#Men gift tumbler

[aperfecthalosblog]

Golfers facts 20oz or 30oz tumbler (Glow in dark)

This listing is for one 20oz or 30oz skinny tumbler.

I only have the glow in the dark matte in the 20oz at this time..

Vacuum insulated tumbler with lid and straw. Drinks stay ice cold or steaming hot ALL DAY LONG. Perfect for hot coffee in the morning, cold drinks all day long, or wine at the end of the day.

These are custom made and can be custom made for you with a process called sublimation..

Add a name or saying

Since these are handmade the image maybe slightly different then pictured

** All tumblers should be hand washed and not placed in the dishwasher.

There is no actual glitter the image make it appear like glitter..

[chictumbler25]

Beautiful marble tumbler

Beautiful Marble tumbler

Discover style and functionality with a beautiful marble mug from Chic Tumblers. Mars Slim Fit 20 oz. Made from high-quality materials

Available: Matte or Glossy

Material: Stainless Steel, Plastic

Tapered design, easy to grip

Non-toxic, BPA free

Note: Hand wash only

Shop Now And Elevate Your Stp !

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Charles jealous and possessive, i love your writing! Smut please!

Expensive Affection || CL 16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x stripper!reader Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, oral, rough sex, choking, biting WC: 1.8k

F1 Masterlist

You weren’t even listening to the song as your body fell into the familiar routine and the metal of the pole warmed in your palm as you twirled around it. Cold hands reached from the bar stools lining the stage, their fingers damp from the condensation on the beer bottles they nursed. You plastered a fake smile on your ruby painted lips as they slipped cash into the flimsy thong and helped themself to a grope of your ass despite the keen eyes of the bouncers standing in the wings.

It galled you to dance for these men night after night but living in Monaco wasn’t cheap and it beat working minimum wage. There was one perk to working at the exclusive strip club and he was sitting in the shadows at the back, a bottle of Belvedere Vodka unopened on the table of the large booth he had to himself. 

Charles never came with anyone, not like the other men who brought their friends or business partners, or the girlfriends their wives didn’t know about. He always came alone and he always left alone. But you made sure his time in the club was never lonely.

The song ended as your feet touched back down and you gathered the diamante bra that you had come off during the chorus along with the cash that littered the stage floor before blowing one final kiss to the top tippers and sashaying off so Roxy could take over. You didn’t even make it to the changing rooms behind the stage before a finger snapped your way and Dwight pointed to the dark corridor leading off from it. 

“Room three,” he said as he tapped his watch. “One hour.”

You nodded and rushed into the changing room so you could toss the cash in your locker and change into the red lace babydoll Charles loved so much. With a quick check in the mirror, you reapplied the lipstick that matched the outfit and swapped the thigh high boots for the pair of Louboutins he had gifted you. 

The man had an obsession with red.

Charles was already in the room when you closed the door behind you and you waited for the blinking red light in the corner of the room to stop before either of you spoke. The cameras were supposed to record every second of the private dances but Charles paid enough to ensure his privacy was kept exactly that, private.

You drank in the sight of him, lounging comfortably on the velvet chaise with a crystal tumbler of vodka dangling from his fingers as he swirled the clear liquid around. At some point between leaving the mainstage and arriving here he had tugged his tie from his collar and now the top two buttons were open, teasing you to reach forward and bare even more of his skin.

“You’ve been busy,” you said as you poured yourself a drink and watched him over the rim of the glass. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming back.”

He curled a finger and you stepped closer as he beckoned you to take a seat on his lap. “If that were true, you wouldn’t still have this waiting in your closet for me.” His fingertips teased across the hem of the babydoll across your thighs as his lips whispered the words across your collar before he kissed your racing pulse.

“It was wishful thinking,” you purred as your fingers pulled his shirt from where it tucked into his suit pants. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” He took a deep breath in as he took your glass away, reaching over to place it with his on the table. When he turned back you caught the way his eyes narrowed and he stood up abruptly, turning and caging you beneath him. “It didn’t look that way when you were shaking your ass for those guys out there.”

You bit your lip to stifle your laugh but the corners of your lips still curled up in amusement as he pressed his in a tight line. 

“Something funny?” he dared as he traced a thumb over your ruby lips before his hand trailed down the column of your throat. 

The weight of his body pressed against you and your lips parted with a gasp when the cold metal of his belt buckle touched your clit through the thin lace. “Yes…” you answered as you reached between your bodies and began unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s hilarious actually. I couldn’t give a shit about anyone out there. They can look all they like but there’s only one man who can have me.”

“I hate that they see what’s mine,” he growled before he crushed his lips to yours, his tongue dominating yours as his fingers tightened enough to remind you of their controlled strength. He bit your lip enough to draw a surprised yelp from your lungs before he tore the babydoll open and roughly palmed your breasts. “I hate that I have to share these with those fuckers.” 

He pinched one nipple and rolled it between his fingers as his mouth sealed over the other, sucking it to a stiff peak before dropping to his knees on the plush carpet. “Who do you belong to?” he asked as he spread your legs and bit the soft skin at your inner thigh. 

“Ah, Charles!” you cried out but the pain quickly turned to molten fire that ignited your core. 

“That’s right,” he chuckled against your skin before licking your pussy through the lace that was already damp with your arousal. He hummed deeply as he tasted you before pushing the thong aside so he could devour you completely. “You belong to me.”

Charles’ nails left half moons in your skin as his fingers gripped your thighs and tugged you closer to push his tongue deeper inside you and your head fell back as you saw stars. His name filled the room but not a sound would be heard outside the thick walls so there was no holding back when he replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them deep into your cunt while he lapped at your clit. 

“Oh, Charles, right…there…” you moaned as you combed his hair back, your fingers clutching the soft strands to hold him right where he was as the tightening in your core erupted into ecstasy. 

Your fingers released the hold on him but he wasn’t finished with you just yet as he added another finger and sucked your puffy clit until your legs trembled around him. You screamed with the rapid orgasm that chased the first and wet warmth gushed from you as his fingers found that perfect spot that left you helpless to the release. 

“Fuck, you are perfect,” Charles stated proudly as he rose to his feet. His half unbuttoned shirt was damp from where you had squirted over him and he licked his fingers clean before snapping his belt off and shoving the trousers down his legs. 

You wanted a taste of him when you saw the creamy beads of pre-cum that he smeared around his tip with his thumb before fisting his thick shaft and pumping it lazily. You were ready to beg for a taste until he erased your ability to think and speak when he slapped your overstimulated clit with his dick before spearing your cunt with a hard thrust. 

“Oh, fuck you’re tight,” he moaned as your pussy stretched with a sweet burn.

Your nails dug into his ass, spurring him to move as he tried to be a gentleman and wait for you to adjust to his size. “Just fuck me already, Charles. Make me yours.”

He rose to the challenge, grabbing your knees and pushing them up to your chest so he had the perfect view of his cock disappearing inside you as he slowly rocked his hips. You knew he was teasing you, you knew he wanted to drive you wild. From the frustrated sound that came from deep in your belly he knew it was working.

“Touch yourself, bella. Touch yourself like you did while I was away.”

You reached between your legs and circled your clit as he started to move faster and he moaned as your pussy clenched in response. His bottom lip pinched between his teeth when you took his hand and brought it up to your throat where he didn’t need any more encouragement as he gently squeezed the sides. 

“Harder,” you begged breathlessly.

He didn’t question you, he knew exactly what you could handle as his fingers tightened and his hips snapped forward until the sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room as loud as your moans.

Unintelligible words tumbled from your lips as lightning flashed across your vision and your clit throbbed beneath your fingers as you came again. Your walls clamped down on Charles and his hand slipped from your throat to your hips so his grip could leave bruises where he pulled you against his thrusts. His rhythm faltered and he buried himself as deep as possible with a shuddering breath and you felt his cock pulsing inside as he painted your walls with his release.

He collapsed breathless atop you and left delicate kisses across your shoulder that were a stark contrast to how rough he had been. Charles was complex that way, and more expressive than anyone you knew. There was no hiding with him, if he was upset he wasn’t afraid to show it, if he was jealous…or sated. He could express himself freely within these walls. 

You lazily brushed his hair as he rested his head between the valley of your breasts and asked him about his time away. He huffed at the question and muttered that it wasn’t good before explaining how everything that could go wrong with his race did. 

“I just wanted to come home,” he said as he peered up at you, “see your beautiful face.”

“I missed you too,” you admitted before sighing and pushing him back so you could sit up.

He moved off you, tucking himself back into his trousers before catching your hand as you stood up. “Where are you going?”

“You only paid for the hour,” you said as you forced your shaking legs to carry you to the door, his fingers slipping from yours. “I have to get back to work.”

“How much?” he asked as he reached into his jacket hanging over the back of the chaise and pulled out his phone.

Your hand froze on the door handle and you turned to him with a frown. “For what?”

“You.” He turned his screen to show his bank account, more zeros than you could comprehend in his balance. “How much for every hour?”

“Charles…”

“I’m done sharing you.” Two long strides brought him chest to chest with you and he pinched your chin to keep you from looking away as he shoved his phone into your hand. “You are mine, I don’t care what it costs. You belong to me.”

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Princess"

Ice Princess by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Murder, Mayhem, Blood, Violence, Action/Adventure, Thriller, All Dat Good Shit. Grown Folks Only.

Summary:

Portia Keith has it all. A rich boyfriend. An impressive sugar baby allowance. Shopping trips around the world on private jets and more. Every day is spent living in the lap of luxury. For a special holiday trip, her boyfriend gifts her with a private yacht cruise on the Aegean Sea to ring in the New Year with friends.

In order to keep the wealthy party-goers safe, private security is hired to protect the good times, and the spoiled diva encounters the gruff ex-Special Ops soldier, Erik Killmonger, who has no time to coddle a spoiled, coolheaded socialite. Chaos erupts when the yacht is hijacked by ruthless modern-day pirates, and Portia has to learn to leave her Ice Princess ways behind in order for Killmonger to get her back on land... alive.

Word count: 22.5K

"I'm so cold I'm dripping icicles

I go and take your man that nigga might miss you

Spent his whole commission on my neck and ear

To stand around me need to have ya winter gear

Pay me coats and benz's and that berg-ice

That's why I do not feel these bitches, frostbite

Grown money, ever since a youngin' made my own money

You broke honey, and they call me

Banks, cause I can loan money

Colder than December, my diamonds on

Anna WintourSo that's fly ice in my life"

Azealia Banks – "Ice Princess"

Erik Killmonger nearly turned down the job.

Floating around some Greek islands in and around the Aegean Sea for a week babysitting some rich bitches was not his dream gig. Some guns for hire might enjoy the laid-back assignment full of sunshine and sparkling azure waters, but he learned enough over the years that working for wealthy pampered civilians was a pain in the ass. They treated security like servant extensions, and he was not interested in an environment like that. He was accustomed to covert jobs that kept his blood pumping and his mind sharp. There were long-term goals that required him to be with a different mix around the Middle East and real action.

But his homeboy Clark wanted to keep the contract with James Quinton, the multi-millionaire from Silicon Valley who pioneered new bleeding-edge technology in computer processing. For about seven years, he had been a celebrated tech wiz, one of the few Black men successfully cashing out of the grind hustle culture. Killmonger kept up with the man's accomplishments and compared them with his own. As a graduate of M.I.T. and a certified genius with MENSA, the secret Wakandan prince would've probably become another James Quinton himself if his life hadn't been disrupted by trauma and loss. The chips fell where they did, and Killmonger bided his time searching for Ulysses Klaue and working as expensive hired security. Clark nagged at him.

"Man, I'm stretched thin. They want discretion and the best. That's you. I know you were supposed to start leave for a week to recuperate from that Lagos job, but there's some sketchy action happening around the Mediterranean, and your Navy SEAL experience is needed… just in case," Clark said on a satellite call.

Killmonger sat in his closet-sized studio that acted as a storage locker for his gear instead of a home. Constantly on the go, and on the grind, he listened to Clark reclining in his Lazy-Boy chair with a glass tumbler of prime whiskey in his hand.

"You'll ring the New Year in a beautiful atmosphere. Relaxed and peaceful. The bonus holiday pay is great. Please, I need this contract fulfilled. This man knows a lot of billionaires and I could use the referrals… new contacts. Plus, you're good-looking," Clark continued.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Killmonger said, sipping on his drink.

"Look over the file I sent you online. It gives details about the yacht you'll be protecting, and also the rest of the clientele."

"That still ain't got nothing to do with my looks," Killmonger grumbled.

"Pretty girls like good-looking men. That's all I'm saying. You might get lucky compared to the other goons I got," Clark said.

Killmonger closed his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. The studio apartment felt cramped and joyless.

"I'll throw in another bonus for the short notice," Clark insisted.

"How many people onboard?"

"It's a private New Year's party, eight guests, and the yacht staff of four. You'll have your own cabin. You'll lead everything with Sherman and Banks working under you. Giving you the best—"

"Just three men?"

Killmonger lifted his laptop from a small table next to his chair. He logged onto his dark web email account and scrolled images of the yacht. Looking at the dimensions and pictures, Killmonger put down his glass.

"I need at least three more men."

"I can pull at least one more for you—"

"Gotta have five total under me to make this work, especially with us going to a new hot spot."

"The Greek government and the Turkish government have been doing extra sea patrols. James Quinton hasn't mentioned going anywhere for the holidays and I urged him to place his social media engagement on pause for the week until they end their holiday. It'll be a vacation for you. In fact, you could just supervise and chill."

Killmonger knocked back the rest of his liquor.

"Okay, I'll do it. Get me five men."

He hung up and checked the files of James Quinton on his own cryptic software. Quinton liked to stunt his wealth. The man posted photos and corny quotes at least ten times a day on all of his social media platforms. It was the ones with his girlfriend that worried Killmonger.

Portia Keith.

Online, she was known as the Ice Princess. Her beauty and personality were so cold that she had a reputation for being a femme fatale with a rich man's wallet. She had been linked to a few celebrities in the past but had moved her pampered ways to men with deeper and consistent pockets. She rarely spoke in public and showed up to haute couture fashion shows all across the globe. Killmonger couldn't figure out exactly what she did to make men clamor for her and pop culture gossip blogs to want to follow her daily jaunts as a sugar baby with James Quinton.

He stared at a few pictures.

Ma definitely had a face card that would never decline. Medium height, a medium copper brown complexion that turned a pretty darker hue in the sun. Body looked all natural and not the cringy build-a-bitch looks women paid top dollar for. Portia had tits and a nice ass that matched her thighs. She liked provocative looks and expensive things. Quinton gave her everything and baby girl wasn't denied anything according to the photos he peeped on her platforms. There was a crew of girlfriends she jaunted around with, and in every picture, Portia was the center of attention. The face of a model on par with Naomi Campbell, and the body of a vixen bent on destroying hearts and dicks. She stayed dripped in diamonds every day from head to toe. Most men couldn't afford her and several tried to keep her until Quinton snatched her up with the bank account that kept her flaunting her beauty and body.

That face, though? Killmonger couldn't stop staring at it. Her eyes were cool dark windows that gave away nothing. The kind of eyes that cut niggas down if they weren't on point. Her round nose was slightly upturned in a natural haughtiness, but her lips were the deadliest weapons in her arsenal. Killmonger's lips parted as he licked his canine slugs that matched the bottom ones made of pure gold. Portia's lips looked like they could make a dick cry if she sucked on it. Her nickname fit the vibe she gave off, and he wondered what Quinton had besides money to keep that sophisticated sugar baby close.

Killmonger checked the gossip sites and scrolled pages and pages of rumors that Portia and Quinton were having issues and possibly on the outs. He guessed the private New Year's trip was Quinton's way of keeping her, especially with the gossipmongers bubbling with sightings of her having lunch with an Italian billionaire.

Killmonger poured himself a fresh drink, then checked flight schedules on Delta Airlines.

Portia Keith pouted all the way to Greece on her boyfriend's private Gulfstream jet. Scrolling her social media feeds while holding her apricot-colored Pomeranian Mimi, she fumed at the gossip page listing her and Quinton on a site that criticized the super-rich for ruining the climate with their wasteful private flights and hoarding of resources. Her bestie Jodie patted her thigh and told her to ignore the haters.

One thing Portia always did was cultivate a scandal-free reputation. She prided herself on being a carefree Black woman leading a luxury movement for other Black women that had them raising their standards against unqualified men. Accused of only promoting hypergamy and a sugar baby lifestyle, she let people talk their shit because it only brought luxury brands her way courting her favors to use and promote their goods for free. Her exquisite face launched products like no other, and the quiet mystique she crafted with razor precision could not tolerate slander with her image. It wasn't her jet. It was Quinton's. Rich people had to protect themselves and taking commercial airlines with the poors was so… gauche. Especially for bad bitches like herself. The income brackets she played in were fifty million and above, and the low bar of fifty million was just being polite. Not bad for a country girl with tidewater roots and access to an excellent finishing school that prepped her for the lifestyle she led.

Portia left Charleston, South Carolina, with a finance degree from Clemson University and never looked back. Landing a job working under the Director of Finance and Operations for Conde Nast, she labored around the folks who ran Vogue Magazine. A chance encounter during New York Fashion Week launched her new career as a pampered princess. The paparazzi snapped a candid shot of her walking near Anna Wintour wearing a layered sable Balenciaga romper. They both wore the same dark Chanel sunglasses, and a fashion mag begged the question, "Who wore it better?" Before his passing, André Leon Talley exalted her style sense and overnight, Portia became the new "It" girl, the mysterious fashionista who was too short to be a model, but too glamorous to be a simple finance department worker.

She jumped on the parasocial relationship with the New York fashion scene and made sure she appeared at big events. Using a lame-ass rapper who liked to rock oversized ice, she taught him how to dress better, and spent his money on a better investment… her. She put him on to better fashion, better food, and better jewelry. It helped broaden his brand and snag a movie role. She bounced from him to a Hollywood Executive who flaunted her at Oscar parties and she kept her mouth shut and her eyes wide open for new marks. Stacking other people's paper and collecting custom diamond jewelry that became her signature trademark was a lofty career in her early twenties. Portia was nearing the end of her roaring twenties and she had to upgrade her prospects to older men with healthy long-term portfolios. Hollywood and celebrity wealth were fleeting, often feast and famine. New prospects were needed and her finance education led her to San Francisco and tech Daddies. The trade-offs were dull, less attractive men, but fatter pockets.

Then Quinton appeared on a Forbes magazine cover.

Dollar signs flashed in her eyes. She called in favors to get invited to a tech gala and projected her icy exterior onto a man who was rich and above average. New money cleaned him up, but her looks, nimble fingers, and optimum sex magic snagged her a baller on the rise. If she drank enough liquor and squinted her eyes just so, he could almost pass as a poor man's skinny Trevante Rhodes. But that squint had to be hard and the liquor extra strong.

She glanced over at Quinton.

He bored her now.

Quinton was thirty, only four years older than her, but he acted like he was fifty, worrying about his declining fortune all the time. He got caught up in some bad cryptocurrency deals and took a hit on some poor stock market advice. The man pretended that everything was okay financially, but Portia could smell the oncoming of poverty one hundred miles away. Yet she still ran his pockets one last time with the trip she wanted for herself and her girls. She had a couple of boyfriend replacements already on deck and planned to jump ship after the New Year. Broke didn't look good on her and she wasn't built for struggle love or struggle pockets. A baddie always had a graceful contingency exit plan. She sighed loud enough for Quinton to notice her restlessness. Her gaze glossed over his hairline, which was beating a hasty retreat to the back of his neck. What had once been a full head of cropped waves had turned into phantom follicles that gave up on him faster than she did. He had aged so quickly in the two years she'd been with him that she could mistake him for his own father nowadays. Pity. Portia thought she'd stay with him for at least a few more years to see if he could stack his paper higher past the eighty million he was worth when she met him. Alas, that was not to be.

Quinton put down the computer tablet he had his nose buried in and clasped her hand. His eyes were already bloodshot from drinking and anxiousness. Things were probably going downhill faster.

"We're about to land, baby. Have patience," he said.

Her girlfriends giggled and drank martinis behind them. Portia ran a diamond-studded finger up his arm. Mimi whined on her lap.

"Will you give me anything special for New Year's Day?" she purred.

Quinton grinned.

"I have a lot planned for you," he winked.

At least he was going out with a bang, she thought. He was spoiling her one last time, unbeknownst to him. A part of her wondered if she should feel pity for milking him dry until he went belly up. It was the nature of the game, and he knew fully that to keep a woman like her, he had to keep his coins up. She kissed his cheek and her stomach dropped. They were descending.

Their landing was swift, and they were all transported to a launch dock where Quinton's brand-new custom yacht waited for them on tranquil turquoise waters. Seeing the ship, Portia couldn't help but get excited and jump about like a kid with her friends as she held Mimi in her personalized pink Fendi doggy purse. Quinton's three male friends ogled the women through their sheer beach cover-ups. Their teeny-weeny bikinis left little to the lascivious imagination. Portia patted her designer cornrows studded with pink diamond hair jewelry that matched Mimi's pink diamond collar. The ends of her jeweled braids extended past her back, and she flung her natural hair around and waited to board the yacht.

A staff member waited on the main deck of the ship with a tray of mixed drinks in a crisp eggshell white maritime uniform of a starched shirt and knee-length shorts. Portia grabbed the first glass and her gaze drifted over to the tall Black man wearing a hot as hell black military uniform holding a colt commando automatic weapon. His glossy locs framed a gruff, bearded face with a scowl on his thick lips.

"Ohmigod, Quinton. Is this really necessary? Mood killer," Portia complained.

She released Mimi to run around and handed her purse to another crew member. Quinton shook the security's hand. Scoping the yacht, Portia saw five more similar men spread behind the first one.

"Killmonger, correct?" Quinton said.

"Correct," Killmonger said.

"Just Killmonger?" Portia asked.

"Just Killmonger," he answered in a rough tone.

Quinton turned to all of his guests as they mingled and admired the surrounding luxury. The five other security team members dispersed to their stations. Only Killmonger remained. Quinton held out his hands to show off his big, shiny toy.

"As I told all of you, we'll be completely protected. I know there have been rumblings of issues in this region, but I hired some serious security. Enjoy yourselves! Wander around for a bit and they will place your luggage in your cabins. Lunch in an hour!" Quinton said.

"Hold up," Killmonger said.

Everyone stopped chatting and froze with their refreshing drinks.

"We need to go over a safety drill," Killmonger said.

Quinton glanced at his watch.

"Now? Can it wait until after lunch?"

"No," Killmonger said.

"Where would you like us to be?" Quinton asked.

"Head to the stern, please," Killmonger said, pointing to the back of the yacht.

The others headed in that direction. Portia sauntered past him in the opposite direction.

"I'm going to settle in," she said, rolling her eyes.

Killmonger snatched up her arm so quickly that it knocked the breath out of her. She didn't know a human could move that fast. He held her close to his chest as his other hand gripped his weapon.

"See, you're the type of woman who makes the job difficult by being a brat," he snapped.

"You can't talk to me like that!" she hissed, trying to jerk her arm away. It was like fighting an immobile mountain.

"I'm here to protect your good time. We practice drills for a reason."

She exhaled hard when she noticed his teeth. Sharp gold canine slugs on his top and bottom teeth.

"I could have my man sue you for assault," she bitched.

"Do it," he said.

Portia blinked fast several times.

"Do you know who James Quinton is? He could ruin you!" she bellowed, squirming in his grip.

"I'm here to make sure you rich people don't get bothered. I'm the best at that and I'd appreciate your cooperation with the safety drill. It'll only take twenty minutes of your precious spoiled time," he barked.

"Portia?"

Her friend Chelsea called for her.

Killmonger released her arm, and Portia looked up into his face. Narrow, heated eyes peered down at her.

"Let's go, princess," he said, swaggering past her and slinging his weapon over his shoulder.

Portia stared at his wide back and clenched her teeth. She threw her martini glass over the side of the yacht in anger and balled up her fists. Prepared to raise hell with Quinton over the manhandling, she huffed under her breath in anger and stomped her Gucci slides when Killmonger glanced back at her and… smiled, flashing those gold slugs.

Portia halted her steps. The fuck was he smiling at?

And why was she getting aroused by it?

She was a piece of work.

Killmonger knew from jump that Portia would be a problem needing an attitude adjustment. He checked her real quick the moment she mouthed off about not following safety rules that had to be enforced in case of an emergency. She gave him a glacial stare during his short introductory speech on how the trip would run among the security team, and he took them down the stairs that led to a sunbathing deck. There was an emergency escape door that led to an eleven meters long military rigid hull inflatable boat under the yacht that could hold three crew and eight passengers. It had an M60 7.62mm machine gun, an MK19 40mm, and an M2 .50 cal. machine gun armament attached to it. The boat could do forty knots with six in-line cylinder diesel engines. It was an extreme weather craft and Killmonger made them all jump inside of it to get a feel of how they would ride it in case of an emergency exit. He pointed out life vests and showed them the scuba gear his men had available to check for underwater threats.

Once Portia realized they were the real deal, she fixed her face to look less bitchy and bothered. Killmonger was concise and professional and he impressed all the guests with his background and training. He spoke to his team to go over work shifts, breaks, and overnight watch duty. Taking the first shift watch on the main deck, he kept his guard up while the yacht started its adventure away from the Greek port and out into the open sea. The captain of the ship introduced himself and his staff after lunch and their first port of call was Athens, and then they would head to Crete. They would spend the rest of their time tooling around on the open sea and shooting off fireworks on New Year's Eve.

The women wasted no time throwing off their bikini covers and rushing over to sunbathe topless on cushy recliners. An annoying little dog ran around barking and finally jumped on Portia's thighs to sleep until it got too hot and it hid under her chair. He didn't mind watching the sea with binoculars and occasionally looking down at tits. They weren't shy about showing them, so he would not pretend he didn't notice. Quinton and his male buddies grabbed a bottle of top-shelf bourbon and headed to the other side of the yacht to smoke cigars on padded deck chairs. They were torn up by dinner, and by then, he was done with his work shift and free to relax and eat a meal in his cabin. A private chef brought him moussaka and white wine for dinner and galaktoboureko for dessert. It filled him up, and he took a quick shower afterward, then rested on his bed.

The party crowd became raucous and rowdy the later it became, and he changed into light linen pants and a cotton shirt to join them and check in with the night shift team. Music blared from speakers on the starboard side and he eased around to observe and also check out the night waters. The yacht had spotlights that surrounded the bottom of the boat, so there was a beautiful glow to the calm aquamarine water. The rest of the ship was lit up too, which concerned Killmonger. Nothing like advertising a luxury yacht filled with rich people. He was correct in requesting five men to work with him. They had various firearms, rocket-propelled grenades, and enough ammo to start a war at sea if needed. He relaxed after talking to the two men on shift. All was well.

He went for a stroll around the upper decks while the civilians headed down to the lower deck to spread out for cocktails on the main deck. A cool breeze blew past and ruffled his locs. He closed his eyes and faced it fully, luxuriating in the sensation.

"Oh… so you can look normal."

Killmonger opened his eyes and found Portia and one of her friends sitting on white barrel chairs with their legs kicked up on an olive green ottoman. She wore a short pumpkin-colored shift dress and her skin looked amazing from being in the sun all day. Playing with the hem of her extra short dress, he admired the elaborate diamond chips that decorated her long fingernails. She stayed adorned, and he appreciated the effort she took to look feminine and soft. Portia's friend looked cute in a short polka-dotted sun dress. Her hair was lifted in a high ponytail of cascading auburn curls that fell down over her slender shoulder.

He took the open seat next to the friend with a short table between them. There was a half-empty glass of red wine and a fresh unopened bottle next to it with a cork opener conveniently placed on top of it if she needed more.

"I can dress down when I'm not working," he said.

She smiled. The wine had relaxed her and she appeared less uptight. Crossing a seductive leg, he glimpsed her sexy thighs. She didn't have any panties on, and her mound was clean-shaven. He glanced away to pretend he saw nothing, but the smirk on her face told him she meant for him to see her pussy.

"Why aren't you two down with the others?" he asked.

"Needed a break. When you're always the life of the party like me, you need a little time off. Plus, they're talking about work and stocks. Tiana and I are not interested."

"That's so snoozefest," Tiana said, her light skin splotchy with sunburn marks.

"Your other friends seem intrigued by it."

"Those heffas?" Portia snorted. "They just want to appear interested to get attention. Carlos is worth half a billion. Ben two billion. Oh, and that loud mouth you hear right now? That's Stieg. He's a Scandinavian trust fund baby worth five billion. My girls are here to party with me, but make no mistake, they're fishing for a big fish of their own to catch up with me. They're bored out of their minds, but…."

Portia rubbed her fingers together to indicate cash. She stood up and walked down the stairs, leaving Killmonger with Tiana. He sat in silence for a moment before standing up to leave.

"You sure you'll be okay up here by yourself?" he asked, glancing over at the balcony.

Tiana looked heavily inebriated.

"I can hold my liquor," Tiana said.

"Alright then, I'll leave you to your bottle and privacy—"

He glanced over the railing and watched Portia saunter to the front of the yacht. For someone who stayed rude to him while he was on shift, her lax behavior at night intrigued him. Showing off her pussy had to be an amusing game to her. Killmonger liked what he saw and slid his wet tongue across a gold fang.

The rest of his rounds were completed, and he gave one of his men a twenty-minute smoke break starboard side once the guests had turned in to sleep. He took over the watch temporarily and cast his glances out toward the tranquility of the sea. Heavy breathing brought forth curiosity, and he strolled down to a lower deck to investigate.

Portia was on her back naked, legs spread wide as Quinton exerted desperate dick strokes inside of her.

"You're so good, baby. Yes, that's it," Portia said with lukewarm enthusiasm.

Her eyes faced the sea, and she offered no effort to reciprocate affections or even movement as her man pounded her. The detachment on her expressionless face bothered Killmonger. Quinton gave her the world and she couldn't be bothered to give some passion? Even if it was a fake? A true pillow princess, Portia laid there with minimal effort to even wiggle her hips. She managed to push her breasts together and jiggle them, but she refused to look at Quinton's face. The man stared at the fat titties and pumped his way to a sad orgasm. When he collapsed on top of Portia, she took her expensive nails and raked them on the back of his neck and cooed phony words of praise. A smug look painted her face.

Killmonger gripped the railing, and a surge of anger sparked inside of him. He wanted to wipe that petty smirk off Portia's face. He knew fully well that her relationship with Quinton was a transactional one based on the rules of patriarchy. Men bought women as commodities and arm candy all the time. Killmonger knew what the game was, and Ma played it like the pro she appeared to be. However, it irked him that Quinton didn't fuck the shit out of her and make Portia earn all of her riches from him.

Quinton rolled off of her on the wide sectional couch and pulled off the condom that sheathed his average-sized dick. He balled it up and tossed it onto the table next to them. Within seconds, he was fast asleep, and Portia rested her head on a throw pillow. Her eyes squinted in surprise when she noticed Killmonger looking down at them. She slid a finger to her pussy lips, teasing Killmonger by opening her legs wider so he could see all the wet pink of her succulent entrance. His lips twisted up and there was a tightening in his pants. She traced a finger in a wide circle around her folds, then licked her fingers, dropping them onto her nipples to tweak the tips. He gripped the front of his pants to adjust his dick, thinking of all the ways he would fold her body if he had the chance to teach her a lesson about teasing a nigga like him. Her writhing body was doing all the things she should've been doing for Quinton if she hadn't been a lazy fuck. Portia dipped her fingers inside of her pussy and pursed her lush lips as she watched his face grow more aroused watching her display of ridiculous seduction right next to her snoring boyfriend. But he couldn't look away. Her fingers spun magic as they played in her slick folds. She flicked her clit and widened her legs for him until she raised her arm up and flipped him off with a moist finger. Portia cackled and clutched at her stomach, delighted at her teasing. She grabbed the shift dress she had on earlier and put it on, leaving Quinton behind by himself on the sectional. Tossing the used condom in the sea with the flick of a diamond nail, her laughter floated up to Killmonger as she headed to her cabin.

"Bitch," he grumbled.

She had him going, toying with him by using her physical blessings against him long enough to tell him to fuck off. Portia wanted to play cat and mouse, thinking he was the silly little mouse. Little did she know she had a vicious panther on her hands.

They docked in Crete at the crack of dawn.

Killmonger had two of his team stay behind to watch the yacht, and the others dressed in civilian clothing to blend in and trail the women who went shopping and out for lunch with the billionaires and Quinton. The blistering heat didn't let up. He wiped the back of his neck and under his chin several times while tracking Quinton. Portia stayed on the yacht to sleep in late. Her man seemed to find his balls again when he wasn't around her. The passive energy disappeared, and he took on a personality with bravado, impressing Tiana, who laughed at his corny jokes. Their lunch break was long and Killmonger took time to smoke a cigar near an open market. He played tourist watching the surrounding activity, checking the time on his watch constantly, and checking in with the yacht.

In his peripheral he caught Quinton slinking out of the high-end restaurant and entering the luxury hotel next to it. Killmonger stayed put hidden behind a marble statue of Athena, keeping his steady gaze on his client. Quinton checked his surroundings before dashing into the hotel. Killmonger entered the hotel and discreetly shielded his body from the other tourists. Moments later, Tiana walked into the lobby and headed toward Quinton. The tech wiz grabbed Tiana's hand and they entered an elevator together. Killmonger grinned and left the hotel.

The pillow princess's man was getting better pussy elsewhere with her bestie. Killmonger shook his head and checked on the people milling around the hotel lobby. He stayed put until the illicit couple came back down the elevator twenty-five minutes later, fixing their rumpled clothes to look presentable again.

"Quick ass," Killmonger mumbled, sticking a piece of gum in his mouth to chase away the taste of cigar on his tongue.

The trip back to the yacht was uneventful an hour later, and Portia's girlfriends carried plenty of gift bags to commemorate their visit. Portia stood on the top deck with a martini glass in her hand wearing an alabaster knit bikini. A giant floppy sun hat shaded her face. She pranced around on her chunky platforms, waiting for her friends to share their bounty with her.

"Fuck," Killmonger uttered, staring up at her.

Her body was insane. The bikini top only covered her nipples, and the bottoms barely shielded her vulva. He licked his lips again, staring at how fat her pussy looked up there. Tiana was nothing compared to Portia, but Killmonger knew that a lot of beautiful women had trash box and men fucked with women who made them feel good. Looks had nothing to do with keeping a man in the long run. Plenty of mid-looking and ugly women had snatched away prizes from bombshells. Perhaps Portia needed a man with good dick to turn her out correctly. There was no way all that body was going to waste because some rich dude couldn't handle her spunk.

Portia caught him checking her out, and she leaned over the railing to eye him back. Killmonger sauntered to his cabin to change back into his serious work clothes. He checked in with the mercs left behind on duty and all reports were good. The ship's captain updated him with a weather report and soon they were back out at sea for the rest of the trip.

Quinton and Portia threw a costume-themed dinner party and everyone wore Mardi Gras masks and sipped champagne before devouring salty caviar, Kobe steak, and lobsters. The yacht staff hustled to please, but Portia became a bitch when things didn't go as smoothly as she wanted. She reamed one female server so badly for stepping on her dog Mimi by accident that the woman slunk away in tears. Quinton said nothing about the bullying and everyone else was too drunk to comment on anything. Portia snapped at two mercs while moving into their next party area for charades and Killmonger had enough of the poor attitude. When Portia went for a restroom break in her cabin, he followed her. She caught him waiting for her in the narrow hall.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Her icy tone and polar stare made him want to flip her around and spank her ass like an insolent child being reprimanded by a fed-up parent.

"You need to check your tone with the staff and my men. These people are working hard—"

"Shut the fuck up, you simpin' bitch," she said.

Portia lifted the Mardi Gras mask onto her forehead and glared at him. Her little cat woman bikini costume showed off every curve, and he became distracted for a second by the veracity of her tone and demeanor. No woman had ever tried to come for him like that, especially one who didn't know him from Adam. Her breath smelled like the expensive French wine she had drank all night, and he considered her drunken state before speaking. He leaned in, and Portia leaned back until she was jammed against her cabin door. Killmonger bared his teeth at her and she acted as if he had snarled like a beast. Her eyes darted toward the stairs that led to the top deck, expecting someone to rescue her.

"Treat people who cater to you with respect. They don't get paid enough to take your verbal abuse," he demanded.

She looked away from his heated glare and gold canines. He caught the subtle tremble in her body, but then she turned her face back to him and smirked.

"Those people are paid well and competed to get this job—"

"You ain't paying 'em," he said.

"My man is. His money is my money—"

"You sure about him being your man?"

Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a tight grimace. Killmonger decided to blow up her spot and teach the brat a lesson. Every bully needed to be humbled in their life. There was no better time than the present for her.

Portia put a hand on her hip and waited for him to run his mouth some more.

"He had a little quickie with your homegirl Tiana at a hotel while everyone was having lunch."

He cocked his head and waited for the explosion and waterworks to begin. Portia stared at him hard, then started cackling.

"Think I'm joking? I followed them there," he said.

Portia snorted and grabbed her stomach to control her laughter. He waited for her to notice that he was serious. She patted his chest with her right hand and he rolled his eyes with impatience.

"The look on your face right now… as if you got me with something!" she heckled.

Portia wiped her almond eyes and touched her chest. Her diamond nails glittered and that cool exterior returned in full effect.

"I sent that bitch there myself," Portia said.

Killmonger's brow wrinkled, and Portia gave him a little twisted lip pout. Then she grinned.

"Aw, I'm sorry boo boo. You really thought this was a gotcha moment. Ever hear of keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer? Tiana is a free-loading cunt… yeah, I said cunt like the white girls do. She's not my homegirl, just competition who has been trying to be me from day one. I let that heffa into my inner circle to keep her on a leash. Quinton is going broke and all of this…?"

She waved her hand above her head.

"All of this shit is about to disappear soon, so to teach her a lesson about coming for what I got, I'm letting her have that limp dick brokie. She thinks she's on the come-up sneaking around with him, but I fed her fake bread crumbs to that nigga. Lied, and told her we were having relationship problems, and that I was worried that he wanted someone else. That little worker hoe really thinks she's better than the queen bee. I stayed on the yacht on purpose so she could make her move on him. Now she knows shiny things aren't always diamonds with that weak peen. In her mind, she thinks she has him and his money. The reality is, she's with a broke faker. Checkmate, bitch."

Portia guffawed and pointed to Killmonger's face.

"I respect you for trying to break my heart to humble me, but you can't play a player," she said.

She shoved him out of her way and strutted up the stairs, tooting her ass out so he could see it jiggle as she walked. Stopping halfway, she looked back at him.

"I'll act nicer with the staff just to make you feel better," she said.

Killmonger chuckled and shook his head. Baby girl was cold-blooded. Respect. He eased his big body up the steps and did quick surveillance all around the ship. Portia acted better with the servers, but she was still icy with the other mercs.

The next few days were dull and humid.

Boredom set in with the women, as the men only drank, ate, and slept for hours on end. Killmonger observed how Portia maneuvered around Tiana. Deadly sweet. It was like watching a scorpion slowly poison a frog as it rode the weaker creature's back. The shine of being with Quinton wore off Tiana, and he caught her brushing off the advances of her secret lover when they thought no one else saw them around the yacht. Portia knew everything that went on between them, orchestrating their dismal affair right under the noses of everyone present.

New Year's Eve rolled around and the trip was nearly over. He had to admit that the assignment wasn't as troublesome as he thought it would be. Quinton hired a fireworks crew to meet them on a separate boat at a rendezvous point in the middle of the ocean. Killmonger sent his mercs over to check out the other smaller ship with metal detectors, heat sensor devices, and a thorough inspection of the crew while he scuba-dived under the boat to sweep for explosives and hidden weapons. They inspected the fireworks being used, too. When one of his team helped him out of the water, he pulled off his scuba gear, and Portia watched him undress. Her eyes grew enormous when his scars came into view. The shiny lumpy brown flesh decorated him with a deadly artistic beauty, displaying every life he had taken in his line of work. He walked across the deck, dripping in seawater and muscles. A hunger grew in her aroused eyes to see more under the wetsuit.

"All safe," he said, whisking past her, carrying his air tanks to a rack.

He took his time pulling off the rest of his wetsuit, shaking his thighs, and grabbing his dick through his tight trunks to adjust the weight there.

Quinton walked over, clapping his hands together.

"All good?" Quinton asked.

"You can have your show tonight," Killmonger said.

Portia flounced away, shaking those ass cheeks, and his dick jumped in his trunks. The last few days she'd been a lot more suggestive with her behavior toward him, teasing him with flirty glances, and tugging on her swimwear suggestively in front of him that had Killmonger undressing her in his mind at night. He jerked off on his bed after taking a shower from scuba diving, imagining himself bending her over a railing and spanking her ass, rubbing his dick tip against her while she glanced back at him with those spoiled eyes and luscious, pouty lips. She needed to be punished. Needed to be on her knees and sucking his dick. If she complained about his length choking her, he would slap her and train her to show some respect for the gift of having his length stretch her mouth.

His erection was harder than steel and he kept playing an image of her begging forgiveness for being such a bitch. Killmonger wanted to cum all over her face and mess up that illusion of perfection she had about herself. Knowing what he did about her for nearly a week, he already understood that she would try to break his resolve and manhood down to control him. She needed a strong Daddy to put her right, and the thought of her sucking his balls while she stared at him with insolent eyes sent him over the edge, and ribbons of hot cum shot all over his hand and midsection. His dick was still hard as he beat it again, thinking of her pussy contracting all over his erection. She just had a way about her that made him want to tame her. Break her down. Force her to submit and sit that plump ass on his face.

He rolled over, groaning into his pillow, angry that she had reduced him to playing with himself when he was supposed to be overseeing his men. Cleaning up quickly, he went topside to check on the action above. Quinton and his guests had all retired for late afternoon naps to prepare for the evening's festivities. A fancy seven-course Mediterranean meal was planned for the New Year's celebration and they invited all the mercs to join in the fun with their shifts.

Portia wore her alabaster bikini again with a coral beach wrap skirt. Diamond earrings decorated her ears and a huge blue diamond necklace sat on her neck worth more than Killmonger made in a year legally. She toned down her make-up, going for a natural look, and the switch-up was extraordinary. It softened her face more, and she became even more beautiful.

Killmonger ate his fill of the gourmet food and allowed himself one glass of champagne before changing shifts with another merc. He kept his dark clothes on and strolled alone along the uppermost deck. The ship captain ate from a plate and Erik glanced over at the fireworks ship. He lifted the work binoculars from his chest and stepped back outside to observe the water and sky. No moon. Just stars stretched across the heavens, sparkling the jewels all over Portia.

The fireworks show started at eleven-thirty for a slow countdown to midnight. Killmonger positioned himself on the deck overlooking the stern. Below him, the rich guests gathered with more champagne and small desserts to watch the show. It was spectacular. Fireworks had never impressed him before, but he found himself looking at the sophisticated light show over the sea. Dazzling shapes and styles of explosives brought a magical ambiance all around them. Portia squealed and clapped her hands like a child, often pushing her face against Quinton's shoulder whenever an explosive boomed too loud and scared her. She looked cute while enjoying herself and Killmonger wondered why she couldn't be like that all the time. A certain type of sweetness exuded from her, as if she had put away that mask of cool she always wore, just to be a regular woman having a good time.

A server approached Killmonger with a tray of champagne.

"Why not?" Killmonger said, lifting a glass.

He drank it down and kept his eye on Portia, enjoying the fireworks.

Portia gulped down another glass of champagne and watched a firework turn into a rose in the sky. She clapped and oohed and ahhed to her heart's content. It was a beautiful way to end a relationship. A part of her actually felt a little bad about dumping Quinton after the trip. He would find someone new with a lower income bracket, hopefully, someone who loved him for who he was and not his wallet. The poor schlep was the type of dude who used money to buy his way into the quality of woman he wanted, which was not who he needed. Perhaps if Portia had remained a small-town girl working finance at a bank or small business in her old hometown, Quinton would've been deemed, in her mind, the catch of a lifetime. Alas, that was not the ocean current she rolled in. His ego was big, and he felt entitled to beautiful women simply because he had a dick and some money. Cultivating a personality, hobbies, or real solid friendships was not in his wheelhouse. Trophy girlfriends would never bring him happiness.

The champagne bubbles in her flute tickled her nose. She glanced over at Tiana who looked seasick from too much liquor in her system. Maybe there was some hope for Quinton being with her enemy. Everyone deserved love.

Portia was about to go check on Mimi in her cabin before it hit midnight. She gave the Pomeranian a doggy sedative to keep her from anxiety with all the fireworks noise, and she worried her fur baby would be frightened without checking in with her. The crackle of a spectacularly loud firework drew her attention to the sky again. A chain of enormous fiery lights popped off, and she glanced at her dainty Patek Philippe watch. It wasn't midnight yet for any kind of grand finale. Unless something bigger was about to erupt in the sky after that volley of bright multi-colored lights. She clapped and heard a loud popping sound.

"Did a firework not go off?" she asked.

Her girlfriends shrugged before a gigantic explosion rocked the bow of the ship that was not part of the show. The yacht lurched, and Portia fell to her knees off-balance with her platform heels. Smoke and flames filled her shocked eyes. Everyone nervously headed toward the front to see what the hell happened and more popping sounds commenced from behind them. Tiana fell on top of her with Carlos. Portia's two other friends shrieked and ran, cut down by a hail of bullets through their backs. Portia pushed the limp and bloody woman off of her legs and shoved Carlos away too. The man's eyes looked up at her with a lifeless stare, and Portia screamed. She stayed on her hands and knees to keep low while looking up toward the higher decks. Killmonger had a modified M249 up and shot toward the sea targets. The fireworks ship exploded into a reddish-orange fireball, blazing the night sky with more flames and thick smoke. Parts of that ship flew over onto the deck of the yacht. One of Killmonger's men shot a grenade launcher from his weapon, aiming for some enemy Portia couldn't see on the dark water.

"Portia! Stay down!" Killmonger called out to her.

She did what he said and hid under Carlos and Tiana again, trying not to lose it as their warm blood dripped all down her legs and pooled at her feet. She swiped some of the cooling blood from her limbs and wiped it all over her throat to make herself look injured and played dead on the deck. Quinton ran toward the side of the yacht, and Portia wanted to follow, but the volley of intense bullets whizzed over her head. She covered her face, hearing loud splashes of water and yelling. The mercs around her scuffled with people who had climbed aboard. A powerful arm lifted her up by her waist.

"You been hit?" Killmonger asked.

"No!"

A merc near Killmonger took a shot between the eyes and dropped in front of her.

"Let's go!" Killmonger yelled, helping a server go with them.

The attackers cut the server down in mid-step and Portia realized with horror that all the guests except for her and Quinton were in a dead bloody heap all across the deck. She only lucked out because two bodies fell on her, shielding her from becoming human Swiss cheese. Another of Killmonger's team ran past them to fight, giving cover. Killmonger led her to the secret emergency door that held the military boat.

"Wait! I have to get Mimi!" she yelped.

"Fuck that dog!" Killmonger yelled.

Portia pushed back on the tears that welled up in her eyes. Her poor baby was locked inside her little travel kennel. She'd die all alone in her crate without her Mommy. The yacht tipped to the side, knocked by another explosive. Killmonger helped her into the emergency boat and made her put on a life vest.

"Wait here," he said.

"Don't leave me!" she shrieked, clutching his free hand with desperate fingers.

"I have to check for other survivors on the yacht's crew."

Her heart thudded in her chest so fast it made her gasp for air. She sat inside the boat and grabbed one of the gray emergency blankets and pulled it around her, hiding down low in the boat in case an armed pirate burst in. Portia was small enough to look like a lumpy seat. The odor of smoke crept down to where she was, and after some time, she worried Killmonger was dead. She wanted to wait another ten minutes for him, and then figure out a way to get the boat out onto the water by herself before the entire yacht sank into the sea.

It became hard to breathe under the blanket. She made a little breathing space for herself where she could still be covered up, but the smoke from the fires above seeped down to where she was. The sounds of shooting had stopped. Silence took over, and she debated about going out to see if the pirates had left. Time kept ticking, and the boat listed. Adrenaline had kept her going. But now the tears flowed.

The emergency door burst open, and Portia held her breath and stayed perfectly still. Mimi's woozy and weak bark yapped for her. She threw off the blanket and Killmonger was there, carrying Mimi's travel kennel and a backpack. He handed Portia the dog and tossed the backpack on the boat. Pressing a few buttons on a side wall of the yacht, a release ramp opened and slid down toward the water. He pushed the boat more, and it slid easily with a quiet splash. The yacht leaned further over and they would have to hurry to avoid being sucked down with it.

Killmonger untied ropes that secured the boat to the off-ramp. His face was full of concentration and determination to get them out of there. He put the safety on his weapon and leaned over to drop it in the boat when a masked man wearing dark clothing similar to Killmonger's uniform charged him, jamming his AK-47 under his throat and choking him.

Killmonger flipped the man over onto his back, punched him once and whipped out a Glock from his waist, and blasted the man's forehead. Blood and brain matter splattered, and Portia was too shocked to scream. Killmonger leaped into the boat and started the quiet motor, guiding them away from the yacht. She watched the burning luxury boat slowly sink as they bounced across the water. The pirate boat that attacked them sat on the other side and she thanked God there was no moon because the flames from both ships burning distracted their attackers from seeing them. Portia closed her eyes and let the cool sea breeze dry the sweat of fear all over her. The further away they were, the safer she felt. Her breathing returned to normal once the yacht and the surrounding madness became a tiny shiny speck on the horizon.

Killmonger checked some guidance apps on his military watch computer and took them toward some uninhabited Greek island chains. After about forty minutes, they hid their getaway boat on a small rocky isle inside an island littoral cave that made Killmonger feel secure staying there until he could contact help. Waves had eroded away an opening in the limestone, creating a sea cave that hid and protected them from the elements. He stuck a small headlamp on his head, giving them the only light source to look around. Killmonger handed her one too, and she placed it around her forehead. He dragged the boat once they hit soft sand. The cavern was dark and warm, like a womb. There were flares and a bulky charged satellite phone on the boat.

"I'll use the phone tomorrow and shoot off a flare for rescue when it's safe. We may have to stay out here a few days," he said.

"A few days? Why that long?" she said.

"That was a coordinated attack. They'll be looking for survivors all night and tomorrow. They knew exactly how many people were on that yacht, and you and I are no longer there. It was a hit… on everyone," he said. "There's also a storm moving in and that will hinder rescue efforts."

"Maybe they'll think we drowned and just go," she reasoned.

"They will sweep for floating bodies. Trust me."

He stopped and looked at her hard. She had opened Mimi's crate and held her frightened dog on her lap.

"Portia… Quinton set this whole thing up. I saw and heard him talking with the hit squad when I grabbed Mimi. He left with them on the attack boat."

Portia shook her head.

"No… that's not true… Quinton's a tech guy. He doesn't know pirates and shit…"

"He's going to disappear like he's dead, too. Collect on all the insurance he had on everyone there and that yacht. You told me he was going broke. He fixed his financial problem by getting money for you, your friends, and his billionaire buddies. The men he hired are going to make sure you and I are dead, so we don't snitch on what really happened."

Portia looked down at Mimi and felt the blood rush to her head like she was going to pass out.

"I can't believe this. He killed all those people to save his ass financially."

Killmonger pulled out a cold bottle of water from the backpack he brought and handed it to her.

"Can we last for three days out here?" she asked.

He nodded and showed her a wide variety of goods stored on the boat.

"There's enough food on her for several days that could last a week if needed. Since there are only two of us, we can eat as much as we want and stretch it out if we have to. We have fresh water… blankets. Toilet paper, sunblock, bug spray. We're good. Just have to keep hidden from the clean-up crew."

Killmonger sounded confident, and Portia inhaled deeply. He saved her life and would protect her on their…

New home. She looked around the boat again. There was plenty of room on one end for them both to stretch out and rest. The weapons attached to the hull could thwart a small army. Portia sipped a little water, gave some to Mimi with a cupped hand, then placed the dog back in her kennel. She prayed her fur baby didn't bark after the sedative wore off completely.

Killmonger made soft pallets of extra blankets for them to sleep on while she turned off her light and stepped out of the boat. She walked back to the water. After rinsing the blood off of her body and shoes, she returned to him, and they both stretched out in opposite directions. She felt him move around on his end. Lifting to see what he was doing, she caught him taking off his uniform. He stripped down to his black boxer briefs and huddled back up under his covers. Portia changed positions and crawled to his end when her body spasmed. She rested against his back, spooning him to capture some of his warmth, hoping the shaking in her limbs would stop. Her body moved with uncontrollable, jerky movements and she felt cold. Killmonger faced her quickly and put his arms around her.

"What's happening to me? My arms and legs keep shaking," she whispered.

"You're going through adrenaline withdrawal. Shit was crazy that you went through, and your body was all keyed up for action. It's trying to get back to equilibrium."

"How do you seem so calm? Shouldn't you be shaking too?"

"I'm used to it. Don't worry. It won't last long."

He opened up his blanket to her, and she eased her face against his wide chest. The keloid scars were smooth and slippery-feeling against her skin. His heartbeat was a steady drumming to her ears. Her shallow breathing eventually evened out to match his, and she could rest calmly next to him. The scent of his skin had a soothing musk odor, some cologne mixed with his own sweat, giving off an intoxicating smell. He adjusted his body to give her more room, and she closed her eyes to sleep.

Waking up hours later, she opened her eyes to see him looking down at her with the softest brown eyes. For the entire yacht trip, he always wore a scowl on his face with narrow cruel eyes that held disdain for her. Now… she looked at another man completely. A roar of water drew her attention back toward the opening of the cave. The light pastel colors of dawn greeted them with shades of turquoise and honey yellow bleeding into a blood-orange tapestry. The rising tide rolled in, gently pushing their boat against the sand, rocking their bodies like a mother's hand tending to a cradle. Killmonger had the boat fastened to a stake that he pounded into the sand to keep them from floating out into the sea while they slept.

Sitting up, she admired the view. The clear, tranquil water sparkled as the sun rose higher and the colors in the sky changed into new brighter hues. It took Portia's breath away, bringing tears to her eyes. The rust color of the cave's roof seemed to glow. In the distance, she noticed other island chain formations that probably never had a human walk on them. She wondered if the awe she felt was the same awe that God had when the heavens and the earth were made complete. The scene before her looked like a painting. She spent most of her life drinking, partying all night, burning through rich men's money, and sleeping hungover until noon. When had she ever witnessed a sunrise like the one spread before her sober eyes? What a way to enter a new year.

Porta laid her head back down and noticed that her bikini top had fallen off in her sleep. She was topless in front of him. Throwing an arm over her chest, she glanced around for her knitted top.

"Don't trip," he said with a grin.

He reached above his head and handed her a small container of grape juice. She took it and drank down the sweetness.

"Hungry?" he asked.

She shook her head no, the fruit juice helping revive her blood sugar. Pushing the blanket away from her lower body, she luxuriated in the balmy comfort of the air. Tilting her head back, she noticed an opening at the top of the cave that dropped a beam of early morning light on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the inside of her lids turn red from the sun bathing her more. A calloused finger stroked down the side of her cheek. Portia's eyes popped back open as Killmonger dragged his index finger against her skin. She lifted a finger and traced one of his keloid scars across his right pec. He was her hero. During the shootout and explosions, he had his eyes on her, making sure she was safe.

Killmonger dropped his head down and kissed her. She could taste toothpaste and fruit juice on his tongue. A static sound interrupted their joining, and he pulled away from her to pick up the satellite phone. He spoke in a rushed tone, giving coordinates and relaying a warning about the attack and Quinton's hand in it. There was a personal locator beacon with a strong GPS tracker he was going to keep on so they could find them. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands, letting Killmonger deal with everything. Soon after, he shut the phone off to save the battery. Turning to her, he stretched his arms and sighed.

"It's going to take time to reach us. The storm is sitting over Crete and moving slowly. Rough waves."

"But they are coming?" she asked.

"Yes."

Portia fell onto her back and stared up at the cave roof with relief. People knew where they were and would find them.

"I want to eat now," she said.

Killmonger pulled out MRE packages and small disposable plates. She dumped out a packet of southwest beef with black beans and tortillas. There was a chocolate banana nut muffin and apple slices mixed in a spice sauce, a cheese spread, and peanut butter. Portia made herself a burrito, and the food gave her the calories and energy she needed. Killmonger made them coffee over a small propane stove he put together and joined her with his own meal.

"Not bad," she said, stuffing the muffin in her mouth.

"We can have a white meat chicken salad with crackers and pasta for lunch," he said.

She wolfed down her burrito and wiped her lips. Finishing quickly, she let Mimi out of her cage and fed her from the packs of fancy dog food stored inside the kennel with her. She let the dog run around in the cave's interior to relieve herself. Mimi stayed away from the water and occupied her attention quietly by digging holes all in the back of the cave. Looking around, Portia was happy to see there was nothing inside the small cave with them except sand and the tiny beach made by the water lapping inside gently. Killmonger pulled out a large tan camouflage netting.

"Step out. Grab your top," he said.

Portia stunned herself by noticing she had stayed topless the entire time eating. She tied her titties up and draped her wrap skirt around her neck into a dress. She slipped on her platforms and picked up Mimi. Killmonger covered the boat up with the netting, blending it into the background of tan sand.

"Put the dog in its kennel so we can look around and I can plant this tracker up high," he said.

"She'll bark," she said.

Killmonger rolled his eyes.

"Then carry her," he said.

He pulled on his pants, and she eyed the bulge at his crotch. His flaccid state was bigger than Quinton's erect state. Portia checked herself for thinking sexy thoughts in their dire situation.

Dire?

It wasn't, really. They had all they needed and good people were coming for them. He placed several water bottles, a Glock, the satellite phone, and the beacon locator, inside a small pack and slung it around his shoulders. She followed him out of the cave, stepping on vast rock formations on the side to keep from getting her platforms wet. Climbing up the side of a hill, they made their way through brush and mostly barren land. There weren't very many trees and the ones that existed were small, or dead, and had fallen over. She kicked a few on the ground and they crumbled from contact, drier than the heat cooking their skin. Killmonger was already a shade darker, and it looked good on him. His biceps were beefy and darker brown. Her own dark skin took on a red tinge with her rich color. At a glance, they looked like tourists ambling about looking for t-shirts to buy for back home, not shipwrecked targets for death.

"Ow!"

Portia tripped on some sand and eroding rocks, bumping into Killmonger and almost knocking him over.

"Watch it," he barked.

"Sorry! I wasn't trying to bump into you—"

"Take those ridiculous shoes off so you can walk better—"

"It's too hot."

"No, it's not—"

"Yes, it is—"

They fussed like an old married couple all the way to the highest point of the island. He stuck the tracker in the ground and checked to make sure it was working properly. Gazing out at the sea around them, Killmonger lifted binoculars from his chest and peered out further.

"See anything?"

"No."

"That's a good sign, right?" she asked.

Portia put Mimi down so the dog could sniff around and urinate. Mimi happily sniffed and marked territory. When she padded over too close to a drop, Porta scooped her back up. There didn't seem to be any wildlife at all.

"Do you think there are a lot of snakes on this island?"

"Maybe. I haven't seen much scat or midden left behind," he said, searching the sea with the binoculars.

"What's that?"

"Scat is animal shit, and midden is their refuse… the food they've nibbled on and left behind. I only spotted some anthills and one bird so far. Not much to sustain a lot of snakes."

He glanced over at her.

"Just walk hard. Your vibration will scare them off. Keep that rat dog in sight, though."

"She's a Pomeranian."

"Looks like a rat dressed in a hot ass fur coat."

Portia looked at her baby. Mimi did pant. She grabbed a water bottle from Killmonger's pack and poured some on the dog.

"Whatchu doin'?! That's for drinking," Killmonger scolded.

"She's hot. I don't want her to get sunstroke."

He held his hand outstretched.

"We're surrounded by cool seawater. Dunk her rat ass in that. Stop wasting what we need to survive!"

Portia pouted.

"I wasn't thinking about that. I just wanted to help her."

"Let me do all the thinking then…" he grumbled.

They explored more, trekking around the entire island in under an hour. She dunked Mimi in a pool of water that came up from a natural aquifer of fresh water near the cave entrance. Killmonger grumbled again, so she walked her dog into the seawater and cooled them both off. He shut his mouth when she removed her beach wrap and frolicked with Mimi until a small wave knocked her poor pooch over. She walked out of the water dripping with her diamonds glittering, making her look like a Black Venus rising to the mortal world. He licked his thick lips, and she shuddered at the thought of that mouth on her body. Killmonger was bossy and so easily annoyed by her. However, he was also attracted to her and Portia played into that whenever he gave a tired sigh with her antics spoiling her fur baby. She made a little condo property for Mimi with her dog kennel. Moving it far back in the cave, she gave the dog a bowl of water and dried dog food with space to call her own to keep away from Killmonger. She decorated the front of the crate with pretty rocks and shells she collected and doted on her little one until Mimi fell asleep, farting from all the snack treats Portia gave her to help with the stress of a new environment.

He checked in with the rescue team on the phone and made them lunch. She sensed he felt more relaxed after finding fresh water on the island that they could use if they needed to. They ate in silence together, sitting on the sand and staring at the water. To be stranded on an island with a trained killer wasn't such an awful experience. Underneath the rough exterior was a man who held her hand to help her move around the island, and who also made sure she was hydrated. He pointed out natural formations of some of the island's geography around them and double-checked for snakes as they stepped over fallen trees. She gripped his arm when they moved into questionable areas, and at one point, she slipped her hand into his as he guided her back down toward the cave.

She took a nap on the sand and woke up to a crackling fire. Killmonger had gathered wood and dried brush, making a cozy glow that couldn't be seen from the narrow opening of the cave from the outside. They watched a new sliver of moon rise and a blanket of blue-black sky rest over the island for the night. She grinned and nibbled on chocolate chip cookies, humming and rocking on her backside as she ate. He laughed at her.

"What?" she said

"You look like a little kid on a girl scout campfire trip," he teased.

"Funny, because I used to be a girl scout."

"A girl scout… and you didn't know what scat and midden were?"

"I must've missed that part. I just looked good in the uniform," she said.

He smiled, and the bright, genuine light it brought to his face made him even more handsome. Killmonger was fine, no doubt, but there was something else deep within him that made him even more attractive. She thought of the way he lifted her up with one arm, shooting with the other as he rushed her to safety. His eyes always slid over to hers, even before the attack, when they were floating in tranquility. Portia had teased him sexually, doing things to get a rise out of him. It had started as a dismissive act, letting him see what he would never have in life, and it changed into active taunting, daring him to step up to the challenge so she could smack him down and belittle his audacity to think he was ever on her level.

Sitting in a cave with a peaceful campfire, her gaze on him brought clarity. She had been attracted to him the moment he put her in check on their first meeting. People always did what she wanted, and he had been the first man to push back on her attitude. She picked at him every time he showed up in her face.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said.

"You couldn't afford my thoughts," she said in a playful tone.

He smirked, then added more wood to the fire. Her eyes drifted up to watch the smoke go through the hole in the high roof.

"You think they're done looking for us? Should we even have a fire with the smoke floating… they could see it."

"By now, they should think we're dead. They never saw us leave on the boat and the yacht is at the bottom of the ocean by now, so they can't even check to see about the emergency escape, even if Quinton mentioned it. I won't have this going for long," he said.

"I like it," she said, holding her hands and feet up, warming her fingers and toes.

They didn't need the extra warmth. The cave was already cozy, but it brought comfort to their predicament.

"I'll sleep out here tonight and keep watch," he said. "I'll have to hike around a bit too, to check in other directions from the top."

She looked around for a blanket or pallet on the sand. There was nothing to lie on. Perhaps his soldier ways let him sleep cross-legged and upright. Her eyes became drowsy. Standing and stretching, she stared out at sea, admiring the sizeable chunk of island rock that faced across from their private paradise.

"I thought a storm was coming," she said.

"It is. Can't you feel the temperature drop? The sky is changing too. Won't hit until later tonight, and it won't be as bad out here. The sheer rock of that island over there is shielding us, and the tide doesn't get very high in here. We're good," he said.

She nodded.

"Night," she called.

"Night," he said.

She checked on Mimi, then snuggled inside the boat with the blankets. Killmonger went and grabbed the solar lights that he sat out in the sun all day and brought into the cave, jamming them down in the sand near the boat. He even posted two by Mimi's kennel because Portia told him the dog was nervous about being in the dark. Her mind tried to stay positive. She wondered how bad the storm could be if the hole at the top of the roof flooded with rainwater. Killmonger didn't appear concerned, so she let the thought drop.

After an hour, a soft splash of water forced her to lift and see what the noise was. Mimi hated water, so there were no worries there. Portia spotted Killmonger on the far side of the cave, splashing his naked feet into the liquid heaven.

"Lord," she whispered into her own mouth, watching him.

He was totally nude and moved his body with an assured grace that made him look like Poseidon returning to the sea. She could not stop staring at his taut glutes and powerful thighs. His keloid scars were all over his back, too. Killmonger walked in waist-deep before dunking his head underwater and wetting his locs. He ran a hand over his hair and shook them, stretching his arms out wide, traveling deeper into the sea until she could only see his head. Going under a few times, he moved closer to shore, and she noticed the small bottle of liquid soap in his hand. He washed all over, rubbing his muscles, and cleaning between his toes and elsewhere. Rinsing off, he dropped the bottle of soap on the sand for later and put on his pants without his boxer briefs. He padded back over to the dying fire and stopped when he saw Mimi sitting near his previous seat.

"Getcho ass back in that kennel," he ordered.

Mimi only sat and stared at him.

He sat down next to the pampered pooch and placed Mimi on his lap. Portia giggled and hid under the blankets.

Smoke and flashes of a blazing fire blinded her eyes. The shouts of fear and the odor of fresh blood grounded her back on the yacht. She had moved so slowly. Champagne and the thrill of fireworks put her in a loopy mood and the horror of the attack froze her and probably saved her life. Tiana and Carlos ran and Portia stood there like a statue, her mind trying to fathom what was wrong with the scenario before she was tackled by the running dead and free-falling onto her back.

"No!"

Portia shot up inside the boat, her heart jackhammering in her chest. Her throat clogged with a scream as she relived the attack. Staring at her shaking hands in front of her face, she expected to see blood and brain matter again as another scream ripped from her lips.

"Hey, it's okay… shhh… it's only a nightmare…"

Killmonger jumped into the boat with her and the fading dream had her beating his chest thinking he was an attacker. The lucidity made her claw at his face and he pulled her into his chest, rocking her, cooing soft words into her ear to bring her back to reality and the safety of the cave. Mimi whined behind her and the sound of the dog snapped her to the present. She fell apart then, wailing into Killmonger's chest, her mouth wide open and unable to close as if the terror she endured would crawl out of her throat. Quinton tried to kill her. Her body could've been at the bottom of the sea becoming fish food and no one would know the truth of what he did to her or all of their so-called friends. Portia moaned and jammed a hand against her mouth.

"You're good, Portia. I'm here and we're okay. Just a bad dream…"

She looked up at his face, then wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned back in the boat, letting her rest on top of him. He stroked her spine and his rough hands on her bare skin brought her back from the brink of totally losing all control of her emotions. She wiped her eyes and covered her face, weeping quietly against him.

"I was waiting for this. Some people take longer to process what happened to them. You tried your best to act like you were okay all day," he whispered.

Her breath shuddered as his soothing voice and hands brought her into a calm state.

"I was so scared," she said.

"I know."

"It was so fast and… I couldn't move…"

"You did well considering all that was happening at one time… even wiped blood on yourself to fool them. That's thinking on your toes, Ma. Most people just scream and holler, then get caught up in the shock. You ran and did what you had to do."

"Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

"That was my job."

His fingers dragged up and down her spine, making her skin feel tingly and warm. She crawled off of him and snuggled into his side, hiding her face in his chest. Portia enjoyed being there. It felt comfortable and safe. He stroked her arms and tried to leave her side to return to his post, but she gripped his arm and pulled him back next to her.

"Don't go," she said.

A soft sprinkle of rain fell on the water. The storm had arrived. The pleasant patter of droplets striking the sea eased her mind and body. Her nightmare faded, easily forgotten, while cozied up against him.

"Try to sleep," he said.

Killmonger rested his head on the makeshift pillow his work jacket made and she stared into his eyes. The solar lights gave her a soft ambiance to look at him with.

"By tomorrow evening, they should be near enough where I can shoot a flare so they can pick us up. Hang on to that thought," he said.

She nodded into his shoulder and released a final shudder that loosened all the tension in her body. Absent-mindedly, she rubbed her fingers across the top of his naked chest, feeling the slick contours of his keloids against the pads of her fingertips. Tracing her fingers under his neck, she took a bold step and ran her finger across his full lips. Raising herself higher, Portia kissed him, enjoying the sensation of warm plush fullness outlining her own plump softness. His lips smothered hers as he took over the kissing. She expected a feral roughness with him, but he was buttery soft and so gentle with her mouth. Even his large tongue surprised her with how seductively slow it was exploring the inside of her mouth. Their kisses were languid and so unrushed that she could almost fool herself into thinking that they had been lovers in some other past life together. There was no clumsy fumbling newness as their tongues sought an understanding of their changed physical relationship.

She tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth, and he smiled. He kissed his own trail down her face and onto her neck where he buried those sharp gold teeth and nibbled on her throat, shooting sparks of pleasure down to her toes and back. Groaning out loud, she delighted in his fingers pinching her nipples through her bikini top. She untied it and freed her breasts. His hand palmed their fullness, and she glanced down at his crotch. His dick tented his pants. She helped unfasten them, releasing his erection. It was a hot, rigid thing in her hand and his head fell back, allowing a deep groan to release from his mouth.

"Stroke that shit," he huffed into her neck while untying the bottom of her bikini himself.

She moved over as he wiggled out of his pants and gasped when she saw his dick and balls together. Her pussy throbbed while looking at the heft and length. Pre-cum pearled at his tip and ran down the sides and she helped slicken that big dick in a hurry, eliciting more guttural moans from him. She liked the pleasurable sounds falling from his lips and squeezed her fingers around the bulbous tip. The hole there opened wider and clear fluid drizzled onto the gap of her thumb and index finger.

"Fuck, baby," he gasped when she twisted and tugged under the ridge.

His fingers found her clit and her pussy wasted no time becoming slick and wet, her folds opening up for him like a blooming rose. He stared between her legs, licked his lips, and flashed those gold slugs. She lost control of the tremors making her body weak for him. Slick sounds met his fingers, and he played with her pussy lips until she was begging for him to do more.

"Play with your pussy. Lemme see you do what you did on the boat when you were teasing me," he huffed.

Her diamond-crusted fingernails made her pussy so pretty for him. She could see his arousal grow in his glassy eyes. She rubbed her clit, then held her folds open. He licked his fingers and stuck them in her mouth. She sucked on them, showing him everything she could do for his dick. He closed his eyes and his lips parted. Panting, he played in her mouth. His big dick twitched and jumped against her thigh, spewing more pre-cum.

"Lemme play in this pussy," he begged.

She opened her legs, and he inserted two fingers inside of her opening, gently testing the limits of what she could take. Portia whimpered when he started tapping on the sides of her walls, flicking his fingers back and forth like a butterfly fluttering away. He knew how to stimulate pussy. Killmonger wasn't rough or jerky with his movements either. He watched her face to read what she could handle from him and kissed her often, slow and steady, binding Portia to him like he was kissing a magic spell into her mouth, conjuring more pleasure from the nerves that woke up all over her writhing body. He fingered her pussy and sucked on her nipples, turning her body into mush that the sea could wash away with the tide.

"Listen to that pussy… fuck… I knew this shit was good… fuck…" he moaned.

"Killmonger," she cried out as his fingers hit spots in her that hadn't been touched in so long.

"You loved showing this pussy to me. So fat in this bikini. Letting me see these pussy lips all the time… teasing me…"

He pulled his fingers out against the clenching she began doing around them. He sucked her juices from his fingers and admired the frothy wetness that glistened all over her puffy folds. Slapping her vulva, he stood up and forced her to her knees.

"Suck this dick," he commanded.

Portia obeyed, jumping to her knees and swallowing his dick head like it was her last meal in life. He pushed his dick in further and her mouth stretched around it. She pressed her hand on his stomach to control the depth, but he slapped her face. The shock of the sting aroused her, and she stared up at him with heated eyes and a throbbing pussy.

"You gon' take this dick how I feed it to you… spoiled bitch. Now suck on it… put those fucking hands away. I want all mouth, Portia."

Portia opened her mouth wider, and he went in deeper. She gagged while trying to suck and slurp, and her eyes watered, but Killmonger slapped the other side of her face, disappointed with her performance.

"I thought you were better than this. You can't handle this dick?"

Her forehead creased with anger. She always gave world-class head. No man had ever complained about her oral skills. She gripped the root of his dick and he slapped her hands away.

"I said all mouth, and I meant all mouth!"

He pushed her back, and the anger that sat on his face excited her. Killmonger wasn't pleased at all. She licked his balls and kissed her way back to his dick again to try better. Taking her time, she licked around the slit and under the head, coating her tongue with all the pre-cum that dripped from him. He dragged his tip across her lips, making them glossy, and nudged the seam of her lips back open.

"Let's see if you can do better," he said.

She adjusted her knees with the blankets and sucked on that dick tip, using her full concentration. Her suction with her lips improved, and she even grazed her teeth gently around him to switch up her performance. He treated her like a little puppet that needed her strings pulled when she didn't suck to his satisfaction. She worked her ass off to get a groan, a moan, or a "Good girl," to drip from his sexy lips. He patted her head and sometimes pulled her braids to force her lips to do better.

"How are you gonna pull that nut outta Daddy when you stay playin' like that? Huh? Is this your best?" he asked.

She popped his dick out of her mouth with a torrent of saliva falling onto her breasts and pouted.

"Not as good as you thought you were. Do better," he said, shoving his dick back in.

Portia wanted to cry. She gave him grade A head, and it still wasn't up to par. All the tricks she had used over the years to get men off failed her. There were moments when she thought she had made a breakthrough, but he grumbled and told her she was not even close to getting him off.

"Look up at me when you suck that dick," he said.

Frustrated, she gazed up at him as he deep-throated her neck. That gorgeous face and big ass lips had her pussy clenching on nothing but air. Her walls felt so swollen and ached for his dick to lay her out. A few tears streaked down her face as her frustration grew.

"That's a good girl. Now take some more of Daddy's dick. Show me you can follow directions," he said.

She wanted to please him so badly. He played with her nipples and breasts as she worked her neck, throating him down as best she could. Her loud gawking echoed throughout the cave.

"Jaws getting tired?" he teased in a mean tone.

He pulled his dick out and glared at her.

"Tell Daddy you're sorry for letting him down with that mouth," he demanded.

The gruff tone ignited the ache in her clit. He threaded the braids in the back of her head with the fingers of his left hand and tilted her head while fisting his dick. He gently yanked on her hair.

"What I say? Tell Daddy you're sorry for that trash sucking," he barked.

"I can do better," she pleaded.

"You had a long time to show me, and it didn't happen."

He grunted and stared at her ripe lips, his right hand working that length like he was ready to burst. Gripping her head with his hand, he bared his slugs.

"Sorry, Daddy—"

"For what?" he gasped, narrowing his eyes as he brought his tip closer to her whimpering mouth.

"—for not sucking your dick right. Please, I can suck your dick so good!"

Portia fondled her left breast and groped between her legs to flick her clit. Begging him for a chance to prove herself was the only goal she had in life. She needed him to cum… couldn't take her next breath until he was satisfied. Killmonger had scorn written all over his expression.

"Daddy, I'm sorry…" she whined.

"Oh fuck, dassit, dassit!" he shouted.

Hot cum shot out in thick ropes all over her cheeks and lips, accompanied by a roar from his throat that enhanced his release. She opened her mouth to catch the last drops of his orgasm and she came all over her own fingers while enjoying the pure ecstasy on his straining face.

"Damn, Portia… oh… baby… shit!"

Another streak of cum shot out, and he aimed it for the other side of her face. His ejaculate dripped down, and she rubbed it onto her chest, showing him how much it meant to have him all over her breasts. He gave a low laugh and stumbled back.

"Whew… damn, girl. I was tryna hold back for so long. Your head game is fucking superb."

She licked her fingers and then stared at him.

"You were playing with me?" she asked.

"Not at first. You're used to simps being satisfied with the bare minimum. I'm a grown-ass man who needs you to show and prove with this dick. It's not for the weak, and you showed the fuck out."

He lifted her up, and she didn't want him to do anything else until she had wiped her face and chest off with a wet wipe. Killmonger hugged and kissed her afterward. They stood in the boat, necking until she couldn't take any more. She climbed him like Santa Claus was bearing gifts and wrapped her legs around him.

"I want you sitting on my mouth," he said between desperate kisses from her lips.

She slid down his body and he situated himself comfortably on the blankets. Portia squatted over his face and planted her pussy on his lips. He let it rest there, feeling the wetness all over before humming and moaning into her flesh.

"Ooh," she moaned, scissoring her clit.

He slapped her fingers away, and she looked down at him. The glow from the lamps made his eyes a liquid brown dream, and he slathered that wide tongue up and down her folds, circling her clit with the tip. He held onto her ass cheeks and she mewled and bit her bottom lip to keep from hollering out his name. Killmonger slapped both of her ass cheeks before sliding his hands under and over her thighs to lock her down on his tongue. He made it stiff, and she lifted herself to let him insert it nice and snug inside of her. Cradling her breasts, Portia went up and down and he fucked her with tongue, lips, and groans that vibrated her folds.

"Killmonger!" she yelled, not caring if pirates, snakes, Mimi, the Coast Guard, or God heard her cries of pleasure.

His tongue was delectable on her pussy and inside of it. The strength of his hands supporting her, his burning gaze rooting her to his lips… everything about him gave her chills. The effort to cum was minimal. Her orgasm shattered her ability to think clearly anymore. She babbled something or other like she was talking in tongues at her old church back in South Carolina. Bucking and yelping made no difference. That man was going to turn her pussy out. She whimpered and fell forward, unable to move any limbs. His laughter at pleasing her bounced all over the cave and she joined him, reveling in the joy that their bodies could share with one another.

Killmonger held Portia carefully in his arms as they kissed.

The taste of the deepest part of her stayed on his tongue and he shared the gift of that with her. She clung to him as if she feared him disappearing into the wet, rainy night. He had to do a patrol and fished around for night vision goggles he found stashed in a sideboard on the boat. Putting on his pants and combat boots, he didn't bother to wear a t-shirt and just tossed on his black jacket. He stuffed the satellite phone into an inside pocket and strapped his Glock around his thigh.

Portia watched him under the blankets, staring up at him with so much lust that it tempted him to forego an island sweep to stay with her. Grabbing an unfinished water bottle, he knelt down next to her and pressed his warm lips against her forehead.

"Keep it hot for me," he said, winking at her.

He wasn't finished with her by a long shot. They only experienced oral sex, each taking turns to taste and learn the other's private parts intimately.

Killmonger trudged out of the cave with Portia's scent on his beard. He placed the night vision goggles on once he was out of her sight. He hiked around, searching the sea even as a light rain came down on him. Without Portia being with him, he could get around fast. He turned on the phone and checked for any missed calls from the Greek Coast Guard. They were operating under extreme weather conditions on their end, despite the mild display on their side. Killmonger was glad that they found a place to hide that shielded them. He hoped the bad weather stayed outside of Crete and didn't follow their rescue unit.

Nothing unusual appeared on the horizon. Confident that they were in the clear, he took a moment to let the soft rain bathe his face. He hiked back to Portia and rinsed himself off before getting back into their boat bed with her naked again. She threw her arms around him like she was his woman, greeting her man after a hard day's work.

Oh, how the tables had turned!

Hiding away turned her into a bubbly, humorous woman who sought beauty all around her. It mesmerized him, watching the glow on her face as the sunrise brought her to tears that morning. She was thankful for the plain food they had to eat, and she didn't complain too much about their situation or bug him about checking the phone more than he did. His leadership and take-charge attitude allowed her to fall back into a space of just living in the present. He liked that version of her and wondered if the ice princess persona would return once they were rescued. Killmonger hoped not.

He sank his tongue back in her eager mouth and they kissed for an hour, stopping to catch their breath and caress each other. Her eyes became dewy for him and she couldn't stop touching him or being hugged up next to him. He made her lay back and played with her clit, dipping his finger inside her pussy just to watch it contract around his fingers, trying to keep them inside.

His dick became a turgid beast and hung heavy between his thighs. There were no condoms available. He had some on the yacht where he thought he might need them if he found a babe to his liking, but the only woman who turned him on was Portia. On the ship, he knew there was no way they would ever hook up. He wanted to fuck the boldness out of her back then, just to wipe that bitch queen attitude off her face. It baffled him at how quickly she wanted to submit to his domination of her body with his. He had suspected she wanted to be dominated, but not that fast.

Killmonger could've busted a nut all over her from the first ten minutes of sucking she did, but he pushed her to the limit to see if she would fight his heckling of her throat game. How he was able to keep control over his release was a miracle. He was ready to blow his load when she spit on his dickhole and cradled his balls in her hand, staring up at him with those formerly insolent cat eyes. Killmonger kept pushing her until she broke and gave him what he wanted. Her apology made him cum so hard. All he could think about was her telling him to shut the fuck up when he told her about herself. That woman got on her knees and sucked the glory out of his dick. Begged to please him. That shit amped him up.

Portia held his dick in her capable hands. They both wanted to fuck.

God!

Nice tits. A dangerous ass. Mouth game beyond ridiculous. How was Quinton not in that woman twenty-four-seven the entire time on that yacht? Portia walked around with that prize pussy, advertised it to the world all week with skimpy swimsuits, and Killmonger regretted not throwing caution to the wind and just stepping to her. Game peeped game. They could fuck and fight afterward. She was most definitely throwing hints he could get it on the yacht, but he stayed professional.

He leaned down and sucked on her neck. She panted, squirming against him, and he fingered her pussy slowly until she squeezed her eyes shut and her mouth fell open in agony.

"Fuck… I wish I could give you what you need, girl," he groaned into her ear.

She touched his scars like they were precious to her.

"You can," she said in a hushed voice.

"Without a condom?" he said.

Her gaze didn't flinch, and she pouted those succulent lips.

"I almost got killed. I'm stranded on an island with a mercenary. A hurricane could blow through here and end us both tonight. I have nothing to lose," she said.

Shit.

Killmonger regarded her face to make sure she was serious.

"I'm checked for STIs every three months," he said.

"Six months for me. I've been with Quinton for a couple of years. We normally use condoms and have unprotected for special occasions only. He's a germaphobe and I'm pretty sure Tiana was his first outside fuck. I'm on the pill, and… well… like I said, tomorrow isn't promised. This entire trip taught me that."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Trust. I want to. Been wanting to."

She grinned and ran her hand over his locs, rolling the end of one between her fingers.

"I have, too. All that teasing was to get your attention."

"You had it the moment you walked on board that yacht. I didn't like you… but I liked your confidence," he said.

He played with the end of one of her braids and fondled a diamond hair jewel.

"Are you like this in private, when you aren't being theatrical with all the spotlights?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Unguarded. Open. Friendly."

"Sometimes. I run with a crowd that I have to have a protective shell with all the time."

"Sad life."

"What about you? You also put on an act. You're not mean all the time," she said.

"I'm direct. There's a difference. My job is life or death in precarious places with dangerous people."

"Have you ever lost an entire team before?"

"No. This was a major hit. Practically overkill. There were about ten men compared to my five, and they were using high-grade explosives. Most pirates want hostages or the ship itself. Those people came there for one thing. Do a wet job and bounce. You and I aren't supposed to be alive, Portia."

He cradled her in his arms. The scent of her hair was sugary sweet, like some exotic fruit and nutmeg. Their ardor cooled with their private thoughts and Killmonger listened to the rush of water lapping onto the cave shore. The wind picked up and howled down from the four-foot hole in the ceiling. He stayed awake and Portia slept deeply, the rise and fall of her chest soothing to him. If she had another nightmare, she'd wake up with him holding her. At two in the morning, he snuck away to patrol again. Heavier storm clouds accumulated in the distance and he expected stronger weather soon. A boom of thunder and spidery streaks of lightning zig-zagged across the sky. He popped the collar on his jacket and used his night vision goggles. A vast emptiness stretched out before him. For all he knew, they were the only people in the entire world. The cell phone had poor reception and the battery life was low. Hell, if no one showed up, they'd have to chance it back on the water. There were paddles and he'd get them to Crete one way or another with his own arm power once all the gas was used. He flipped on the locator beam's distress signal light. Survival was second nature to him. They would make it out.

Killmonger took his time going back to the cave. The darkness, the wind, and the rain comforted his mood.

No more civilian gigs.

He took the job as a favor to Clark, but he missed the offensive action of being in foreign countries. He'd give Clark a piece of his mind when he got back. The men he put together for Killmonger should not have allowed those killers to get that close. He had four men on water detail in all directions, and they allowed a boat to hit them swiftly and deadly. They were all executed, so he doubted they were in on the take. He would've caught on right away that it was a set-up when he first arrived. The attack crew had to have used a submersible to plant the explosives against the hull. It was something he would've done.

A heavier thunderstorm arrived, and he jogged back to the cave.

Portia was still asleep. Mimi was up, digging holes in the back of the cave, too distracted to bark or whine at him for attention. He took off his jacket and boots, climbing back beside Portia for warmth. She had curled into the fetal position under a blanket and looked so vulnerable. The cooler air and rain on his body made him shiver a bit, and he went to make another fire.

By early morning, the storm kicked up and the tide level in the cave increased. It wasn't enough to make them leave because the giant boulders and jagged smaller island formations surrounding the cave kept the larger waves from crashing to shore on them. The gigantic grayish-black clouds made the interior darker, adding to the dreary atmosphere as large raindrops showered their private beach.

Portia ate a cold-weather MRE of scrambled eggs, fruit bars, oatmeal, and a bland trail mix. He made them coffee again and ate his own meal before catching some sleep. With no phone reception and the bad weather making visibility terrible, he could afford to rest for an hour or two. He listened to Portia bathe on the other side of the cave. She hummed with a pleasant voice and spent some time by the fire alone with her dog.

The storm kept them quiet, and they became occupied with other things rather than each other until she found a kit of tiny board games inside a sealed bag. There were checkers, chess, Tic Tac Toe, and a deck of cards. They played speed with the cards and hunkered down to play checkers before lunch. Hunger and lunch skipped them as they got into a serious chess match. Later, they both played with Mimi, letting the dog chase them around the cave until Erik shouted bloody murder and flailed his arms around.

"What is it? What is it?" Porta shrieked, scared out of her wits.

"A spider dropped down on me!"

Portia blinked a few times, then burst out laughing. He swiped at his locs and a quarter-sized furry brown arachnid fell out of his hair and scurried on the sand. Mimi chased after it and they both beat pieces of wood on the ground trying to smash it. The dog gobbled it up and Portia grabbed her stomach from laughing so hard.

"Your big butt was scared of that little thing? I thought a tarantula fell on you!" she cackled.

"It's all the legs that creep me out, and they move real sneaky," he grumbled, embarrassed that he showed a weakness in front of her.

"Poor baby," Portia said, patting his back, "Mimi saved you."

He chased after Portia and lifted her over his shoulder, spanking her backside for teasing him. Another bigger spider dropped from the roof and landed on Portia. She damn near came out of her own skin trying to swipe it out of her hair. Killmonger let her run around like a chicken with its head cut off to teach her a lesson about making fun of him. She walked around with the heebie-jeebies afterward, terrified more spiders would come raining down on them like a horror movie. Rain, thunder, and spiders were forgotten when they crawled back into the boat together for a nap. She traced the shape of his scars with her fingers again, and he rested his chin on her head.

"I know this sounds crazy, but I really like it here with you," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

She nodded against his chest.

"I thought I would go stir crazy, but I'm actually grateful to sit still. Weird, huh? No TV. Internet. People. Just peace. No distractions. No one to impress or look good for. It feels like we're Adam and Eve here."

"No apples or snakes, though," he joked.

"What do you do when you don't work?"

"I sit still. Like this."

"Where?"

"That's classified information."

"Really."

"The less you know about me, the better."

"Is Killmonger even your real name?"

"No."

She never asked for his name. He was glad. She took the hint.

"We'll never see each other again after this," she said.

"No, we won't," he said with finality.

"You make me laugh, and you're a skilled chess player."

"You're not too bad yourself."

Portia sat up and took off her bikini again. Her eyes were loving and drank in his face. She helped him undress, then kissed him all over his face, touching his chin, and giving her lips to him before kissing down his chest, following the trail of hairs below his belly button until she had his dick in her mouth. She bobbed her head, and he said her name softly, praising her for how good she made him feel. Pushing him back, she held his dick upright and aligned it with her opening. He held his breath as she sank down on him. She grunted when she reached the bottom. His dick had her folds stretched all around him tight, creating a snug suction as she went up and down, taking her time. They locked eyes, and the arousal overwhelmed him. He gazed at their connection like he was in a daze and her pussy made his thickness shiny and slick. Portia rode him so well that his back arched and he lifted to press her against his chest as he thrust into her. Up and down she went, caressing her nipples, those expensive, icy-looking fingernails highlighting the hidden treasure that she was beneath all the posturing.

He had looked down on Portia before meeting her, his disdain at her Sugar Baby ways clouding his judgment on who she really was as an individual sans the glitz. Fucking him like that in a hollow cave on a lone island proved to him she was worth pampering and spoiling. If he had the money, he'd spend it on her himself. The pussy taking care of his dick was priceless.

"Turn around," he gasped.

Portia lifted and swung her legs the other way, leaning forward as she wiggled her backside for him. He palmed a fat cheek and her pussy swallowed his dick. She rocked back on him and he was blessed to watch her ass jiggle and his dick stretch her out at the same time. He whimpered in his throat with his entire face scrunched up at the intense pleasure. She rode the tip of his dick, and then placed those diamond nails on her ass cheeks, spreading them wide so he could see her pussy work. He slipped his thumb in her ass, and Portia moaned. She drenched his dick and the gushy sounds harmonized with his groans.

She showed out.

Circling her waist, she twisted her pussy on his dick and he couldn't take it anymore. He slapped her ass and forced her onto her hands and knees. Clapping her cheeks was the goal, and he made Portia call out his name as he gave her what she needed. Her pussy became disrespectful, and he tamed her depths, gripping her waist and deep dicking her nice and slow.

"Killmonger… Killmonger… Killmonger…" she panted.

The need to dominate surged in his loins. Flipping her over, he forced her to take the dick she so richly deserved. The pillow princess vanished and in her place was an erotically in-tune woman with full-body engagement. He threw her legs over his shoulders and cursed at how satisfying her pussy felt all around him. She had to have diamonds on her walls because whatever amount of money rich men spent on her wasn't enough. Her grip on his dick had him moaning and choking up his curse words in his throat. She took him deeper and his glutes clenched tight, helping him pump death strokes into her. The cave was full of squelching and grunts, and he watched their shadows moving on the cave walls from the fire. Her hips wiggled seductively, and he hunched down low to kiss her lips and feel her breasts smashed against his chest. They were beyond fucking at that point, moving into the primal state like they were the first man and woman to ever make love.

Scooting to her side, he held her legs up and stroked her walls from a new angle that knocked the sense out of her. Those pouty lips stayed open and her eyes took on a glazed look as if she couldn't believe what was happening to her. Her breasts bounced with each thrust and she glanced down to watch his dick ruin her. She chewed on her lip when she saw what was happening to her pussy. He snaked his hips and hit another angle within her and she called out to God. He stayed working that spot, stroking it until his body became a stiff plank focused on only one task: making her cum hard on his dick.

She rubbed on her clit, and those pretty nails had his balls moving.

"Baby… I feel it… 'bout to cum…" he gasped.

"You wanna cum in my pretty pussy?"

The wantonness in her voice urged him on.

"Pussy so good… fucking me so good… dick so hard…" he chuffed with abandon

"You want to make a big mess in my pussy?"

Her voice electrified him. It pushed him to give her his best and yet it challenged him like she was internally comparing him to others and he was coming up short. It was arousing, but it irked him too.

"Take it… take Daddy's dick," he grunted.

Her eyes changed, became coquettish, and it threw him off. His skin was on fire and dripped with sweat, and the sound of her voice encouraged him to tame that pussy. She dared him to. Portia's face transformed into a woman who wanted some Daddy dick to control her. Her right hand fondled the nape of his neck and those long nails scraped there with seductive pressure.

"I don't know if I can take all this dick the way you want," she taunted. "So big…"

He groaned, and she latched on to that sign of weakness.

"You're taking it… all this dick," he grunted.

"Are you sure? I'm trying to make it all fit for you," she said, all breathy.

"Oh, fuck!"

What was she doing? Playing coy? She acted like some virgin who had never had dick before. Her tone was ultra-feminine. She tucked the nail of her index finger between her teeth and looked down at his dick stretching those sweet walls. Her eyes were wide with wonder at the sight, and that coquettish energy fed him what he needed. Dominance.

"Nobody fuck you like this?" he grunted.

She shook her head and kept her eyes on his dick, with that finger still in her mouth.

"Fuck my pussy," she said.

She looked at him with sweet, innocent eyes.

"Goddammit!" he cried out. "Spread those pussy lips!"

Portia widened those sticky folds and the sides of her fingers glided along his dick as he gave her all that he had left. She kept her finger in her mouth with her other hand and her beauty pushed him to the brink. He mounted her again in missionary and his sweat fell on her like the rain falling on the water. She kept her legs up, that pussy open, and that damn lone finger between her lips. Her reckless eyes gazed at him and his dick swelled.

"I'm cumming! Oh shiiitttttt, I'm cumminggggg," he yelled.

He shoved his hips forward and Portia pursed her lips. She squirmed and lost the battle to hold on.

"Ohmigod… Killmonger!" she shouted.

Her head fell back and her pussy contracted with strong clenches all along his erection. Their shouts of pleasure intertwined and became one with the back and forth of their bodies squeezing and throbbing together. He caught himself before collapsing on her, pulling out his dick and fisting the last of his cum all over her clit. She was a pool of sweat and satisfaction, and they gasped for air, staring at the cave ceiling. The rain continued to fall.

Portia curled against his chest.

Sleep came fast.

He woke up, and she was gone. So was Mimi.

Killmonger called to them before putting on his clothes and grabbing his pack. It was only early evening, and the rain had stopped. Fat gray clouds still squatted over their island, but the storm's driving power had moved on. He found Portia and Mimi at the peak near the beacon.

"Went for a walk," she said.

He sat down next to them and pet the dog on the head. Mimi licked his hand. Pulling out the binoculars, he checked the sea. A cool breeze ruffled his locs. The wind was still strong, and the water had a few whitecaps.

Wait…

There!

A ship.

Killmonger honed in for the telltale signs of Coast Guard markings. There was a Greek flag waving from the gray and white ship. Greek lettering in big white caps spelled out Hellenic Coast Guard. He watched it approach to make sure it was the real deal before pulling out the flare gun and shooting it. Dark orange smoke shot up high in the sky.

"It's them?" Portia squealed.

"Yep."

She hugged Mimi, and he turned on the emergency cell. The power went out, but he didn't care. He held Portia's hand, and they walked down to the cave. There was nothing to do but push their emergency boat into the water. It had just enough gas left to power them out into the open sea. Killmonger didn't want to wait for them to send a smaller boat. He needed Portia in a safe place fast with Greek government protection.

They sped out on the water, bouncing on the choppy waves. Porta kept looking behind her like she wanted to keep the image of their island in her mind. He gave her his outer shirt to wear on top of her bikini. She curled her legs under her wrap dress.

Killmonger aligned their boat against the large Coast Guard ship and the crew helped Portia up on a side ladder. He tied their boat to the larger one and knotted a rope around Mimi's dog crate so a crew member could help the dog get on board. Finally, he climbed up himself. The captain of the ship greeted them and gave them both blankets and hot coffee. Portia was damn near teary-eyed and she pressed herself against Killmonger, afraid to leave his side.

"Come inside," the captain said when the weather picked up outside.

They followed the man into a busy interior and sat down on cushioned seats that felt good after sitting on the sand and a hard boat bottom. A crew member handed them mugs filled with a thick Greek soup. They ate and Portia asked to use the head. She was led away further into the interior. The weathered-face captain asked him some questions and Killmonger's sixth sense kicked in.

Something was wrong.

There were too many men on the ship not dressed appropriately. Only the captain and a lieutenant had on a proper Greek Coast Guard uniform with their ranks on them. The others had dark clothing without rankings or insignias. The captain gave a weak smile and the perspiration on his forehead didn't go with the cool interior. Killmonger kept his tone normal.

"How soon can we make it back to the mainland?" he asked, thrusting his empty mug out for more hot coffee.

"It will take time. The weather has been tricky. We almost lost your signal," he said.

Killmonger nodded and moved over to a window. He counted the other men outside to get an accurate assessment of what he was up against and thanked his lucky stars that he opted to keep his Glock under his jacket. When he contacted the coast guard for help originally, he kept his identity vague, pretending to be a guest of Quinton. The attack team must've intercepted the Greek Coast Guard for their own nefarious use as a getaway ship. It had become a death trap for him and Portia.

Portia returned, all chipper. Her ice princess personality snapped back like a rubber band. She glanced at him and he pretended things were all good.

"Hey, baby, put Mimi back in her cage. We don't want her running around," Killmonger said.

The forced affection in front of the others surprised her. She walked over to the dog kennel near him and bent down to place Mimi inside it. After she locked the crate, Killmonger slipped an arm around Portia's waist and gently had her sit next to him.

"More soup?" The captain asked.

"No, thank you. When will we get back to Crete? Or is Athens where we're headed?" she asked.

Portia looked at Killmonger, and he sipped on his coffee to keep from answering right away.

"Would you like to rest, Miss Keith?"

The nervous lieutenant sensed the tension that had risen in the galley.

"There's an empty bunk you can sleep in until we reach port," the man said.

His name badge said Makris.

"You should go lay down. I'll check on you later. Take Mimi with you," Killmonger said.

Portia caught on that something was off. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"If there's a door, lock yourself in there," he whispered in her ear.

She kissed his lips and picked up Mimi. Portia showed no fear as she followed Makris. She played it cool and calm, like an iceberg. Good girl, he thought.

Killmonger had fourteen rounds in his Glock. He counted seven false crew members and only two regular ones. The rest of the original crew were dead somewhere on the ship or tossed overboard. He assumed Quinton had escaped on some other watercraft to separate himself from the killers. They wouldn't rush to kill them all until nightfall, with darkness as a cover. Something must've happened to their ship in order for them to risk hijacking a Coast Guard operation.

"She has heart medicine she needs. I forgot to bring it up from the boat we used," Killmonger said. The lie rang true to the men.

"We can have someone go down and get it for you," the captain said.

Vlachos. The captain's name badge gave Killmonger a second to look away from a bulky merc who sized him up.

"It's in a side slot in the back," Killmonger said, following the man out onto the deck again.

The bulky man climbed down the side of the ship and rooted around.

"The back," Killmonger called down.

The man held up his hands.

"Hold on," Killmonger said.

A few more killers came out to watch him as he climbed down. One in the boat. Six up top. Perfect.

"That boat has a lot of tricky compartments," Killmonger said.

A wave buoyed the boat, and they both lost their balance for a second. Killmonger pretended to dig into a slot near the side of the ship and unlatched the boat, letting it float away. He dropped low, pulled out his Glock, and shot the bulky man dead. The man fell over the side with a soft splash. Shots from above popped over his head, but he turned on the motor and glided around the other side. Once he reached the gap he needed, he slammed his hands around the front M60 7.62mm machine gun and blasted at the men. He ripped through four right away. One caught him slipping and clipped Killmonger in his shoulder. It wasn't enough to stop him, but the distraction gave Vlachos and Makris the opportunity to jump the last two killers and wrestle them. Killmonger zipped back toward the ladder again. He hooked the boat and hustled back to the top. Vlachos took a shot in the chest but apprehended one assailant. Makris knocked the gun out of another merc's hand and bashed his head against the deck floor, knocking him out.

Blood pooled and cooled all over the deck with the other dead men.

Portia ran out of seclusion and grabbed him so hard that it knocked the wind out of him.

"Your arm," she said, touching his bleeding wound.

Killmonger shrugged it off.

"We gotta help him," Killmonger said, nodding over to Vlachos.

Vlachos waved them away.

"Bullet passed right through," Vlachos said.

Makris helped the captain back into the galley and tended to both injured men with a first aid kit. They revealed to him the sordid story of how they ran into the armed men on their way to find them, coming across their distressed vessel that had stopped working because an engine fire left them stranded. The hijackers shot their initial crew of eight down to only two when they tried to fight back.

Killmonger was exhausted by the time he tried to rest on a bunk bed. Blood loss tired him out and so did Portia, who fussed over him with tears streaming down her face, thinking she had heard him being killed. She crawled on top of him despite his pain, too frightened to leave his side. He fell asleep to her soft humming and stroking of his locs.

Portia, Makris, and Vlachos arrived in Crete the next morning.

Killmonger had disappeared.

The military boat they escaped with was gone. She relayed the deadly adventure to the press and her photos were blasted worldwide. First came the press tours, then the exclusive paid interviews. A book deal followed along with a movie deal and three-part docuseries. She milked every opportunity to tell her story as the only survivor and was paid handsomely for it.

Returning to New York, she hid out in a penthouse for months, searching all over the internet for any trace of Killmonger. If it had not been for Makris and Vlachos corroborating that the man did indeed exist, she may have convinced herself that he was a figment of her overactive imagination. Two of the killers that survived the Coast Guard ship confessed to being hired by Quinton. A global manhunt seemed never-ending. When billionaires were murdered in cold blood, people cared. She attended memorials to all the victims, making sure she looked fabulous in Thom Browne and Prada fashion with her signature Chanel shades. Portia wasn't close to any of the people she partied with on the yacht, aside from Quinton. However, leaked photos from her private social media account showed merry faces prior to them leaving Athens on the first day of the New Year's trip. It brought comfort to the families, and they invited her to spend weeks in various billionaire enclaves where she spun stories about their rich sons being brave and attempting to save the women. All lies. But it gave the loved ones a sense of closure and peace.

After a year, her life returned to jet-setting and fashion weeks all over again. Her misadventure bolstered her popularity because of the glamorous photos of her being escorted from the Greek Coast Guard ship in her knitted alabaster bikini. For someone experiencing a traumatic event, Portia looked fashionable as fuck.

Media ate up the haunting tale of Quinton living a double life somewhere. Media blasted his life history around the world as the biggest true crime story to come along in years. Many speculated that he had drowned or killed himself because he couldn't be found anywhere. Portia guessed he lived in a country where he couldn't be extradited. The hoopla died down until her book came out. Then there was a buzz about the casting for the movie. Depression set in then.

Portia visited a few therapists, but none could help her cure the anger that sat in her spirit like venom that she couldn't spew out. She wanted Quinton's head on a plate. He needed to pay for what he had done. It didn't matter to her that the people he killed weren't her genuine friends. He ended human lives because of greed. She couldn't get over that he took the bitch route to jumpstart his fortunes. As smart as he was, he couldn't develop or create something new and amazing that made him rich in the first place. An existential dread lived in her gut. Portia couldn't free herself from the lack of justice. Jetting around the world with Mimi in tow didn't heal the pain. New diamonds, furs, and fancy cars lost their luster. Revenge burned in her soul.

She turned toward the dark web to search for Killmonger. Using some of her movie money, she hired the best ex-CIA and former Black Ops agents to help her find her mercenary lover. One former field agent told her the best that could happen was Killmonger would catch wind of her search, but no one could actually contact him. That was good enough.

The Swiss Alps looked like he imagined.

Cold, white, and jagged.

The job called for a remote location and this was as remote as it got. Killmonger rolled the late-model SUV into a long, isolated driveway that hadn't been plowed for a while. He parked when he couldn't drive any further, and dragged a large black duffel bag out of the trunk, along with an arsenal of small weapons in a backpack. The thick powdery snow cushioned and muffled his steps. All the lights were on in the mountain luxury chalet he came to. His target was inside. The cloudless night sky made the snow glittery with the moonlight and security lights surrounding the property.

Cold air made puffy clouds of his breath. His lungs burned from the exertion and altitude. He tapped his wrist computer and all the security cameras shut down within the chalet. The woman inside had a wineglass in her hand and talked on a cell phone, clueless that he was outside approaching with stealth. The lights in the interior winked out, then came back on suddenly. She turned her head and stared out through the large glass windows. Her eyes glossed over the valley below that was filled with snow that would have more dumped by midnight. Flakes had already fallen down on his way up a winding road.

He waited.

The front door opened, and the beauty stepped out in a long white fur coat reminding him of Goldie from the old Black flick, "The Mack". She still rocked expensive diamonds, and Ma carried herself like the ice princess she would always be.

Portia.

He stepped into the light and she grinned, relief creasing her brow and her lush lips spreading into the biggest smile. His heart dropped for a moment. She almost looked like she did back on their island.

"Killmonger," she said.

Her voice made him move toward her. She helped him with the small backpack and he hauled the duffel up the steps and into a cozy, warm interior. A fire burned in the fireplace and Mimi jumped around his legs.

"Hey rat dog," he teased.

He dropped the duffel near the door and lifted the dog. Portia took off her coat, revealing the slinky silver dress with the low-cut front he admired before he came in.

"Bring yourself over here," he said, dropping Mimi to the floor.

She sauntered to him, walking like a runway model, exaggerating her hips as she moved and draped her arms around his neck. He inhaled her lovely scent and memories rushed back of him and her alone… making love. Killmonger kissed her first, and she opened her mouth to envelop all the warmth of his tongue.

Two years.

They hadn't been in contact with each other in two years since he disappeared from her life. He went back to work for Clark and dropped off the radar soon after. The fame of their adventure dazzled his eyes when he went to a movie theater in Morocco and watched a film that was almost true. The actress that played Portia was gorgeous, but she lacked aloofness and sublime sensuality. Their sex scenes were amplified and gratuitous. There were long scenes of them fucking in water that never happened, and also one of them screwing on the Coast Guard ship. Also, untrue. The actor that was supposed to be him wasn't even a close approximation of Killmonger, but women loved him at the box office and the film became a blockbuster. The docuseries blew up, too. Portia became a media star and super-rich by doing nothing except being beautiful and caught up in some greedy foolishness. Some girls had all the luck with pretty privilege. The anomaly was her being a beautiful Black woman with an intriguing action-adventure-romance story. It did not shock him when Hollywood tried to white-wash the film by recasting Portia as a white blonde. That idea dropped, but they did cast a Black biracial British actress to play her. Think pieces blew up around that.

He got word of her searching for him.

It was only a matter of time. He thought of her often as he worked throughout the Middle East and West Africa. His notifications blew up during fashion weeks and he scrolled timelines to see what she had on and found out how her life was going. She dated often, but nothing serious. Her mystique intensified and everyone wanted her at their major events and parties.

He sensed her unhappiness.

Quinton, getting away with murder, rubbed too many white, rich people the wrong way. A Black man double-crossing billionaires and profiting from it... alive somewhere? Unheard of. Portia survived with the sting of betrayal hovering around her.

Killmonger smacked her ass, and she gave him the glass of wine in her hand. He drank it down, and she took it away, resting it on a side table.

The duffle moved.

Mimi growled and barked at the large black canvas bag and Killmonger knelt down, unzipping it. Stuffed inside was Quinton, tied and gagged. Portia picked up the smaller backpack she carried into the chalet for Killmonger. She opened it and he moved his hand around in it.

"Your choice of weapon, Ma," Killmonger said.

Portia lifted a modified Maxim 9 with a built-in silencer.

"What a way to ring in the New Year," she said, kissing him.

She dropped to one knee and peered at her prey.

"Hello, Quinton. Long time no see, baby," she said.

The iciness of her voice chilled Killmonger. Quinton's desperate eyes pleaded for mercy. She would give him none.

Portia zipped the bag up and stuffed the Maxim 9 back into the pack. She grabbed Killmonger's hand and pulled him toward some stairs.

"I'll save him for midnight when the fireworks go off. Right now, I want you," she purred.

Killmonger followed his ice princess. They had some reacquainting to do in the privacy of a luxury bedroom with fresh snow falling outside.

"Happy New Year," he whispered before kissing her all over.

A.N.:

Brought an oldie but goodie back! I first published this on here back on October 11, 2022, a month before "Wakanda Forever" came out. I thought I would expand this into a longer piece and indie publish it with some other stuff I took down from here, but I decided to put it up again because we need fun things to read in these daunting times with Cheeto dust back in office. Enjoy and please reblog!

[nanamissuit]

I saw an insta reel and came running straight to your ask box.

Fem reader who's a popular marathon athlete, loves running in the morning like at 3 or 4 AM before the whole world wakes up.

Ghost being the dutiful husband he is, wakes up with her, even though he does not like running that much but being overprotective he found a way to remedy that. He drives along in his truck, drinking his tea from the tumbler the missus gifted him, while his sweet wife runs on the curb.

He's protective like that and we love ourselves a protective man. 😍😍😍😍

P.S what would the rest of TF!141 boys do with their wife who likes to run in the butt crack of dawn as well.

Soap would most definitely hate waking up. 😂 😂

It's WAY To Early - TF141

A/N: I WAS WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO REQUEST THIS OMG IM SO EXCITED!!! Pairing: TF141 x Fem!Runner Reader

Warnings: None, Fluff, Mentions of kidnapping (THEY DID NOT KIDNAP YOU.)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

When Simon started dating you he knew about all the marathons and morning runs.

And at first he didn’t even worry, it was 5 A.M. Who the hell would wanna kidnap anyone at the ass crack of dawn?

WRONG. He read news articles even though they were states away. He was still worried, so he started waking up at 4:50 and warmed up his truck and made himself coffee in the tumbler you gave him.

“Simon..? What are you doing?” “You’re going on your morning run and I’m trying to see you later today, so I’m coming with you.”

You just smiled to yourself and got into your running attire, and he got into his truck and followed slowly next to you.

And if you decide to record a little video and post it? He would feel so kind enough to even throw a little “👍” 

The comments would go crazy over this, and he finds it hilarious.

He definitely dislikes waking up so early, but he’d do anything to keep you safe so he doesn’t entirely hate it.

John Price:

He knew about the marathons, maybe not so much the morning runs because you were so quiet as to not wake him.

But once he finds out? He’s waking up 30 minutes before you do, making coffee and finding that tumbler you gave him as he prepares your water bottle and heats up his car.

“Price? Why are you-?” “I would rather die than find out some strange man had his hands on you. I’m just gonna make sure you're safe.”

And with that being said you changed into your running attire and he kept his pajamas on and got in his truck as he watched you run.

If you recorded a video he’s pulling a “😁👍” Because he feels like a proud boyfriend/husband. 

Comments would definitely find this adorable, and he just smiles about it. 

And no he doesn’t even dislike waking up, he loves it. He’s keeping you safe and he’s used to waking up early.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

He knew about the morning runs,marathons,training,gym…Whatever you did he knew about.

He actually was already doing this from when you started dating not even a couple months in.

“Kyle, why do you wake up to do this every morning?” “I would send as many men I needed to come find you if you ever went missing sweetheart, don’t get me wrong but I just wanna make sure I never have to do that.”

Your heart melted as you watched him make himself coffee and he handed you your water bottle and a little snack like little muffins or something.

He got into his truck and followed you as he sipped his coffee from the tumbler you got him. You took a video and he just “😉” directly at the camera and you rolled your eyes.

Comments would ask something like “Is your husband single?” and he’d giggle about it. 

Definitely wakes up 2 hours earlier so he can make sure everything is perfect before you wake up. He loves it and wouldn’t change it for the world.

John 'Soap' Mactavish:

Like Kyle, he knew everything and he did NOT wanna wake up at all.

Way too early for him, plus he thought you knew how to handle yourself he gave you pepper spray for a reason.

But then he, like Simon, saw news articles from states away and started to worry.

So he started waking up at the ass crack of dawn 20 minutes before you as he tiredly made himself coffee in the tumbler you gave him and just put out your water bottle for you and hopped in his truck.

When you were done getting ready you met him by his truck window and smiled a bit at how tired he looked.

“Babe you look exhausted.” “I am lass but I’d rather you come home than never come home ever again, now go on.”

You giggled to yourself and started to run as he followed, taking sips of his coffee and making sure to watch the road and you.

If you took a video he’d go “😑” and just take a sip of coffee.

The comments definitely made fun of him a bit for being so damn tired but can you blame him? You wake up way too early to be RUNNING.

Tags:

[lostfirefly]

Bugust. Day 23. "Jester." Buggy x Reader (you must be surprised that this story is not about Buggy and Catherine 😄), SFW + NSFW, MDNI. English isn't my native language, errors may occur.

"Well, Buggy the Clown, tell me what you saw." You asked, pouring yourself a glass of wine.

"Nothing special. Water and drunk men on a ship." Buggy took a sip of beer, looking at you. "By the way, I brought you a present."

"What kind of present?" You narrowed your eyes and looked around.

The dimly-lit bar was buzzing with the high chatter of patrons and the clinking of glasses as you and Buggy settled into your usual spot, the same table where you had first crossed paths just a couple of months prior. The air was thick with the familiar scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke, but the comfortable atmosphere and the warmth of the amber liquid in your tumblers made it easy to forget the gritty details of the outside world. You sat into the worn, leather-upholstered seats, your eyes met with a familiar spark, the same one that had drawn to this place and to each other in the first place. Without a word, an unspoken understanding passed between you - this was your sanctuary, your secret hideaway where the rest of the world faded away, and it was in this cozy corner that you could be your truest selves.

Buggy pulled a velvet box out of his pocket. "It's just... a trinket. But I thought about you when I saw it."

"You thought about me? I'm impressed. Let's see what's in there." You rubbed your hands together happily and carefully opened the lid. "Oh my God! How beautiful!" You pulled out a blue willow branch barrette.

It was obvious to you that it was no mass-produced accessory, but a unique, handmade piece infused with the character of the tree from which it was born. And Buggy brought it for you.

"Handmade?" You watched him nod. "That's amazing! Thank you so much, Buggy!" You pecked him on his cheek, watching him blush. "You know, I never thought I'd have a pirate friend who would bring me such beauty." You immediately pinned the clip to your hair. "I think it suits me." You giggled.

The hours flew by in a blur of laughter and shared stories in the time you haven't seen each other, and before you knew it, the bartender was calling last orders. Reluctant to part ways, a subtle tension began to build between you and Buggy. You felt it. You saw it. The way his gaze lingered, the gentle brush of his hand against yours - it was electric, undeniable. As you stepped out into the cool night air, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the space crackling with an unspoken, almost magnetic pull.

Buggy may have been a pirate, but he was a gentleman. He walked you home, breaking the growing tension with his stories of his adventures. You couldn't bear the thought of this night ending, not yet, not when there was still so much left unsaid, so many uncharted possibilities waiting to be.

"Thank you for the evening, my genius jester. I haven't laughed so much in a long time. And thanks again for the gift." You lightly punched him in the shoulder as you stood on the porch of your house.

"It was a good thing to do, Y/N." Buggy cleared his throat. "Thank you for the evening, too. I.. I.. I kinda missed our talks."

You noticed. You noticed how his gaze locked with yours, intense and captivating. At that moment, Buggy seemed completely unaware as his hand slowly drifted down, coming to rest gently atop your own. The simple touch sent electric shivers racing through you, emanating from where your skin met, pulsing outward until it felt like the sensation was radiating from your eyes. You were hyper-aware of Buggy's proximity, the warmth of his body drawing you in as if by an invisible force. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he leaned closer, his movements unhurried yet purposeful. Then, ever so tenderly, Buggy's lips met yours in a kiss that was both achingly soft and charged with an undercurrent of barely-restrained passion.

"Finally!!" You kissed him back with equal passion, running your hands down from his shoulders to his chest.

Buggy chuckled his signature laugh. "And I was about to be sad that I had to give up dessert. This cake is better, Y/N." He whispered through his kisses.

"Agree." Your breath caught in your throat as his hot, insistent lips trailed delicate kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck.

You fumbled with the zipper of your purse, fingers trembling, desperate to find your keys amidst the clutter inside. But your focus was shattered, your thoughts consumed by the pleasure of Buggy's touch. His strong hands grasped your waist, pulling you flush against his firm body, leaving you powerless to resist. The world fell away, narrowing to just the two of you in this heated moment, your inhibitions melting under the scorching intensity of his embrace. Part of you knew you should put a stop to this, that you needed to leave before things went too far. But his mouth on your skin sent electric shocks of desire coursing through your second part of your mind, making rational thought nearly impossible. All you could think about was the tantalizing friction of his body against yours and the urgent need to lose yourself in his passionate kisses.

You opened the door to the house and practically pushed Buggy in.

"You could have kissed me a week ago, idiot." You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again.

"How was I supposed to know you wanted this?" Buggy mumbled, barely removing his lips from yours.

"I gave you a thousand signals!" You grabbed his coat and dragged him into the bedroom. "And you just walked me home and went away."

"Signal better next time, baby."

"You can't run away from me now, Buggy the Clown." You pulled him into the bedroom. "I want to finally get what's mine."

"You can't say things like that, Y/N."

"It's my bedroom, I can say what I want, jerk." You narrowed your eyes and kissed him.

"Shut up, please!" He mumbled throught the kiss. "I'm savoring the moment."

Buggy's hand rested gently on your back as the other hand slowly unzipped the back of your dress, the zipper sliding down with a satisfying sound.

After a brief pause, your lips parted with a soft, audible smack. Glancing up, you found Buggy's usually bright, green eyes now half-lidded and piercing, focused not on your face, but tracing down your body. Feeling agitated, you swiftly looked away and covered your mouth with your hand that had been resting on his chest, attempting to conceal the warmth that was rising on your cheeks. Buggy's eyes remained fixed on you, and you felt his hands gently tugging at the shoulders of your dress.

Your skin is caressed by Buggy's warm hands as he gradually removed the sleeves, exposing your bare back and shoulders. He looked closely at your freshly bared, perfect skin. You shifted your arms and took off the last sleeve yourself, putting your hands on his shoulders and chest. You leaned in to give him a tender kiss, but then you tensed up as his powerful hands quickly pull down the remainder of your dress, leaving it puddled on the bedroom floor.

Buggy removed his vest, and you tossed it off to the side.

"Better than I even imagine." You chuckled, afraid to admit that you'd imagined him shirtless before.

"I could say the same thing about you, my baby girl." Buggy began kissing the most delicate parts of your neck while you quickly kicked off your sneakers.

Buggy grazed his teeth along your jawline, his lips latching onto your earlobe, leaving a thin red lipstick line on your skin. He moved his lips down your neck. He focused on the soft skin and slight protrusion of bone, biting and licking as he hums against your skin.

"Holy shit!" You gasped, your fingers tangling in his long blue hair. "Don't stop."

With deft fingers, Buggy unhooked your bra and loosened the clasps. He carefully withdrew the two ends of the cloth from behind you, taking off your bra's straps. As heat began to blossom in your cheeks, shoulders, and chest, a flush began to creep across your skin. As Buggy glanced at you, your hands trembled and your lungs quickened. You then heard it. The air filled with the sound of his pants unclasping and the zipper sliding down. He shifted his weight, kicking the pants aside and sliding them off his slender frame.

"Jesus Christ!" You ran your hands through his blue chest hair.

Buggy leaned in to kiss you and ran his hands over your stomach.

“Don't waste the time, my handsome jester. I'm ready for you." You said quietly. "Please." You grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him on the bed. "I need you right now."

"Notice, baby, I'm not the one who said that." Buggy smirked and slowly entered you.

You could feel the delicious sensation of him filling you up, inch by inch. Your breath caught in your throat as the feeling of him inside you overwhelmed your senses. You pulled Buggy in closer, reveling in the intimate connection as your bodies joined as one. With his each gentle thrust, waves of pleasure rippled through you, and you let out a deep, guttural moan. The pace soon quickened, Buggy's hips pistoning back and forth as he pounded into you harder and rougher.

"Oh sh-- Fu-- me!" You moaned. "Please! Deeper!" You was completely lost in the moment, consumed by the primal need and carnal desire that consumed you both.

The sound of your bodies colliding and our ragged breathing filled the air, fueling the growing heat and tension between us.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so good." Buggy said in a low voice, picking up his pace.

"Yes, I'm." You giggled, biting your bottom lip. "Don't stop. I'm begging you."

"I won't."

Every Buggy's thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, leaving you breathless and aching for more. The intensity built until you thought you might shatter from the sheer force of our coupling, your cries of pleasure echoing through the room.

As Buggy pressed himself deeper inside you, the sensations became almost overwhelming. With each powerful thrust, you could feel the tension building, your bodies moving in perfect sync as you neared the precipice of ecstasy.

"More, please. Don't stop. I want you, Bug--" You dug your fingers into the firm muscles of Buggy's back, your nails leaving marks as you clung to him, your moans growing louder and more desperate with every movement.

The world seemed to fade away, narrowing down to just the two of you, joined together in a primal dance of passion. One more thrust, and you thought you might shatter into a million pieces from the sheer intensity of it all. One more hard thrust, and with a guttural growl, Buggy buried his face in the crook of your neck, moaning your name as he found his own release, triggering your own wave of earthshattering ecstasy that washed over you both. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of you, intimately connected and completely lost in the throes of carnal bliss.

As the final, powerful thrust reverberated through your bodies, Buggy collapsed down onto you, his heavy, sweat-slicked frame pressing against yours as he struggled to catch his ragged breath. 

"You okay?" You said quetly, trying to regain your breath.

Buggy nodded.

"Oh, my God, I didn't even think it would be this good!!" You giggled. "Why didn't we do this before?!"

"I don't know, baby." Buggy laughed. "We've lost a lot, right?"

"Yeah. You know, next time when you'll be in town, we should do it again." You kissed him on the head. “I mean.. You can sleep with anyone on the seas and diffferent islands of course, but not on this island. No, no! That's my territory. You'll only sleep with me. Understood?"

“Can I.. Can I always do it only with you?” Buggy asked softly, trying to hide a smile at the feel of your hands on his back. “Well, I mean… You know. Kind of like you and me… You know, just having fun with each other.”

“Why not. Just you and me, right? Sounds great. Oh! Can I come to meet you up at the harbor next time?” You started running your fingers through his hair. "Well, because, uh. This is my island. You and me. You know.."

"Yeah. Why not? Sounds amazing." He nodded.

“Great.” You kissed the top of his head again and ran your fingers over his neck. “Buggy…”

“What?”

“I think I like you.”

“I think I like you too, Y/N.”

[doctorhelena]

Steggy Fic: Teach My Feet to Fly

I’ve created something for every day of Steggy Week 2024 over at @steggyfanevents! This is for Day 3 (AUs and Crossovers). Previous Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | 

Summary: Peggy Carter, a world class ice hockey player learning to figure skate as part of a Canadian reality show, has an iron-clad rule about never, ever dating a teammate. Which means that she'll simply have to get over the ridiculous attraction she has to her new figure skating partner, Steve Rogers.

Note: This story is complete, and has 14 chapters in total. I'm posting Chapter 1 today for Steggy Week, and starting next week I'll be posting a new chapter weekly on Fridays.

It's also a very long-delayed thank you gift fic for the lovely @teaandatale!

Rating: PG

Read it on A03

Excerpt:

Tønsberg, Norway Winter Olympics, Day 12

The first time Peggy Carter met Steve Rogers, they’d both just won Olympic gold medals, and they bumped into each other - quite literally - during a raucous evening celebration at the athlete’s village.

The force of the unexpected impact very nearly caused her to spill her tumbler of whisky all over his Team USA sweater, but he caught the glass so neatly in the air that she stopped and stared at him for a full three seconds before coming back to herself and apologizing. He flushed slightly as he handed it back, then introduced himself.  “Steve Rogers. Pairs skating.”

“Peggy Carter,” she said, still blinking at him. “Ice hockey. That was an impressive catch, although I suppose in your line of work you do need rather good reflexes. It wouldn’t do to drop your partner on the ice, would it?”

Steve grinned. “No, they tend to take off marks for that. You’re British,” he added, and Peggy raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, I’m aware, actually.”

Steve flushed even redder. “I just - it’s just unusual to see a British athlete in a Team Canada hoodie. Not that it doesn’t look good on you, red really suits you. Not - I mean - ” he cleared his throat. “I mean , I’m just surprised you play for Canada.” The poor man was, by this point, nearly as red as Peggy’s aforementioned Team Canada hoodie. “Uh, do you play for Canada? Or is that someone else’s hoodie?”

Peggy blinked at him. How could a man who looked like he did, and who certainly seemed to be attracted to her, also appear to have absolutely no idea how to talk to a woman? It didn’t feel like he was unnerved, as some men were, by the discovery that she almost certainly had a far better slapshot than he did. No, he just - he was somehow actually just that awkward. 

It was oddly endearing.

Read the rest on A03

[justmeinadaze]

We're a Family Part 13 (Steddie X You)

A/N: I may be a bit tipsy so forgive me lol Alas I bare you this chapter <3

Warnings: Steddie X You relationship, Smut and fluff with a dash of angst at the beginning, the boys talk about their dads briefly near the end, handcuffs are introduced 😈, I think that's it lol

Word Count: 5322

“What the fuck are we doing here, Y/N. You’re lucky I even came without a lawyer.”, Charlie sighed as he slid onto the chair in the bar you invited him to. You sat there trying to appear as calm as possible as you smoked your cigarette. 

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah, we do. How dare you pull a stunt like that with my son! I know that isn’t—”

“Charles, shut up. Shut. Up. I’m not here to fight with you or play games. We need to talk about Dylan and what’s best for him.” You slide a piece of paper your lawyer had drafted in front of him, allowing him to read it as you took a sip of the liquor in your glass.

“Fuck you. No. I’m not fucking signing this.”

“He—”

“No! No… I’m not… I can’t.”

“Charlie… he loves you so much. You have no idea but… he’s not a little boy anymore. He’s going to be 13 next year! I gave you so many chances and each time you weren’t there. He deserves better than this and somewhere inside I know you know that.”

His eyes start to fill with tears but he pushes them down. He can’t seem weak right now. 

“I’m his father, Y/N.”

“Since when, Charlie? You missed so much. Birthdays, holidays, school functions and baseball games. He’s already started trying to shave his face and he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask a girl he likes on a date. Dylan tried to call and asked to visit but each time you weren’t available… I’m not saying he won’t change his mind as he grows up about wanting to see you but right now… this is what’s best.”

He reaches for your pack of cigarettes, scoffing as he takes out one and lights it. “These are the guys, right? You used to always smoke the lights when we were together.”

You softly smile in his direction. “Yeah, I steal them from Eddie so I can maintain the illusion that I don’t smoke anymore especially if I don’t buy my own pack.”

Charlie chuckles and your heart breaks. It’s the first time in almost 10 years you’ve seen him genuinely laugh like that.

“I tried, Y/N. I really did.”

“I know… by doing this…”, you point to the paper. “You’ll be doing the fatherliest thing for him that you have ever done. That way… he can finally stop hoping and focus on being a kid.”

 His jaw tightens as he reaches for a pen, staring at the document before him, hands shaking as he signs his name. 

“Tell Dylan I love him…SO fucking much.” With that he quickly stands and practically runs out of the building.”

##########

“Dada! Daddy! Wake up.”, Aurora exclaimed as you threw her playfully onto the bed. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”, Eddie chuckles when she throws herself down on his stomach. 

“Geez rist.” You narrow your eyes at him as she tries to mimic words. 

“What’s going on?”, Steve rubs his eyes as he sits up. 

“Ro tell them. Say ‘Happy Father’s Day.”

“Appy faters day!”

“Thank you, honey. You’re too sweet.”

She giggles as she keens into Eddie’s chest. “Happy Father’s Day, dad. We got you some presents.” Dylan grins as he sits on the end of the bed and hands them each something. “Both of these are from Ro and me.”

Both men tear into the paper, displaying each gift one at a time. Eddie proudly held his shirt to his chest that read “Heavy Metal Dad” as he beamed at the kids. 

“I love it so much! Thank you, guys. I’m going to wear it out today.”

Steve held up his coffee tumbler that read “Teacher by day; World’s best dad by night.” 

“Oh, wow. Thanks you two! This will be going to work with me tomorrow.”

“Alright, let’s let them get dressed so they can come down and eat breakfast. That way we can take them to the other places, okay?”

“Bye, dada. Bye daddy.” Aurora waves, smiling as they wave back. 

***

You grin as you watch Dylan and Steve interact with the Hawkins professional baseball players. They were both so animated as they excitedly talked about the game and your son’s stats on the field. Eddie wrapped his arm around your waist as he kissed your temple. 

“Look at our nerds.”, he grins. 

“As usual he planned all this. Dylan thought Steve would enjoy getting to meet the team and play with them a bit.”

“I’m sure Stevie would enjoy anything that boy put together. I know I do.”

“Yeah, well, your present is tonight after we visit grandpa.”

“Ganpa.”, Aurora claps. You plop her on her feet as she tries to wiggle out of your grasp to run to her father and brother. “Din. Up!”, she commands as she makes grabby hands towards the sky. 

“Who’s this?”, the player asks as Dylan lifts his sister into his arms. 

“This is my little sister, Aurora.” 

The man grins as he says hello and she keens into her brother’s shoulder before shyly waving. 

“Must be nice having a sibling. I was an only child growing up and it was the worst.”

“Me to.” Eddie and Steve echo at the same time making you laugh. 

Ro giggles, pointing to Dylan as she babbles. “Bra-der. Din…Rara…sis-ter.”

“She reminds me of my daughter. So smart and they pick up everything!”

“She really does.”, you smile as you pet her curls.

“Hey. Do you guys want to try hitting some balls? We actually have some t-ball bats and balls for the little one here.”

The five of you spent the rest of the day at the field playing with the players. Steve helped Ro hit the ball a few times and she was so excited as she waddle ran around the bases. Dylan continued to give Eddie pointers like he did in the batting cage all those years ago and the metalhead continued to pretend like he had no idea what he was doing as he asked his son questions.

***

“Ganpa!”, Ro screamed as she barreled towards Wayne. 

“Oh my god. Hey, sweetheart!” He pretended to groan as he picked her up. “You are getting heavy. I’m too old. I need you to be a baby again.” She giggled as she shook her head. 

Wayne grinned as he hugged Eddie. “Happy Father’s Day.”

“Happy Father’s Day, boys. You guys look like you’re having a good day so far.”

Dylan excitedly told him all about their time with the players and the fun they had as the man began setting out plates for lunch. 

You guys enjoyed the meal Wayne made and Ro refused to let go of her grandpa even as he ate. 

“Are you guys still doing the word association?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s got the family down for sure.” You begin pointing around the table as she rattles off names. 

“Din. Daddy. Mama! Dada. Ganpa!”

“And who are you?”

“Rara!”

Steve laughs as he leans back in his chair. “I love the way she says it.”

“The other day she heard me say Eddie and—”

“Eh-ee…”

You gesture towards her as Wayne throws his head back and laughs. 

“Mhmm. Daddy. I’m daddy to you, ya little monster.”, the man smiles as she tries to hide in her grandfather’s lap. 

“So, what are the plans for the rest of the evening?”

“Dylan has somewhere he wants to take Eddie and then dinner after.”, you reply. 

“Have you given them the thing yet?” You shake your head. “You’ll have to text me when you do.”

“Um, what thing?”, Steve inquires. 

“You’ll see.”, you sing as you lean over to kiss his lips. 

#######

Eddie’s entire demeanor changed as he excitedly took his kids hands and ran into the museum. Dylan had found a place about an hour outside of Hawkins that had a lot of the “nerdy” things his dad enjoyed. You and Steve laughed as you held hands following behind them as they looked around. 

“Ah dude, look! They have one of the original D & D game from 1974.”

“That is so cool.” Dylan’s eyes widen as they look over the display. 

“It’s been around that long? I’m surprised I didn’t know about this until after I met you.”

“I was just as surprised, sweetheart.” He grins when you lean up to kiss his cheek.

“Mom! Look!” Your son grabs your hand pulling you into a room full of Harry Potter memorabilia. Even as he got older his love for the books and movies didn’t change. His eyes lit up as he looked over all the trinkets, smirking as he turned to Steve. “Ok. Ro style word associate. Dad, what’s this?”

“Uh…boot key?”

“Close enough.”, he laughs as he points to something else.

“Oh! That one I know. It’s, um, time turner.” The man smiles proudly as Dylan confirms he’s right before pointing at something else. “Um…”

“Snit.”, Aurora babbles as she flaps her hands like wings. 

“Yes! Snitch. Good job, Ro!”

“The three-year-old knows more than you do.”, you tease.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got two of them.” Steve smiles as he playfully shoves you. 

As soon as you enter a room dedicated to Lord of The Rings, your daughter squeaks turning to cling to Eddie’s neck when she sees the big eye on the tower. 

“It’s ok, baby. Daddy won’t let Sauron hurt you.”

“This is a really cool place, Dylan. How did you find it?”

“There’s this beautiful place on my computer called the internet.”

“Geez, Harrington. Did you hear that? It sounded like our wife shrunk and became a 12-year-old boy.”

“For real. You both are so mean.”

You wrap your arms around him as you gently kiss his head. “My baby. You definitely get that sarcasm from me.”

***

That evening you and the kids made dinner for them which they absolutely had fun watching. Dylan helped you cut ingredients and you gave Aurora the spoon a few times so she could stir the pan in front of you. 

After you guys ate, your daughter fell asleep in her chair with her face covered in pasta sauce. Eddie cleaned her up before quickly taking her upstairs to put her to bed. 

“Actually, we should all head upstairs because what Dylan wants to give you is up there.”

The three of you waited in your bedroom for Eddie to return and as soon as he did your son commanded he sit on the bed next to Steve. 

“Oh shit. He’s upped his kidnapping game to. I think he’s going to murder us, Stevie.”

You jokingly widened your eyes and he grinned as he calmed down waiting for Dylan to proceed. 

“So our son and I have some things to tell you but we ask that you wait until we’re finished before you fully react. Mostly by fully react, I mean getting mad at me.” You guiltily smiled towards them as their expressions became more cautious. “A couple of months ago I met up with Charlie.”

“You what?”, Steve asked with a hint of frustration. 

“Please, listen—”

“I asked her to.”, Dylan cut in. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do since mom told me she changed her last name. We’ve been talking about it a lot and I asked her not to tell you.” He slowly stepped forward and handed Eddie a manilla envelope. 

They glanced at each other as he carefully pulled a packet out and they both scanned the documents. 

“I…how…”, the metalhead stuttered over his words as you softly smiled.

“Dylan asked me if there was a more permanent way for you two to be labeled as his dad. I asked Wayne since he adopted you, Eddie, and he helped me get some of this stuff together. Like Aurora, I can only put one name there as his father. I thought it only fair to put Steve since yours is on Ro’s but both your names are listed as his parental guardians. That way…if anything happens to me…”

“After you guys sign it and this other paper in the back here, my last name will officially be Munson-Harrington like mom and my sister.”

Steve covered his eyes in his elbow but you saw his chest heave as he cried. Dylan stepped forward and the man immediately took him in his arms, reaching over to tug Eddie’s shirt so he could hug him to. After they pulled apart, you handed them a pen and they signed without any hesitation. 

“I love you guys.”

“We love you to, kid. Now…get out of here before you make us cry again.”

Dylan giggled as jumped off the bed, kissing your cheek, and heading to his room. 

You climbed into the bed between them, giving them each a kiss. “I’m sorry. He asked me not to tell you especially since we weren’t sure about what would happen with Charlie.”

“What did happen?”

You sighed as you told them the story of your meeting at the bar and your ex signing away his parental rights. 

“Are you okay?”, Eddie asked. 

“Yeah…it was hard…seeing the pain on his face. I’ve never doubted that Charlie loved him but…I don’t know.”, you shrug. “I’m glad Dylan feels safe with you two though. He’s not worried about you leaving him or hurting him.”

They smile as Steve tenderly pets your head. 

“Ok, now I have a gift for you two as well so please double check that the baby is asleep and turn down the house while I go grab it!”

########

“Alright, baby. Dylan is in bed and ready for school tomorrow, Ro is still knocked out, and the door is closed. The floor is yours.”, Eddie announces as he sits on the bed next to Steve. 

“Thank you, my love!”

“Oh, did you hear that, Harrington? My love…I like it.”

You giggle as you poke your head out of the closet. “Shut up and both of you close your eyes.”

“Yes ma’am.” The boys faux salute making you laugh harder. 

They hear a small sigh leave your lips as you gradually shuffle towards. “I’ve never worn anything like this before but I saw it at the mall and knew you both would like it. Open.”

Their jaws drop when they are finally able to look at you. 

The blue lingerie nightie you were wearing showed off your body in all the right places and the lacy part hugging your barely hidden breasts had Eddie exhaling in pleasure. The material flowed like a dress, cutting off just below your waist and you lifted it slightly to reveal a cute pair of lacy blue panties that had Steve’s cock twitching in his pants. 

“Fuck me…Honey, you look—”

“Beautiful…”, Eddie finished. 

You bit your bottom lip as you try to contain your grin. “I got one more thing that I was going to save for someone’s birthday but to be honest I don’t know who I want to use it on more. Or I don’t know, maybe, you can use it on me.”

“Baby!”, Steve chuckles. “You have to tell us what it is first.”

After disappearing to your closet again, you come back out with a small box and hand it to them to open. The metalhead tears it open, both men looking up at you with sudden longing as their eyes clouded over with lust.

“Well, what is it?”, you ask innocently as you giggle in their direction. 

“You’re going to fucking kill us. You know that right?” Steve sighs shakily as he pulls out the black leather handcuffs you had bought.

Eddie smirks in your direction until it slowly becomes his signature toothy smile that you love. 

“What?”

“Naw, sweetheart, I’m just thinkin’. You walked into a store and thought ‘Maybe there’s something in here the TWO men I love would enjoy but yet you walked out with ONE pair of cuffs.”, he wiggles his eyebrows playfully in your direction. “You said you didn’t know who but you have one of us in mind. Don’t you, baby?”

“I…yeah…I mean…kinda…”, you blush. 

“3, 2, 1…”, Eddie quickly counts down and at the same time you both reply. 

“Steve.”

“Ha!”

Steve grins as he nods his head. “I’d ask why but it doesn’t really matter.”

“I just…I don’t know. I thought he might enjoy being a little vulnerable.”

“Liar.”

“Edward Munson, I swear to God!”, you laugh as your hands cover your face. 

“You, my love, thought of Steve because Mr. Harrington here is definitely the most passionate but for some reason hides it under all that sexy head of hair.” Eddie rose to his feet turning you to take his place on the bed as he tugged the other boy and moved him to face you. 

“Out of the three of us, he’s the most handsy. Stevie here loves PDA and doesn’t mind displaying you for the world.” The metalhead unbuttoned Steve’s shirt, tossing it aside as he ran his palms over his chest and down his stomach.

“Steve also has a tendency to ‘take charge’. Be the big man of the house, making sure everyone including me and you, princess, are taken care of.” The man exhales as Eddie places light kisses along his back, reaching around to unzip his jeans, and slide them down his legs with his boxers. 

“But the main reason is because…” Taking the handcuffs from you, he pulls Steve’s wrists behind his back, binding them together. “…this gorgeous man, while having grown up a lot especially after becoming a dad, still has some struggles being vulnerable. And for us, sweetheart, it’s absolutely fucking sexy watching him surrender it to the two people he trusts the most.”

He sits beside you as he leans back on his hands, looking up at Steve with admiration. 

“He really does look yummy.”

“Yeah, he does.”

You stand to get closer to him, running your palms up his hairy chest to his neck as you lean up to kiss his lips. His arms twitch behind him, desperately wanting to wrap them around you, chasing your mouth as you pull away. 

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” You smile as you guide him towards the mattress, pushing him down onto his stomach. “They don’t hurt right?”

“No. They actually feel comfortable.”

Your fingers run delicately through his hair so you can see his eyes. “If at any point you feel uncomfortable just tell us, okay?”

“Okay, honey.”, he answers before being abruptly turned onto his back.

“You know, we could have some real fun and torture the hell out of him.”

“Eddie, no!”, you giggle.

“Oh, come on. Last time we tried the no touch he lost our bet and jerked off. Now…”, he grins wickedly as he pushes you onto your back as well, crawling up your body before leaning down to kiss you. “…he can’t do that. It’s sweeter to because, sweetheart, you look so gorgeous in this. Imagine if Stevie couldn’t have you while you were wearing it.”

A moan escapes your lips as his hips grind against your own. “Eddie, its both your day, today. He deserves to feel good to.”

“Oh, alright.”

After giving you an obnoxiously loud kiss, he slides off your body and takes off his own shirt, flinging it to the side. The metalhead watches you with a big smile as you roll to your side, tenderly kissing Steve’s lips before trailing your own down his chest. 

A line of spit flows from your mouth as you hover over his cock, stroking it along his shaft with your hand. He groans as your tongue licks his tip, tracing along his veins till you reach his balls.

“Baby, I got this.” Eddie’s eyes gesture upwards and you smile as you crawl up towards the other boy’s face. Straddling his head facing them, you move the silky fabric blocking your core to the side, moaning as he cranes his neck to press his tongue into your entrance. 

“Yes, Steve, baby.” 

He moans underneath you as he wraps his mouth around your clit and you glance up to see Eddie taking the man’s cock as far into his mouth as his throat will allow. Drool and spit drips from his lips and your pussy clenches at the sight. 

Eyes rolling back, Steve aggressively begins shaking his head, devouring you as if you were the last meal he was ever going to have. 

“Oh my god… Don’t… Don’t stop.”, you whimpered as your hips grinded against his face. 

You watched as his hands moved underneath him, desperate to touch either one of you. Your palms pressed against his chest for leverage as you felt him fully try and taste everything that was his. Moaning his name repeatedly, your legs shook around him as you came.

You hastily climbed off him, turning to grip his jaw as you sloppily kiss his lips. His tongue invaded your mouth before he jerked his head back to try and kiss as much of your face, neck, and body he could reach. 

Eddie released Steve’s cock, giving you room as you climb on top of him again and gradually sunk down on to his dick. 

“Fuck me…”, Steve moaned as he lifted his head to watch himself disappear inside of you. 

The other man removed the rest of his clothing and leaned forward to suck on your neck as you slowly began moving your hips. 

“We could still have fun with him, you know.”, Eddie teased. “I mean, doesn’t it kill you at least a little that you can’t touch her?” He chuckled when Steve nodded. “What was that, Stevie? I couldn’t hear you.”

“More…more than…a little. Goddamn, baby, you feel so fucking good.”

The metalhead brushes some of your hair back as his breath tickles your ear. “What do you think, sweetheart? Think we should let him go?”

You reached for Steve’s shoulders, yanking him to a sitting position as your thighs clung to his waist. 

“Please.”

While he waited to be free, Steve dragged his tongue along your neck before latching his lips to the sweet spot on your throat. As soon as the cuffs came off, he wrapped his arms around you and flipped you onto your back, pounding into you almost animalistically. 

He hated not being able to touch you. Not that he didn’t like being restrained but he just loved you so much and not being able to hold you drove him insane. 

Eddie was completely entranced with you two as he stroked his cock watching the man he loved take care of the woman he loved. It was so beautiful and he relished the fact that moments like this only belonged to you three. 

“Steve, please, I’m…” You hand covered your mouth to stifle the moan but he moved it out of the way, replacing it with his lips as he held your face to his. You clung to him as you came, his tongue muffling your whimpers as you came undone. 

Steve’s rhythm stalled as he allowed you to catch your breath. Suddenly feeling a hand on his back, he turned his head to see Eddie behind him who raised his eyebrows essentially checking in. The man nodded before looking down at your sweaty features. 

“Are you ok?”

They breathily laugh as you give them a thumbs up while you continue to pant. The metalhead’s palm glides to the other man’s shoulder as his other guides his cock into him. This was always one of your favorite parts of making love with them. You had always said, even when you first met them, that they both had an energy that was intimidating when it came to them. 

Maybe it was the years of knowing each other or just being friends instead of lovers but anytime they interacted especially in bed it was like looking at a work of art, so gorgeous. Steve’s forehead fell against yours as his face scrunched in pleasure. Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned against the man’s back, balancing on his other arm as he began slowly thrusting his hips. 

Your eyes remained open as you tried to watch them above you. Every time Eddie pumped into him, it moved Steve forward thrusting him into you. 

“Does he feel good, babe?” Steve nods at your question as he softly kisses your lips. “Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart.”

He forces his eyes open as he looks down at your face. “Y-you—mmm—you both feel…jesus…”, he grunts unable to finish his thought as Eddie slows behind him, delivering deep strokes that has Steve’s face collapsing into your neck. 

The man winks above you before reaching for both of Steve’s wrists and locking them behind his back. The action causes the boy to fall flat against your body, pushing him deeper inside you.

“Oh my god…”, you cry, covering your mouth again. 

“You okay, princess? St-still with us?”

“Eddie, please. Don’t stop.”, you beg. He obliges, gripping Steve’s arms tightly as he slams his hips into his. Your own limbs cling to the boys as bite into his shoulder, muffling your scream as you cum.

You hold him tighter to you, threading your fingers in his hair as he keens into your neck and grunts loudly into your skin as he warms your insides with his release. Eddie follows a couple moments after, letting go of Steve’s wrists to wrap himself around to his chest as he thrusts his spend into the boy beneath him. 

Panting, he gradually pulls out falling onto his back beside you both as he wipes the sweat from his face. 

“Ow…”, you wince as Steve tries to do the same. 

“I’m sorry.”, he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“No, no. Just… hang on a second.” You press your palm against his lower belly, guiding his movements till he’s fully out of your aching core. “You would think after being with you two and having two kids I wouldn’t get sore like this but…”

Steve softly grins as he sits beside you, wincing himself before pulling out the handcuffs he sat on. 

“I like these. We should use more stuff like this.”

“Maybe you two can come with me next time and we can look around. I’m open to it.”

Eddie nods, agreeing with you as he rises to his feet and takes you in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. Steve slowly shuffles behind and helps you out of your outfit as the other boy get the bath ready. 

All three of you exhale heavily as your skin hits the warm water. 

“I had a good day today.”, Eddie grins as he carefully cleans your body. 

“Me to. I wonder if Ro is going to inherit her brother’s event planning gene.”, Steve chuckles as he kisses your shoulder. 

“Well, you two are really good with surprises to I’m sure she will.”, you smirk.

“Uh oh. I know that look.”, the metalhead tilts your chin up with his index finger. “Time for bathtub therapy?”

You scrunch your nose in his direction making him laugh. “Steve, have you, um, heard from your dad?”

“No and I’m fine with that. Wait, where did that come from?”

“I don’t know…on days like today sometimes my mind wonders and just like with little Edward Munson, I think about little Steven Harrington. I’m so glad your mom came around. I just wish your dad would stop being an asshole and see what we see.”

“Ah, so the follow up question was going to be if I’ve heard from my dad to?” You nod at Eddie’s question. “One of the things I love about you, sweetheart, is your optimism. It definitely grounds us especially me. You know sometimes I can be super cynical.” His grin grows when you giggle. “Now, Stevie, stop me if I’m wrong but we have a family here; two gorgeous kids and you. We’re both finally working jobs we enjoy and love being able to see Ro and Dylan experience things that we didn’t get to. Why would we want to bring our dads into that especially if they don’t want to change or accept us?”

“Aw, honey, our little metalhead is growing up.”, Steve responds sarcastically as he reaches out to playfully pinch Eddie’s cheeks. “He’s right. I don’t want to hear my father’s opinion on me teaching or, hell, even what he’d say about Dylan. Baby, he had a problem with you changing your name. Imagine what he’d say if he found our son will to.”

“Yeah…my mother is probably going to pitch a fit when she finds out.”

“Well, when your mom stops being insane, we’ll take her opinions under advisement.”

“Geez, Ed. Tell me how you really feel.”, you giggle as you splash water in his direction. “How would you dad feel about us? I know Wayne doesn’t care and your mom didn’t seem too either. Then again, she was more focused on herself…”

He gently kisses your forehead before rising from the tub and reaching for your hands to pull you up as well. 

“My dad…wouldn’t care exactly. He would probably have something to say about me and Steve though…”, Eddie eyes remained down cast as he dried you off and then himself before handing the other boy the towel. “He would think he’s being funny but…”, he breathily laughs as he yanks a shirt over your head. You follow him as he goes on the hunt for some shorts. 

“Honestly, I would be more worried about the stuff he would bring into the house. He was constantly stealing things and bringing them home to my mom as ‘gifts’. Wayne said he would steal valuables from his trailer. I image he would take a lot of the stuff we have here. I, um…”, he rubs the back of his neck as he climbs on the bed. “I would also be worried about Dylan. I know he’s a smart kid! Don’t get me wrong but sometimes my dad had a way of talking that would make you think you were doing something innocent and then next thing you know you’re in the passenger’s seat next to him going 80 down a highway as the cops try and catch him for grand theft auto.”

You pull him into hug as you kiss his lips. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Eddie kisses you back before making you laugh as he places obnoxiously loud pecks along your face. “No reason to be sorry.”

He tucks you into bed, crawling under the covers with you as Steve bounces in behind you. You and the metalhead talk casually as the other boy occasionally chimes in, his eyes focused on his phone in front of him. After a while, you fall asleep, curled into Eddie’s chest. 

“Hey.”, he reached over to lightly smack his arm. “What are you reading so intently over there?”

“Nothing.”, Steve smiles. “Just looking up something and doing some math.”

“Is it a big secret? You know if it’s for Y/N you have to clue me in.”

“Calm down. I’m just…thinking.”

“About?”

“Today and the kids. About how big they are both getting…”

“Aw. Is Stevie getting sentimental?”

“Shut up.”, he giggles. Eddie grins as he rolls over to turn off his bed side lamp and wrap his arms around you.

“I do miss Aurora being a baby. Kind of makes you want another one, ya know?”

“Do you mean that? Would you want another kid?”

“Yeah, sure, one day.”

Steve sighs as he watches Eddie’s eyes drift closed, closing out of the notes he had made on his phone titled “Baby #3: Expenses (Can we afford it right now?)”, and placing his device next to the bed. As he turns off the lights, he snuggles up behind you, reaching over to rest his arm across both your hips. 

##########

@adequate-superstar @kalinaselennespeaks @alienthingstwo

@steddieloverrr @manda-panda-monium

@decadentwombatmiracle @katie-tibo @marsupiooo

@local-stoner-bitch @steamystrangerfics @lunatictardis

@adaydreamaway08 @hazydespair @actuallyspencerreid

@moviefreak1205 @waylandmorgernsternherondal-blog

@kik51199 @strngrlytn @idkidknemore @damon-loves-pie

@k-k0129 @micheledawn1975 @eddie86baby

@justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @3rriberri @sashaphantomhive @chelebelletx @big-ope-vibes

@munsonzzgf @munsonmoonshine86

[11queensupreme11]

Don't know if tumbler ate this or not. If it didn't im sorry for bugging!

How would the yans react to Chase actually raising their kids and raising them well? Like percy gave birth there, and Athonius ended up raising the babies well. Like the kids consider him, their father and the babies act like humans? They know he's not their actual dad but they don't care lol.

it didn't, i just have a lot of asks dw 💀

i love how you guys want anthonius dead SO BAD omfg 😭 this poor boy

(first off, let's pretend that zeus wouldn't try to kill the kids for being 75% god and being... well, percy's)

anyway, anthonius would be SUCH A GOOD DAD. i bet you he would study the myths centered around the kids' father so he would be prepared for anything, like what powers to expect, etc

the kid would grow up to love his parents and they would have a normal life in the human world. they'd go to school, make friends, go to camp, etc. they would also be a good person due to who their parents are; anthonius and percy would definitely tell them to kind to others, never to hurt mortals, always stand up for themselves and others, it's no surprise this kid turns out to be so good and so unlike their actual father 🥹🥹

but then shit hits the fan when the yanderes finally manage to get into her universe 💀

poseidon would absolutely be furious at the thought of being replaced by a mortal son of athena. he wouldn't see anthonius as a good father, he'd only focus on the flaws (and he sees a lot). percy and his kid might as well be living in poverty (they're not), how dare anthonius have them live in some crummy house amongst humans? his kid is attending school with inferior beings??? he sees those inferior beings as EQUAL??? anthonius is a dead man

hades would straight up ignore anthonius. it's like the dude's not even there. he'd be so proud of how good his kid is, he'd tell percy "you did such a great job at raising our child" as if anthonius didn't also help out. "but it's okay, i'm here now. you must've been so lonely hmm? 😊". he'll spare anthonius unless the blonde tries to fight, but he'd at least kill him quickly as a thanks for keeping percy and his kid safe

apollo would just straight up kidnap them both, doesn't even bother to kill anthonius, he's just snatching his loved ones up and bringing them back to their REAL home 💀💀 if anthonius is around and tries to stop him, apollo's gonna kill him, but if he's not around, anthonius gets to live but apollo would DEFINITELY curse him with some incurable painful disease

loki's going to be sooo pissed, but he'll play the long game. he'll change his appearance and actually pretend to be their neighbor and his kid's new school teacher,, etc. he is gonna plant himself into their lives and seduce percy and try to gain his kid's favor. afterwards, he'll purposely leave anonymous gifts to percy that rattles her because she would KNOW who they come from, but it can't be, right??? loki can't be here!!! when all's said and done, after he manages to seduce her from her husband, he'll reveal himself, kill anthonius, and take her and the kid back home

beelzebub would be like loki but less up-front. rather than disguising himself he would hide from her but find ways to ruin their peaceful life as a form of punishing her. anthonius will suddenly find himself out of a job and practically blacklisted from ever working again. lots of men are suddenly attacking percy in the streets, beel's way of showing her how much she needs him and how useless anthonius is because where is he? why isn't he protecting her? their kid is being kicked out of schools and blamed for stuff he didn't do. when she's finally at her lowest, he'll reveal himself to her, kill anthonius, and take her and their kid back. might wipe their memory too.

[diamondluxesugar]

Gifts and Being Spoiled - Non Allowance

Let’s discuss Gifts.

I’m not talking about $30 for a pedicure or a Starbucks gift card and tumbler. I’m talking about the jewelry, the cars, the thousand dollar bags and shoes, the stocks and bonds, the gold and silver bars, kinds of gifts. Unless you’ve grown up accepting gifts or have made enough money to buy these things for yourself, it may make you feel uncomfortable. Who wouldn’t? We’re talking about receiving thousands of dollars worth of gifts.

Hell, this is something that even the most experienced SBs have had to work to become accustomed to, and even now gifts of a certain caliber can make a lady a little bit nervous. The easiest way to become comfortable with receiving luxury gifts is by desensitizing yourself to the cost.

Note: this is not desensitizing yourself to just start swiping your credit card for whatever purchase you want. This is to remove the feelings of doubt, shame, and insecurity that surround owning expensive items while those around you may not yet share in your wealth.

One exercise I did was write down every single thing I wanted to purchase. I broke it into the following categories: useful, nice, frivolous.

The useful items are things I would use on a consistent basis. Think computer, KitchenAid mixer, exercise bike, spa passes, etc. These will be more tailored to your own needs.

The nice items are things that don’t make or break any given experience, but would be fantastic to have and would increase my quality of life. Think multiple pairs of running shoes, a $300 outdoor hammock swing, new matching bedroom set, etc. Once again, these are more tailored to your needs.

The frivolous things are anything else. Think of the Chanel bags, the jewelry, shopping spree at Bloomingdale’s. Items that won’t make it break your experience of life.

Throw literally everything you can on this list and include the prices. When you see something on TikTok, add it to the list. When your coworker is talking about that sous vide, add it to the list. Big or small, just add it.

At this point you’ll have an idea of what you like and want, and how your SD can best gift you. Maybe you aren’t a clothing girl, but will go crazy in the homegoods section. Your gifting doesn’t have to look like mine, and that’s okay. This is your time to be spoiled!!

This brings me to my second thought: using your belongings.

It can be nerve-racking and ostracizing being the only girl with real gold in your ears. You may want to leave your good items in a safe or only wear them on special occasions.

Don’t.

Shoes and bags and jewelry and clothing is meant to be worn, not to sit in a dust bag for admiration. Your exercise bike is meant to be used. Running shoes are meant to be worn down. Don’t be afraid to use your gifts, because you’ll appreciate them more and will become used to using your most expensive items.

The last thing I would like to leave you ladies with is simple: Gratitude. Be grateful for the gifts that come into your life. Be grateful for the person providing the gifts. Be grateful for the journey of becoming a woman who has the capacity to receive. It’s okay fantastic to thank your SD/SBF for gifting you with something. In fact, most of these men are surrounded by people that use and take from them. Say thank you and mean it and watch how your experiences change.

Happy Sugaring ✨

[aperfecthalosblog]

Slimer Ghostbusters 20oz 30oz tumbler (Glow in dark option)

This listing is for one 20oz or 30oz skinny tumbler.. Glow in dark Option..

Vacuum insulated tumbler with lid and straw. Drinks stay ice cold or steaming hot ALL DAY LONG. Perfect for hot coffee in the morning, cold drinks all day long, or wine at the end of the day.

These are custom made and can be custom made for you with a process called sublimation..

Add a name or saying

Since these are handmade the image maybe slightly different then pictured

** All tumblers should be hand washed and not placed in the dishwasher.

There is no actual glitter the image make it appear like glitter..

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Eleven.

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,414

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

With her love sleeping soundly, Bryn began to feel restless in the hour she had left before the dawn broke, pulling on her long, deep blue silk nightgown and matching floral robe, exiting the bedroom. Touring the corridors of Arrow House as she made her way to the stairs, she smiled to see the traces of herself there within the home. Her flourishing friendship with her soon-to-be sister-in-law meant that Grace consulted her at every turn where furnishing the property with art and antiquities was concerned.  

The softly spoken Irish beauty had excellent taste, Bryn only needing to advise her here and there over certain pieces, all of which she had received a very nice little discount for purchasing. The Johan Baptist Reiter painting that hung to the left as she descended the bottom of the staircase looked particularly lovely in its placement. Just like Bryn herself, Grace had a fondness for Biedermeier. 

Sensing a presence in the sitting room, she gravitated in that direction, pushing the slightly ajar door open to see Tommy sitting by the fire, a cigarette in one hand and a whiskey in the other. 

“Tired our John out, have you?” 

She laughed softly through her nose, Tommy rising from his seat, gesturing to the whiskey bottle.  

“Please,” she spoke, sitting down. “And yes, for now.”  

“I didn’t mean to be coarse, but the sound travels well in this house,” he commented, pouring the whiskey into a tumbler and passing it to her.  

“The high ceilings often bode well for good acoustics. I apologise if my wailing awoke you. Your brother is nothing short of a very gifted lover.”  

Tommy shook his head, returning to his seat. “Wasn’t that.” A shadow crept across his features, one he did well to hide from any other person. Bryn was a different matter entirely, though.  

“The German guns still haunt you.” 

Her assertion earned her a fixed stare, his cool eyes softening a touch as he slowly brought the cigarette to his lips, the tobacco embers crackling. “Didn’t think I was that obvious.” 

“You aren’t,” she smiled, “but nothing gets past me. I know the look of a man haunted by his past, by the horrors that still dance a cruel waltz within his mind at everything he saw and should not have had to.” She paused, trailing the rim of the glass with her fingernail. “I tire of witnessing the harm that befalls young men, sent off to fight in the wars concocted by those who never leave their seats of power to fight alongside them. I never sent anyone into a battle that I did not join them in myself, too.” 

“John mentioned that you were quite the tactician back in your human days. A warlord, I believe he coined it.” 

She nodded, sipping her drink. “Correct, yes.”  

“Then it puzzles me why, with that kind of experience, you have fled your enemies for so very long,” he spoke. “Surely your brilliance dictates you could thwart them all, especially taking your strength into consideration.” 

A prickle of annoyance skipped over her chest, but Bryn remained calm. “You should know better than anyone, Tommy, that strength is found in numbers where war is concerned. My kind has been hunted to near eradication within England. I have no allies left, and I shall die before I bring my children into this. I am, however, currently in a phase of contemplation. Something happened tonight, something that meant I intend to put down roots in Birmingham. I can hide no longer, so therefore I must begin to strike back against those who have hunted me.” 

He cocked his head, watching how the diamonds upon her finger glittered in the firelight, smiling softly. “It fits, then? He was having a right old panic over whether it would.” Watching a small frown settle between her eyebrows as her mouth twisted into a curious smile, he elaborated. “I got dragged to the Jewellery Quarter to help him pick it. Never seen our John in that much of a bloody flap over anything.”  

His words touched her, Bryn imagining her sweet love losing his cool over which ring to choose. “Now that I am to be married, you see why I no longer wish to flit from place to place, to keep them guessing with guards upon the doors of my various residences across the globe. In order to do that, though, I must begin in making strikes against them.” 

His next question was only natural, Tommy leaning forward in his seat. “And how do you propose to do that?”  

Bryn smirked, mirroring his lean. “Setting the kind of trap they shan’t be able to refuse falling into, Tommy.”  

It took many more moving pieces in the first phase to begin dismantling the Rasmusen’s infrastructure than just Bryn herself, five large vans en route to her London residence the day after Boxing Day. Predictably, they had a tail, which was exactly what John wanted as he sat in the passenger seat, Johnny Dogs driving.  

“It’s a good job they weren’t convinced over the serving girl’s statement that Brynhild wasn’t there?” he stated, negotiating the bends that led them down over the main route into the capital.  

John sniffed, taking a swig of whiskey from his hip flask. “I said to Pol she likely weren’t the only one they sent to spy our movements, and yeah, Dogs. I’m glad of it.” Looking in the wing mirror, the car that followed them appeared as a deep maroon dot in the distance, John lifting his chin as he swallowed hard. He just hoped that a few of the men within were notable within the family, for their strike to have the desired effect.  

Once they had arrived at 14 Holland Park Road, John jumped out and headed to the front door, Bryn’s neatly pencilled list withing his grasp of the items they were to take from the property and transport back to Birmingham. He nodded at the two men under the employment of Alfie Solomons upon the door, pushing in the key into the lock and opening it up.  

“Right, lads,” he began, standing outside of the large sitting room as he perused the list. “All the paintings from the ground, first and second floors, the baby grand, every vase and ornament and leave the rest. Get the packing cases in and hop to it.”  

He had personally been tasked with bringing a few items of her clothing and all of her jewellery, Bryn not wanting anyone but her future husband rifling through her personal items, heading up to her bedroom to begin collecting those very belongings.  

“Nice bed,” he muttered upon entrance, looking over as he strode to the wardrobe, “shame I won’t get to bounce her around on it for a few hours.” Once the designer pieces she’d listed had been pulled out, her furs as well, he went to the safe and removed all of her jewels, placing each into the heavy hessian sack he carried, picking up the clothing and exiting swiftly. Not before leaving a few items around before he did. 

The house was emptied of everything she’d requested within two hours, the team heading back up to Birmingham minus their tail, who stayed parked up at the end of the road.  

“Ay, what aren’t we following ‘em, Pat?”  

Watching the vans driven by the Peaky Blinders pass them by, Patrick Rasmussen turned to Stanley, nodding back at the house. “Guards are still on the doors, lad. Since they only came back this morning, it means she’s still in there. I think it’s safe to assume she’s on the move, though, what with the contents of her house being cleared out by the Peaky lads. Go down to the phone box and call in with me dad, get him to have one team follow the van, but most of the lads to come down here and wait. We strike on her tonight, as soon as they step away from the door.” 

Patrick thought he was being clever, but sadly for him, Brynhild Leifsdottir was much cleverer than he’d ever be able to anticipate... 

“Ahh, look now. Pulled over for a break, they have,” spoke Matthew Rasmussen, the very man tasked with following the vans heading back to Birmingham, having been sat awaiting word from Edward on when to move. “Reet, lads. Ready yourselves. Not that we’ll need to, like. We’ve got ‘em well outnumbered.” 

His grin of triumph fixed itself firmly, getting to strike a coup against the Peaky Blinders and partially disarm of her allies the vampire menace who had evaded his family for so long in one fell swoop, Matthew noticing there only to be eight men standing around smoking and chatting by the five vans pulled over at the side of the road.  

Between his car and the other that followed, ten Rasmussen family members and associates strode out, guns ready, the scent of success bolstering them with every step.  

“Can I help you lads?” John asked, flicking his cigarette away. 

“Aye, lad. You can stand still and get shot,” Matthew chirped, aiming the gun in his hand towards his head.  

“Are we getting shot today, John?” Johnny Dogs asked casually with a sniff. “Didn’t think it was a shooting day today, I didn’t?” 

“Nah, Dogs. We ain’t getting shot today, mush.” John’s grin broadened, Matthew shaking his head, about to deliver his final words before the man before him spoke again. “Brynhild sends her regards.” 

Perhaps if his brother Patrick was paying greater attention, he would have noticed that one the five vans in the convoy was not filled with the antiquities belonging to the vampire. Tragically for Matthew, nobody noticed until it was too late that it was instead filled with eight Peaky Blinders who stepped out with machine guns, rapidly opening fire.  

“Back home by teatime then, John boy?” Arthur spoke casually, once the hail of bullets had ceased. Lowering the machine gun in his grasp, he walked to Matthew’s corpse, snorting deeply before spitting onto his face. “Fucking cunt.” 

“Ar, brother. Let’s get off.”  

With one team eradicated, the second sat patiently in their vehicles upon Holland Park Road, waiting for any signs of life within the property. At just gone five-thirty in the evening, a rapidly zooming Bryn opened the French windows at the rear of her house, looking around to see the items her love had left out in preparation before taking a tour of the home.  

“I shall miss you, beautiful house,” she hummed, her fingertips trailing over each piece of furniture as she passed it by. “It is a most worthy trade, though.”  

Entering her bedroom, she held a hand to her chest at the sight of a single red rose laid upon the bed, a note accompanying.  

Hurry back when you’re done, sweetheart. I have plans, and they all involve burying my tongue and then my cock inside you until you’re screaming x 

Romantic, yet filthy. That was her John to an absolute tee. Taking the note, she tucked it into the pocket of her smart, black trouser suit, pushing the rose into the long braid in her hair before moving downstairs and opening the front door.  

“Evening, chaps,” she spoke warmly, giving them both a little wedge of notes each. “Go and enjoy yourselves. As explained to Mr Solomons I shall no longer be requiring his guard services, but please do inform him there shall be a very nice cheque to follow in the post as a personal token of my appreciation.” 

The taller of the two nodded, lifting his hat to her. “A pleasure, Ms Leifsdottir. Thank you, ma’am.”  

Bryn made sure she stood at the front door for long enough to be noticed while waving them away in their car, closing it behind her and heading to the sitting room in wait. They arrived in two units, as she suspected they would, the first storming the front door and the second the rear, twenty Rasmussen men filling the space.  

“Finally,” Patrick grinned, the men surrounding her, “we’re fucking got you cornered at last. Stan, get her in chains.”  

“Oh, no, no, my dear,” she hummed, shaking her head.  

“No?” he laughed, Stan moving towards her. “We’ve got you surrounded, pet. One move and its curtains for you, it is.”  

“My associates say differently, as do the trip wires you’re all about to stumble upon.”  

Patrick and his men halted immediately, indeed seeing wires all boxing the area in which the vampire stood, Bryn flicking her hands. Sparks of ignition lit the very shortened fuses upon the strategically placed sticks of dynamite, her fangs glistening as she grinned. “Now, what is that my soon to be husband says, hmm? Ah yes. By order of the Peaky Blinders,” she laughed, delivering her final words with a wave. “Fuck you.”  

She was gone out of the open French windows within a blink, her entire house exploding into inferno the next, Bryn hovering high above in the air to watch the fireball engulf her former home, and the twenty Rasmussen’s within it. The reflection of the flames twinkled in her eyes, Bryn feeling a piece of herself return.  

“Splendid.” With that, she left London, racing through the night air rapidly, returned to Birmingham in just under fifteen minutes. She was so swift, in fact, she even beat John home, her beloved arriving not long after her, giving his coat and cap to a waiting Arthur and removing his boots before calling through the house.  

“Where’s me bab?”  

“Bedroom, darling,” she replied. He took the stairs two at a time, turning right to enter the bedroom, not seeing her anywhere in sight. His mouth upturned to feel her arms slide around him from behind, delicate fingers unknotting his tie as she laid kisses to his cheek.  

“How’d it go?” 

“With a very big bang,” she purred, tongue swiping a lick upon his cheek.  

He turned, clasping her nakedness to him, laying lustful kisses upon her neck while his fingers went to her wavy, freshly undone hair. “Just like the rest of your night, then.” The scent of her lightly perfumed skin pulled at him like a heady intoxicant, his clothes all shed by the time they reached the bed, lying back and taking her with him.  

His hands moved in slow tour down her back, grasping the rounded cheeks of her bum, making her squeal when he laid a hard slap to each. “Get up here,” he rasped, winking as he grasped her hips. “You know exactly where I want ya.” 

Taking to her knees, she shuffled up the bed, levelling herself with his head. He pushed his elbows against her thighs, bringing her down until her sex met the long, firm swipe of his tongue. His breath misted hot against her cool folds, her skin soon warming to the blazing warmth of his mouth with every lick he pushed against her, groaning as the sharp honey of her cunt began to bathe his tongue. 

His fingers trailed over the ancient etchings upon her hips, pattering up to her breasts, evoking an earthy moan as he began to roll her nipples into peaks between his thumbs and forefingers.  Heat streaked over her nerves like a hail of comets as his lips wrapped her clit in a firm suck, tongue gently rolling, her thighs twitching in response.  

The rich groan rumbling through his throat as she reached back to clasp his cock vibrated through her, Bryn pausing to lick her hand wet before curling it around his hardness again, a breathy sigh leaving her parted lips as he sank his tongue into the wet of her cunt. The pleasure surged through her, hips purling against his mouth, her hand working him to steel, all while crying out softly at the speed his tongue beat against her bud with.  

He had her embers stoking to flames rapidly, the burn much too smouldering to withstand without him being inside her. The slick of her cunt grazed his abs as she moved down, and it sent a bolt through him, lightning that struck deep again as she speared herself upon his cock, leaning to circle his nipple with her tongue. Her walls flexed around him as the heat of his cock radiated through her, warming her walls as it dragged against them, her teeth closing in soft bite on his nipple, running a lick from his chest up to his mouth.  

The momentum gathered rapidly, little shocks of burning pleasure skittering through them as their bodies moved together in perfect sync, Bryn leaving raspberry trails of lust upon the lily white of his chest with her nails. His muscles bounced beneath the clawed contact, the feeling sinking down to his bones as he watched her tits bounce, his hands moving to cup them before he reached for her neck, pulling her down to his level,  

Moving to hold her in a grasp upon her hips, her wail sounded through the air as he fucked up into her hard, their tongues swirling, kisses all heat and sin, John making her shriek and giggle when he moved a hand to begin laying hard smacks upon the round of her bum.  

“Fucking can’t wait for you to be my wife.” he groaned, kisses moving to her neck.  

To be somebody’s wife again, she could scarcely believe it, to have finally found a man who loved her that much after crossing oceans of time alone.  

Witnessing the wattage of her luminous smile was all the answer he needed, their mouths meeting again as he turned her onto her back, limbs locking around one another as sublime love and burning lust met in perfect alchemy. 

Once they’d spent time thoroughly enjoying themselves, they lay idly stroking one another, Bryn’s nail trailing from freckle to freckle, mapping the constellation upon his shoulder. They were the stars, his body the endless sky she wished to sail through. Come January the first, it would be a month since he’d first met her and yet, it felt like a year. Already he struggled to remember a life without his beloved in it, and he never wanted that for either of them again.  

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, Bryn reaching to the side of his head, miming winding a crank handle. “Oi, cheeky mare. Less of that.” Despite himself, he still laughed, his amused chuckles joining the tinkle of her giggles.  

“So yeah, I’ve been thinking, right, about the future. After everything you’ve told me about your long life, it wouldn’t be fair for me to make you watch me grow old and eventually have to lose me an’ all. Once Katie is a bit older and won’t need me to be around for her quite so much, especially not in the daytime, I want you to make me vampire. I dunno, though, like will it cause issues, you being the one to do it?”  

She understood the connotations clearly, since the bond between creator and offspring as just as deep, if not deeper than a human parent and child. There was an exception, though. “It shan’t, no. It is different if a vampire turns their lover or spouse. It is called Amantes Vinculum Sanguinis, which is Latin for the lover's blood bond.” Her eyes sparkled at him through the amber haze of the candle and firelight bathing the room in a warm glow, shaking her head softly. “You truly want this, to join me forever?”  

He leaned to her, nuzzling her nose softly. “’Course I fucking do. Well, I dunno. I might get fed up of ya in five hundred years, but I doubt it.”  

Her fist met the side of his neck in a playful punch. “I have never met anybody who has ever loved me that much before, to want to walk the darkness with me for all eternity.” 

“Well, now you have,” he affirmed, linking his fingers through hers. “I reckon you probably have, though. You just ain’t ever wanted to let ‘em in, have ya?”  

How well he knew her, understood her on an instinctual level. “I suppose this is fair reasoning, my darling. For you to propose this, though, goodness,” she began, reaching to stroke his face. “Nobody has ever meant more to me than you, John. I love you so completely and endlessly.”  

The way he kissed her mirrored those words entirely. 

[crownedclownprince]

Happy Birthday!

There is a parade marching down the center of Gotham City, with music loud enough to rattle windows an startle car alarms into screeching wakefulness.

The media clamor is vicious and immediate, with the GCPD racing to quarantine the event as fast as possible.

Every channel is overtaken by frantic news casters urging everyone to get inside and stay inside until it's safe.

But really, is there such a thing as "safety" in Gotham city?

The parade marches on through bullets and barricades, leaving bloody smears across asphalt and concrete. The music swells, the pulsating downbeat in rhythm with the boom and thump of confetti cannons that spray the streets with pretty little paper stars. The wind blows most of them away, sure, but a horrible amount ends up stuck in the puddles of gore that used to be policemen making a mockery of their deaths in a way only the Joker knows best.

Speaking of... where is he?

At the head of the parade are several Clowns dressed in their best holding back feral beasts on massive chains. Hyenas with brightly painted faces yip and yowl, lunging at the ends of their leashes with maws splattered red red red. White tigers lope ever onwards with heavy saddles on their backs, and smaller Clowns astride them throwing candy here and there. There are lions too, lips pulled back into unnaturally smiles full of flat human teeth, their eyes brightly glowing green to match their fluffy manes

There's a fellow dressed like Beethoven sitting at an American Fotoplayer on a float dragged by two tremendous Strong Men playing the silliest tune known to man.

A great many other Clowns follow behind, marching in a band, handing out balloons or candy or shirts to any unlucky passerby commemorating this momentous occasion. There are jugglers, tumblers, a moving trapeze and high wire act.

Several troupes of Chuckle Scouts march with them, handing out free boxes of cookies and proudly displaying sashes full of brightly colored badges.

There are onlookers, lined up along the parade route with guns to their backs and tears in their eyes. They take the gifts they're offered, they smile for the cameras, they laugh when performers take prat falls or slip on banana peels. This is a jovial jubilous occasion and people must witness it, or else.

At the tail of the parade is a cake at least a story or two high covered in exactly 85 candles and gratuitous amounts of icing. When the parade stops at the end of its route, the music shifts from manic madcap whimsy to an almost wholesome rendition of 'happy birthday'. The cake and the parade are surrounded by the surviving members of the GCPD pointing guns at everyone that isn't a civilian. The Clowns seem unbothered by this and sing along to the music, pulling wrapped gifts out of nowhere in particular and offering them to the towering confection the way worshipers leave sacrifices at an altar.

The top of the cake trembles and wiggles and writhes before exploding into icing, the Clowns clap and cheer as their God appears at the top of the cake with his famous grin across his face. He's wearing a crown, holding a scepter, and wearing a sash that reads 'BIRTHDAY BOY' in big cursive letters. One of the cops fires on the Joker without hesitation, he gets his head blown off with a confetti cannon. The Joker doesn't seem to notice this disturbance and takes a bow, drinking in the attention of his audience.

"Thank you! Thank you! Y'know it's not every day I turn 85, so I plan to make tonight the best birthday bash I've ever had." Says Joker, dabbing at a tearful eye with a brightly colored hankie. The Clowns applaud him again. "This parade was a great start, but I have so much more in store for all of Gotham, and that lowlife cape wearing deadbeat who missed this whole thing." He looks dead into the nearest camera, eyes angry and wild his smile strained and sharp.

"Anywhoozles! I better wrap this up, this cake isn't going to eat itself after all and I have a gift for a certain someone that needs to be delivered."

The Clowns turn on cue to face the audience and the GCPD, the each take their gifts in one hand and pull the ribbons off with the other. The boxes explode into smoke and confetti that completely obscures the parade in a cloud of purple and green laughing gas that brings anyone not wearing a mask to their knees.

And when the smoke clears, the parade is gone.

[bingoboingobongo]

task force 141 + favorite starbucks holiday drinks

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: bc the 'alpha males only drink black coffee' mentality is stupid. give these men a creme brulee latte. also can u tell im running out of ideas (help)

simon "ghost" riley:

yeah yeah ik i said this was gonna be starbucks holiday drinks but guys you really think simon's the kinda guy to order a sugar cookie pumpkin spice creme brulee apple strudel frappucino?

yeah that's what i thought

the others will all follow the theme tho i swear

but for now let's talk about simon

he doesn't drink starbucks very much but when he does he usually has two go to drinks

a steamed apple juice or a london fog tea latte

he'll get the latte hot or cold depending on the weather ofc

his favorite thing to do is cozy up with a nice book and a warm drink from starbucks especially during the winter months

and bc he's an environmentally conscious king (and because he has a reputation to maintain let's be real) he always brings his own black tumbler for the drink

also i don't know why but i like to think that he has a bunch of starbucks gift cards from random holidays over the years

so he hasn't spent his own money on starbucks in months

he also never orders in person

and he puts down another name for his order too

sometimes ghost will order a hot chocolate though

but they have a tendency to be really sweet so they're not his favorite

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so i feel like soap's go to holiday drinks is the irish cream cold brew

also before i explain why why is no one talking about the shadows constantly calling soap a leprechaun and an irish person?

like it happens multiple times during the alone mission and it's so funny

anyways

what can i say soaps a cold foam kind of guy

he's just like me frfr

honestly he really doesn't have much of a sweet tooth (at least when it comes to coffee) and he feels like the slight sweetness of the cold foam mixed with the bitter cold brew makes the perfect coffee sweetness

also soap's the kind of person to get iced drinks no matter the weather

like it could be snowing and hailing and he'd still get his iced coffee

he also asks for extra cold foam

bc he likes those first few sips where all you get is the foam before the coffee starts mixing in

also off topic but soap also went feral during the free red cup day

like you know he dropped everything to grab one before they ran out

he's done it everytime they do it and he's so scared that he's gonna miss his streak because of work some day

kyle "gaz" garrick:

alright so maybe it's sorta simple but in gaz's opinion you can never go wrong with an iced peppermint mocha

i mean the name itself just screams holidays

and the flavor speaks for itself

gaz is just a fan of chocolate in general though

and he actually doesn't really like coffee, so the sweetness of the chocolate is nice because it combats the bitterness of the coffee

he also really likes peppermint so it works out too

like you know those peppermint chocolates you get from olive garden?

he eats those up oml

he also only puts in one shot of espresso

because a lot of caffeine makes him anxious

also he doesn't like staying awake at night most of the time

plus he always gets less whipped cream

it's surprising but he's honestly not that much of a fan

that being said though, you can't have a mocha without whipped cream

so he'll oblige a little bit

john price:

alrighty so price's favorite drink is a caramel brulee frappucino

and i am very confident in saying that

i don't really know why but i just feel like he would enjoy it

i like to think that the first time he had it was when someone else went on a coffee run and he told them to just get him whatever

so they got him this and now he's obsessed

he's always been a fan of caramel so it only makes sense

like he goes ham on the caramel

people have told him to just get a caramel frappucino instead but he never does

so instead he gets the caramel brulee frappe with caramel sauce, syrup, drizze

the whole nine yards

i mean price has a sweet tooth what can i say

he needs something to balance out the flavor of all those cigars he smokes

and yes gaz and the others always makes fun of price whenever he gets his drink

but price doesn't even care he is living his best life

he also definitely gets a reindeer cake pop too whenever he goes

the chestnut praline latte is definitely a close second for price tho

but he likes the texture of a frappucino over a latte

alejandro vargas:

okay so honestly ik it's kinda basic but alejandro is a hot chocolate kinda guy

i mean it's like the most iconic holiday drink there is

besides like eggnog or smthing but tbh i always forget eggnog is a thing

anyways hot chocolate is always like the thing to get alejandro in the holiday spirit

it brings him back to making ibarra hot chocolate with his family as a kid

ofc starbucks hot chocolate is not as good as ibarra

but hot chocolate is hot chocolate and it gets the job done in a pinch

one time he tried adding cinnamon to the starbucks hot chocolate to make it more like ibarra

man to this day he doesn't know what he did wrong but he knows something was wrong bc it did not taste like ibarra at all

it tasted worse than it started too

that was truly disappointing

he also likes getting a sandwich or croissant from the bakery too as a light snack

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

alright so this one is easy

and honestly like the first one i thought of

but rudy lives for the sugar cookie almond milk latte

i also like to think that rudy tends to run pretty cold (especially during the winter) and so he gets the hot version and holds it in his hands with his sleeve pulled to his fingertips and let's the steam warm him up

while he does like a little dance to try and keep himself warm

i mean what can i say rudy is like the epitome of having a sweet tooth

plus he really likes sugar cookies so it works out

like he loves those soft sugar cookies you get at walmart (the lofthouse cookies)

also rudy is lactose intolerant

ur welcome all my lactose intolerant readers out there he's ur representation

idk man i just feel like that makes sense to me

and bc like the rest of you lactose intolerant lunatics he's incapable of actually avoiding dairy (seriously you guys have a problem) he has a bunch of lactaids in one of the pockets of his vest

[aurora567]

Padora's Gift Ch. 11

Warning: this story will contain mature content such as but not limited to sex, cursing, blood, violence, breeding kink, A/B/O themes ect.

Word count: 3225

AN: I will be visiting my little sister who just had a baby and so I will not be posting anything from April 12-26. I will make a post on my tumbler as well but incase no one sees it. Chapter 12 will be posted on May 1st sorry for the wait.

Last Chapter

Holy shit! Did she really just make such a flirtatious comment to Bakugou fucking Katsuki? She did, she really did. Geeze's HR would have her head. She was supposed to be working with the man, not flirting. And the tabloids! she could already see the headlines. Second rate omega hero tried to steal the best bachelor and number two hero. Now she wanted to crawl under a rock and hide as she could feel Bakugou's eyes watching her as she buckled the kid into his seat before quickly running around the jeep to jump in herself. Not looking at either man she buckled herself in and turned her attention over to Hatori smiling as she asked him how he enjoyed the day?

And of course the kid was more than happy to start going off about what a great day he had. How happy he was that he got to spend the day with two of his favourite heroes. And she welcomed that the jeep was so nice and open allowing the wind to carry away the smell of her distress and internal turmoil. Luckily listening to Hatori helped allow her to try and clear her mind, steady her breath and most importantly calm down her pheromones before either alpha in the front of the jeep could notice. Damn it she hated not wearing her scent blockers even if the damn things itched and where annoying as could be. But at least they kept her emotions a secret and to herself now allowing anyone else to notice the changes that occurred within her mind or body.

The car ride felt fair to short before the jeep was rolling to a stop parking in front of her shabby little apartment building. A part of her was so relieved she wanted to run and hide in the safety of her home. And yet a small part of her almost didn't want to say goodbye to the two large looming idiots who had also apparently crawled out of the jeep as well. Though to her demise she was now forced to deal with a rather reluctant kid who did not want to get out of the jeep willingly.

It wasn't easy to try and get the kid out of the jeep. And poor Bakugou was a growling idiot of course as he cursed the kid under his breath. Of course each curse earned him a glare as she stood back watching Kirishima try to calm the kid down.

"How about we go make some cookies? We can spend the evening baking your favourite goodies," she called out which in turn had the kid shut up and look at her with an arched eyebrow. He looked skeptical as if she may be lying to him. The kid had at least one weakness. He loved sweets a lot.

"With extra chocolate chips?" The kid asked as Kirishima stepped back and the kid stuck his head out the door. She resisted the urge to laugh as the kid seemed to be trying to barter with her.

"You drive a hard bargain, little man. Sure with extra chips," she said as she watched the kid smile widely and jump out of the jeep as both men looked at the woman like she grew a second head. One minute ago they thought they were going to have to rip the child from the jeep. The next he jumped out willingly, all smiles. Though his big blue eyes looked between both male hero's as if wanting to ask if they would join, but he bit his tongue. Kid was smart; he knew hero's were busy people. Still he at least climbed out of the jeep dried eye and smiling.

"Will you take some cookies with you to work on Monday?" He asked as he walked over to stand by her side. His small hand wrapping around hers before he glanced back over his shoulder as Kirishima removed the booster seat from his jeep.

"Only if you don't eat them all," she said laughing lightly as she teased the kid watching him pout as he started to whine that he wouldn't eat all the cookies. With her backpack over one shoulder, Hatori's hand in one of hers, she reached for the booster with her last empty hand only for Bakugou to scoop it up.

"I'll carry it up for you," he growled almost as if it was some inconvenience for him. But she wasn't an idiot. If Bakugou didn't want to do something he would never have even suggested it. And arguing or even saying a word about it would only blow up the idiot.

"Thanks. See you Monday Kirishima," she said waving a hand at the red head as Hatori waved like the little excited idiot he was also saying his goodbyes as they turned to walk away leaving Kirishima to lean back against his jeep and wait as he watched his blonde idiot friend walk with the woman and kid as they disappear into the apartment.

Sakaki wasn't sure how to react to the blonde as he followed her to the elevator as he really wasn't needed but she wasn't about to tell him she didn't need his help. Bakugou didn't just do things out of the kindness of his heart. This was something she imagined she would have had to argue with Kirishima over but she never expected Bakugou to just grab the booster seat and carry it for her. And of course he looked rather irritated with the action of helping her out. But he didn't actually say anything as the elevator ride remained silent between them. Though Hatori was more than happy to yap about the plan to bake cookies with his aunty Shinzuko. Though sadly for him neither adult was really truly listening to him as both were too busy being stiff and nervous to say anything.

Even as the elevator dinged open the two remained silent as they both watched Hatori run ahead of them down the hall. Damn it get back here, she screamed in her head at the kid not wanting to be forced to walk beside the blonde idiot. After all, what could she say after embarrassing herself before climbing into the jeep after spending the day together. The spike in her scent had the blonde's nostrils flare. And yet he didn't say anything to her which was odd for him. Which only drove her anxiety even more. She fucked up, didn't she? Pulling her keys from her pocket she was quick to open the door before the small body raced into her house kicking off his shoes as she tried not to shit herself as she wondered if she should invite him in. But then again Kirishima was waiting for him so that gave her a wonderful excuse not to.

"Thanks," she said softly as she reached out to grab the kids booster seat from him only for his empty hand to wrap around her wrist. She wondered if he could feel her racing pulse as she stood there looking up at him as she froze. A part of her wanted to tip her head to the side and whimper in submission to the blonde who was glaring down at her. But she stood frozen, unable to move.

"The rugrat. How long is he sticking around for?" Well that was not the question she had been expecting from the man. Well every single word from him was a surprise as she blinked her eyes trying to force her fuzzy brain to work.

"Friday. He goes home Friday," she mumbled simply which seemed to be all the blonde wanted to know as he dropped her wrist and thrust the booster seat into her face as she struggled to reach out and grab it before the blonde had turned and wordlessly was making his way back down the hall towards the stairs.

She watched the door to the hall close behind him leaving the dark haired woman standing confused in her open doorway. What the fuck was that? She growled to herself as she just stood there looking down the hall with her eyebrows knit together till the yell from the excited child in her kitchen forced her to turn and step into her home.

The rest of the weekend had flown by quickly. With the remainder of Saturday night spent cooking cookies after having some dinner. Then Sunday was spent more relaxed. Throwing on movies she welcomed the time to cuddle and just enjoy the kid. Which just had her omega keen as she allowed herself to actually enjoy having a child around. Though it was a mild problem as she worried about how having the kid around and spending so much time with two attractive alpha's was probably going to send her body and it's annoying hormones into overdrive. She knew it was not a good idea but she started to double up her suppressants. Which on its own was either going to help her or do nothing at all. She really hoped it was going to be helpful. But for the day she caved in to those annoying omega desires as she cuddled and enjoyed the day with Hatori.

Monday morning had come far too fast. But at least the weekend off was nice. Saturday had been fun even if she embarrassed herself at the end. But still the hike had been nice, the food was oddly very delicious, and the view had been breathtaking. Sunday was a nice day to spend in bed curled up with Hatori most of the day, even if she had a strong feeling that would bite her in the butt later. But it was too hard not to cave in to the kids desire to watch movies, and her omega needs to cuddle and fawn over the kid. Of course Sunday night she was texting Kirishima asking him if he would once again grab Hatori from school while he was on patrol and take him back to the agency till she finished the stake out with Bakugou. Of course the man had jumped at the request and was more than happy to tell her yes which eased her mind on what she was going to do with the kid. And of course she apologized for the time it would take him to do the simple task since the kids always went nuts seeing a hero and she knew it was just as bad for him since Red Riot was a well known top pro.

With Hatori dropped off at school and her running to get to the agency. At least the run had given her a chance to burn off some of that anxious energy since the last words Bakugou spoke to her still confused her, and spiked her anxiety. But at least now she was wearing her scent blocking patches again so she did not need to worry about her scent giving away her emotions.

Rushing through the front door of the agency she found Bakugou and Kirishima standing among the lobby in full hero gear apparently ready to start their days. And of course Kirishima flashed her a wide sharp toothed grin while Bakugou was a scowling, growling unhappy person.

"You're late idiot!" Ah a typical greeting as well.

"Good morning I missed you too Boom Boom boy," she said as she watched his top lip curl back and could even hear the popping from his hands. But it was too good not to use Mina's old nickname for him. Kirishima just tried not to laugh as he watched the exchange between the two people in front of him. As he yelled at her she just ignored him and turned her attention to wishing Kirishima a good morning which he returned in a far more kind manner.

Not even bothering to wait for the blonde to calm down she turned on her heel and started heading out of the agency. After all Bakugou wasn't wrong, she was late. But really she just wanted nothing more than to get the slow and annoying stake over and done with. And as expected Bakugou was quick to storm after her as she led the way out of his agency. And yet once he joined her the walk was quiet, well quiet between them. After all, Dynamite still drew a good amount of attention in his hero gear.

The day had dragged on painfully slow, as was expected when all one does is sit hidden on a building roof with binoculars in hand watching one building in the distance in particular. Though the sudden shiver that ran up the woman's back quickly had her lowering her binoculars to glance around. Her brain was screaming at her to run. This was a feeling she was all too familiar with, it felt like she was being hunted. Of course the blonde idiot beside her wouldn't feel the same fear or have such instincts but she had learned a long time ago when her omega said run she listened to it. Her small hand shot out to grip tightly around the large bicep beside her.

"Run. Now!" She hissed trying to keep it among a whisper as the blonde whipped his head to look over at her with one soft eyebrow raised. The look on his face said it all. He wanted to yell at her but knew better than to do so while trying to remain hidden. She didn't even wait for his reply before she jumped to her feet. The hand on his arm never let go and she hoisted him up with her.

"What the hell!" Was the growl that came from the blonde as he struggled to find his feet under him as she paused. She wanted to just jump off the roof. They would both easily make it down, especially Bakugou but his explosions to stop himself from free falling would bring attention. Going through the building like how they entered it was though was the other option, but she hated the idea of being caught inside. It was much easier to fight out in the wide open space. But there was no real choice. She could hear Bakugou growling at her as she started to drag him towards the door off the roof.

"We've been compromised," she hissed as he continued to curse at her. Though that single sentence had him shut right up. And now his footsteps fell in time with hers allowing her to let go of him and know he is following her.

"And how do you know that?" Of course he was about to question her.

"We are being hunted. Someone is watching and following us," she hissed as she ripped the door open and quickly started down the stairs. She had no desire to be caught running down stairs while trying to fight. So she wasted no time in running down them as Bakugou rushed after her.

"That doesn't answer my question," he growled, his voice getting a little louder now that they were inside a confined space.

"Call it instinct or whatever you want. But I'm well accustomed to the feeling of a predator watching its prey," she said, not exactly wanting to have to stop and try to explain to an alpha how she knows the feeling of being in danger and that getting away is a must.

She could hear him grumbling and calling her a few choice words but she didn't care as they reached the bottom of the stairs. She was more hesitant to just go flying out of the stairwell and into the hallway. But still she didn't slow down too much as she still felt the need to get to the street and away from the cramped area. But of course she wasn't going to get her wish. As she rushed past a door it suddenly opened and a metal pipe came flying out aimed for her head. Of course she easily ducked out of the way. And using the momentum as she pushed herself up planting her palm roughly into the jaw of her attacker sending him toppling backwards unconscious.

And that was all it took for all the other doors to open and an all out chaos to start. The two heroes were clearly outnumbered but that was nothing new for the two of them. But the tight area was quickly becoming crowded as more and more villains filled the hall. There was quickly becoming no way to get through the crowd. And at least Bakugou had grown wise enough to know he had to be careful and not use his explosions inside. But that made it a bit harder leaving the two of them to fight using hand to hand combat.

"Where the hell are all these guys coming from?" She growled as it seemed the large group was keeping the two boxed in. Sakaki didn't enjoy this situation as she winced as a blade glanced over her stomach, slicing through the suit and grazing her skin. Though a simple glance showed just the slightest hint of red. Well at least it wasn't running down her stomach so she left the wound be, as she struggled to disarm the man in front of her. But this fighting was growing annoying and would quickly grow exhausting if they were not careful. She growled as she glanced over at Bakugou taking on a mountain of a man. Trying to move herself closer she quickly pulled her mask off her head.

"Dynamite catch," she called out as she tossed the mask at him watching the confused look that crossed the man's face. It won't fit him well but it was better than nothing.

"What the?" Yep she could hear his confusion.

"Put it on dumb ass," she hissed at him as she moved her left hand down ripping at the hole in her suit making it even bigger. As her right hand moved up, removing the scent blocker from the back of her jaw.

"Now everyone can take a little nap," she mumbled, allowing her scent to fill the room along with the poisonous gas. Though a slight shift in the chemical compound allowed her to knock out those around her in the small space. She could hear a few of the alpha's in the group growling some less than pleasing words about there being an omega bitch in front of them. But the words didn't last long as she watched the criminals start to drop like flies. Though now she got to enjoy watching the room start to spin as she couldn't even stop the hiccup that then had the woman giggling softly. Ah yes now the joy of not having her mask on she got drunk off her own scent and quirk mixture.

She felt herself swaying softly as she giggled like the drunk she was before a strong hand gripped her shoulder trying to keep her steady as she looked over at the blonde who was looking down at her with her mask in his other hand. She let him guide her down the hall and past the bodies as they made their way out of the building while Bakugou was on the phone calling in the event that just happened.

[grannyandgrandpascreations]

God, Grant Me The Serenity Distressed Bleach Vintage Flannel Shirt

This God, Grant Me the Serenity distressed bleached vintage flannel shirt exudes effortless cool and laid-back style. Made from soft, worn-in cotton, it features a unique bleached pattern that adds character and charm. The classic plaid design combines earthy tones with hints of brighter hues, creating a perfect blend of vintage appeal and contemporary edge. This distressed finish adds a touch of character, making each piece one-of-a-kind. With its classic plaid pattern and relaxed fit, this flannel is perfect for layering or wearing on its own.

No two shirts will ever be exactly alike so please aware and embrace the differences. All shirts are carefully curated, hand-dyed, and re-purposed so that each shirt is going to be different from the next in terms of color and plaid print.

SIZING: These shirts vary, many are unisex and come in men's sizing. They can be worn by both men & women. Ordering your normal t-shirt size is recommended for a regular fit. Going 1 size up works well for a baggy/oversized fit.

FABRIC: All these shirts are made of cotton or a cotton/poly blend. Measurements and thickness vary slightly by brand.

COLORS: Each flannel is unique, and no two shirts are going to look exactly alike. Colors are sent at random. Because the colors often change throughout the bleaching process, I cannot take specific color requests for these shirts.

Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Air dry is recommended.

Due to different picture lighting settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

Thank you for visiting Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations, we truly appreciate your support of small businesses. We also personalize our products, please reach out to us with any personalizing any of our products, additional fee's may apply.

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com to view more products.

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© 2018 All photography is intellectual property of Granny and Grandpa's Custom Creations © and may not be used without express written permission from Granny and Grandpa's Custom Creations.

Welcome to Granny’s Store! We’ve got a fantastic selection of distressed flannels, cozy t-shirts, trendy tumblers, and so much more. Whether you’re looking for a laid-back outfit or a fun accessory, you’ll find something special here. Don’t forget to check out our seasonal items and unique finds that capture that charming, vintage vibe! Remember, Granny and Grandpa's Custom Creations is that "hidden" gem with unique, great quality, fun, gorgeous, innovative, and inexpensive gifts for your Loved Ones or yourself for your next shopping trip!