’s name, over and over like a prayer. Her body tightened around him and Joe grit his teeth, fighting back his own release, refusing to find his end until he’d taken her there again.

He could.

Before she could catch her breath, Joe flipped her so she was on all fours, and was back inside her, filling her in one smooth thrust that had them both crying out.

“Joe!” Angel gasped, hands scrambling for purchase against the pillows as he began to move, each thrust fast and deep.

“Can’t wait,” Joe ground out, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “Can’t… fuck, you feel so good.”

Angel’s response was lost to a choked sound, her body rocking with each powerful snap of Joe’s hips. She pushed back to meet him, angling herself to take him deeper, and was rewarded with a guttural curse and a sharp sting across her ass as Joe’s hand connected with a loud smack.

“Joe,” she cried out, the mix of pleasure and pain sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core.

He did it again, palm connecting with her other cheek in a blow that had her whimpering his name. “So good for me, Angel,” he growled, hand smoothing over the stinging skin. “So perfect.”

She keened at the praise, hips moving faster to meet his thrusts, the sound of their bodies coming together filling the room. Joe leaned forward, chest flush to her back as he reached around to find her clit, fingers working over the sensitive bud in firm, quick circles that had her gasping.

“I need you,” she breathed, hands clenching in the sheets. “Joe… please…”

“I’ve got you,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade. “Come for me, Angel. Let me feel you.”

Angel sobbed at his words, fingers twisting in the fabric beneath her. She was so close, so close to falling over that delicious edge again. Joe’s fingers continued their relentless assault, his cock filling her completely before withdrawing only to do it again.

And again.

And again until Angel couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t contain the pleasure coursing through her in hot waves. Her orgasm crashed over her, ripping a scream from her throat as she pressed back into Joe, body tightening around him like a vice.

Joe let out a strangled sound of her name, hips losing their rhythm as he fucked her through her release, each drag of his cock inside her drawing out her pleasure, prolonging the waves of ecstasy coursing through her.

When she finally began to come down, Joe pulled out, flipping her to her back once more. Angel watched him through heavy lids, arms lifting to pull him closer.

He sank into her with a relieved groan, bracing himself on his forearms as he found her mouth, kissing her deeply. Angel wrapped her arms around his neck, legs around his waist, holding him close as he moved above her.

“Love you,” Joe breathed against her lips, the words a sweet contrast to the almost brutal pace he’d set. “So much, Angel.”

Her response was a kiss that tasted of desperation, of love, of everything they’d shared and would share. Joe poured everything he had into that kiss, into the movement of his hips, into the soft murmurs against her lips.

He wasn’t going to last much longer, and they both knew it. Angel’s fingers found their way into his hair, gripping the strands firmly as she met each thrust, urging him on.

“Joe…” Her voice was low, husky with pleasure. “I want you to come for me.”

His response was a sound caught somewhere between a moan and a growl, the tension in his body drawing tight as he fought back his release, wanting to make this last as long as he could.

But Angel had other plans.

Her hand slid down his chest, nails scraping lightly over his nipples before dropping lower, finding the place where their bodies were joined and stroking over him where he entered her.

It was too much.

Joe’s hips stuttered, his orgasm ripping through him so fast he couldn’t hold it back if he tried. Angel whispered his name, holding him as close as she could, savoring the feel of his release within her.

He collapsed over her, barely managing to keep his full weight off her as they both struggled for breath. His lips found her shoulder, pressing a kiss there before moving up along her neck to just under her ear.

They stayed that way for a long moment, wrapped in each other, breathing heavily. Joe finally lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, keeping her close.

“You okay?” he murmured softly.

Angel let out a breathless laugh, head tilting to give him more access. “Better than okay.”

Finally, Joe shifted, moving to pull out and roll to the side, but Angel’s hands on his waist stopped him.

“Stay,” she murmured, already sleep-tinged.

Joe huffed out a quiet laugh. “Thought I was too heavy.”

Angel shook her head slightly, eyes still closed. “Not too heavy. Just right.”

[kayhi808]

First crush ask…

Has Miss Abby been to the beach? I’m thinking Bucky takes her and Mama on holiday somewhere warm and cashes in awe of the waves and so much sand.

But maybe she’s also worried about papas arm as well, or something else even.

🩵🩵

Oooh, I like this one! I'm bringing this little family to my island. Bucky is treating you and your baby to a Hawai'i vacation.

Abby starts to take off in a run, but your quick reflexes snag her arm. She lets out a scream, "No, Mama!" She continues to struggle, fighting to escape to the water.

"Abigail! Stop it. You need to put on sunscreen and your floaties. Do you want to drown?"

"I needs to shims!" Growling to be set free.

Peeling off his shirt, Bucky throws it onto one of the rented lounge chairs the resort provided to you. Ducking under the umbrella to look Abby in the eyes, "Or we can just go back home, and you don't get to swim at all," giving her a smirk & a careless shrug.

That stops Abby's struggling, but a frown remains on her face. "C'mere," pulling her close to you and start applying sunscreen.

You and Bucky were able to carve out some time off together and Bucky decided you all needed a family vacation. The next thing you know, Bucky booked a trip to Hawai'i. It has a Disney resort on the west side of the island of Oahu, Aulani. You'll be away from the hustle of Waikiki and the city, to hopefully get some true relaxation. Or as much as you can with a wild Abigail on your hands just dying to get into the ocean.

Not wanting Abby to be in pain first thing on vacation, you slather on the sunscreen. You'd be set for the day at the beach if Abby would stop squirming. "Mama, this sticky and stinky."

"Stop complaining." You stick her in her floaties and start applying sunscreen to yourself. Abby darts off again but Bucky scoops her up making her scream. "Abigail!"

Throwing her head back, "I need to SHIMS!"

"You need to wait for me & Mama. Do you want us sunburned?"

Frowning, "No." Bucky kisses her cheek and sets her down and she adds, "But pwease hurries up."

You and Bucky quickly get each other's back and hard to reach spots under Abby's winter soldier glare. Arms akimbo. Foot tapping. She's such a brat sometimes. Holding out your hand to her, "Ok, let's go!" She grabs your hand, squealing as you both run down to the ocean's edge. This isn't grey/green waters of Coney Island or the Jersey Shore. Crystal clear water meets you, cool and refreshing. Abby runs until she full body plops into the water.

She quickly stands, rubbing her face, "Mama!" She starts sputtering and spitting. You pick her up trying to wipe the water off her face. "It taste junk!"

Laughing, "I know! Keep your mouth closed. Your eyes too. The salty water is going to burn. This isn't like the pool.

Bucky comes running over,"Here Abby Baby, put these on so the water doesn't get in your eyes." You laugh at the ridiculously pink sparkly goggles.

"When did you get that?!"

Shrugging, "Before we left." He's so sweet you give him a kiss.

******

See the line where the sky meets the sea

It calls me

And no one knows how far it goes

If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me

One day I'll know

If I go, there no telling how far I'll go

Floating on your back, splashing around, building sandcastles, you and Abby sing Moana's song on repeat. Out of tune, but wholeheartedly. Abby spent the day swimming and playing with you and Bucky. She kept an eye out for "Pudge" the fish. If she found him Bucky said he'd buy her a sandwich so she could feed him.

Abby is not a fan of sand. It sticks to her body and hands and gets into the worst places. "It so much dirt Mama!" She waddles up to you and Bucky from her toys at the shore.

Bucky smiles, " It's sand, not dirt."

"I tinks it gots in my pants." She gives a little shimmy. "I don't wikes it!" You laugh, scooping her up and carrying her back into the ocean. You hold her with one arm while trying to empty out her swim bottom with the other. "Mama," she gasps, "my butts is out!"

Looking around, "No one can see. Do you want sand in your pants?" She giggles at that & shakes her head. "Ok then." You give her a little shake & adjust her bottom, "You should be fine until we get back to the hotel and take a bath." You smack her bottom as she runs back to the chairs with Bucky. "Mama had my butts out!"

Bucky cracks up, "What??"

"We shook out the sand in her bottom."

Abby wiggles her bottom, "I thought the fishies would bite my tushie!"

*****

The air was warm and balmy as you stepped out onto the lawn. You see the sun dipping below the palm trees and you can imagine the beautiful sunset you'll get tonight. You and Abby are dressed in sundresses. The weather being so much warmer than New York. There's live music being played as you make you way to the luau grounds. You and Bucky get kukui nut and shell leis upon arrival. Abby got the choice of a necklace with Maui's fishhook or a shell lei. She was excited to get the necklace.

"I thought you didn't like Maui for saying Pu'a was boat snack?" Abby pretends not to hear you as she examines her new necklace. Feeling a little guilty knowing Pu'a is propped up against her pillow back in the room.

There were so many demonstrations prior to dinner. You were able to leisurely wander from station to station. Abby found a temporary tattoo station, which she needed one. "Mama, I need one. Pwease!" How could you say no?

Then she found the lei making stand. She made a little orchid wristlet. The colors were so vibrant.

She also wanted a ukulele after taking a quick lesson. You said you'd think about it, but by the look on Bucky's face, you knew he was bringing a ukulele home.

By that time, Moana made an appearance inviting everyone to dinner. Abby squealed, jumping up and down, "Mama, lookit! That's Moana! She's here!!" Bucky grabs Abby, throwing her up on his shoulders so she can wave and get Moana's attention. Abby insisted Moana waves directly at her.

Once dinner and dessert was completed, the evening show started.it was not overly Disney or cheesy. Moana, Minnie and Mickey made an appearance, which thrilled Abby. The show was very educational, the history of the land was told through beautiful dance and song. Abby lost her mind when they invited the children to gather in front of the stage to participate in the dance. Covering her mouth to cover a gasp, "Oh Mama! Cans I go?"

"Get up there! Absolutely!"

Once she was up there, she kept waving to you and Bucky. You also saw the little furrows on her brow trying to learn the dance. Your baby is so adorable. Bucky kept inching closer to get pictures and videos of Abby dancing the hula. He had to send it back for the team to see. Just like a proud father would.

The evening ended with the famous fire dance, telling the story of how Maui fought with the Sun God, Kāne. Abby was cheering and clapping so hard her palms were bright pink and you thought her voice would be hoarse the following morning. This trip was going to be one she never forgets. Bucky keeps bringing magic into your lives. Giving you a life you never thought imaginable.

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unax @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[milkywaydrabbles]

I am so glad you have anons turned on... ahem. You don't have to do this if you don't want to, though!

Kinktober 29 + Alucard! (Castlevania)

A/N: I don't know what you did to me but I've been possessed once again for this ask holy shit. Tentacle anon lemme kiss u on the mouth ;; hope you enjoy MWUAH (also a firm believer he'll always be a lover boy no matter what) AU TIME

Tentacles x Alucard

“Adrian! I can’t believe you’re the little thief!” You gasped, scandalized that your sea-friend would be the one who’s been stealing all the balls that kept magically ‘floating away’ in the ocean. He shrugged with a sly grin, his tentacles sprawled around him keeping him afloat. You’d met the mystical half sea creature months ago by this point, you’d been paddling out to sea for fun, realizing that you’d gotten entirely too far from shore. Before you were able to panic, you saw the tiniest little cove a bit farther out, deciding to rest inside of it before making a plan to go back to shore, back home. Instead what you got was the scare of your life, a tentacle gripping at your ankle and with a shriek you fell back into the side. The playful little fiend crept out with wide eyes, not expecting to ever have a human here in his home. You mirrored the look, thinking you’d finally gone insane seeing something with the top half of a man and bottom half of an...octopus? Lots of screaming, and explaining later, your fears were quelled, and after hours of talking, you felt you made a friend.

And you did! Visiting him as often as you could out here, bringing him food that you’ve made from your home, and him giving you small trinkets he’s found lost at sea. (Most recently he’d given you a pearl necklace he said he made himself. You would have seen the scarlet bloom across his neck and chest, should you not turn away trying to calm your own beating heart.) You learned he’s the rumored ‘Alucard’, the sea monster that eats the sailors off at sea. (‘Why the fuck would I do that?” he reasoned) You also learned there’s more of his kind, he has friends he sees every so often, even has loving parents deeper in the ocean bed. But he likes to spend alone time here, closer to humans. He likes listening to the different sounds above the water. Sometimes you’d even see him out in the ocean, closer to the shores if there wasn’t anyone around. You started going to the shores late in the night, if only to see him twice a day. (You think he stays coming back to the cove because of you, but neither of you will speak it out loud.)

“I’m not stealing them. They really do get lost out here! What am I supposed to do, bring them back? Someone’s going to see me.” He couldn’t help but grin like the cheshire cat, using a tentacle to grab at one of the ‘lost’ beach balls, bouncing it over to you and you rolled your eyes with a laugh. “You’re terrible” Of course you’d never want him to actually go back and give them back--someone finding out about his existence could have very well been the end of his life, him trusting you enough to let you go was a huge feat for the merman. “I actually have something else for you.” 

“Ooh, another beach ball?”

“Quiet you, come here.”

You huffed, crawling over to where he lounged and sitting in front of him, waiting. For the first time since the pearl necklace, you saw Alucard looking nervous. You gave him time, raising a brow and cocking your head urging him to continue. From behind his back, he pulled out a clamshell, “I promise the clam wasn’t alive when I found it.” He mumbled, pushing it towards you. You blinked, confused. This wasn’t the first shell he’s given you, but it was quite...lackluster, in comparison to the rest he’d given you. Plus, he looked entirely too nervous for a shell! “Thank you, Alucard.” You teased, laughing when you heard him groan. “Hush, ridiculous fucking name...the shell isn’t your gift.” He paused. “Open it.” the top flipped up and you nearly dropped it out of pure shock. What lay inside was the most gorgeous ring you’d ever seen. A beautiful moss agate stone set in the middle, smaller pieces of diamonds dotted around the band. It was an intricate piece, one that you’d be devastated to lose if you were the original owner of this ring. “Adrian, I...what...oh my god” You couldn’t even form sentences, in too much shock a ring like this existed floating in the ocean. You looked at him, mouth agape. “How did you find this? Where did you find this? It’s in perfect condition!” you were scared to even touch the thing.

He stayed quiet for a moment, shuffling over to you. “I didn’t find it.” He admitted. “I ah...I had it made.” 

....

What?

“You said your favorite color was green. And you love the forest. So I thought this made the most sense for you. I know you’d rather live in the woods, but the ocean is beautiful too. I think you’d really like it here.” His voice was barely above a whisper, shaky hand bringing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Adrian, I don’t understand...”

You did. You just couldn’t believe it until he said it out loud. It all felt like a dream.

“I love you.”

Your breath hitched.

“And I would like to marry you. And have you move with me, into the ocean. With the rest of my kind.”

Your head was spinning, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Adrian panicked, hands frantically wiping away at your tears, unknowing that they were happy tears. “Please, please don’t cry. We don’t have to talk about this now, or at all, if you’re not comfortable it’s okay--” You cut him off with a kiss, your first shared kiss, hands smoothing his beautiful blonde locks. “Adrian, I love you.” Your admission knocked the wind out his lungs, head reeling that someone like him could have someone like you fall in love with him. “But how can this work? I mean, really, I’m not like you, I don’t...” He hushed you, placing another chaste kiss on your lips. “There’s more about my world that you don’t know, but I promise we can get you there. It’ll be our world soon, angel” 

You had no idea what he meant, or how it’d work, but in the meantime, you carefully took the ring out of the shell and gingerly placed it on your ring finger on your left hand. Your vision tunneled on the ring, holding your hand up to see it glimmering in the sunlight that shone through the cove. “It’s gorgeous, Adrian...” You could cry right now, and almost started to too if you didn’t try as hard as you were from keeping it together. “Be with me, please..” He connected his lips to you again, tentacles wrapping themselves around your middle as your hands carded through his hair. Adrian bit at your lower lip, slipping his tongue into your mouth when you permitted and deepening the kiss. What was once slow and sweet became a flurry of moans, tongue and teeth, anticipation and lust. He kissed and nipped at your jawline, your throat, your shoulders. “Will you let me touch you?” Adrian whispered, hands hovering over your body. You nodded, lifting your bathing top  off your body and pushing his hands onto your chest. His breathing stuttered, kneading and pinching at your body. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmured, dipping a tentacle at the hem of your bottoms, another joining by the edge of your pussy. You gasped, feeling yourself clench around nothing.  

You’d never thought yourself to be prude you just...never thought about being fucked by tentacles. Or a merman. But, fuck, if you weren’t turned on thinking about Adrian doing what he wanted with you before whisking you away to the deepest parts of the ocean. You pressed yourself closer to him, letting the tentacles pull away your bottoms. A hand came down to tease at your entrance, feeling the slick dripping on his fingers. “So wet..all for me?” He cooed, smiling when he felt you nodding against the crook of his neck. He wouldn’t tease you much, not this time--feeling much too impatient. His fingers slid into your pretty cunt with ease, so turned on you could have been ready for him right then and there. “Fuck, look at you.” He murmured, scissoring his fingers inside of you. He knows this wouldn’t be your first sexual encounter. He’s (unfortunately) heard of previous partners of your life, but none of them had the physiology that he had, he needed to prep you. “Darling, I need you to trust me, okay?” You furrowed your brows, humping at his fingers barely able to pay attention to what he was saying. “‘Kay, anything Adrian.” you murmured, before feeling the fingers replaced with something else. Something long, a bit slimy, definitely thicker. You cried out, hearing you gush and squelch around the intrusion. “Adrian!” You gasped, looking down at the juncture of your hips and seeing his tentacle pumping deep into your sloppy pussy. 

You couldn’t believe how hot and bothered you were, seeing him fucking you with the intrusive appendage. Your hips rolled towards him, the tentacle slowly pumping in and out of you. It poked and prodded at your walls, the suctions ribbing at your hole and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your mouth fell open with a moan, head leaning back. “Gotta loosen you up like this, sweetheart, gotta get you ready..” You heard the merman speak, but the ringing in your ear didn’t help. His lips wrapped around a nipple, hand playing with the other. Simultaneously more of his tentacles wrapped themselves around your legs and arms, rubbing and squeezing at your appendages as the one still in your pussy pushed further in, kissing what felt like the entrance to your womb. You shrieked, clenching down hard on the tentacle with the immense amount of pleasure and  hint of pain you were feeling. “Fuckfuckfuck, Adrian,” You mumbled, hands holding onto his shoulders, “feels good in my pussy, a-aah fuck!” You cried, humping at the appendage. He kept his mouth busy with your chest, a tentacle letting go on an arm to kiss your clit with the small suction on the tip, rubbing at the nub and leaving it slimy. He’d suction to it and let go, imitating sucking on the quickly swelling bundle of nerves. “Want you like this forever, darling girl” he mused,  laving a tongue over your skin and leaving bites and love marks around your tits. His hands gripped at your hips, lips pressing against yours with a new fire lit. The tentacles working on your cunt were driving you to your climax, tentacle wrapped around your thigh pushing your leg farther apart. Alucard looked down at his added appendage fucking into you, and how juicy and wet you were. It was intoxicating, and he realized quickly he could have you like this more than he’d like to admit.

“Wanna feel you on me, darling.” He cooed, pushing the tentacle deeper in you and curling, acting almost like a large tongue licking inside your sloppy little cunt, smile curling on his face when he heard the squeal he was looking for, feeling you gush around him. The suction cups held the stickiness of your pussy, Alucard swiping at a few to taste your cum on his tongue. He moaned lowly, nearly angry at himself for not having your first orgasm be on his tongue. But there’d be so many after this time anyways, he didn’t have to worry, you’d be his forever. “Would you like a taste?” You nodded dumbly, limbs feeling like jello. You thought he’d kiss you, instead you had his tentacle shoved into you mouth, squirming around to taste your own mess in your mouth. Another immediate, albeit small shockwave hit your pussy, dripping down your legs with how turned on having his appendage in your mouth made you feel. Adrian swiped at your pussy, sucking up and licking as much of your cum as you’d give him, “Can’t believe you came again just by that.” Big words honestly for someone that was about ready to cum untouched with how hot you were. Most of his cock fit inside his body, length too long for his kind to have it floating out. He kept the first tentacle in your mouth, loving the way you sucked on it and didn’t let go. “Relax for me, darling girl.” He whispered, feeding his huge cock into your tight wet hole. You squealed around him, the head of his cock so big it already felt like you were being split apart. But it felt so fucking good having him filling you up like this, pushing and pushing at your walls until you were filled to the brim with his engorged cock. You mumbled around him, swiveling and bucking your hips on him, squirming. “Let’s keep you still so I don’t hurt you,” More of his tentacles held your limbs enough for you to not be able to move freely, one still suckling and teasing at your clit with another dipping in teasingly next to his cock, almost as if taunting you--as if you could ever have two of these things inside you at the same time.

Your eyes rolled back, cheeks bulging with the size of his tentacle, tears staining your face whenever the tip hit the back of your throat, Adrian wanted this to be romantic, he swears, but the way you sucked him in--the way you got excited with his tentacles touching you, it was so difficult to keep going like that. His primal instincts were kicking in hard, wanting to claim you fully in every way. His upper body leaned back to take in the sight of you being impaled over and over on his cock, seeing your creamy cunt swallow him up. Your pussy was so juicy, squelches reverberating off the walls of the cove. It was nearly as loud as your muffle moans, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as your jaw stayed pried open. “Fuck, darling, nor gonna last like this.” He murmured, holding onto your hips once more to slam you down as deep as you could take him, fucking into you over and over until his tentacled cock spurted deep inside you. You swore you could feel his cum filling your stomach, your womb, filling all of you as the excess spilled around the edges no matter how plugged he had you. Adrian panted, slowly retracting his cock from your abused pussy, seeing how his cum dripped out of you in globs onto the floor. He removed his remaining tentacles, smoothing his hands over you and rubbing at your face, nuzzling his nose into yours and your cheek, kissing at you. “I’m sorry honey, I couldn’t help it, you looked so good.” He begged for forgiveness, weaving his fingers with yours.

You smiled, kissing him back with the strength you had, “honey, we can take it slow next time. We have all the time in the world.”

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

can u please do 2bdamned x reader but they have the same music taste? sorry for bad english!! :3

Your English is fine :]

Doc x Reader - tunes n chillin (in other words, yall gonna like MY MUSIC TASTE lol)

Hello there, the angel from my nightmare, the shadow in the background of the morgue.

The base was relatively empty, everyone else off doing who knows what, killing who knows who, leaving you plenty of space to zone out into your own world, music on in the living room while you doodled away in an old sketchbook. A ballpoint pen was the only tool you had on hand now, but the deep black strokes added weight and character to your art.

The unsuspecting victim, of darkness in the valley. We can live like Jack and Sally if we want, where you can always find me.

Scrawling what came to mind, the song inspired you to roughly doodle the main Nightmare Before Christmas characters, the gaunt and oddly handsome Jack Skellington, and his sweet patchwork lover Sally. Oh to have a romance like theirs would be a dream.

And we'll have Halloween on Christmas, and in the night we'll wish this never ends -

"We'll wish this never ends." You looked up from your art, seeing Doc nodding his head along to the music. "Hey, it's a good song." He shrugs when he notices you watching him.

Some weeks later you were in your room, exhausted from dragging around some guy whom Sanford was currently torturing information out of. To drown out the noise, you'd placed a CD into the player and flicked through an old manga, something about a cosmic horror planet coming to devour the earth.

I'm just a normal boy who sank when I fell overboard. My ship would leave the country, but I'd rather swim ashore. Without a life vest, I'd be stuck again. Wish I was much more masculine, maybe then I could learn to swim like fourteen miles away.

Your door was currently non-existent, Hank had ripped out part of the hydraulic seal during a half-MAG rage, so currently only a curtain served as your privacy. Privacy which was often ignored by the lads.

The curtain swayed as Doc stormed in, he wasn't wearing his mask and his displeasure was evident. "Trying to break passed some firewalls is incredibly difficult with all that fucking noise Sanford is making. I'm used to some level but his current toy hasn't stopped screaming his lungs out for two hours straight. I can't even think right now!"

You looked up from your lounging position. "Yeah, that's why I put music on. It's not like I can shut the door." Doc sat on your bed, going back to debugging and unencrypting.

"I'll get it sorted when I have the parts, I promise." You knew why he'd come to your room, it was the furthest from Sanford's makeshift torture chamber in the storage room. Well, that was half of why he'd come. In truth, the old dog had grown rather fond of your company.

You two had a few bits in common, music taste for one, and the differences were good talking points, clashing viewpoints being a discussion rather than an argument. It was nice, yes, he enjoyed being around you.

Now floating up and down, I spin, colliding into sound, like whales beneath me, diving down. I'm sinking to the bottom of my- Everything that freaks me out, the lighthouse beam has just gone out. I'm cold as cold as cold can be... Be...

As you flipped through the gruesome pages of your manga, you paid little attention to your surroundings, the music and all else just melting into background noise.

I wanna swim away but don't know how-

"Sometimes it just feels just like I'm fallin in the ocean." And there it was again, just barely above a whisper, Doc's voice mixing with the vocals.

You couldn't help but smile, his rugged voice was rather lovely when singing, Deimos was right. Dei secretly admitted to you that Doc used to sing him to sleep when he was young, it was nice to finally get to hear it.

"You sing pretty well Doc."

"Hm? Ah." You could see his cheeks turn red, his gaze averting from you. "Thanks. You wanna know something funny? Your playlist seems to have a lot in common with mine. Rather a lot in common."

"Really?" You smiled at him, he seemed to shift uncomfortably under your watchful eyes, his cold exterior slowly giving way to a hidden sweetness. "You'll have to share it with me sometime, we can just listen together for a while."

"Hm," Doc rubbed the back of his neck, giving you a shy smile. "I think I'd like that."

[ww2yaoi]

[Here's another taste of my so far untitled webgott fic because I feel like sharing but know finishing the fic is going to take a while longer so enjoy...]

The sun is beginning to set when David finally rises from his chair, eyes stinging from staring at a blank page for so long. He closes his notebook, grabs a towel, then starts down the winding pathway from the hotel to the lake.

Thankfully, no one’s at the dock when he gets there. The horizon is bathed in burnt orange light, slowly dimming as the sun settles between the mountain peaks in the distance. The air is a bit too cool for a swim, but David enjoys the breeze as it bites at his skin. Anything to draw him out of his thrumming head, to distract him from the lacuna in his sternum, aching with oblivion.

He strips all the way, wanting nothing between him and the water, and dives into the lake. The cold water hits him like a grenade blast, roaring past his ears and soaking him deep to the bone. When David was a child, spending summers away from school on East Coast beaches, he used to see how long he could hold his breath underwater. He would revel in frightening his mother when his head failed to emerge from the waves for minutes at a time. He liked it down there. It was quiet, and he could imagine himself coming from a different world, somewhere unknown and endless where he was better understood, inexplicable like the ocean but loved for his inexplicability all the same.

In the present, David holds his breath until his lungs sting and his head feels fuzzy. Eyes closed, he welcomes the black, embraces the stillness surrounding him. Then, he emerges, gasping, droplets beading like pearls at the ends of his hair. His eyes flutter open, and the first thing he sees is the bottom of a jump boot resting at the edge of the dock. David follows the line of the attached leg to the face peering over at him.

Joe is lounging there with an elbow propped up behind him. He nurses a cigarette, the cherry burning tangerine between his pursed lips. His paratrooper jacket is opened to reveal the clean white of his undershirt, his Magen David glinting around his neck in the dying sunlight.

“Thought you were never gonna come back up for air,” Joe says and the smoke he exhales conceals his pinched expression.

David is surprised to see him. He stands up in the water, toes nestling in the wet sand. Luckily, the waterline comes up to his waist, hiding his nakedness.

“How long have you been sitting there?” he asks.

“Long enough to wonder if you’d fucking drowned,” Joe says, scowling.

“What are you doing here?” David replies. He crosses his arms over his bare chest, feeling oddly exposed underneath the razor’s edge of Joe’s gaze. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I was,” Joe admits. His eyes flick downwards. “I heard about Janovec. Chuck says you were there.”

News travels fast; David frowns. “So what? You here to blame me for it?”

Joe’s eyebrows furrow. “Jesus, Web. Why the fuck would I blame you?”

David shrugs. “I don’t know, Joe. You blame me for a lot of things.”

Joe smirks, a disparate concoction of amusement and irritation that David has memorized on his face a thousand times before. He takes another drag of his cigarette and taps ash into the water. It floats on the surface like flakes of pepper in a bowl of tomato soup.

“Yeah, Web, like what?”

David meets his eyes, unwilling to back down. “Well, for one, you blame me for getting wounded in Holland. You blame me for missing Bastogne. You blame me for not killing a man just because you asked me to—”

“He was a fucking Nazi,” Joe spits, expression hardening. “He deserved to die.”

“Maybe so,” David volleys back. “But the war is over, Joe. Why bloody our hands? Where does this end for you?”

“Until they fucking pay.”

“Yeah, who? Who pays? Millions of people are complicit. Are you going to kill half the population of Germany?”

Joe goes quiet at that, fiddling with his cigarette between his thumb and index finger. His silence simmers with anger and something else, something somber and oppressive, and David realizes he much prefers his open-mouthed rage to this. The only time he’s seen Joe this short for words was after Landsberg, and the last thing David wants is a repeat of that.

It makes him think back to the German baker whose throat he held a gun to. Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he can feel the weight of the pistol in his hand, his finger inching closer and closer to the trigger. Sometimes, in his dreams, he pulls it. He never told Joe what happened that day. Maybe Joe would say he should have done it.

“You want to go home, right?” David adds quietly. “Leave all this behind?”

Joe says nothing. By now, the sun has dipped behind the mountainscape, painting everything in a spectral blue. A gust of wind whips across the lake, casting ripples through the water, and David shudders slightly. Goosebumps pimple his arms.

“Come on,” Joe says, beckoning him with the tilt of his head. “Get out of the water, Web. You’re shivering.”

“Okay,” David says, but heat blooms on the back of his neck. “You might want to look away though.”

“Why?”

“I’m naked, Lieb.”

Joe snorts and smoke pours out his nose. “What? You ashamed of that tiny, uncut dick of yours?”

David rolls his eyes. “It’s not tiny.”

“Well, it’s hard to see with all that hair on you.”

“You’ve been looking?”

“Jesus Christ,” Joe says. “Come on. We’ve showered together. It’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

“Suit yourself.”

David wades over to the edge of the dock and pulls himself up out of the water, getting to his feet. He reaches for the towel by his discarded clothes, keeping his eyes trained on the tree line in front of him, knowing full well if he glances over at Joe and sees him looking he’ll flush from head to toe. David wraps the towel around his waist and sits down beside him on the dock, pale legs outstretched and freckled with lake water.

They look out at the horizon and David feels the distance stretching between them, like he and Joe are the twin but separate mountain peaks piercing the dusky sky miles ahead. Joe finishes his cigarette and butts it out on the dock, leaving a scorch mark on the wood. He tosses it into the water and it floats for a moment on the surface before being swept under by a wave.

“Hell,” Joe says after a while, his voice low. “What the fuck do I have to go home to?”

David snaps his head to look at him. “What are you talking about?” he says.

“Nothing.” Joe looks sullen, chin tucked towards his chest. “Forget it.”

“What about your job at the cab company?” David asks. “The Jewish girl with the big tits? What about your family?”

Joe scoffs. “Yeah? What the fuck am I gonna say to them? What am I gonna tell my ma?”

“You tell them whatever you want to tell them,” David says. “That you’re a war hero, that you saved Western civilization as we know it.”

Joe laughs, a bitter, leery thing. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

David shrugs. He doesn’t know what he thinks anymore, about the war, about the things he’s done, the things he’s seen. Sometimes he lies awake at night and wonders how his life might be different, if in some version of history the right politicians had shaken hands and all this destruction and bloodshed had been avoided. Joe would still be driving his cab around Frisco, maybe he’d have a wife and a home and children to fill it, and David would be back at Harvard, studying Tolstoy and Flaubert and writing his novel. They never would have met except in this ravaged and desolate place. They would have no reason to relate to one another, vastly different men from vastly different backgrounds, situated on disparate coasts on opposite sides of the country.

David doesn’t believe in fate, or predestination, or whatever the poets call it, but there’s an inevitability to it all, that David would find his way to Easy, to Joe. He’s not even sure if they’re friends, but since Joe lifted him up into that truck in Haguenau, he’s felt drawn into Joe’s orbit. If David’s being honest with himself, he’s never fit in well with the guys of Easy. Not really. They tolerate him, sure, but they never seek him out, not like Joe does. David has never fit in anywhere, not at HQ before his transfer, not at Harvard, not even in his own goddamn family. Without Joe, without his ardour and annoying persistence, it’d be like being lost at sea.

David is pulled out of his thoughts when he feels a knobby finger jab him in the leg. He looks down and sees that Joe is poking him in the calf where the Kraut bullet pierced his skin in Holland, just barely missing the bone. The scar there is pink and mottled, the flesh raised and twisted like the mark on Joe’s neck.

“Hey, quit it,” David says and drags his leg away from Joe’s touch.

Joe leans back on his elbows, smirking. “So that’s the million-dollar wound.”

David glares at him. “If it was a million-dollar wound I’d be home by now,” he says. “And I’m still fucking here, aren’t I?”

Something softens in Joe’s expression, and if David didn’t know any better he might mistake it for fondness.

“That you are, Web. That you are.”

[brightdarkness-2013]

Chapter 2: A Cleaner Chapter

Summary: Jazz feeds it and argues with it. Pretty much it.

“Ya know I hope ya appreciate what I’m doing. Ya have no idea how much I hate being wet and after ya pulled me into the ocean the other night I’m a little irritated with You as well. I have some fresh sushi this time. It’s not as cheap so ya had better eat this. I don’t want to be wasting my money.”

I stared into the inky water for any sign of movement as I tossed in one of the pieces. This was twenty bucks worth I had and if it stuck its nose up at this I was going to be pissed.

“I know you’re there. I’m not going to hurt ya. I can barely swim and the worst thing I could do from here is litter.”

Still nothing. Well I could wait. I was not going to let this fish get one over me.

“That one's tuna ya brat. It’s good. I’ve had it.”

The water was still. Maybe it had left the area after this morning? Or maybe it just didn’t like tuna?

“Fine. This one's salmon, but I didn’t nor will I ever have much of this because it’s so expensive it’s a rip off. It’s not even that good.” I tossed another piece into the water. It floated along the surface next to the other in silence. “I have a younger sister. I can wait all night to get my way.”

I watched the water, lounging on my stomach lazily. Maybe I should call Blaster? Na. He was mer crazy. He’d scare it away. Maybe when it wasn’t so wary and injured. Blaster would go out on fishing trips with his stepfather all the time. He wanted to be a marine biologist. He thought the mysteries of the sea were amazing while I didn’t care to guess what was hiding below the surface. Who knew what horrors were waiting down there? I was torn out of my thoughts by one of the pieces disappearing.

“Finally.”

And of course it took the bloody salmon. Spoiled brat.

“I hope ya know that if ya don’t eat all of this I’m not going to feed ya anymore and I’ll let the fishermen try and shoo ya away. And the way they’ll do it I have no doubt that it’ll involve some painful traps. They don’t like it when things mess with their catches.” I spoke to the mer under the water. Though I couldn’t see it the water churned giving me a decent idea of where it was before it settled again. From what I could tell it was right under where I was throwing the fish. “Come on. Eat the tuna or I’m not giving ya anymore.”

Nothing. So I pulled out the other piece of salmon and dipped it into the water before pulling it back out.

“See? Ya want it ya need to eat everything else.”

For some reason I got the impression that I was being judged.

“Tuna is cheap and has a lot of protein from what I know so quit pouting and eat it.”

I sent the water an unamused stare, trying to send my message since I couldn’t tell if it could understand what I was saying. I doubted it, but that never stopped me from talking before. Then I smiled as the tuna vanished.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” I tossed another piece into the water. “But you’re not getting the salmon until you eat everything else. I’m not even sure what that one is, but it’s apparently popular.”

Nothing happened until the piece stilled in the water and I got the glimpse of black claws. The process was slow and continued on until I was out of sashimi. I watched the water.

“Well I have nothing more to give ya. This box here is for tomorrow. I’ll be back in the morning to feed ya.”

The water churned as it moved under the black water.

“Don’t steal from the traps anymore. If ya do than sure you’re gonna get hurt, but it makes Blaster’s stepdad unhappy and if he’s unhappy he doesn’t bring Blaster on his fishing trips and if he doesn’t bring Blaster then Blasters unhappy. If Blasters unhappy it’s your fault and I won’t feed ya anymore. Got it?”

No response. Not like I was expecting one anyway. I stood.

“I’ll know if ya start stealing. Don’t think I won’t.”

Then I turned and headed home.

444444444444444 Fooooouuuurrrrsssss!44444444444444

Happy Saturday. I was getting up with the freaking sun for this fish. So out I went. Its breakfast in hand. And low and behold there it was. Curling around and between the rocks. None of the traps appeared to be bothered. Maybe it did understand. Either that or it was content with what I was giving it. I lounged back on the pier as I set the box next to me. Popping the lid I watched it.

“Morning. Ya know I’m surprised no ones seen ya yet. You don’t really blend in well.”

It didn’t move. However when I tossed in a piece its gaze turned to the floating fish. It glanced at me a few times before it stiffly moved forward. It favored its left arm as it slipped along the bottom slowly. It settled below the dead meat. I watched with mild interest as it rose up on its tail and reached up. It stopped. Nothing happened for an extended amount of time before its claws dug into it and drug it under. It watched its ‘prey’ a moment before swiftly eating it. Well no wonder it took so long for me to feed it if it did That every time. It moved its gaze back to me and it moved back until it was once again flat against the sand. I tossed another piece in and it watched that one until it settled.

“Quit stalking the sushi. It’s dead. It’s not going to swim away.”

I nearly laughed when it glared at me before going back to watching its new prey. It slowly reached up and stopped again.

“Oh for the love of- grab it! Hey! Don’t growl at me. I’m feeding ya.” I scolded it, but it cautiously reached up again like it hadn’t heard me. Then it snatched it and watched it. “I know you’re not deaf. Eat it. Do something. If you were actually prowling after something that was alive this would be much more interesting, but no. It’s dead. It’s been dead for awhile.”

Great. I was arguing with a fish now. I sighed as it sent me another glare. I fell back on the pier with a huff. I stared up at the dull looking gray that was the sky at the moment. Then I pulled myself back up. I jumped and yanked my legs back up and away from the waters below. I stared down at the mer that appeared below me.

“Ya know that’s Really creepy. Nothing’s supposed to move that quietly in the water.” Silence. “It doesn’t help that ya don’t move or blink.”

It twitched an ear fin, but that was the only response I got. I sighed again before grabbing another piece. It dangled in my grasp and I contemplated a moment. Then I was slowly lowering it to touch the water. Hopefully feeding time would go by quicker if I could get it to take it from my hand.

“I really want to get back to bed. This is Saturday. Saturday. And here I am arguing with You. A fish. I hope ya know I have plans today involving sleep, video games, and pizza with my friends.”

It was still besides its expression settling in a glare.

“Fine. I guess ya don’t want this.”

I made to pull it back and it growled softly.

“Make up your mind. Take it or I’m leaving.”

It took it several minutes to decide to slowly reach up. Its gaze shifting from me to the sorry excuse for a fish in my hand. Then in snatched it before retreating.

“Ya could really act more grateful. I don’t have to do this.” I muttered before doing the same with the next piece I pulled out.

This process of handing it each piece slowly made things quicker with feeding it as it grew used to it over the course of the week. As the days passed I could tell it was healing slowly, but surely. It didn’t move as stiffly and it distributed more weight onto its right arm when it crawled along the sandy bottom. Many of the wounds were slowly shifting into pale scars along its body. It was more noticeable on the black scales. I found myself hanging around even after I was done feeding it. I just talked and it watched me until I left. However one morning it broke the cycle.

“So Blaster and I- hey where are ya going? I was talking.”

I jumped up as it slowly swam the length of the pier. It glanced at me as I followed it every once in awhile.

“I know you’re a mer, but ya should know that it’s rude to just leave when someone is talking. Hey. Are ya listening?”

I jumped down off the pier and onto the sand. It followed the shallows edge. Moving slow enough for me to keep up.

“Where are ya even going? There’s nothing but rocks out in that direction.”

I was trying to argue with a fish. Blaster was going to have a good laugh when I finally told him about my little secret. I hesitated at the hollow in the cliffs edge. The mer stalled before it kept going, following the shallow path of water.

“Hey! Come on! Wait up!”

I followed after it. Running along the slippery edge. If I fell in it wasn’t that deep anyway. The area inside was a small little cove. It pulled itself up on the center rock, its tail curling around it. I looked around the area as it watched me.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out, huh?”

I sat on the rim and watched as its tail fin opened and closed lazily. It had some healing cuts in the pure white and red edged fin as well.

“So I assume there’s a reason ya brought me home? I could only guess this means ya trust me. Either that or you’re planning to kill me. I really hope it’s the former.”

The mer blinked its sapphire eyes slowly as it let its arms dangle over the side of the rock.

“Ya Do blink. Well that makes ya a little less creepy.” I grinned at it and it tilted its head to the side to rest on one of its arms.

Next

First

Masterpost

[aparticularbandit]

Danganronpa Femslash February: Ocean

Summary: Hina learns that Mikan can't swim.

for @danggirlronpa's Femslash February event!

Rating: T.

AO3

It starts with a single innocuous question.

Hina finds Mikan sitting on the beach, making sand castles, and crouches in front of her.  “Let’s go swimming!  The ocean’s freezing, but it’s so cool!”

That’s not really a question, of course, and the pun is entirely unintentional, but it’s familiar, and it’s nice, and there’s something warm about being noticed and invited, and Mikan wants to join her, but she can’t.  She flushes a bright red and averts her eyes, focusing on the sand castle in front of her instead.  “I-I-I….”

She doesn’t want to admit it.

Not to Hina.

“I think I’d rather…I want to stay here.”  Mikan glances up and just as quickly glances away.  The sun is behind Hina’s face, and it’s so bright.  She can’t look directly at her; even if she was better at making eye contact, she couldn’t.  Does Hina know that?  “I…I don’t like the cold.”

That’s not entirely untrue.

It’s not entirely true either.

“O-oh,” Hina says, lips pursing to one side in a bemused expression.  She seems to consider Mikan’s words for a few minutes.  “Well, it warms up really quick when you’re there!  It’s not at all like playing in the snow!”

“I…I like playing in the snow.”  Mikan presses her lips together.  “I…I can b-b-bundle up.”  She licks her lips.  “And, um.  My…my bandages!”  Her gaze drops to the gauze wrapped around her arm, the rest wrapped around her leg.  “Water won’t be good for them!”

Hina’s head tilts to the side.  “But you’re in a swimsuit.”

“Um…y-y-yes!”  Mikan bites her lower lip.  “The sand gets stuck if I…if I don’t, s-s-so….”

“Oh.  Okay!”  Hina smiles.  “We’ll just have to go swimming some other time!  There’s a big pool, and it’s heated, so—”

“N-n-no.”  Mikan cuts her off.  And then hates herself for cutting her off.  Because Hina’s going to be mad at her.  Everyone gets mad when they get cut off.  Her gaze flicks away.  “S-s-sorry!  I…I d-d-didn’t mean to….”  Then she shakes her head.  “I…I don’t like swimming.”

Hina’s eyes widen in shock.  “Don’t like….  But everyone likes swimming!”  Her arms cross.  “Or no one’s ever told me they don’t before.”  Her brow furrows, and she tries to meet Mikan’s eyes.  “You’re sure you don’t like swimming?”

Mikan shivers and shakes her head.  “I-I-I’ve never….  I can’t—”

“Oh!  That makes sense!”  Hina slams her fist into her open palm.  “You don’t know how.  You’d like it if you did!”  She grins.  “I’ll have to teach you!  And this program’s the best for that!  It’s not like you can actually die, so—”

“I still don’t want to…to almost d-d-die—”

“—I’ll teach you!  Does tomorrow sound good?”

Mikan still can’t look Hina directly in the face.  The sun’s still right behind her, and it’s hard to see.  So she looks away, and she nods gently.  “O…Okay.”

~

“So you move your arms like this.”  Hina puts her hands in front of her, palms out and their backs together, and then pushes her arms away from each other like someone with much more dramatic energy (the Ultimate Fashionista, maybe) throwing open two doors to dramatically announce her own entrance.  “It pushes the water out of the way.”

“B-b-but,” Mikan stutters out, trying to mimic the motion and floundering, “but the water…the rest of the water gets in…comes back.”

Hina nods seriously.  “But if you float on your stomach and kick with your feet, then you’ll move through the water.”

“How do…how do I float?”

It sounds like a stupid question.  It probably is a stupid question.  But Mikan has always felt like when she gets in the water she’ll sink like a rock, and she’s not quite strong enough to keep herself up – or to bring herself back up – if she starts to sink.

This is not to say anything about the fact that Mikan isn’t in her swimsuit or that Hina has asked her to meet in the lounge just to practice arm movements and kicks and all of that on top of couch cushions or that they haven’t actually even started to do that yet.

(This is not to say anything about the fact that Mikan doesn’t want to be in her swimsuit without her bandages, which defeats the purpose of swimming entirely, because she doesn’t want people to see her without her bandages.  Most people don’t know how she became the Ultimate Nurse, and she’s trying to keep it that way, as much as she can.  She doesn’t go to the bath until she’s certain that everyone is asleep, and sometimes she uses some of the mostly dry bathing techniques she learned as a nurse.  She isn’t scared of water – she’s scared of swimming and of drowning – but she….

She doesn’t want to be seen.

She doesn’t want to see the reaction.)

“You…you know a lot of medical stuff, right, Tsumiki-san?”  Hina smiles at her, soft and encouraging all at once.  “The human body is, like, fifty percent water, or something like that!”

“S-s-sixty percent—”

“Yeah!  That’s even more!”  Hina’s face brightens.  “So, because your body is so much water, you have a tendency to float!”  Her head tilts to one side.  “You float better when you’re holding your breath, though.  Because it’s the oxygen, too.  I think.  That’s why, if you start letting all of your breath out, you’re more likely to sink.  And why when people die, they sink.  I think.”  She taps her chin with one finger.  “But that’s okay!  I won’t let you sink!”

“I-I-I still don’t know that I…that I want to….”  Mikan’s voice grows higher and tighter until she feels like she’s shrieking, even as her words come out in nothing more than mouse-like squeaks.  She presses her lips together.  “I-I-I’m s-s-sorry….”

Hina places a hand on her shoulder.  “It’s okay.  We’ll practice in the shallow end!  You can’t drown there.  Then, when you know what you’re doing, we can start practicing swimming just to the ladder in the deep end.  And then—”

“I really don’t want to go swimming,” Mikan pushes out all at once.  Her fingers fidget together.  “I-I-It’s not that I…that I’m scared—”  That’s a lie.  “—i-i-it’s just that I…that I…I don’t want to.”  She presses her lips together and steps back from Hina.  “I’m s-s-sorry.”

“At…at all?” Hina asks, and her eyes grow so large and round that Mikan’s glad she’s not good at meeting eyes in the first place.  “You don’t want to…at all?  Not even a little kiddie pool?”

Mikan hunches her shoulders, growing smaller.  “Maybe a…maybe a kiddie…a kiddie pool.”  She could…she could get waterproof bandages for that, maybe.  Or push the idea until Hina forgets.  Or….

“Or we could…we could do something…something else?”

Hina nods.  “Something else.  Like the hot springs!”

Mikan tries to smile.  It fits, after all, doesn’t it?

[holly-fixation]

An Astral Myth: Chapter 7

Summary: Cloud Strife is a student at Midgar U, who decided to take art history as an elective. But when an assignment on an “obscure god” (nothing Shiva or he gets stabbed with an ice pick) causes repeated dreams of swirling pink clouds in a blue sky, Cloud has to find out what it means. Now he's face to face with the man he knows as a god. Too many questions, and too many answers.

Inspired by this art by @hueyoart.

Chapter 7: Salty Sea and Mako Drops

The dark ocean surrounded them, the stars’ eternal pattern colliding perfectly with the horizon of water. The tiny vessels floating from afar streaked the ocean under the glow of the moon. Constellations glowed ever more perfect, every invisible limb clear in the incredible darkness away from Midgar’s light. 

Their relatively small boat contained a captain’s cabin above, a living room level with the deck, two bedrooms and a bathroom below deck. Well, Genesis called it ‘small’ without glancing up from his intricately decorated book. Aerith and Zack knew perfectly well this was a small yacht. Minimum. 

Everyone immediately broke off into their own activities. Angeal guarded the captain, both to learn more about the ship and to confirm the old man could function through the night. Sephiroth simply stood with his hands on the railing at the center of the deck, his hair flowing perfectly among the sea breeze combined with their speed. 

Cloud never glanced at the sight. He kept his head down, shifting between his many open laptop tabs and his notebooks. 

“You know, late night work is rarely accurate,” Genesis pointed out as he lounged further back into the cushioned chair. 

“You can go to sleep whenever you want,” Cloud countered. “I have to find what’s giving me a Factor of Safety of negative six.” 

Zack’s brows knotted. “Uh, Cloud-”

“Yes I know it can’t be negative,” He snapped.

“Just checking.” The friend turned slightly away while rubbing the back of his neck.

Aerith leaned into Zack’s line of sight. “Care to explain to the rest of the class?” She teased with a tilt of her head, her braid swaying with the swell of the waves. 

Zack just looked at Cloud. 

The student growled. 

“Come on, Spikey, it’s good practice.”

“Shouldn’t you guys be in bed? All of you?”

“Cloud, if anyone here needs rest, it’s you and Sephiroth. You had mako injections today!” Aerith pressed. 

The blond winced, the knowledge never far from his mind.

Green eyes immediately turned away in apology.

“...I didn’t forget.”

“Come on, Cloud,” Zack deflected with a small smirk, “one simple explanation and then we’ll head to bed.”

“Which bunk are you claiming?”

Blue eyes stared at newly mako blue eyes.

A grumble left the youngest man’s lips. “...A factor of safety is a simple division of two positive numbers, like if I put ten pounds on something that can only hold five pounds. It physically can’t be less than zero. Between zero and one, the part will break. Anything greater than one, the part won’t break. Well, not immediately from the load. Make the factor of safety two, the part can hold twice the load or weight you put on it. Three and it’s triple the weight. Is that enough?”

“Oh! That makes sense!” Aerith cheered a bit too loudly. The sound of a book suddenly closing claimed the attention of everyone in the room. 

“On that note, I’ll head in as well,” Genesis announced. “If you require anything, I’ll be on the top bunk in the first room.”

“Wouldn’t it be better on the couch?” The girl asked. 

The redhead gestured to the blond. “Not with the curses he’s been muttering after every failed attempt.”

“Do you want to do my assignments? Not my fault they’re designed to take nine hours.”

“Nope.” And with a simple bow, the man left down the stairs. 

Zack glanced over at the equations on the page. Aerith knew movie directors could copy these pages in a fancy book, and she’d believe it was magic from the complexity. 

“Word of advice, do this in a spreadsheet or code a program. You won’t regret it.”

“But-”

“One simple mistake in the calculation throws off the entire result. Trust me. And get some rest. No one ever makes good progress at 4AM.”

Cloud glanced at the clock. “Fine. One more hour.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Zack stood and stretched before offering a hand to Aerith. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” She took his open hand and used the support to hop to her feet. She turned to Cloud one last time. “Really, Cloud. We’re right downstairs. Just knock and we’ll be there.”

He finally looked up, his expression softening at their concerned but caring gazes. “Thanks, guys. I’ll probably crash soon anyway. But I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

The couple nodded and excused themselves from the room. 

Cloud returned to his work, this work absolutely nothing like the research on the god and the history he uncovered with this ridiculous and dangerous predicament he and the manager outside faced together. 

Still, he needed something to keep his mind off the fear on Tifa's face, her crimson orbs glistening with desperation to stay. Did she really think this was that sketchy, or was she somehow bound to this myth too? Did something deep inside her know the truth despite being unable to consciously explain why?

Stop. Get back to the assignment. Following Zack's advice, he forced his laptop to take more of the work, his calculator practically forgotten as it threatened to fall off the table from the rocking of the vessel. He did find himself silently grateful for the time alone. Gods knew what he would do with everything happening if he didn't have a moment to himself, though he wasn't sure if homework counted as alone time. 

He barely noticed Angeal enter, brew two quick cups of coffee, and return to the captain's cabin. He forced himself to ignore every external stresser in order to take this one thing off his plate.

If he somehow accomplishes their goal of keeping humanity alive, it would not go well for him to fail all his classes immediately after, fall further into debt, and panic working a second job when he accidentally lashes back at a rude customer. 

No. Not good either. 

So he forced himself to use every principle and theory taught to him in order to finish one of his many assignments and-

And… he never told his teams he'd be gone for a week. He held his head in his hands and groaned. He wiped his face and glanced at the clock. 3:55 AM. Thank Gods. He couldn't think anymore as he closed his laptop, plugged in the charger, and hopped to the unenviable task of waiting for the next movement of the boat to catch all his mechanical pencils rolling on the floor from the tide. 

Just as he finished packing his last pen into his backpack, he felt a small weight. Something telling him to look up by instinct, not command. 

At the tip of the ship still stood Sephiroth, but his posture was turned just a bit straighter, his chin just a bit higher, his body just a bit too rigid against the moving seas, his head turned toward the highest tip of the vessel.

Cloud shoved his backpack between the couch and the wall before taking a breath and making his way through the door. The cold chill of rapid movement nipped at his exposed skin, forcing his arms to cross for warmth. 

Sephiroth stood ahead seemingly unaffected by the temperature or atmosphere, gaze returning to the water. 

Cloud's heart sank with memory brewed fear, forcing his hand to his chest as he breathed carefully and tried to approach. 

“Your world is beautiful, Sacrifice.” 

He froze. 

Never turning to Cloud, the simple statement continued. “With a proportionally large moon and a star too weak to scorch but too strong to freeze, your kind doesn't notice the phenomena that is your surface.”

The blond swallowed hard. Was this an early opening to change the god's thinking? Better yet, why was the god talking to him? Just get him to go away. Cloud’s survival instinct nearly strangled him. “Some do... Some spend their whole lives studying this world for understanding alone.”

“Yet contributions to knowledge go ignored in the pursuit of greed and ignorance.”

Cloud glanced to the side, watching the waves reflect the stars. So much for an early opening. “Is this world truly so special?”

“Conditions for life are fragile. A few miles in any direction, and your planet would be nothing but another orbiting rock in the cosmos.”

“Well…” Cloud hesitated, wanting to make a comment about the goldilocks region, but his body shut him down. The planet will also be a floating rock if I fail. Still, this didn't make sense. Why did the god bother appearing now?

The god simply waited, but every passing second burned his heart. Be better. Be enough. Be seen. Be heard. Don't be overlooked again. The question wasn't out of bounds, right? He won't get hurled into the sun for daring to open his mouth? Powerful. Imperial. Unending. Unrelenting. Hide. Run. Disappear. These feelings seemed just as confused as he was, neither guiding nor suggesting any decision. 

“If you'll permit me… May I…-?” Cloud choked, the question trapped by his past.

Another pause. A slight shift. As if the god played puppet master, the tension and strength in the body faded, releasing strings as real hands gripped the rails tightly. 

The gravity left Cloud, and he couldn't help the relieved sigh from leaving his lips. 

“...Are you alright, Cloud…?” Sephiroth asked through careful breaths. 

“Y-yeah.” Cloud felt like he should have asked first. “Are you? What brought that on?”

The man shook his head of silver hair. “I can’t find a pattern. But it didn’t last that long before…”

Cloud glanced back at where he assumed the god had looked, spotting the flag at the top of the ship and the elevated helm with the captain and Angeal inside. 

“No, before the mako today, it was barely a few seconds but just as unpredictable…”

An idea came to Cloud, one he would never determine on his own, without this odd history. Familiarity and loss. “Yeah… The mako makes it easier to know the history, for me. But I have an insane suggestion. Or hypothesis. Or whatever you want to call it.”

“...I cannot promise an accurate answer, but if I am here, I will tell you what I can…” The man let go of the railing and crossed his arms promptly, the sway of his body balancing the rocking waves. 

Cloud swallowed. No guarantees as always. But he had to try. “Do you…” He forced another breath and pushed out his question quickly. “Does the God of the stars recognize the captain? Or the flag? Or Angeal In any way?”

Sephiroth suddenly released his arms, standing like a statue above the world. “Leave, Sacrifice.”

The instant gravity stole the air from Cloud’s lungs, the blond coughing dryly and struggling to stand. He forced himself to take a step closer to the man within the god no matter how his body screamed at him to run away, tears forming at the corner of his eyes from the strain.

“Your goal is to protect your planet and your loved ones. Do not stray to something far beyond your rights.”

Cloud’s throat tightened and the coughing choked, not a single stream of air entering his lungs. 

The god simply looked down on him, reptilian eyes sharp against the light of the moon. 

Cloud was forced to retreat, his own body betraying him to the safety of the ship. Despite his instincts to cower in the rooms below deck as the salty breaths returned, he refused one more time. Instead he guarded the path to the rooms by taking a pillow and sleeping on the couch. 

If this really was his last week alive, he wouldn’t waste it on fear. He couldn’t. Not now.

For now, he could only focus on protecting everyone else from that helpless suffering that came with…- Cloud’s mako blue eyes widened in realization- that came with the fading human and the strengthening god. 

.

.

.

.

To be continued…

Chapter List

Thanks for reading! Thanks for coming back!

Author's note: Coming back to this AU brought me so much joy. It's like coming home from war and hugging my wife.

[songbirds-here]

1. I know a lot of fancy words. I tear them from my heart and my tongue. Then I pray. 2. Lord God, mercy is in your hands, pour me a little. And tenderness too. My need is great. Beauty walks so freely and with such gentleness. Impatience puts a halter on my face and I run away over the green fields wanting your voice, your tenderness, but having to do with only the sweet grasses of the fields against my body. When I first found you I was filled with light, now the darkness grows and it is filled with crooked things, bitter and weak, each one bearing my name. 3. I lounge on the grass, that's all. So simple. Then I lie back until I am inside the cloud that is just above me but very high, and shaped like a fish. Or, perhaps not. Then I enter the place of not-thinking, not-remembering, not- wanting. When the blue jay cries out his riddle, in his carping voice, I return. But I go back, the threshold is always near. Over and back, over and back. Then I rise. Maybe I rub my face as though I have been asleep. But I have not been asleep. I have been, as I say, inside the cloud, or, perhaps, the lily floating on the water. Then I go back to town, to my own house, my own life, which has now become brighter and simpler, some- where I have never been before. 4. Of course I have always known you are present in the clouds, and the black oak I especially adore, and the wings of birds. But you are present too in the body, listening to the body, teaching it to live, instead of all that touching, with disembodied joy. We do not do this easily. We have lived so long in the heavens of touch, and we maintain our mutability, our physicality, even as we begin to apprehend the other world. Slowly we make our appreciative response. Slowly appreciation swells to astonishment. And we enter the dialogue of our lives that is beyond all under- standing or conclusion. It is mystery, It is love of God. It is obedience. 5. Oh, feed me this day, Holy Spirit, with the fragrance of the fields and the freshness of the oceans which you have made, and help me to hear and to hold in all dearness those exacting and wonderful words of our Lord Jesus Christ, saying: Follow me. 6. Every summer the lilies rise and open their white hands until they almost cover the black waters of the pond. And I give thanks but it does not seem like adequate thanks, it doesn't seem festive enough or constant enough, nor does the name of the Lord or the words of thanksgiving come into it often enough. Everywhere I go I am treated like royalty, which I am not. I thirst and am given water. My eyes thirst and I am given the white lilies on the black water. My heart sings but the apparatus of singing doesn't convey half what it feels and means. In spring there's hope, in fall the exquisite, necessary diminishing, in winter I am as sleepy as any beast in its leafy cave, but in summer there is everywhere the luminous sprawl of gifts, the hospitality of the Lord and my inadequate answers as I row my beautiful, temporary body through this water-lily world.

— ‘Six Recognitions of the Lord’ (Mary Oliver)

[professor-amaryllis]

:{ A Video file is embedded. Valencia Island, Orange Archipelago. 6/9/24 10:12 am. }:

The sun beats down on a beach somewhere on Valencia island, the light glimmering off the picturesque cerulean waves as they lap gently on the shore. Professor Ginkgo seems to be enjoying the peaceful morning, lounged back on a small beach chair set in the pebbled shore, her feet in the water before her. 

It seems perhaps that he may have gotten a bit too relaxed, however, as faint snores betray the fact that behind his sunglasses he has indeed dozed off. Arlene the alolan meowth lounges a few feet away in the grass, and seems to be enjoying the warm tropical weather. 

We see this peaceful scene before us for a few moments before a slight disruption of the film and fast forward symbol on the corner of the screen indicates that the recording is being sped up. The following happen in what, to the viewer, appear to be rapid succession.

Miairu the Gengar detaches and rises up out of a shadow beneath Casi’s chair, and appears to stare at Casi curiously for a couple moments. She reaches out and seems to want to touch or startle Casi, but thinks better of it, disappearing back through the ground.

A few minutes pass and the ghost type returns carrying a stuffed teddiursa which she ever so gently sets on the sleeping professor’s stomach, before leaving once again. 

That pattern repeats about every ten minutes, the small tower of objects growing until A pokeball, a mug (empty), a glass (full of seawater we see the gengar scoop from the ocean), an overly large pair of glasses, a small microscope (set gently in the water beside him), three books and a briefcase join the precarious stack of items. Miairu seems pleased with herself.

A Shiny Gardevoir, Rose, teleports in front of this… spectacle, and Miairu proudly shows off her work to her sister. Rose seems to stare daggers at Casi, Serious even for her species, and yet for what must be a few minutes she simply watches him. 

Miairu after those few minutes of searching brings a few choice seashells to Rose, as if seeking approval, and after some consideration, the Gardevour points out four of them and Miairu balances them delicately on Casi’s arms. Rose nods her head in approval, to Miairu’s delight, retrieves her glasses from the pile, and the two float out of shot together.

Nothing much happens for some time, aside from the sped-up slight shifting of the sleeping professor. We can see the sun move across the sky and the shadows shorten and then begin to elongate once more as hours pass. The film returns to normal speed just as Casi awakes with a start, shooting forward to a sitting position and dumping all of the accumulated items directly into the ocean. Disoriented and confused, Casi stares at the items now soaking in the sea and then to the stark shapes where they had protected his skin from the sun's light, leaving him looking a little bit like a well baked I spy puzzle. 

“Shittō”

:{ Transcription Ends. WWWWWWWWWWW }:

[miscellaneous--bones]

"So what did you do to end up on death row, anyway?" Sebastian's cackle died off. His tail shifted as he leans back against the sofa, raising his bottle against the florescent lights at the edge of the room.

Saoirse's own bottle was set beside her on the desk shed pulled over. Her legs swung idly as she watched a stray bubble float passed the window."I killed my husband with a pair a' fabric scissors."

Sebastian's ear wiggled as his focus switches to her, his brow furrowing. "Hah... sheesh, what'd the bastard do to deserve that? Ohhhhoho did he cheat on you or somthin'? Didn't take you for the jealous type," his surprise melted away to a laughter again. He went back to swirling his alcohol and his tail thumped at the other end of the circular room.

Saoirse's hand quietly fell to her thigh as she took a moment to will her good eye to leave darkness outside the window. Leaning back, she looked towards the lounging salesman. "... told you 'm not human, right?"

"You've mentioned it." Sebastian stilled as he met her gaze, noticing the way her mood shifted. Damn, he'd hit a sore spot.

"Dunno if urbanshade's files had anything on selkies," Saoirse was relieved to see recognition in his expression. "But he sold my coat. It was.. right after my son's death, somethin... punishment maybe? 'E didn't hold up his end of the deal n' I snapped."

It was a longer sentence then he might have ever heard out of her, and brought up more questions than answers. Saoirse had kids? Kids that died? "Deal?"

"'S a long story. He said if I could give him a son, he'd give back my coat. Guess I should've known he was lying after his 5th birthday." There was a sadness settling on her shoulders. Sebastian watched her gaze flutter across the carpet.

Saoirse seemed farther away than before while he contemplated. She'd already read sebastian's file, but it was strange to be on the learning end. It felt rude to pry, but worse to drop it.

"What was his name? Your son." He clarified. Saoirse's eyes finally lifted, "Jonah. He was 9."

Her hand came up to rub at the eye that wasn't scarred and droopy. Her claws caught her hair before she rested her chin on her palm. "His father's name was Joseph."

"So what he... stole your coat to force y'to have his kids?" Sebastian's lip twitched as he spoke. Douche was an understatement, and he would've killed him too.

The expendable reached over to take the neck of her bottle. She swallowed before she answered. Liquid courage, or something. "I thought I lost it, at first. He, comforted me on the beach, and took me home. Didn't learn till later he'd taken it and at that point we'd been married a few years."

"He wanted some fancy magic wifey to show off. I wanted to leave as soon as I found out, but he refused. Said if he got a son- something about his estate- then he'd set it up so we could get divorced. I'd get my coat if he got his kid." As she continued sebastian's face continued to tighten. His tail drew closer and his claws flexed.

"What a fucker. Good thing you killed him. Even if- y'know." Saoirse's mouth twitched upwards. It tickled her to see him so angry at a dead man he never knew, and it was cathartic to be validated by someone who'd been wronged the way sebastian had.

"Gets worse. My first kid was a girl, a selkie." There was a terrible smile across Saoirse's chin, and a glint in her eye. It was angry, in the worst way. "What was her name?" Sebastian questioned.

"Hilda." Her brow furrowed, and her smile faltered. "I named her Hilda."

"Selkies need to be in the ocean fer a while after we're born, to form the bond, and grow our fur and shit. To be healthy. Joseph would've had to give me my coat for her to make it, an I would've brought her back when she was old enough. But... he wanted a son. So..." she rubbed at her eye again, rougher this time. Saoirse pulled in a shuddering breath. Sebastian rose to the edge of his seat. his tail thumped again, closer.

"So he just let her DIE? his kid??" He shouted, louder than he meant to. Saoirse shrugged, taking another sip out of her bottle. "'Probably didn't want me to run off with her or some shit."

The two sat for a moment, allowing the shifting of the facility to fill the quiet. Saoirse breathed, and tried to regain her composure. Ugh, crying in front of the great sabatour, how embarrassing. Sebastian's thoughts raged. His claws picked at the sticker on his bottle as he slumped back on the couch.

"Y'didn't deserve that." Saoirse breathed again, once, twice.

"...you didn't either."

Their eyes met again. Somewhere, gunfire. Saoirse's leg began to sway again as Sebastian laughed. The room felt lighter again, and saoirse chuckled alongside him.

"MAN this place sucks!" The serpent cackled. The selkie hunched over, a hand over her chin as the two were left breathless. "Ugh.. outta all the stupid suckers down here, you seem to be the most tolerable.

Sebastian lifted himself from that creaky little couch and chugged the rest of his bottle. Grabbing the forgotten remnants of the stash they'd found, he called over his shoulder, "I'm not keen to share all these with anyone else, so let's see how good you are at navigating monsters under the influence."

"Hey if you weren't so big I could drink you under the table!" Saoirse pushed herself off the desk and trailed after him, grabbing her own drink on the way.

"Yeah, I'll show you big, short stack." "If I didn't know any better I'd think yer comin' onta' me, solace."

[thinkingbee-blog1]

COCAINE RAT

It was a cold night in the year of 2026. The ocean has risen an unexpected 1000 meters after North Korea nuked the North Pole, and society is hanging on by a thread. Six teenagers are floating miles above what was once the City of Chicago. For all they know, they are the final members of the human race. It is up to them to repopulate the Earth.

"SAMMY!! You've been in there for an hour!!! Other people need to shower too!!", yelled Georgia.

"Shut the fuck up" said Sammy, crassly. He was not even in the shower, he just liked the noise of the water running as he shot up heroin and snorted lines off Krystal's tits.

Georgia banged on the door for another minute and then sat down in the hallway. The houseboat swayed with gusto, but she had become accustomed to the movement. They had been on the water for 6 whole months. The constant rocking of the sea was a strange kind of comfort, given the circumstances that put them there. As a devout Christian woman, she felt she was a part of God's Great Plan. This was her Ark. Georgia's Ark.

Down the hall stood Penelope, an art school dropout who had planned on becoming a singer before the nuke was dropped and everything got all fucked up. She had even been signed to Taylor Swift's label the day before North Korea bombed the North Pole. So unfair!

"Are Sammy and Krystal still in there?" asked Penelope.

"Yup. I can hear them giggling too" said Georgia.

"Ugh"

"I know right"

Georgia looked up at Penelope, and in her eyes, she saw a glimmer of something hopeful. Georgia quickly looked away, blushing. Penelope walked past her and into her room, glancing back at Georgia before walking through the door. She wasn't looking back, but Penelope could feel her desire. There was something between them, but they had both been too scared to admit it.

In the lower deck of the boat, Ferdinand and Christopher were having their special alone time. Christopher sat in a chair with his legs spread wide while Ferdinand wrapped his body around the slick metal pole. Their eyes were locked as Ferdinand moved his body up and down the pole. Christopher had always admired Ferdinand's grace and elegance, and Ferdinand had always appreciated Christopher's admiration.

"BANG"

A sound from the upper deck. Reluctantly, Ferdinand and Christopher left the warm embrace of each other on the pole and went to check out the noise. Georgia and Penelope were already up there looking around the bridge.

"What was that?" asked Christopher.

"I don't know. Maybe just the rocking of the boat knocked something over" said Penelope.

"Or maybe we rode over another skyscraper," said Georgia.

"That would make sense. The maps show that we're supposed to be above the Chicago area now" said Penelope.

"Ok well Chrissy and I are going back downstairs," said Ferdinand.

"Cute" said Penelope.

Little did they know that the noise was not the rocking of the boat, or the rattle of a skyscraper's antenna. It was a rat.

CHAPTER 2

"Sammy?"

"Yes Krystal?"

"Where did you put the coke?"

"On the sink."

Sammy was barely conscious from all the heroin. He did leave it on the sink, but something had taken it. That something was now scurrying through the walls, quicker than ever before.

"Oh happy day, happy day! A little cocaine for little old me! What a wonderful day! Yippee!"

The rat retreated to his lair in the boiler room. He had stashed several things; a handgun he found in Georgia's room, a machete from Sammy's, and a nuke that he made from bits and pieces around the boat.

"Oh joy, oh joy. Time to snort!"

The rat tore open the baggie with his little rodent claws. The white powder plumed up into his nose and filled his little rat lungs. His eyes widened, filled with elation and a lust for destruction.

CHAPTER 3

Penelope and Georgia sat down in the lounge and turned on the TV.

"What should we watch?" asked Georgia.

"You never want to watch what I want to watch" said Penelope.

"Yeah because you always suggest movies that are filled with themes of satanism" said Georgia.

"You think everything is satanic" said Penelope.

"No I don't!" said Georgia, sharply.

"Oh yeah? You said we shouldn't watch The Bee Movie because it promotes beastiality" said Penelope.

"And I stand by that" said Georgia.

"You're impossible" said Penelope.

"Shut up" said Georgia.

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds. Then, they locked eyes. The room was dark, but the energy from the tension between them could have lit a whole city. The desire was too much for either of them to deny anymore. Georgia slowly reached for Penelope's face, and Penelope thrust her face into Georgia's. Georgia was not expecting so much tongue, but it was a welcome surprise.

CHAPTER 4

Ferdinand was now on top of Christopher in the lower deck. They were going at it. Hot and heavy. Very wet and messy. Lots of noises.

"Squeeek"

"Did you hear that?" asked Christopher.

"Hear what?" asked Ferdinand.

"That squeak. It was like a mouse or something."

"No. Now shut up so I can shove my tongue back in your mouth."

"You're so romantic."

"I know right"

The two were getting hotter and hotter as they threw each other around the room.

"SQUEEEEEK"

They stopped.

"Ok what the fuck" said Ferdinand.

Before Christopher could respond, the rat jumped out of a ceiling vent and onto his face.

"AAAAAAHHHHH FUCK WHAT THE FUCK"

The rat was ferociously tearing into his skin, snacking on tendons, and gnawing on nerve endings.

"CHRISSYYYY NOOOOO!!!! YOUR BEAUTIFUL FACE!!!!!"

The rat jumped from Christopher's face to Ferdinand's, and in the span of 3 seconds he was completely mutilated. Their two lifeless bodies sat in pools of blood as the cocaine rat scurried back into the walls.

CHAPTER 5

Penelope and Georgia were getting freaky on the couch when they heard a noise from down the hall.

"SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEK"

"What the heaven was that?" asked Georgia.

"I don't know, it sounded like a rodent of some sort" said Penelope.

"How could there be a rodent on our boat? I thought we were the last living beings on Earth!"

"I don't know. But I'm scared"

"Don't worry Penelope. I brought something that we can use to protect us"

Georgia ran to her room and threw open her sock drawer. She reached to the back where she had hid her father's handgun, but felt nothing. A feeling of terror ran through her body. Her blood turned to ice.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHH"

A cry from down the hall. Why had she left Penelope alone???

Georgia ran back into the room to find the one true love of her lonely Christian life being torn to shreds by a vicious ball of fur. It was moving too fast for her to identify. Penelope was shaking, and Georgia fell to her knees and sobbed. A moment later, the ball of fur stopped, released it's hold on Penelope's body, and turned to Georgia. It was a rat. There was something in the rat's eyes, something cold and full of rage.

"Oh Georgia, did you think your God would save you? You are human, humans were never meant to live forever."

Then the rat pulled the handgun out from behind him and pointed it at Georgia.

"How fitting that you are killed with your father's gun, just as humanity destroyed the world that could have been saved for their children."

The gun went pew pew. Georgia was dead. The cocaine rat was filled with joy.

CHAPTER 6

Sammy and Krystal were next to each other in the bathtub. Both were just conscious enough to see what was 6 feet above them. Which was a rat. With a machete.

"Wow. A rat with a machete" said Sammy.

"So cool" said Krystal.

The rat descended the bathroom wall slowly, machete clutched in his tail. He expected the humans to scream like the others had, but they made no noise. He slashed and disemboweled the two. The bathtub filled with their blood. Pausing for a moment of reflection, the rat noticed that the humans were smiling, somehow unaffected by their gruesome demise.

CHAPTER 7

Back in the boiler room, the rat was slowly coming down off the cocaine high. His mind cleared, and he realized what he had done. He did not regret a thing, but now he was forced to contemplate what must be done. The nuke sat in the corner of the room, eyeing him with an all-knowing aura.

"I know!" said the rat to the nuke.

Silence.

"I know I am the last. What is the point of my existence if I am forever alone?"

More silence. The rat walks slowly up to the nuke, putting his forehead against the bomb.

"I have to face the music. I can't hide from this anymore."

The rat looks up at the nuke, then raises a rodent eyebrow in surprise.

"Wait a minute now, I hadn't thought about it like that! I am the last! I am the final form of life on Earth! And as that final form, I have the power to end life itself!"

He walks to the mirror. He looks at his reflection. Then he takes one last snort.

His eyes widen.

"Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds"

Earth is no longer.

THE END

[squids-comics]

Here's chapter two of The Planet That Didn't Want to be Saved, as promised!!

I am not from your world. I came from a far off planet, a galaxy or two over. It was a beautiful planet, with clear skies and beautiful plant life. I have a few flowers from home growing outside actually. It helps me on the days I get homesick. 

I left my planet at the age of twenty seven. I felt it was too small for me. Too cramped. My people had amazing strength and the ability to fly. We could survive in the vacuum of space unprotected, so the journey to the stars was rather simple. I just looked up, and before I knew it I was effortlessly floating through the cosmos. I looked to the stars for a destination, and flew off towards the first one I saw. It was a beautiful star, small and bright, twinkling in the inky void of darkness. I flew towards it. It seemed to call out to me. Something about it pulled me towards it, like a magnet. 

I made several stops on my trip. I found several barren planets. One was covered in sand. One was icy. One had some intense acidic rain. I got some particularly bad burns there. Still I pushed on until I came to the star I saw. 

It was beautiful. While it had looked white from afar, it was yellow up close. And it was so warm! Space is quite cold and lonely. But being in the orbit of the star filled me with such warmth. A warmth I had not felt since I had left home. I basked in its glow for a while, soaking in every ounce of warmth. I waited their for hours, lounging in the sunlight, until something caught my eye. A small blue orb, drifting behind the star. I flew over to see it closer. It had little dishes orbiting it. Little artificial moons spinning around it, each with their own little gadgets spinning and whirring. There was life on that planet. 

I hadn't talked to anyone in a while. It had been at least a few months since I left home. I missed my friends, my family, and thought their might be some people on the planet I could talk to, to tide me over till I went home again. I decided to fly closer, inspecting the planet carefully. The blue belonged to vast oceans, spanning most of the planets surface. In between the seas were large expanses of luscious green land, dotted with hills and mountains and forests. Milky white clouds drifted above it all, protecting it, like the shell of an egg. I flew around to the dark side of the planet. Thousands of artificial lights lit up the world, shining all the way to space. There were many people down there. I couldn't wait to meet them.

I flew back around to the light side of the planet. I wanted to see this planet in the light of day. I slowly drifted towards the planet, inching close as slowly as I could manage. I wanted to enjoy my entry, as I would only get one introduction to this planet. I dipped my toes into the atmosphere. It was warm, much warmer than space at least. I hurriedly dove into the atmosphere, the first mistake I made on your planet.

My people have much stronger hearing than yours do. Even now, I can hear the heartbeats of every living creature for miles around. And my hearing was much better before the bombs fell. 

When my head entered the atmosphere, my ears were flooded with thousands of air molecules, each carrying a different sound. I heard birds chirping, children laughing. I heard cheers and confessions of love. I heard screams of rage, shouts and thrown furniture. The roars of chainsaws and the hisses of hydraulics. The toppling of trees and the elimination of the animals that called them home. I heard explosions big and loud. I heard the clamoring of tools, chipping away at the planet I found so beautiful, ripping it apart for every scrap of value that could be wrung out of it. There was the wheeze of machinery, belching smog into the sky. The wheeze of the factory workers building the machines, belching smog out of their lungs. I heard war. The firing of guns, the banging of artillery, thousands of footsteps, some marching forward, some running back. I heard bloodshed. I heard murder. I heard anger, rage. I heard fear, desperate cries for help. I heard the last words of a planet on its deathbed.

It was all too much for me. My head began spinning. I had never heard so much noise before, good or bad. It was dizzying. Before I knew it, my eyes had shut. I was hurtling downwards, headfirst. I had blacked out.

I hurtled to the ground headfirst, head still spinning. I crashed, headfirst into the side of a mountain. I hit the top of the snowy peak, far away from any life. No one had been harmed except me. I rolled down the mountain, tumbling across the sharp, rocky surface. They stabbed me, they sliced me, but the whole time the noises continued. 

Eventually I rolled to a valley, where the ground levelled out. I stopped rolling and tried desperately to catch my balance. I struggled to my feet. My legs burned with strain, as my ears pulsed from the noise. Thousands of voices were crying out in pain. Crying out for help. They needed someone. Why not me?

I took back to the air and flew forward, towards the explosive sounds of fear and pain.

As for chapter three, I've already gotten side tracked with a different project (that I'll be showcasing tomorrow!), so who knows when that'll be written. I'll hold a poll soon to see what I should work on, between my four ongoing series.

[wayward-lives]

Damian first meets him when he's five years old.

It's in the park, the good one that's a bit far away from their house, the one that's close to the sorority house for the local college, the one only their father takes them to. Damian loves this playground; the paint isn't peeling on the equipment and there are lots of things to climb. Lily's sitting in the sandpit, happily playing with her blocks. Their father is sitting on a bench not too far off, his eyes fixed on the group of college girls lounging on the grass. There are no other children around, except for Lily, and Damian isn't about to ask his father to play - he knows that he won't agree.

Instead, Damian is playing on the slide. It's a good slide; bright yellow and super long, and whenever Damian slides down he feels like he's flying. It's a fun thing to do; climb up the ladder, get two whole seconds of exhilaration, then climb back up the ladder again, chasing the freedom he never feels anywhere else.

Just as Damian's about to turn to go back to the ladder, something catches his eye. The slide is at the end of the park, right where the trees and bushes start, and there's movement between the bushes.

Damian frowns and trots closer. It's too big to be a bird, and there aren't any big animals around, and if it was a person, surely they would have announced their presence?

"Hello?" Damian calls out. There's movement again, and this time Damian can see what causes it.

It <em>is</em> a person - a man, with hair like spun gold. He's very tall - much taller than Damian's father, who's the tallest person he knows - and his body is like those men that his father likes to watch lift weights on the TV, the ones that remind Damian of a gorilla. He's cast in shadow, and Damian can't see what he's wearing. There's something shifting behind him, slowly and purposefully, but Damian can't see what it is.

"Hello," Damian says politely, because that's what his mother says he should do when he meets new people.

The man tilts his head slightly in response. He doesn't blink. His eyes are blue - not like Lily's eyes, which are blue like the ocean. This man's eyes are blue like those glow-in-the-dark stones that Damian once saw at the museum, so blue that they give off their own light. Damian is enraptured.

He shouldn't talk to strangers - that's what Mrs Henderson tells them. Stranger danger, she says. Damian likes Mrs Henderson, and she hasn't been wrong ever since he started in her class, so whatever she says must be true. But this man, the man with golden hair and blue, blue eyes, is different. He has to be different.

Why else would Damian feel like this?

"My name's Damian," Damian announces. The man just watches him silently. "My sister calls me Dee, because she can't pronounce it. She's only three. I'm five years old - I can count to twenty!"

The man's eyes bore into his skin, assessing. Studying. He opens his mouth, moves his tongue around as if he's feeling his gums, as if he doesn't know what it's like to have a tongue.

"Damian."

His voice is deep, raspy yet smooth. It floats over Damian like a cool gust of wind on a hot day.

"Yep! Who're you?"

The man doesn't respond to that. He must be shy, Damian realises. He's too pretty to be shy.

"I'm playing on the slide. Do you want to come play with me?"

The man's lips tilt up ever so slightly. "I'll just stay here, thank you, Damian."

Damian shrugs. "Okay. Do you wanna watch me play?"

The man inclines his head ever so slightly.

So Damian plays on the slide, the man's eyes fixed on him, until his father calls him back to go home. When Damian looks over his shoulder as he's being led away, he catches movement beyond the bushes.

-----

The encounter with the man stays with him, like some strange dream he's incapable of forgetting. The years go by quickly, and Damian grows older, sadder. His father leaves, chasing the skirts of a girl who's barely older than Damian himself. His mother works, longer and longer shifts until she's almost skeletal, her face hollow and hands trembling from caffeine. Lily grows distant, dreams of running away and never seeing them again. And Damian grows desperate.

He thinks of the man when he's at his weakest. When his mother passes out on the couch from exhaustion, barely able to stomach the broth that Damian made for her. When Lily stumbles through the front door at three in the morning, high and drunk and wobbling on her high heels. When the other boys at school pinch him, ruin his books, and taunt him as he passes. He thinks of blue, blue eyes, of hair like spun gold, of shadows writhing and curling around the man's sturdy body like living creatures.

The first and last time Damian ever met the man was twelve years ago, and he still remembers it clearer than anything else.

And he knows if he calls for the man, he will appear.

[almostempty]

ME:

“I’m pretty sure Javi’s going to be there,” he says, almost too nonchalantly, meaning he’s in the mood to be messy.

—> I love shitass Steve hahahah

“No, seriously. He was pushing my buttons, being his usual peacock self. I don’t even know how it escalated, but one moment we’re arguing, and the next… he’s got his tongue in my pussy.”

—> I love her

Steve chokes on his own spit at your bluntness. He’s heard and seen much worse on set, yet your confession has him all tripped up. 

—> heheheh

He just grins, unbothered by your sharp tone. “You’re always a joy to work with. No wonder Javi asked for you specifically.”

—> HEHEHEHEHEH YESSSSS

He shrugs, indifferent to your confusion. “Yeah. He’s set for a solo shoot upstairs in one of the bathrooms before he’s on with…”

—> OH MY GODDDDD

“Oh yeah, he made a real fuss about it. Sent away the other guy we had lined up for the shoot. Told me he wouldn’t do it unless you were behind the camera. Even offered to pay out of his own pocket just to get you here. It’s the only reason we’re paying you as much as I promised over the phone.”

—> OH he’s a man on a fuckin’ MISSION heheheheh

You can already picture him upstairs, lounging in one of those stupidly lavish bathrooms, probably smirking that damn smirk of his, waiting for you.

—> yeah, I’m picturing it too mhmm

A guy with a scruffy beard and a beat-up baseball cap stands behind the camera, looking more bored than impressed, barely watching as the two stars go at it.

—> 👀

He’s cute in that disheveled, stray-dog kind of way.

—> accurate

He’s standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his defined Adonis belt drawing your eyes in a way you hate to admit.

His toned, brown torso glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat, the sunlight pouring into the room making him look like he’s glowing.

—> rereading that for the rest of my life btw

You need to toughen up, and in order to do so, you have to bitch at him. It’s the only way to keep that lustful cavewoman instinct away.

—> SO TRUE

“In my defense— it didn’t sound very convincing.”

—> (also true)

But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice sharpens with a hint of panic, calling your name.

—> heheheh

Javier notices your reaction and leans against the doorframe to the connecting walk in closet, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Catering to the female gaze,” he says with a cocky shrug, “At least, that’s what my agent told me. Seems like I’m very popular among the ladies.”

—> oooookay you caught me, where do I order a million copies

It’s important to capture the full picturesque scene to begin with— the soft light spilling in through the window, the sparkling blue ocean in the background.

—> I AM PICTURING IT YEP

Javier moves casually as he unwraps the white towel from around his waist. His cock, already half-hard, demands your attention, but you force yourself to look away. Your rub press together then lick at them unconsciously, trying to focus on anything other than his naked body.

—> sorry I’m drooling

The scene in front of you looks like something out of a romantic painting, and it hits you how undeniably beautiful he looks. His skin, a warm golden brown, contrasts perfectly with the creamy white of the bath, and the colorful flower petals floating on the surface make the whole thing look like a dream.

—> babe u don’t understand, I need it POST HASTE

You shake your head slightly, snapping yourself out of the reverie. You’re supposed to be filming him jerking off, not admiring the aesthetics like this is some fine art shoot. But fuck, it’s hard to separate the two when the visuals are this damn good.

—> BOTH, WE CAN ADMIRE BOTH

“No dirty talk. They want my natural noises to be the main focus… amongst other things.” He cocks his head to the side, one arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

—> I actually have no words, this is criminal

The way his bicep flexes, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath that taut, sun-kissed skin, showcasing just how defined he is while still looking so maddeningly soft. 

—> HOW DARE YOU INCLUDE ARM !! I am gonna be absolutely useless for the next 48 hrs

Javier moves slowly. His head tips back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed, the soft curve of his lashes fanning out like shadows against his skin. One hand trails down, lingering at the hollow of his collarbones. The movements are unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring the feel of his own skin.

—> this is so beautiful; I’m gonna drink that bathwater like freaky little Ollie in Saltburn

If you were anyone else, one of his usual co-stars maybe, you’d lean down and give it a few kitten licks. You’d tease the sensitive crown with your tongue, circling the tip before letting it slide past your lips— just enough to drive him wild.

—> my tongue is numb

A soft groan escapes his lips as he gets closer to where he’s aching to touch. It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he knows you’re imagining the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of his salty skin, the way he’d twitch against your tongue as you tease him until he begs for more.

—> PLS STFU (never stop)

His breathing grows heavier, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as his pleasure builds. It’s mesmerizing, the way his face contorts, his expressions almost too intimate, too personal for the lens. But you can’t tear your eyes— or the camera— away.

—> SCREAMING UNINTELLIGIBLY LOOKING AROUND THE ROOM AND POINTING AT MY SCREEN RN

“Anything,” there he goes again, using that tone that makes him sound like he’s begging.

—> do u understand how perfect and beautiful and incredible and talented u are? I would kill for u, pull a Joel and take out the hospital, town, world, wtf ever else stands in ur way— like it’s EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED AND WRITTEN SO BEAUTIFULLY LIKE SHUT UP!

“Your cock is so pretty, Javi.” You purr, throwing all caution to the wind, lying to yourself that this means nothing.

—> fuck yesssssss

The effect is immediate. He groans, a deep sound from his chest, and his hand moves faster over his shaft, the slickness of the water amplifying the movement. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing now erratic, “say it again.”

—> FUCK YESSSSS THAT PUNCHED MY PUSSY RIGHT IN THE DICK (??) I know I’m highlighting every single line at this point, but HOW CAN I NOTTTTT ARE YOU KIDDING?????

The way his body jerks in response tells you everything you need to know. His grip tightens on the edge of the tub, knuckles going white as he pumps faster, rougher, pushing himself toward the brink. His hips start lifting out of the water with every thrust into his own hand, chasing that final release.

—> calling out tomorrow because I AM SICK reading this you got me so fucked up whyyyyyyyyy I need it???

“Wait, don’t—” Javier’s voice is still hoarse, but there’s a touch of urgency to it now, breaking through the post-orgasm haze. You hear the water sloshing violently behind you as he moves, and you know he’s getting out of the tub. “Just… hang on.”

—> HEY GIRL WAIT HE’S GONNA SLIP CHASIN’ AFTER U

“Hey—wait!” Javier slips as he tries to step out of the tub, nearly falling as he reaches for you,

—> LMAAAOOOOO yeah like that

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice softens, but there’s a frustration beneath it, like he’s grappling with the same confusion you are. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you, okay?

—> HELP I’M HAVING FEELINGS???

“I don’t want you,” you correct yourself.

—> okay but I do????

“Oh my god, can you just leave me alone—” The words get jammed in your throat as your eyes land on Frankie

—> uh, I sure did straight up forget about F-man after that bathtub scene

You turn to see Javier standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze flicking between you and Frankie. His entire posture screams annoyance.

—> heheheHEHEHE HEHEH HEH I did just make the most EVIL expression and cackle at the appearance of jealous Javier Ahhhhhhh

Especially someone who looks like they just got picked up off the side of the road.

—> frankie always catchin’ strays

This is the part of the job that gnaws at you— the undercurrent of exploitation that no one acknowledges.

You’re not naive, you know exactly what sells in porn. You know what these people want to watch, what they get off on. The younger, the better. 

—> PREACH

Poor Frankie catches a stray with that one.

—> HAHA get outta my head

The scene starts with the typical, raunchy premise: Dad pays babysitter with his cock!

—> ope

But you’re catching the small details like you always do.

—> <3

“This is your fault,” he spits out, voice sharp, acidic. “All that shit you were talking earlier— now he’s fucking broken.”

—> heheheh

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you treat me like shit because your precious Javier can’t get his dick hard. Go fuck yourself, Robbie.”

—> I LOVE HERRRR

“I just quit,” you snap, voice sharp as glass. “See you never.”

—> HEY WAIT

Motive | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 3 of Unscripted Desire | ~10k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Another chaotic shoot... but at least it's in Malibu?

Tags: more plot keeps sneaking into the porn, angst, frankie has entered the villa, jealous!javi, reader stands on business, it's a porn set other people are also fucking, masturbation on camera (m), dirty talk, lots of cursing (f bombs my beloved), an attempt at a blowjob, javier can't get it up, a dash of misogyny, author projects her ooc thoughts about problematic age gaps in the porn industry, no use of y/n, reader has a degree in film production, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: me nervous that part 3 isn't going to live up to the hype? more likely than you think! 🙂‍↕️ this fic is taking on a brain of its own and i'm just along for the ride, baby! for my just the tip stans— i'm sorry but i'm going to have to edge you until part 4 *crowd boos and i'm dragged off stage* i was going to wait to post this, but i really wanted to get it out because i'm so damn proud of it lowkey, lol, so i hope you all like it 🖤 let a bitch know what ya think! also, shoutout to my pookie @persephone-girl for reading over this 💋 love u mamas

Your phone’s shrill ring pierces through the haze of sleep, and you groan in frustration, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

The comforter is pulled tight over your head, shielding you from the annoyingly bright sunlight filtering through your window. Your hand shoots out, fumbling blindly across the bedside table until your fingers finally close around the receiver. 

“What?” you grumble, voice thick with sleep and muffled beneath your sheets.

“There she is! My beautiful, talented camerawoman. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate what you do?” Robbie’s overly cheerful voice blares through the phone, so you pull it back from your ear slightly, wincing.

“Why are you calling me this early in the morning?” you snap, already regretting picking up.

“Early? It’s almost noon—”

“What do you want, Robbie?” You cut him off, not in the mood for small talk, especially since last night’s bar shift ran past four in the morning. You were hoping to sleep through most of the day, recovering in your bed with no interruptions. Clearly, that plan has gone out the window.

“Look, I’ve got a big shoot happening in Malibu today and I’m short-staffed. I could really use your magic touch behind the camera.”

“No.”

 “C’mon,” he drags the word out, “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for working on your day off.”

You rub your eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you. “How much?”

He tosses out a number, and despite your best effort to remain indifferent, your eyes widen. Damn. That’s more than decent money.

“Malibu’s all the way across town,” you point out, “I won’t make it there in time if I take the bus. And a taxi? That’ll cost me a fortune.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your ride’s outside waiting for you.”

You blink, confused, and get out of bed, dragging the corded phone with you as you move toward the bay window. You pull the curtain back just enough to peer down at the busy street below.

Sure enough, Steve is there, leaning casually against his Jeep with sunglasses on, a cigarette between his lips. The second he spots you looking down, he grins like the cheshire cat and waves.

“Seriously?” you mutter to Robbie, flipping Steve off with a half-hearted smile. “And what if I’d said no?”

“We both know you wouldn’t have.”

After a few more quick exchanges, you hang up, glancing once more at your ride through the window before turning to rush and get yourself ready for the day ahead.

Truth be told, you’re still not fully awake, your body moving on autopilot as you shuffle through your morning (midday) routine.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the beach— especially one as nice as Malibu’s. The thought of it softens the blow of losing your rest day. You tell yourself you’ll make the best of it, turning this unexpected workday into something that benefits you, too.

After shooting wraps, you’ll indulge in a quiet evening by the shore, sinking your toes into the warm sand with a good book in hand. No rush to head back. This time, you’ll gladly take a taxi if it means getting some peace seaside.

With that plan in mind, you dress for the day accordingly. Your halter-style bathing suit doubles as a cute top, the color complimenting your skin, while your favorite denim shorts sit comfortably over your bikini bottoms.

You pack a few essentials into your beach bag and make sure to grab your camera bag as well. Once you’ve double-checked that everything’s packed, you make your way downstairs, feeling a bit more awake now.

Steve catches sight of you approaching and flashes a dramatic grin, straightening up like he’s about to chauffeur royalty.

“Your chariot awaits,” he announces with an exaggerated flourish, swinging the passenger door open.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the bemused laugh that escapes your lips. “God, you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head as you climb into the seat, tossing your beach bag onto the floor.

He shuts the door behind you with a smirk. “Ridiculous? I prefer charmingly dedicated to my craft.” He hops into the driver’s side, flicking the cigarette away before starting the car.

You snort at his self-satisfaction, leaning back against the seat and putting on the seatbelt. 

“Malibu, huh? How the fuck did he manage to swing that?”

He chuckles, one hand lazily draped over the wheel, the other tapping out a rhythm on his knee. “He didn’t tell me much either— just asked me to stop by and pick you up on my way.”

That makes sense. Robbie’s always been a bit scatterbrained, occasionally running around like he’s managing a multi-million-dollar empire when, in reality, he’s holding it together with duct tape and half-assed enthusiasm.

The drive is surprisingly fun, Steve’s constant jokes keeping your spirits high. He always manages to make you laugh, which is why you tolerate his quirks. 

“I’m pretty sure Javi’s going to be there,” he says, almost too nonchalantly, meaning he’s in the mood to be messy.

You keep your gaze focused on the coastline, watching as palm trees blur past. The wind from the open windows has you squinting momentarily, but it can’t cool the sudden heat spreading through your body. 

“It’s not going to be weird seeing him, right?” He presses and you finally turn to face him, moving your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“Why would it be weird?” you ask, the challenge clear in your voice.

He shoots you a look, brows raised and lips quirked in that irritating way of his. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe ‘cause of the whole flirtin’ with you during the middle of a scene thing? Or, y’know, the elevator incident… which, by the way, what the fuck even happened there?” He glances at you, curiosity practically oozing out of him.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, but you can’t stop the way your thighs rub together at the memory. 

Javier’s mouth... God. “None of your damn business.”

“Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

You laugh, loudly, the sound bordering on forced. “Absolutely not.”

He shoots you that okay, sure look, and you groan internally.

Steve’s like a dog with a bone when he gets curious, and you know he’s not going to let this go until you give him something. You sigh, deciding to indulge him— partially. 

“He was being an asshole,” you start, and he immediately interjects with, “Nothing new there,” causing both of you to share a laugh at Javier’s expense.

You shake your head, returning your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose. “No, seriously. He was pushing my buttons, being his usual peacock self. I don’t even know how it escalated, but one moment we’re arguing, and the next... he’s got his tongue in my pussy.”

Steve chokes on his own spit at your bluntness. He’s heard and seen much worse on set, yet your confession has him all tripped up. 

“So, you did fuck him?”

You roll your eyes again, shifting in your seat as the horny flashbacks hit you all at once— Javier’s lips wrapped around your clit, the perfect rhythm of his tongue, his fingers.

You shove those thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead, annoyed at both Javier and Steve now. ��Getting head isn’t fucking. It’s, like, third base. And anyway, I made it clear— that’s all he was getting from me. I’m not about to waste my time rolling around in bed with him.”

He gives you a look— a knowing look— and you scoff, shaking your head. “What now?” 

“Nothing. You’re just the first person I’ve heard say that about him.”

“Someone’s gotta humble his ass,” you mutter, though the words feel heavier than they should. You try to act like you’ve put Javier out of your mind, like that moment was nothing but a blip in your life, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

You’ve never met anyone like him, and the fact that he can elicit such reactions from you pisses you off so bad.

As the coastline stretches out in front of you, Malibu drawing closer with every mile, you can’t help but wonder if seeing Javier today will be as easy as you’re pretending it will be.

The mansion is far more extravagant than anything you could have imagined. Its grand facade, with towering columns and ivy crawling up the sides, feels like something out of a movie set, and for a second, you almost forget why you’re here.

But then, as soon as you step past the threshold, you hear it— echoing from deep within the house are the unmistakable sounds of exaggerated moans, grunts, and the rhythmic thump of bodies meeting.

You adjust the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, your beach bag abandoned in Steve’s car. As you step further into the foyer, Robbie appears, that infamous smirk plastered on his face.

“Long way from home, aren’t you, Dorothy?” he jokes, taking in your wide-eyed amusement as you scan the expensive decor— the towering glass chandelier overhead, the marble floors gleaming beneath your feet, the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You can’t help but be a little impressed. 

But of course, he’s there to give you shit about it. You turn your wide-eyed gaze into a glare, bringing your attention to him. “So funny. You should quit your current sleazy day job and take up another sleazy one— stand up,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He just grins, unbothered by your sharp tone. “You’re always a joy to work with. No wonder Javi asked for you specifically.”

Your entire demeanor shifts viscerally and you curse yourself for it mentally, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? Javier asked for me?”

He shrugs, indifferent to your confusion. “Yeah. He’s set for a solo shoot upstairs in one of the bathrooms before he’s on with...” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “...Mariella. Real pretty girl, it’s her first on-camera gig today.”

The world blurs a little as your mind zeroes in on that one bit of information: Javier asked for you. And not just for any shoot— a solo one. You blink, shaking your head to clear the fog. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where I was summoned here by someone who isn’t my boss?”

“Oh yeah, he made a real fuss about it. Sent away the other guy we had lined up for the shoot. Told me he wouldn’t do it unless you were behind the camera. Even offered to pay out of his own pocket just to get you here. It’s the only reason we’re paying you as much as I promised over the phone.”

Your stomach twists and you can feel your face settling into a deep frown, the kind that pulls some of your mood down with it. So that’s why he dangled such a big paycheck in front of you this morning.

After the elevator incident (as Steve has so eloquently named it), after the intense heat of his mouth on you, the way he had you— he said he’d leave you alone. He was supposed to respect the boundaries you set, but here he is, yanking you back into his orbit. 

You can already picture him upstairs, lounging in one of those stupidly lavish bathrooms, probably smirking that damn smirk of his, waiting for you.

You try to squash down the way your pulse quickens at the thought, the lingering memory of his fingers digging into your hips, his tongue working between your thighs, is beckoning you into temptation again.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, more to yourself than your boss. You have half a mind to storm up those stairs, find the pornstar, and give him a piece of your mind before marching right back out to spend your day on the beach— free of drama and distractions and him.

But the reality is, you’re being paid nearly three times what you’d normally make on a gig like this. It’s enough to drown out the temptation to walk away, however satisfying that would be.

You’re an adult. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Robbie gives you a sidelong glance, clearly sensing your hesitation. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

With a sigh, you force a smile and shake your head. “As good as it’d feel to leave, no, I’m not. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Relief flashes across his face, and he gives you a few pointers before rushing off into this maze of a house.

You linger for a second longer, taking a deep breath to shake off the nerves. Come on. Get it together. After a final mental pep talk, you head toward the grand staircase that winds up to the second floor. 

The sight that greets you at the top of the stairs stops you in your tracks: Lexxie is splayed out on her back atop some console table, currently getting the life fucked out of her. The visual is chaotic but nothing new. You’ve seen it a hundred times before. 

A guy with a scruffy beard and a beat-up baseball cap stands behind the camera, looking more bored than impressed, barely watching as the two stars go at it.

You lean against the nearby railing, your voice cutting through their heavy breaths and grunts. “Guess your marriage to Javier didn’t last very long,” you tease from off camera, referencing the honeymoon shoot.

The star’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and she flashes you a playful, almost sweet smile in between heavy breaths. “Kinda regretting stepping out on him—oh, fuck.” Her snappy comeback dissolves into a breathy moan as the guy currently rearranging her on the table pushes her legs up to her chest, hitting just the right spot. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your shot,” you say, throwing a glance at the cameraman, knowing how annoying it can be when someone messes with your focus.

He waves it off with a lazy shrug. “It’s not ruined. Honestly, I would’ve quit filming ten minutes ago. It’s starting to drag. I’m impressed they’re still going.”

You let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, they’ve got stamina like you wouldn’t believe. Makes me feel lazy in bed sometimes, but then I remember how unrealistic this shit actually is.”

He chuckles, scratching at his jaw. “Should make it an Olympic sport. Bet we’d bring home gold.”

“Pretty sure that already exists and it happens in the Olympic Village.” You smirk, finally peeling your eyes away from the couple to look at him properly.

He’s cute in that disheveled, stray-dog kind of way. His curls poke out from under a worn baseball cap, his beard patchy, and his clothes rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he could find. He fits in perfectly with the kind of guys you’d expect on a porn crew.

Earning a genuine laugh from him, he extends a hand. “I’m Frankie.”

You shake it, offering your name in return. “I’m also part of the crew. About to go shoot a scene in the master bathroom.” You explain, noticing how his grip lingers just a little, his smile playful and easy. You feel a bit of warmth rush to your cheeks, and he’s about to say something when—

“Oh fuck, I’m about to cum!” Lexxie’s voice is piercing, loud and breathless, pulling your attention back to the scene.

You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Well, that’s my cue,” you mutter, stepping out before you get too caught up flirting with him.

“Nice meeting you,” he says before dismounting the camera, moving in closer to capture the so-called money shot.

Cute. Too cute. It’s almost enough to make you forget about the man you’re about to see.

You push open the door to the room Javier’s in, and the sight of him has you doing a double take.

He’s standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his defined Adonis belt drawing your eyes in a way you hate to admit.

His toned, brown torso glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat, the sunlight pouring into the room making him look like he’s glowing.

You need to toughen up, and in order to do so, you have to bitch at him. It’s the only way to keep that lustful cavewoman instinct away.

“You’re a piece of work,” is what you settle on, making sure to let your tone really punctuate how annoyed you are by the stunt he pulled today.

The second his eyes lock onto yours, amusement flickers behind them, as if he’s been waiting for this confrontation.

He quirks a brow, lips curving into a lazy smile. “¿De que hablas nena—?”

“What happened to ‘if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone’? Was that something you said just to lower my guard? To get me to give you what you want?” You cut him off, keeping your distance even as you notice him inching closer.

Your eyes are daggers as they bore into him, and for a brief second, you hope he feels at least some of the fire burning in your chest. But if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it. He is frustratingly calm, like he’s above it all.

“You gave me no indication that you didn’t want me anymore.” His voice is casual, almost patronizing.

You groan as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “I literally said, ‘Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again.’ What the fuck else do I have to say or do to get you off my back?”

Silence settles between you two as you stand there staring each other down. He’s unreadable, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

“Well?” you demand, impatient.

“In my defense— it didn’t sound very convincing.” You stare at him incredulously before turning on your heel. Hell no. He can keep his money and his bullshit. You’re not doing this.

But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice sharpens with a hint of panic, calling your name.

“Wait, look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to start anything. I just thought—” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I’d feel more comfortable if you were behind the camera during this shoot. Not the other guy Robbie brought in.”

Frankie? He seems so harmless, and besides, Javier’s never had an issue with whoever’s in the room when he’s filming, so why is it a problem now?

However, his tone does sound sincere. You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes and refusing to let your guard down. “This better not be another one of your tricks, Javier. If you’re doing this to try and get into my pants—”

He almost grins, but catches himself just in time, clearly biting back a remark. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Already have, his brown eyes seem to say. But he holds his tongue, offering a faint nod instead. 

“I promise. No tricks. Just a professional shoot. That’s it.”

You give him one last warning glance before sighing. “Fine. But I’m telling you, Javier—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts, holding up his hands. “I get it and please stop calling me Javier.”

You arch a brow. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Javi.”

Ugh, whatever. “Okay, fine, Javi. Just show me where I’m supposed to set up.” 

He bites back another grin and motions you with a flick of his head, and with the weird tension simmering, you follow him toward the ensuite bathroom. The door creaks open, revealing an elaborate setup, and you pause in the doorway, eyes widening.

It’s surprisingly... beautiful.

In front of a massive window that overlooks the sprawling blue ocean outside, there’s a porcelain clawfoot bathtub filled with what looks like a milk bath. Various colored flower petals float delicately on the surface, scattered in an almost artful arrangement.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Well, damn. This actually looks nice.” This bathroom is bigger than your entire apartment.

Javier notices your reaction and leans against the doorframe to the connecting walk in closet, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Catering to the female gaze,” he says with a cocky shrug, “At least, that’s what my agent told me. Seems like I’m very popular among the ladies.”

The way he says it makes you want to smack him upside the head. He’s pushing your buttons again in the most subtle way, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Cute,” you reply dryly, walking past him to set your camera bag down on the large counter.

As you begin to unpack and set up, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, lingering on the exposed skin of your back then dripping down to your legs.

It kind of feels good to have him ogling you like this. The whole look but don’t touch thing is really doing it for you, more than you’d care to admit. There’s a certain power in keeping him wanting, yet also forcing the distance.

“It’s not just about the ladies, you know. I actually want this to be good. I trust you to make it look that way.”

You glance over at him. His playful arrogance has slightly faded, shaded in by the genuine want to make this feel more than just some raunchy scene.

“I’m not a director, I just film it,” you remind him, adjusting the camera lens as you try to play it off. “So just do whatever you think is right. Robbie gave me some pointers, but it wasn’t much.”

“Still,” he presses, “there’s some finesse to what you do.”

At least he’s aware of that. “Let’s just get this over with,” you say, deflecting the compliment.

You finish setting up the camera, adjusting the tripod to get the perfect angle. It’s important to capture the full picturesque scene to begin with— the soft light spilling in through the window, the sparkling blue ocean in the background.

You clear your throat, “Okay, I’m all set for whenever you’re ready.”

Javier moves casually as he unwraps the white towel from around his waist. His cock, already half-hard, demands your attention, but you force yourself to look away. Your rub press together then lick at them unconsciously, trying to focus on anything other than his naked body.

“Got plans after this?” he asks as though he’s asking you about the weather.

You blink at the normalcy of the question “Just going to hang out by the beach,” you reply plainly, trying to keep your focus on the camera and not on his crotch.

It almost feels strange talking to him like this, without the usual teasing or sexual tension-laden bickering.

“Sounds fun,” he says as he steps into the tub, the water sloshing around him. “Real nice out here. The weather is perfect for it today.”

You watch as he settles in, the milky water rising around his body, and for a moment, you’re completely mesmerized.

The scene in front of you looks like something out of a romantic painting, and it hits you how undeniably beautiful he looks. His skin, a warm golden brown, contrasts perfectly with the creamy white of the bath, and the colorful flower petals floating on the surface make the whole thing look like a dream.

He leans back, the water just kissing his chest, and you catch yourself imagining what a soft, hazy vignette filter would do to the shot, how it would add an enchanting glow to an already intimate scene.

You shake your head slightly, snapping yourself out of the reverie. You’re supposed to be filming him jerking off, not admiring the aesthetics like this is some fine art shoot. But fuck, it’s hard to separate the two when the visuals are this damn good.

Javier, of course, senses your brief distraction. He watches you, eyes thoughtful as he stretches out, letting the water ripple around him. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, despite the heat pooling between your thighs. “Is there a clear direction for this scene, or are you just improvising?”

“I’m just winging it,” his voice is a rich, velvet drawl, a little rough from all the smoking he does. “No dirty talk. They want my natural noises to be the main focus… amongst other things.” He cocks his head to the side, one arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Heat blooms low in your belly, shooting straight to your cunt at the sight. The way his bicep flexes, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath that taut, sun-kissed skin, showcasing just how defined he is while still looking so maddeningly soft. 

Calm down, girl, you silently reprimand your pussy. She’s fucking purring right now.

You clear your throat and give him a nod, signaling him to begin. Stepping behind the camera, you focus through the lens, grateful for the distance.

Javier moves slowly. His head tips back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed, the soft curve of his lashes fanning out like shadows against his skin. One hand trails down, lingering at the hollow of his collarbones. The movements are unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring the feel of his own skin.

The intimate build-up draws you in, despite your best efforts to remain detached.

You unmount the camera from its tripod after a few moments, stepping closer to him, framing the shot tight around his chest, the slow glide of his hand along his torso. You can’t help but notice the pounding of your heart, each beat mirroring the steady, throbbing pulse at your clit. 

The sight of him— relaxed, fully in his element, bathed in the soft glow of light— stirs that fucking feeling deep within you.

It’s not just desire, though that’s certainly there. It’s the maddening awareness of how sensual, how magnetic this man is. And even though you try to tell yourself you’d feel the same about any other attractive man in his place, you know that’d be a damn lie.

Javier’s hand moves lower, ghosting over the ridges of his soft stomach. His other hand trails slowly through the water, sending gentle ripples through the milky bath. You swallow hard and focus the lens on his face— the slight parting of his pouty pink lips beneath his trimmed mustache that you just now realize has a small patch right above his cupid’s bow.

Even his imperfections are attractive.

The flushed skin of his cock makes an appearance, his thick, swollen head breaking the surface of the water with each subtle movement, teasing you and the camera. The way it peeks through, the slick tip glistening in the milky bath, almost feels like a taunt— winking at you.

Doing as you’re supposed to, you adjust the lens to zoom in on the way his cock flirts with the surface.

If you were anyone else, one of his usual co-stars maybe, you’d lean down and give it a few kitten licks. You’d tease the sensitive crown with your tongue, circling the tip before letting it slide past your lips— just enough to drive him wild.

Your tongue twitches at the thought.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he gets closer to where he’s aching to touch. It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he knows you’re imagining the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of his salty skin, the way he’d twitch against your tongue as you tease him until he begs for more.

Maybe he’s picturing your lips wrapped around him, too.

You bite down on your lower lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, to stay focused, even though your body is betraying you. The mess in your panties, the way your nipples stiffen beneath your bathing suit top— everything about this moment is dangerous.

Then finally, his fist wraps around his cock, a soft slosh of water accompanying the motion. The eroticism of the scene— paired with the proximity, the memory of those hands on you— ignites that annoying need deep inside.

He strokes himself slowly, eyes still closed as though lost in the pleasure of it all. You focus the camera on his hand, on the way it moves with purpose, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, slick with precum.

His groans start to fill the air, and your own body reacts, hips shifting slightly as you try to ignore pressure at your cunt.

“Still with me?” His voice cuts through the silence, raspy and knowing, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

Oh. Have they always been this golden?

“Yeah,” you’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

Javier’s body is pure, unfiltered sin in motion. As you move around the bathtub to capture every angle, you can’t help but admire him. His muscles shift with every slow pump of his hand, the sinewy lines of his arms and torso rippling just beneath the milky water.

His stomach contracts with each exhale, drawing your gaze lower to the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock, which you catch glimpses of when his hips buck up inadvertently.

His breathing grows heavier, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as his pleasure builds. It’s mesmerizing, the way his face contorts, his expressions almost too intimate, too personal for the lens. But you can’t tear your eyes— or the camera— away.

His fist moves with such confidence, touching himself with an unhurried rhythm that only a man used to his own pleasure can manage. Every time his thumb glides over the tip of his cock, a heavier grunt rumbles in his throat and it’s so hot.

You’re too focused on capturing every inch of him that it almost catches you off guard when he begins to speak.

“Wish it was your pretty hand around me right now, baby.” His voice is husky, laced with want, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You blink rapidly, heart stalling in your chest as the camera wavers slightly in your hands. “Javier,” you sigh, his name slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Fuck, I know, but shit—” His words are more ragged now, spoken between heavy breaths. “You’re all I can think about still. You stay in my mind, muñeca. Can’t get you out.”

Even though every rational part of you knows you should stop him, should leave or at least say something to shut him up, you don’t.

You don’t run, you don’t protest. You just... let it happen.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I-I—” The words get stuck in your throat, “I can’t. I’ll ruin the shoot.” Why is that your priority right now?

“You won’t.”

The way he says it chips at the walls you've built around yourself.

“What do I even say?”

“Anything,” there he goes again, using that tone that makes him sound like he’s begging.

So, you say what you’ve been thinking of since he got into this damn tub. “Your cock is so pretty, Javi.” You purr, throwing all caution to the wind, lying to yourself that this means nothing.

The effect is immediate. He groans, a deep sound from his chest, and his hand moves faster over his shaft, the slickness of the water amplifying the movement. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing now erratic, “say it again.”

Your gaze flicks down and it’s mesmerizing watching the way his body responds to his own touch, but it’s the fact that he’s unraveling in front of you that leaves your mouth dry.

“Such a pretty cock, Javi,” you repeat, voice steadier this time, growing bolder with each passing second. Every flex and contraction of his body feeds the arousal pulsing in you. “I bet it would feel perfect sliding down my throat, hitting the back of it until I’m choking on you.”

All those hours spent listening to cheesy porn dialogue are finally paying off.

His head falls back, exposing the strong column of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. A guttural groan escapes him as the image of what you just said sets in. His other hand moves down to cup his heavy, swollen balls, the water around him rocking more violently now as he starts to lose himself in the fantasy.

“Shit… I’m close,” he growls, voice breaking with need, the words barely coherent. “Keep talking to me, fuck…”

You lean in slightly, the camera momentarily forgotten. “You want to come for me?” Your whisper is dripping with lust, the idea of him falling apart because of you making your pussy ache. “You want to make a mess? Pretend I’m kneeling right here, my mouth open and waiting for you to fill it, warm and wet just for you?”

You’ve seen him come so many times, watched him fill too many cunts with his spend and paint different parts of their pretty bodies— but none of it compares to the sight before you.

The way his body jerks in response tells you everything you need to know. His grip tightens on the edge of the tub, knuckles going white as he pumps faster, rougher, pushing himself toward the brink. His hips start lifting out of the water with every thrust into his own hand, chasing that final release.

“Fuck, yes…,” he groans, voice strangled, barely holding it together. His eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in his body tensing, going rigid as he falls over the edge.

His bilingual expletives cut off into a long, drawn-out moan as his cock twitches, thick ropes of cum spilling out in messy spurts, splattering against his fist, swirling into the milky bathwater. The petals float lazily across the surface, some clinging to his skin, as the evidence of his release drifts around him.

You stand there, heart pounding, frozen as your brain tries to catch up with your pussy.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, fumbling with the camera as you stop the recording. You quickly move to pack everything up and try your damndest not to look at him.

“Wait, don’t—” Javier’s voice is still hoarse, but there’s a touch of urgency to it now, breaking through the post-orgasm haze. You hear the water sloshing violently behind you as he moves, and you know he’s getting out of the tub. “Just… hang on.”

“No. I-I gotta go,” you stammer, your hands frantically packing up the camera, the lens cap slipping through your fingers. You try to grab it, but your nerves are shot and it fumbles. Thankfully, it doesn’t take damage. You’d hate to hear Robbie bitch at you for breaking the brand-new camera.

Just get out of here is the only thought running through your mind. Every time you’re around him lately, you end up a confused, horny, exasperated mess, and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Hey—wait!” Javier slips as he tries to step out of the tub, nearly falling as he reaches for you, his wet feet squeaking against the floor. You turn just in time to see him catch himself, water dripping from his body, his skin still flushed from what just happened.

“What the hell?” You shoot him a look, “You’re gonna break your neck trying to stop me from leaving—”

“I wasn’t—fuck, just let me talk for a second.” He runs a hand through his soaked hair, water dripping down his neck, over the curve of his shoulders, and you hate how even now, you’re distracted by how good he looks. He reaches for the towel and loosely wraps it around his waist. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” you snap, stuffing your gear into your bag, not caring how haphazardly it’s packed. “This— this isn’t what I signed up for. I’m here to work, remember? Not… whatever the fuck that was.”

He steps closer, reaching for your arm, but you yank it away before he can touch you. The last thing you need is his hands on you right now, reminding you of everything you shouldn’t want.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice softens, but there’s a frustration beneath it, like he’s grappling with the same confusion you are. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you, okay? I just… I don’t know what the hell is happening between us either.”

You stop, finally meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that pulls at the part of you that’s freakishly tethered to him, but you can’t let that get to you now. Not when everything feels so damn complicated.

“Javier, this—” You struggle for words, shaking your head. “This can’t keep happening. I can’t—” You pause, your breath catching. I can’t have you. “I don’t want you,” you correct yourself.

His jaw clenches, muscles ticking under the strain. “Stop bullshitting me,” he growls, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not,” you shoot back, but it comes out too quickly, too rehearsed.

“You’re lying through your fuckin’ teeth, and it’s pathetic. What is so wrong with giving me a chance?” He keeps circling back to this— chances.

One thing about him, he knows how to trigger a fucking migraine. 

“Everything!” The word bursts out of you like a confession. “Everything about this is wrong. It’s why I’ve been trying to stay away since day one, but you’re so— ugh!” You throw your hands up, exasperated, the bathroom suddenly feeling too small and claustrophobic. He’s got you spinning in circles, tying you up in knots, and you can’t think straight around him.

Without a second thought, you turn to leave, your feet moving as if you’re fucking levitating. So what if you’ve made a habit of running away from him? You don’t owe him shit.

“Nena—” Desperation laces his voice and that stupid nickname makes your skin curl. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“Well, too bad,” you snap over your shoulder. “I’m leaving so you can’t sweet-talk me into anything.” The slam of the door echoes behind you, a final punctuation to your statement.

As you step out into the hallway, the distant sounds of people fucking filter through the air, kind of grounding you back to the real world.

You can’t keep working with him, not if every interaction is going to end like this. You make a mental note to talk to Robbie after today’s shoot. No more Peña.

The day drags on, the tension from earlier still lingering, but now, sitting outside on the shaded patio, you feel a small reprieve.

A half-eaten sandwich rests before you on the table, your eyes lazily tracing the lines of the zero-edge pool that blends into the horizon. The soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze lulls you into a sense of temporary peace. You glance around, taking in the pristine luxury surrounding you. Rich people really have it made, you think, marveling at the extravagance of someone else’s life.

The spat with Javier lingers but you’ve done your best to ignore it by keeping busy. The other shoots happening in the house have kept you distracted, but you know what’s coming: the last scene of the day— with him— and the new girl, Mariella. A small sigh escapes your lips as you sink deeper into the patio chair, absolutely dreading it.

Your tranquility is shattered when you feel a presence nearby. Already anticipating another confrontation with Javier, you steel yourself and don’t even bother looking up before snapping, “Oh my god, can you just leave me alone—”

The words get jammed in your throat as your eyes land on Frankie, not Javier. He stands there, looking taken aback, a paper bag in one hand and an awkward smile tugging at his lips. You instantly feel like a bitch.

“Shit— sorry,” you stammer, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I thought you were someone else.”

Frankie lets out a small chuckle, brown eyes softening as he rubs the back of his neck. “No worries, I can leave if you want—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving him off. “Please, stay. I didn’t mean to be snappy.”

He hesitates for a moment before motioning to the empty chair across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, and he lowers himself into the seat, setting his lunch down. The small talk starts easily, flowing naturally as you both munch on your food. He tells you about his daughter, a proud smile on his face as he recounts how she’s the light of his life. Then he goes on about how his friends call him Catfish because of some dumb inside joke, and also the fact that he’s a retired pilot. It somehow doesn’t surprise you— the career fits him.

“How do you go from flying helicopters to shooting porn?” you ask, the question half serious, half teasing as you lean back in your chair, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

Frankie raises an eyebrow and smirks, clearly amused. “Shit happens,” he says with a shrug. “How do you go from having a film production degree to spending your days staring at tits and ass?”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. You tilt your head, pausing for effect. “... Shit happens,” you echo, the irony not lost on either of you.

He snorts, taking a slow sip of his water, the sound of his laughter rolling into the lazy afternoon air. You can’t help but steal a glance from behind your shades, your gaze wandering over his rugged features.

There’s something about the way the sun hits him just right, casting a golden glow over his tanned skin. You swallow, feeling a subtle pull in your chest, an unexpected attraction. He’s not flashy, not like the other guys you’re used to working with— there’s an unspoken confidence in his ease, a solidness that makes you want to keep looking.

“So… who’d you think I was? Just then?” He asks, adjusting his cap.

You try not to let your small smile falter. “Oh, just an annoying coworker.”

“Ah, the kind who shows up at the worst times, huh?”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh, “You know the type.”

Frankie leans in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, I’m glad I’m not that guy.” There’s a flicker of flirtation in his tone, his eyes lingering a beat too long. “But if you ever need someone to… keep him under control, you just let me know. Got the remedy for that right here.” 

He exaggeratedly flexes his biceps, and the snug t-shirt he’s wearing pulls taut around his arms, highlighting their impressive size.

You can’t help but admire the view— he’s really fun to look at, all charming smiles and playful confidence.

“I might just take you up on that, actually,” you reply, matching his energy with a teasing smile of your own. “I could definitely use someone who knows how to handle things.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his pink lips. “I’m more than equipped for that, trust me.”

For a second, it feels like the two of you are in your own little world— until, of course, it comes crashing down.

A voice cuts through the moment like a knife. “We’re ready for the last scene.”

You turn to see Javier standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze flicking between you and Frankie. His entire posture screams annoyance.

“And who are you?” Frankie retorts, squinting one eye against the harsh sunlight, playful defiance dancing in his tone.

Javier doesn’t seem to like that response at all. “I’m ready to get this shit done with,” he snaps, and you narrow your eyes, practically shooting daggers at him.

Frankie clears his throat, sizing up Javier’s bristling energy. “Right.”

You catch the word presumido slip from his lips— the Spanish insult that has you exhaling a light laugh through your nose, because he’s so spot on and he doesn’t even know it.

Both of you stand, Frankie gathering the remnants of your lunch. “If you’d like some company down by the beach later, I’ll still be around,” he adds smoothly, sliding the proposition in there as casually as if he were just suggesting grabbing coffee. You almost don’t mind him crashing your solo date.

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, pushing your chair in. “It would be great to not have to take the taxi back, but I was willing to do it for a nice afternoon by the water.” You can feel Javier’s possessive stare burning into you from across the way.

Frankie, absolutely unbothered, leans in closer, a charming grin on his face. “Here’s my number if you need that ride.” A pen appears out of nowhere, and he scribbles down his digits on a clean corner of his napkin, tearing it off with an effortless confidence before handing it to you.

“Definitely,” you say with a flirty smile, tucking the napkin into your pocket, feeling a thrill against the scowling presence of the spectator watching from the sliding glass door 

Frankie branches off to use the restroom and you push past Javier, no intention of speaking to him until—

“If you spent less time flirting with the crew and more time focusing on your job, we’d be finished by now.”

You can practically taste his jealousy.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him, your patience running thin. “Really, Javi? You’re jealous of Frankie? That’s what this is about? Did our last conversation not put shit in perspective for you?”

He steps closer, eyes hard, voice low. “Jealous? Of him?” He scoffs, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. “I just don’t appreciate having to wait because you’re too busy cozying up to someone else. Especially someone who looks like they just got picked up off the side of the road.”

“And you wonder why I don’t like you.” Is all you can say, brushing past him yet again, his presence looming heavy as you head toward the living room where the last scene is set to be shot.

The moment Robbie goes on with his usual pre-shoot rundown, your attention shifts to the newbie Mariella immediately, drowning out his usual spiel.

The girl— and she is a girl, no matter what the paperwork says— looks painfully young. Her cropped tee hugging her braless chest, barely keeping her breasts from spilling out, and those flimsy pajama shorts riding high on her thighs. It’s the kind of outfit that makes you uneasy— one you’ve seen too many times in this industry, designed to play into the fantasies of men who want their women to look barely legal.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sour taste of frustration building in the back of your throat. This is the part of the job that gnaws at you— the undercurrent of exploitation that no one acknowledges.

You’re not naive, you know exactly what sells in porn. You know what these people want to watch, what they get off on. The younger, the better. 

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when you’re standing on set, watching it play out in real time.

Just as Mariella positions herself, preparing for the camera to roll, you can’t stop yourself. The words come out before you can think to censor them. “How old are you?”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention shifts to you. Robbie. Steve. Frankie. Even Javier, who’s lounging in the corner, waiting for his moment to shine. They all freeze, the casual banter dying off as your question lingers in the air. Mariella blinks, looking around as if unsure who you’re even talking to.

“I—I turned twenty last week.”

Your expression hardens, and the disapproval is written all over your face. “She’s not even old enough to drink, and you’re having her fuck Javier?” Your eyes cut to Robbie, who’s staring at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

The silence stretches for a beat too long before he scoffs, shaking his head like you’re being ridiculous. “I don’t pay you to hear your opinions on shit,” he snaps, clearly irritated. “Just sit there and record the damn thing.”

Your eyes roll hard enough that it almost hurts. “You’re all a bunch of perverts.”

Poor Frankie catches a stray with that one. It’s like everything is grating on you in ways it usually doesn’t. Normally, you can shove it down and keep your head low because, at the end of the day, you’re just here for the paycheck.

“Perverts pay your bills, sweetheart,” Robbie throws back, all nonchalant. What’s worse is that he’s right.

Moments like this make you wonder how long you can keep doing this without losing a part of yourself in the process.

You look around at the other three men, none of them stepping up to say anything in your defense. Useless.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but it stings. Even Javier, usually quick with a sarcastic quip or biting comment, says nothing. He just sits there, stuffing out a cigarette that’s magically appeared between his lips.

It feels like a betrayal, even though you know better than to expect any different.

And Mariella? She’s clearly distracted, caught up in the magnetic pull Javier has over people. The way she’s looking at him with that starstruck, wide-eyed awe only makes it worse. You can see it in her expression, the way her gaze flickers over him like she’s already imagining how it’s going to feel when he fucks her. Thinking with her pussy instead of having common sense.

You recognize it because you were just in her exact position, drawn into that same orbit. You find empathy for her, but not the other motherfuckers.

The room descends into awkward silence, as if everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you’re not in the mood for a full-blown argument, so you shut down, slumping into the chair behind your camera with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. 

You know it’s only a matter of time before all these feelings you’ve been aggressively pushing down come back up and make you snap, but for now, you continue to force it all away.

You’re assigned to shoot the stoic, wide shots while Frankie’s in charge of the close-ups, and honestly? You’re relieved. The last thing you need is to be up close, watching this trash unfold.

The scene starts with the typical, raunchy premise: Dad pays babysitter with his cock! It explains Mariella’s barely-there outfit and the cluttered coffee table with school notebooks, setting the scene.

Then there’s Javier who looks the part too; dressed in dark blue slacks, a typical white collared shirt with a few buttons popped open to give that I’m stressed, come take care of me vibe.

He’s the picture of temptation, and it’s obvious Mariella’s already in the clouds.

The filming begins and they share that cheesy, erotic dialogue and lustful touches. You feel yourself sink further into the chair, silently counting down the minutes until you’re decompressing by the beach.

She sinks to her knees before him, her doe eyes looking up at him with that practiced innocence they all seem to perfect so quickly. She reaches for the buttons on his slacks, her delicate fingers fumbling just a little before she pulls down the zipper and tugs at the waistband. She nuzzles her face against his thigh, brushing her lips against his skin, and finally pulls out his cock. Even soft, it’s still an impressive size— but it’s definitely not how this was supposed to go.

“Well, are you going to suck it or just stare at it?” Javier snaps, his tone cutting through the air with an edge that feels too sharp, too real. It doesn’t sound like the crudeness that’s meant to spice up the scene.

His hand shoots out and tangles in her hair, yanking her closer. He’s rougher than usual, harsher, as he forces her mouth onto him.

She wraps her lips around his head, suckling softly at first, then taking him deeper into her mouth. She’s trying to do her job, playing the part of the eager babysitter, but something’s off.

Javier’s head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, but it’s not the usual look of pleasure that crosses his face. It’s more like he’s concentrating, forcing himself to feel something that isn’t there.

You can’t help it— your eyes flick around the room, looking at the rest of the crew. No one seems to be noticing what you’re seeing, their eyes all honed in on the action in front of them.

But you’re catching the small details like you always do.

After a few more moments, it’s clear that it’s not happening. Javier lets out a frustrated curse, pulling out of her mouth with an audible, wet pop. “Fuck—just, give me a second,” he grumbles, stepping back. Mariella wipes the saliva from her lips with the back of her hand, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and hesitation.

You take that as your cue. Reaching over, you stop the recording, your finger hesitating on the button for only a moment before pressing it. Frankie does the same, Steve lowers his mic and pulls his headset off.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the floor, like he’s trying to avoid looking at anyone directly. “I just need a minute,” he says again, but it’s more to himself than to anyone else.

Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer than you intend, and your mind flashes back to earlier, to the way he was with you. The memory is sharp and clear, the contrast striking. He’d come undone for you without hesitation, without needing any coaxing or forcing. Just words. But now, with Mariella kneeling in front of him, offering herself up like a gift, he’s struggling. 

“How long will this minute take? We gotta be outta here soon so get it up before I get one of these two to take your place.”

Javier scoffs, dismissive, “Tape wouldn’t fucking sell.”

“Well one featuring a soft dick won’t either,” comes the retort, and the two of them start their back-and-forth bickering.

You rub at your temples, trying to ease the pressure building behind your eyes. This has to be some weird-ass dream; it sure as hell feels like it. Maybe you’re still in bed, blissfully sleeping until three in the afternoon.

Javier storms off and Steve puts his equipment down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Robbie just waves him away. “Take five,” he mutters to the rest of you, going in the opposite direction. This is such a mess, and poor Mariella remains on her knees, picking at her cuticles. 

“Please get up and sit on the couch. You look pathetic,” you say to her, not cruelly but bluntly. It’s not her fault, but the sight of her there is making you itch. She complies like a chastised child. 

Frankie drops down beside you, letting out a breath that mirrors your own. “These things usually go like this?” He takes his hat off, ruffling his hair before putting it back on.

“No,” shit has just been weird amongst this group for weeks now. “Burnout is inevitable, I guess.” You’re not about to sit there and shit-talk Javier, despite everything. You might have a mountain of complicated feelings when it comes to him, but you won’t kick him while he’s down.

Before Frankie can respond, Robbie comes barreling back into the room, his face flushed with anger. His eyes lock onto you, and you can see the accusation in them before he even opens his mouth.

“This is your fault,” he spits out, voice sharp, acidic. “All that shit you were talking earlier— now he’s fucking broken.”

You narrow your eyes, standing your ground. “Excuse me?” you snap, incredulous. “I was making a valid point. How the hell is it my fault that he grew a conscience?”

“Y’know,” he starts, his words dripping with the kind of vile, misogynistic shit that makes your blood boil. “You’d do me more good in front of the camera. Have somethin’ shoved up in there to keep you fucking quiet.”

The reaction is immediate. You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp and angry, mirroring how you feel. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Frankie stands too, his face hardening as he takes a step in front of you, finally coming to your defense. “Watch it,”  he warns, and it feels like the whole situation could explode into something much worse.

Robbie, of course, just sneers “What? You gonna defend her? She’s been a pain in my ass for weeks—”

“I’m done.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think them through, but they feel right. 

You’re tired— so damn tired— of this whole mess. Of dealing with assholes like Robbie and Javier who think they can get away with saying whatever they want. “I quit.” 

Your boss’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something else, but you cut him off with a cutting glare. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you treat me like shit because your precious Javier can’t get his dick hard. Go fuck yourself, Robbie.”

You don’t wait for a response. You turn on your heel and head for the door, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ll double up on shifts at the bar or go back to waiting tables like you did throughout college. Whatever keeps you away from this bullshit. 

As you stride down the hallway toward the entrance, you pass Javier and Steve. Javier’s face is stormy, brows knitted together as if he’s still reeling from whatever heated discussion they just had. 

The moment he spots you, his expression shifts. There’s a flicker of surprise, maybe even concern.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

You yank the heavy, probably expensive for no reason, front door open, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I just quit,” you snap, voice sharp as glass. “See you never.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @libre-sol . @cherrysugarx . @goodvibesonly421 .

finally started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out. muchas gracias mis putitas (gn) (endearingly) 🖤