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boolger · 16 hours ago

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A lapdog at a farm - chapter 5

<-former chapter -AO3 link -next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 6.3k

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

MDNI. MDNI. Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: do note there will be the use of prong collars in this. Just like all the other fucked up stuff in this, i don't support that irl, but this is fiction. On a different note, it will probably be at least a week before I can give you another chapter lol, shit is happening, my sinners and im holding on. Also thank u to all the nice asks and comments ive been sent. means a lot <33. ENJOY!

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You could only stay in the farmhouse for so long; even though you desperately wanted to stay inside, Price dragged you outside, talking about fresh air and enjoying nature.

To you it was nothing but lies and the smell of animal shit.

There were no pavements, no cars flashing by, no advertisements or shops, no scents of food or sweets trying to lure you in. There were no hybrid clothes shops, where John would play dress up with you for his next party. Show him how the lingerie set he picked out looked against your tail.

He would make sure your nails were always perfect and manicured. Without the claws, he made sure you knew you were loved anyways, your nails adorned with expensive nail polish and gemstones. Anything that his Daisy, his princess, his darling, his puppy wanted, she always got.

Now you were here, following him into the stables, to see how far Nikolai - who had forced himself into your life - was with the tractor.

Warily looking out for the hybrids, staying close to your owner.

The stitches were gone and everything was healed all nicely - that didn’t mean that you wanted to start over and get more bites that would need stitches. Once was enough. Hopefully Price and Nikolai understood that too.

Also, you didn’t want to get fucked dumb by those mutts again; they didn’t deserve your pussy. Especially not Ghost or Gaz. Not really Soap either, he had just been nice because he had to. You were sure. They were nothing but stupid working dogs, who didn’t know how to behave.

Your owner, John Price, looked in love; he was watching Nik just as much as he was watching the tractor. The stress that had sometimes followed him home when you lived in the city was no longer visible. It had left his bones, made him happy and pliable, clearly blossoming in his new role as a farmer. You loved him but what the fuck were you supposed to do with this whole situation? Pretend to be happy?

You were a pet, so it wasn’t like you had any options. And your attempts at persuading him to move back to the city hadn’t gone well. Resisting your ever present urge to let him fuck you, would probably not do you any good. Earn you a spanking from both him and Nikolai. They might even throw you to the hounds.

One of those said hounds were getting closer to you, the hybrid making you tense up a little.

“You’re looking good, princess,” Gaz said casually, shooting you an awfully charming smile, his tail wagging while you tipped your ears backwards instead of replying.

“Feeling better?”

You didn’t reply, merely stared at the tractor, boring as it was. Maybe if you ignored him, he would go away. He stepped closer to you, his dark gaze resting on you, while you stepped closer to John, growling as a warning.

“Behave,” Price said over his shoulder, clearly more interested in that Russian man of his, than your safety.

It only took another step and Gaz’s teeth a tad too close to you, to send you bolting out. Back inside it was then, you concluded, enough farming bullshit for today.

Only to meet Ghost in the way, his scarred face grinning smugly, ears tipping towards you.

“‘Ello pup.”

Nah, you weren’t fucking with that today. You managed to see the shadow of Soap before you bolted again.

Running still wasn’t your best talent; so though you knew it was stupid, you decided to do what you weren’t allowed to anyways. You crawled the wooden fence, ignoring the male hybrids' shouts and barks — as well as the fence’s slight squeak - and landed on the other side with a grunt.

The corns were tall and you took a breath, looking over your shoulder, only to see a worried looking Soap being the closest.

He let out a concerned whimper.

“Dinnae lass,” he warned, a softness in his voice that you recognized from your moments inside.

You would deal with the consequences and the punishment that Price would give you for leaving the ground. It was better than getting your shoulders bitten to pieces - so you got up and rushed into the tall corn field. Abandoning the male hybrids.

Stupid. They were all stupid.

Maybe this should be your new go-to hiding spot. You could hear them bark aggressively but not getting nearer. They weren’t allowed to leave either. You felt your chest swell a little with pride over the idea. You wouldn't be gone for long, just until they lost interest in you.

It was several seconds before you stopped, panting with your tongue out. You couldn’t see the fence or the farm from all the corn by now, which finally meant some peace. Your tail wagged and your body relaxed, a soft wind playing with your fur for a moment, making the corn move around you, like waves in the ocean.

However, that peace didn’t last long.

“My my,” the voice almost appeared out of nowhere and you turned slowly, unsure but still afraid of what you would see, “what are you doing here, perrita? On my property?”

You knew Alejandro and Rodolfo had gotten a hybrid, but you had been too swept up in your own nightmare to ask about her; now, as she towered above you, seeming more wolf than dog, you would rather have one of the mutts on your own farm. A scared little whimper escaped you.

“You must be Price’s precious lapdog, no?” She asked, slowly moving in between the corn with ease, as she circled around you, fear making you stay still, “a little city puppy, forced to be out on a farm. How sad.”

There was no trace of sympathy in her voice. It took you a moment to swallow some spit and another moment to take a proper breath.

“I’ll go home again, I’m sorry.” You tried your best to seem submissive, leaning forward a little, tail tugged along your leg. You at least had your owner at the farm - but here? Here, with this new, wolf-like hybrid, you didn't have anyone. You weren’t even supposed to be here, weren’t allowed. Sure, you knew Alejandro and Rudy, but they also knew you weren’t supposed to be there.

“Hmmm,” she answered in a rumble, licking her teeth slowly, casually showing off her fangs, “what’s your name, perrita?”

She screamed danger. Her energy screamed ‘I can make worse wounds than them’ and you certainly didn’t feel like testing that. In fact, you would rather get as much distance between you and her as possible.

“D-Daisy.” It was the name Price had chosen, not that you were really called it. But you weren’t going to tell this hybrid woman who looked like she could swallow you whole, that you were usually called princess, pretty girl, puppy or sweetheart.

“I’m Valeria,” she replied, finally stopping her circling, only to step closer to you. She wasn’t really that tall, but her energy was as if she was, she had strong arms and legs; scars littered her too, her hair short, ears big and tipped forward without a care in the world. Her collar was thick and sturdy, opposed to your own fancy one.

You almost wanted to point out that yours was prettier. That you were a lapdog, not one of the working ones, that you were not made to be played rough with. That you were no threat.

You could hear barking in the distance. Voices calling out for you. Even though you hadn’t met Valeria for more than a minute, you already knew you wanted to get a good distance between you and her.

“Uh nice to meet you, but I better get back home, sorry-“ you turned around quickly but before you could even think to bolt, strong arms were around you and the other dog hybrid pulled you close to her chest.

“Eres tan linda e ingenua,” she almost lovingly growled into your ear, and while you didn’t understand what she was saying, you were much more distracted by her tongue. She licked your cheek a couple of times, slow and wet strokes; you got the feeling that she might eat you raw without regret and you twisted a little in her grip, letting out a louder growl. She laughed, one of her hands pawing at your tit, claws sinking into the fabric. She smelled of danger and lust; like the mutts at home when they first got their dirty paws on you.

“I’m gonna enjoy me—“

“VALERIA!” Her name echoed through the fields, making both of you freeze. Like a warning rushing in between the corns, her name couldn’t be ignored.

She growled deeply, seeming annoyed with the disturbance, while you wanted to kiss whoever of your neighbors it was. She rolled her hips, humping your ass twice, before she was interrupted again.

“Valeria!” It was Alejandro, you realised then, who yelled once again, “ sé que la tienes! Let her go!”

With one deep sniff of you, while you whimpered, the wolf-looking hybrid finally let go of you.

“I won’t be as nice next time, perrita - now go, before I change my mind and take you from your boys.”

You didn’t need to be told that again and didn’t want to argue that they weren’t your boys - the moment she let go, you bolted towards the way you came.

How they knew that she had gotten a hold of you wasn't clear, but it wasn’t like you were gonna turn around and ask Alejandro or Rudy.

The answer came to you anyways; one angry looking John Price stood with crossed arms, phone in hand. A grinning Nikolai next to him and three growling hybrids moving back and forth along the men and the fence. Every single one of them stilled and stared at you as you sheepishly walked to the fence, tail between your legs and ears tipped down.

You stood, just for a moment, with the fence in between you and the others. Considering staying there, as if that would be a good solution.

“Get your arse over here,” Price snapped, his voice stern and dark, as he put his phone in his pocket, marching towards you.

You hastily and in a rather inexperienced manner, climbed the fence and got to the right side. Instantly, tears welled up in your eyes and you let out a whimper, almost ready to tell about the horrors you had just been through - only to bark loudly at the hybrids as they all charged towards you, hands touching you, only stopped by a sharp whistle.

“Nyet,” Nikolai called harshly, “off her. Now.”

Soap and Gaz instantly let go, stepping back as John reached you, but Ghost didn’t move. His hand rested on your neck, pressing your collar against your skin, his nose almost fully pressed against your temple.

“Let go.” Price’s voice was sharp and you let out a little whimper- not sure who of them you would rather deal with right now.

“She smells wrong,” Ghost replied, not moving, but his voice not as harsh as it could be, “smell of her.”

Her. You didn’t know whether Valeria would be in trouble over this or not. You had been the one to step into her territory anyways. She wasn't the one who had jumped a fence after all.

“We will fix that.��

Ghost let out a grumble but after two seconds of staring at each other, the hybrid finally let go of you, earning himself a swift “Good boy.”

Then Price grabbed into the ring in your collar and pulled, ignoring how you instantly broke into tears, excuses and explanations spilling from your lips like a waterfall, desperate to avoid punishment. You didn't want to stay with Valeria, but you didn’t want this either.

You were dragged past Nikolai who shared a short glance with Price - and they gave each other a short nod.

“C’mon boys,” Nikolai then called, the hybrids instantly moving to him, even though you could feel them staring at you, “we’re gonna join them.”

They were what? You cried harder, tugging at John’s arm, your owner ignoring your pleads and cries.

“I’m sorry sir, I got scared, I didn’t mean to run away,” you babbled, every second word followed by a small sob or whine, tail between your lets, almost making it hard to walk normally, “ they scared me, I was gonna come back, I’ll be good sir, I’ll behave! I wasn’t running away!”

There was no mercy from your owner, who just marched you towards the farmhouse that had almost become home by now.

If someone had told you a year ago that you would be a dog on a farm by now, surrounded by working hybrids, you would have laughed in their face. Loudly and impolitely.

You? Pretty lapdog living in the city out on a farm?

You weren’t even at the house yet, somehow crying harder because you felt so sorry for yourself in general. You were such a perfect lapdog, such a perfect being, forced to be out here, in the cold countryside. A tragedy.

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The prong collars looked like they would choke too and you wanted to scream merely at the sight.

“I’m not running the risk of having my darling all bitten to pieces again - this will hopefully help you to remember.”

None of them seemed too happy about it; you couldn’t blame them, you wouldn’t want those either, but you were horrified by the idea of getting bitten as harshly as they did last time. If both Price and Nik hadn’t been there, you doubted it would be possible to get the collars on them.

You were still crying yourself, from the shame of having jumped over the fence and creating chaos, only resulting in this.

The moment they were allowed, they were on you, ignoring your whimpering and fingers trying to push them off - Soap was the nicest, helping you get your clothes off instead of letting the others rip them, even if all of them were obsessed with your smell. Or well, with how you smelled of Valeria to be exact.

Soap licked your cheek and you growled at him, tipping your ears back, trying to push him away, fingers against his chest; but he didn’t move, only pressed himself closer, growling back to prove he was stronger than you - that you were supposed to be submitting to him.

“They shouldn’t be this aggressive,” you heard Price point out to Nikolai, but you were too distracted by Soap grinding his still clothed crotch against your poor, exposed cunt - you whined his name, but he didn’t stop.

“Gonn’ mark ye, hen,” he promised in a murmur, teeth sinking into your jaw for just a moment - a warning tug in the leash made him let go almost instantly, instead licking the spot a couple of times, “gonn’ make ye smell all bonnie again.”

Both Gaz and Ghost were barking, but they were both held by the collars by Price and Nik, kneeling next to them, clearly antsy.

“-are working dogs-” it was hard to hear them, over your own mind buzzing so much, over the barks and the pleasure that you hated, “-hierachy is importa-”, one of Soap’s hands disappeared and a moment later, you heard his fly get tugged down, “show them where the line is, so–”

You howled in a high pitched tone as he forced his cock inside you, making you twist and try to push Soap okay. The stretch was intense, burning despite how wet you felt. “It's okay, bonnie lass,” Soap growled, forcing his cock a little deeper into you, nosing at your shoulder, near one of your scent glands, his hands moving to grab onto your thighs, “we’re nae gonna hurt ye.”

You both knew it was a lie - but you at least trusted Soap a little more than the two other mutts who were watching, knowing he could control himself. They were barely able to sit still, tongues out, almost drooling, while their eyes were dark in a way that reminded you of that time in the shed.

He forced his cock deeper, the knot finally reaching the opening of your poor, stretched cunt and you let out a sound at the fear of it sliding inside you. The scent of Soap was already beginning to overwhelm the scent that Valeria had left behind against your will - a part of you wished you had fought her more, had attempted to hurt her more.

The cry that left you was pained and afraid - his fangs almost having forced its way through your skin; you were only saved by John, who pulled Soap back by the collar, the prongs digging into the hybrid’s skin.

“Behave, boy,” John snarled while a mixture of a whine and a growl left Soap, as he helplessly pawed at the collar, “No breaking skin - already told you.”

“‘m sorry, sorry,” he promised, a pained tone to his voice, “dinnae mean tae.”

You doubted it was true; there was a darkness in the air despite the way your owner tried handling them.

He was let go off and the moment the prongs didn’t painfully dig into his skin, he was on you again, tongue on the indent he had left, his cock pressed into you again, his tail wagging.

“‘m sorry,” he barely managed to say in between his licks and moans, before his hands were back on you, his moaning louder, as he ignored your whines of slowing down. Your own hands grabbed onto his mohawk and ears, but the hybrid did nothing but moan even louder, moving his hips a little upwards and fuck - he hit the perfect spot, grinning like a feral hound when he noticed and heard your sounds.

You came against your will, crying out and spasming around him, his hands grabbing harder onto your thighs, claws teasing the skin.

He was panting and moaning like a hound, mounting you like there was nothing in his mind but the feeling of your cunt.

“Gonna fill ye up,” Soap promised, words barely escaping his mouth, drool dripping down on you; not like you cared, too gone yourself to really do so.

“DON'T knot her,” Price’s word cut through the air like a sharp knife, slicing into your mind; you wanted him to knot you, a part of you realized, no you needed him too - while another screamed in delight of not having to be stuck to him.

“Nnngh,” his hips were going so fast it almost hurt as they clashed against your skin, “please sir, please plea—“

“No.”

The hand that appeared made you shudder - and then a second later, Soap came, almost a guttural scream leaving him; you could feel Price’s fingers near your cock, stopping him from sliding his knot into you.

“Later,” Price answered, then pulling Soap back by the collar and hair, your own hands slipping easily from him, “we don’t have the time to wait for all of you to knot her right now.”

The moment he was pulled away, you moved, whimpering and curling to the side, wincing as cum slid out from your pussy; it wasn’t John’s, you wanted it to be your owners. You barely had time to breathe before Nik released one of the others. Gaz pushed you onto your stomach - one hand on your neck to keep you down as you snarled.

“Wait,” you barked, ears tipping down “lemme breathe, for fucks sake—“

“Need you, puppy,” Gaz merely replied, grabbing onto your collar and tugging, his other hand pulling on your tail, ignoring your yelp, “gonna make it all okay again.”

“Nothing happened-“ you snarled, trying to make him let go, but you separately rose to your knees in order to levitate the pressure on your tail.

“Why did you smell like her then, huh?” He all but snarled, finally letting go of your collar, to push down his own pants, “stinking of her lust!”

You tried twisting to grip onto his ears to tug at them, hoping it would make him let go of you but he merely let go of you fully for a moment - your wrists were caught by his hands and he slammed them against the wooden floor.

“Be nice, собака,” Nik warned him, “I’m in no mood for broken bones.”

You barely heard him nor Gaz’ aggressive reply; you were too busy, having a realization.

They were jealous ; you weren’t sure why it had taken you so fucking long to realize. The three mutts were jealous somebody else, somebody they didn’t know, had touched you and hadn’t you been so fucking upset, you might have laughed.

Instead, you felt a cock forcing its way into your cunt, making you howl in pleasure against your will; the slide was easier this time as Gaz fucked you, as you were already wet from the round with Soap - and now with his cum as well, Gaz fucked you almost smoothly. If not more aggressively than Soap had.

It didn’t take long before his teeth sank into your skin, the first two seconds it was nothing more than an extra grip, his cock roughly thrusting into you as if attempting to move your organs, his drool sliding along your skin, mixing with your sweat. His claws were digging into your skin slightly, but even more into the floor - while you were a mess, panting and attempting to growl in between your pathetic moans, barely able to see straight.

The pressure he bit you with changed quickly however and suddenly you were whining in pain, so loudly that you almost didn’t recognize your own voice.

Apparently Gaz had tried to bite Price in aggression over being ripped away from ‘his bitch’ as Nik called it, and you heard the harsh words and slaps, while you sank down a little, your tits pressed against the cold floor, your cunt empty.

He was back as soon as he disappeared though, pulling you up again, only to almost instantly try to bite you again – halfway pulled away once more. You looked over your shoulder, seeing how the prong collar dug into his skin for a short moment until Price let go of him again.

The moment he was back, you turned however, using the moment to grab onto one of his long, dark ears and tug; it was almost a squeal that left Gaz and you heard both the hybrids bark and growl, Nik saying something – but it was the harsh spank from the leather leash that made you loosen your grip.

“Behave, Princess,” John was squatting down next to you, strong hand on your pretty collar; it stood out so violently when compared to the others’ current prong collars, “or I’ll get you a collar too.”

“They’re mean!” you whimpered, giving him your best puppy eyes, before sending Gaz an angry look, as he was barely held back by John.

“Well you’re not quite playing nice either, eh?” There was a slight amusement in his voice but you didn’t get to comment on it, before he moved again.

Price gave Gaz more leash and the hybrid was instantly on you again, but this time Price didn’t let go of the metal ring in your own collar, keeping you in place, as if to remind you to behave; to remember he was right here, calling the shots.

“Yeah, Princess,” Gaz mocked, pushing into your cunt again with a moan, the movement in his hips exposing the fact that he was wagging his tail, “Behave.”

“Shut up!” you hissed angrily, a tug in the collar reminding you that Price was right there.

Gaz’ hands were mostly on your hips - he nuzzled against your back and neck, licking your shoulders and in between your shoulder blades - he bit you a couple of times, but they were barely anything more than nips, a gentle tug on his collar reminding him to behave.

Then one of his hands moved, almost catching you off guard and making you whimper - it slid beneath your stomach, pawing at it for a moment, before it found its way to your cunt where the two of you were still connected, his thrusts still hard; he touched your clit without hesitation, snarling out words you could barely recognize. Mercilessly forcing you towards another orgasm.

Price let go of your collar and you let your head slumber down against the floor, wincing at the small pool of drool that had been created, hating how you pushed back against Gaz, the dual pleasure of his cock hitting that right spot and the fingers on your clit, so good you could barely breathe.

You barely heard Price’s command of not knotting you, from the mere tsunami of pleasure that overtook your body as you came, a howl that barely made any sound, snapping of your teeth and the pawing at the floor. You tightened around his cock, the knot having been so close, oh so close to being forced into your over oversensitive cunt - but then it was pulled out of you, almost making you sob.

Cum spurted on top of your lower back and ass cheeks, before Gaz willingly went - you could hear the almost instant sound of him and Soap making out with each other. And there was only one person back, which meant you had to go now.

A hand grabbed onto your ankle, dragging you backwards as you managed to crawl forwards a few steps - you turned around, back on the floor, raising your opposite leg to kick Ghost in the face, but the other hybrid caught it easily; grinning at you, almost feral-like, lust heavy in the air. Sometimes you forgot they had been in the military for so long.

Leather connected to your skin once more, this time on your raised thigh, a whine leaving you, your eyes flickering to look up at John who stood with the leash curled in his hand, ready to spank you with it once more.

“behave,” John hissed at you, while Ghost chuckled. Idiot.

You didn’t have much time to argue, Ghost letting go of your ankles, just to grab onto your thighs and pull you closer; he was kneeling, almost pulling you into his lap, that feral grin still there, fangs exposed.

He leant over you much quicker than you had anticipated, ignoring your growling and snapping with teeth - one hand resting next to your head, the other pulling down his boxers, pants already open.

Was his cock this big last time? It was like you couldn’t remember the last time right now, you could barely think, in fact, your mind was overwhelmed with so many things. Pleasure, oversensitivity, pain and anger - his dick seemed inhumanely long.

“Not so snappy now, huh?” he crooned, voice low, his free hand grabbing onto your plush thigh, fingers digging into the fat, ears tipped towards you as he spoke, “cockdumb already?”

“nnngh,” you tried pushing at his clothed chest, twisting in his grip, but it was no use; it was like the cock inside you kept you from doing anything. Somehow you managed a small “shutup” and that was enough to set Ghost going.

“Gonna teach you to not go whoring again,” Ghost snarled against your skin, tongue sloppily leaving a wet trail of spit over one of your bouncing tits, simply ignoring your hands trying to push his face out of the way, a plethora of moans and small yaps leaving you as he didn’t stop fucking you with that monster cock of his. You knew you were being watched, both by your owner and his boyfriend, as well as the two other hybrids, it only added to the humiliation of being turned on.

“Belong to us,” his words were barely audible as he growled them, the wet sounds and rustling of his clothes seeming to overtake it, “not her.”

“I won’t, won’t go, won–” you were barely aware of the words slipping from your lips, the volume rising as you felt his teeth scrape against a spot on your shoulder over your right breast, “nonon, please, I wont–”

“Ghost–” Price’s warning was stern, the little tug in the prong collar making him grumble, licking over the spot a couple of times - your eyes met.

Ghost’s eyes almost seemed like they wanted to own you too; as if it was no longer John who you bowed to, but the pack that you didn’t want, on a farm you didn’t want to be. His thrusts quickened and then his eyelids lowered together with his head – biting down into your skin.

Despite his fast attempt at breaking your skin, mauling your flesh into his, Price was quicker – pulling him back by the collar. He held an extra grip on his hair and you managed to look up, see through the tears.

It was like there was a flood in your ears, Price looking mad, Ghost’s ears tipping backwards as he spoke.

Fighting to get some air into your lungs, you panted and tried wiggling free. Ghost’s fingers merely dug deeper into your plush thigh even though he was currently pulled back by the prong collar, the tips of his claws pressing against your skin as a warning.

The moment he let go, Ghost was back at it, staring down at you with a dark smile, grunts and small moans even leaving him. It took a couple of moments before Price let him have enough leash to bend down over you again and this time Ghost growled into your ears instead of your skin. Licking your furry ears while you whimpered at the feeling and the words.

They owned you; were going to breed you, use you, keep Valeria away, and do whatever they needed to keep you. You were theirs. The moment you let us, he had panted, we will love you.

There was an odd feeling in your stomach, almost as if you were going to piss yourself, but with no mercy from any of the men, one of your hands dug into his short hair and the other grabbed onto his shoulder as you screamed.

It had been a while since you squirted and it took you by surprise, just as it did the others. There were several barks, voices but then Ghost was fucking you even harder than before, bordering on painful, forcing his mouth against yours. You came a second time, this time not squirting but it almost felt more intense.

Ghost came just a moment later, perhaps caught by surprise himself, but he made sure not to knot you.

The world was spinning around you. There were teardrops in your lashes as you squinted up at the hybrid, who was still pushed inside you. Price’s hand petting him shortly on the head before pulling him back.

There was speech but you barely noticed - then strong hands pulled you up into a lap. The overpowering scent of leather and oil told you who it was and despite your slight hate for Nik, your tail wagged as he pulled you into his arms, cooing at you.

“Such a strong puppy,” he praised, one of his hands drying away some of your drool, caressing your cheek as he sat on the floor with you on his lap, cum no doubt dripping onto his clothes, “you deserve treat for being so good, da?”

Compared to the first time you had met Nikolai, you didn’t want to bite his hand anymore - he clearly didn’t fear you doing so either. You snuggled into his hand, nodding as you squinted up at him, a small “uh-huh” leaving you.

His hand disappeared and then there was a faint rustling of plastic - even without seeing it, you smelled it. It was that mouthwatering scent that made you weak in your knees that first time and your nose instantly sniffed, almost trying to sit up further to get a look of where it was - to get it before the boys did. Nikolai laughed, letting out a “there you go, milaya,” letting you grab the piece of jerky from his finger, instantly sinking your teeth into it with a pleased sigh. Your tail wagging a little again as you heard Soap whining over not getting a piece.

You even had to take a bath with them afterwards. Your life was officially over - you made sure to tell Price that, who just huffed and rolled his eyes. Sure, you weren’t the biggest fan of showers, but you wanted the cum off and you wanted a bath in the tub… alone. That was your thing.

“- ‘nd they’re gonna use up my shampoo and my conditioner -” you continued overdramatically as Nik carried you in front of John, the russian man merely snorting at your pitiful complaining.

“We’ll buy more-” John tried to point out, but to no avail, life might as well be over for you right now.

“- ‘nd my brushes - all my nice brushes!”

“I will be sure tae use yers, Mo ghràdh,” Soap happily proclaimed, sending you a wink, fully naked as he was, his usual collar back on, small red marks on his neck from where the prongs had been, “I will use theim the wrong way. Just fer ye.”

Gaz snickered and even Ghost let out a chuckle.

“Jooohn,” you whined, only struggling a little as Nik sat you down in the tub, the water already nice and warm, your poor body having needed this, “I’m gonna need new brushes.”

“I doubt that, Princess,” he cooed, petting your hair, “Now who wants to join in th–”

Soap was in the tub, sliding in behind you before John could even finish his question, happily ignoring your pout and growl.

“Dinnae be like that,” he crooned, “where is yer special shampoo?”

This day had been awful.

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“Princess.”

You almost jumped as the voice called for you and you turned, squinting slightly in suspicion at the sight. Gaz stood in the doorway, all calmly, looking at you, playing a little with his gloves. He didn’t look aggressive and didn’t smell turned on; in fact, he looked pretty harmless, his tail wagging ever so slightly, ears turning towards you and an almost shy smile.

“What?” you asked, sitting up in the dog bed, crossing your arms, not caring about sounding nice, looking him over for a moment before adding, “you’re dragging in mud.”

He looked down at his shoes, letting out a little ‘oh’. They weren’t really supposed to be in here, so you didn’t really understand why Gaz stood there. You didn’t really care either.

The other might be beautiful, but he was still not one of your favorite people.

“I - want to show you something,” he finally said, one of his charming smile appearing, though it was a little more careful this time, “Soap said you would probably like it.”

“What is it?” You didn’t sound too impressed.

“It's a surprise,” he smiled a little more.

“If it's your knots, then you can–”

“Jeez,” he rolled his eyes, as if they weren’t fucking you silly on the livingroom floor the other day, “it’s not. Nothing like that.”

“Promise?”

“I do,” he answered, wagging a little more than before, “Swear on my tail.”

"Hm. Where is it?”

“In the barn.”

You scrunched your nose at the mention of the barn, the idea of being stamped to death by a horse already scaring you.

“It’s nothing scary - I wouldn’t bring you if it was.”

You let out a sigh, before getting up - he went to the hallway again and you followed, stealing one of John’s jackets as well as a pair of his boots, before following Gaz outside.

“Some air would do you good once in a while, ya’ know,” Gaz said after a few moments, “we’re not that bad all of the time, Princess.”

You huffed, wondering for a moment if you should just turn around and go back. “You haven’t really proved me otherwise.”

He let out a hum that almost sounded agreeable but opened one of the doors to the barn, ushering you inside.

“It’s all good, I promise,” he said once more and you reminded yourself, that if he tricked you, you were going to snap off his tail. Pretty as it was.

He steered you to a booth where you noticed the heat lamp at first, more than anything else - but then you saw them, letting out a little gasp.

Tiny baby goats, all snuggled together in the hay beneath the lamp. A few of the mothers stood nearby and one of them came to the door of the booth, sniffing at Gaz’ hand, before letting out a bleat - then turning around again.

“They’re adorable,” you whispered, looking back at the babies, some of them looking at you, others sleeping with no worries in the world.

“Aren’t they?” Gaz asked with a smile, “They were born yesterday night. Come.”

You let out a scared sound as Gaz opened the door to the booth.

“Won’t the mothers attack us?” you didn’t like how Gaz chuckled to your genuine, fearful question but he shook his head.

“Nah, me ‘nd the others hang out with the animals all the time.” He explained, petting one of the mothers who came to greet him for a moment.

It was cute. You had to admit that, even with your limited love of the farm animals.

“But I don’t.” you pointed out, still standing in the door of the booth, afraid to step into the hay and join the other as he sat down next to the baby goats.

“No, but the mothers know I won’t let a predator near,” he explained gently, “Not at daytime and not during the night.”

“Oh.”

There was something special over this that you could not explain. You didn’t want to explain it. You sat down next to Gaz as he patted the spot, still a little unsure about the momma goats - but none of them battered an eye as Gaz took your hand and made you gently pet one of the babies.

“They’re so tiny,” you whispered, almost to yourself, for once not hating or fearing Gaz. At least for right now, you were just in a moment together with him, doing something that you hadn’t expected would be that nice.

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jamiepaige · 3 days ago

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Constant Companions Closeup #2: NOT QUITE THERE

(also on spotify!)

b-b-back once again

Round two of the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Yesterday was track one, Dyad - today is track two, Not Quite There, featuring the incomparable telebasher!

This one's a bit of a dark horse relative to the rest of the album, but it may very well be my personal favorite song on the entire thing so dammit let's Yap

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For the uninitiated, this song pulls heavily from a song off my previous album called Gummyworm, both in vibe and by very directly quoting its synth motif.

Both of these songs deal with two sides of the same emotional coin. I actually don't want to go into too much detail about it - I feel like the lyrics spell things out clearly enough - but I will say this:

When it's all you know, it's easy to believe that a love that isolates you, a love that doesn't respect you, a love that hurts is better than no love at all.

You deserve better. There are always people who genuinely want what's best for you, who want you to feel truly loved. It certainly isn't always easy - it's genuinely good if your interpersonal relationships have a little friction sometimes - but love should make your life brighter.

You deserve a love that's fair.

---

The original version of this song was actually intended to be on Bittersweet alongside Gummyworm. The original concept for that album had a whole heady concept involving duality, songs reflecting each other, the two halves basically being reprisals of each other... Ultimately, I'm glad I scrapped that idea, because it was waaaaaay too much for me to manage after a couple years of barely making music. Maybe I'll revisit it someday though?

The drums on this song are sampled from an Instagram post by Louis Cole, where he's doing this crazy one-handed hi-hat blast by holding a drumstick sideways. I'm a drummer and that shit genuinely scares me a little like i dont know how he does half the things he does its fucked BUT. I bring this up because he's one of my biggest inspirations as a musician! I'm really big on jazz in general, in case my love for spicy chords wasn't enough of an indication, but his specific brand of freaky hyperactive bullshit just does it for me.

Seriously, go watch his band KNOWER play their song Overtime. Absolutely insane performances across the board. also Clown Core

This whole song is really just my attempt at matching some of that hectic jazzy energy with my own style of music, so I figured it only made sense to make it another collab with another musician making delightfully frantic jazz bullshit - the legend herself, telebasher! I really am such a massive fan of her work, and I struggle to think of anyone who plays guitar quite like she does. We previously worked together on another Bittersweet track, Asemic Speech, and her guitar work is a major reason why that song is still one of my favorite I've ever released!! She's just built different like listen to this oh my god!!!!

Lastly, since this song was one of the first written for this entire project... it is admittedly a case of me shoehorning the album's leitmotif in after the fact. It's a little forced when it shows up in the backing vocals! But, the choir of vocal synths during the guitar solo served an additional purpose - my own voice doesn't show up on the album again for another four entire songs, and this would've otherwise been the only song on the entire album that didn't feature any vocal synths. Thus did I attempt to bridge the gap, as it were. Hopefully it makes the final product feel more natural!!

Either way, that's all for today's post.... i think.... which means that tomorrow.... we're gonna rot.... for clout

#jamie paige #music #constant companions #bandcamp #behind da scenes #slightly shorter post today orz

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wen-kexing-apologist · 2 days ago

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LITBC Ep. 7-8: Gotta Love an Adaptation

Chiming in from @lurkingshan's book club post

On Episodes 7 and 8

So, I love adaptations. While I don’t always engage with every element of an adaptation (I have read zero of the BL books for the shows I’ve watched, for example) I am always interested to learn about how stories are transferred between mediums and people.

Love in the Big City has been so fun to watch because I have really enjoyed seeing the ways in which the author of the book himself has decided to adjust his own story as the screenwriter for the show. The original creator being in charge of the story in another medium is rarer than it should be, and I am always more comforted by the changes made to plotlines when I know that the creator was responsible.

Episodes 7 and 8 for example still followed a lot of Part Four, however it was had some of the strongest moments of divergence from original canon of any section of the series. A number of us have mentioned the T-ara’s as an example of this. I think the loneliness that we feel throughout the entirety of the book is countered in the show by the visual presence of the T-ara’s in all the important parts of Go Yeong’s life. And it is such an interesting thing because we don’t learn about them until Part Three of the book, but in learning of their existence we realize that Young has had people around him for all the shit he’s talked about in Parts One and Two.

gif by @khunkinn

One of the biggest changes being the ending. In the book we end with Young wandering the streets alone, thinking about all the writing about love that he’s done. We end with the flashback to him and Gyu-Ho’s lantern burning. We end with the words:

“In the end, I left just two syllables on the lantern. Gyu Ho. My only wish.”

In the show we still get the burning lantern, we get Gyu Ho, and we get a one-two punch of having the lantern physically say Gyu Ho (규호) on it in Korean, and the voiceover say “love” because fucking ouch. But we also get Go Yeong watching the fireworks with the T-ara’s, a scene that is very much not in the book. I know in talking with some people that they read that moment as taking away from the healing that Young has been doing, which is an entirely valid read, especially because we know how often Go Yeong fakes a smile to hide his pain.

But for me, it didn’t feel like having the T-ara’s there with him was getting in the way of his healing. With the addition of the T-ara’s as a link between the story beats I really appreciated that Go Yeong ended the show with all of his single friends, watching this explosion of fireworks. I really loved that we end with some level of understanding that Go Yeong will have people in his life to support him whatever comes his way, who will drag him out of bed when he’s depressed, who will carry his mother’s coffin at her funeral, who will be there to watch his healing and to call out his poor taste in men.

I loved the addition of Eun Su and the wedding and the way that Eun Su looked straight at Go Yeong when he was deciding whether to say yes or no to the proposal. I loved that we got this quiet moment of tragic helium consumption between Go Yeong and Eun Su in a moment of sobering calm, that we had a moment to let Eun Su cry realizing that he didn’t want to get married and that Go Yeong was there in all of that as a support. I know that Go Yeong doesn’t trust the T-ara’s enough to tell them about Kylie, but I have hope that one day he will. Just as he has been reflecting upon the fact that he loved Gyu Ho and regrets letting him get away.

On the Adaptation as a Whole

Okay, on to the adaptation as a whole. I want to talk about the decision to use different directors every two episodes and why I think that was a brilliant choice.

First of all, we know each section of the book is its own period of time, and centered around different relationships in Young’s life. The structure of the parts in the book is really interesting because the readers can realize how important Gyu Ho is in Young’s life in the fact that he interrupts the narrative with Habibi. While I think this show would have been elite if it had released two episodes a week for four weeks, I understand the urge to publish it all at once considering the push back it received in Korea.

Regardless of that though, having different directors makes each of the four sections feel distinct. It is always really fun to watch shows that have different people behind the camera because you will always get something different. Each director has a different lens, a different style, a different performance they will draw out of the actors. And that is incredibly important in a story such as this one where the main character is changing over time. You can write and perform character growth, but I think each part comes with a change in physicality that- while not impossible -would be really difficult to draw out of a performer who is being directed by the same person throughout.

In addition, because each part does focus on a different important relationship in Go Yeong’s life, having different people be in charge of directing those relationships creates fresher, more distinct chemistry between each pairing. The kind of relationship that Mi Ae has with Go Yeong is large and bright and loud. It’s full of light, and joy, and a deep connection built on authentic selves only the two of them understand. But look at how Go Yeong interacts with Mi Ae in Episodes 5-6. His relationship to her has changed and while the same director could have helped the actors navigate the changing relationship between them, I think to have a different person with a different visual style direct that scene adds an additional, juicy layer of complexity and separation that you wouldn’t necessarily get otherwise.

As I and many others have surely noted before, different mediums have different benefits when it comes to conveying information. Books can provide intense description or skip over entire settings depending on their relevance, television must show you everything, the clothing the actors well tell you a lot about their characters, the food they eat, the things they drink, the places they live, all the little pieces of set dressing you might not get, that you don’t get from the book are all in there. Love in the Big City the novel gives you much deeper insight into Young’s psyche than you are going to get in the show. The book feels bleaker, more isolated, and more depressed at all stages of the story than what we get out of the show, for the simple fact that the entire story in the book is narrated. When we are first introduced to Go Yeong in the show we get the exterior version of him, the fakest version of him in so many ways. A version of Young we never get because of the structure of the book.

But there is something I have been thinking about in terms of the visual progression of the stories with the directors that we get. The show itself gets darker and more introspective over time. In Episodes One and Two we are lured in to the story via quick, snappy, and chaotic vibes. The room we open with is full of light, Go Yeong is begging for sex, and then he’s running out the door because his sex partner’s boyfriend has returned on military leave. The club is bright, his time with Mi Ae is bright, the abortion clinic is bright, Mi Ae’s wedding is bright. Everything is bi and loud and distracting, because this is the point in Young’s life where he is the most detached from his own feelings. The biggest moments of visual darkness in Part One are all surrounding Kim Nam Gyu, they’re dates mostly happen in the dark. Their conversations in the car are in darkness, the date to the lock gate is in darkness, the karaoke place is dark, the exchange of apology marinated crab is in the dark.

But Mi Ae is the more important and prominent relationship in Yeong’s life in the first two episodes and so darkness is drowned out and more disguised in the first two episodes as a result.

gif by @themisconceptions

Part Two the darkness starts to take over more. Most of the dates with Hyung also take place in the dark, his apartment is scarcely lit, the light of day is on screen primarily through the windows of Hyung’s apartment, through the fake lighting of the hospital rooms. In times when Hyung and Yeong are out in daylight the sky is overcast and gray, better lit than his apartment to be sure, but still there is something dulled out about the sky when they are together. The brightest moments we really get to my recollection (which to be fair I refuse to go back and comb through the episodes to back up my claim) are Yeong waking up in the hospital after his suicide attempt, and Yeong sitting in the park with his mother’s head in his lap.

Part Three has something really interesting in it to me in terms of how it plays with light. Go Yeong’s relationship to Gyu Ho starts primarily in the dark, meeting at the club, meeting in the coffee shop after the play, meeting on the steps after the last train. But we start to see more light in these episodes after Go Yeong tells Gyu Ho about Kylie. When he starts that conversation he begins it in the dark, and by the time that Gyu Ho has caught up to him to cry over the fact that Go Yeong is smiling through the pain the light has started to rise. Just thinking visually about this part I feel like we get a good mixture of light and dark, it feels balanced in a way the other parts haven’t, and I think that speaks to the fact that Gyu Ho is the person that Go Yeong actually loved.

I am talking about the lighting here mostly because Part Four feels so distinctly dark. The curtains are drawn, there is very little light coming in. I think @solitaryandwandering is on to something when they are talking about the lighting feeling more ambient. All the light throughout feels muted somehow, like the camera isn’t picking up as much of it even when it’s there. Light does not exist around Habibi almost at all, his apartment is pretty dark, the stairwell where they do their chase scene feels washed out rather than bright, the hotel where Gyu Ho and Go Yeong have sex, the hotel room he has with Habibi where the curtains close all the way, versus the light that comes streaming through the gap in the curtains in his first hotel room with Gyu Ho. Once again the brightest sections of this part surround Gyu Ho, but even then compared to Part Three the way this director utilizes light feels more muted and reserved, just as Go Yeong spends a lot of his time in this part grappling with deep depression.

I love that even though we have four different directors I feel like we have a clear visual metaphor through the linear progression of lighting in this. We start out bright with the fakest version o fGo Yeong and we end dark with the realest version of Go Yeong we’ve had a chance to see. He’s still got a way to go, but I like how the directors are able to pull different performances and aesthetics out of the story while still making it feel like one cohesive unit.

Also, I really wish I could pick Park Sang Young’s brain to learn if and how the last few years since he published this book have influenced his engagement with the source material and if and how that may have influenced any changes he made to the story we watched in the show.

Also also, hugeee shout out to Nam Yoon Su, that dude fucking crushed his performance as Go Yeong, and I another reason I am glad that there were multiple directors on this is because I want that boy to stay as booked and busy and I think that gets a little easier when he has now shown his acting prowess off to four separate directors.

#love in the big city #litbc #love in the big city book club #litbc book club #wka long post #litbc meta #litbc analysis

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chronicsyd · 2 days ago

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ykw? now that I've mentioned this hypothetical I'm gonna make the Wildest hot take that I'm sure No One will agree with but I'm gonna make it anyways:

Caitlyn is a victim of Ambessa's meddling

And before you all start typing away cuz I can already feel your comments coming, No this Isn't me justifying what Caitlyn does. This is me explaining that What she does is reactionary to all of the shit that Ambessa has set up, Ambessa is the bigger problem here and No One is willing to discuss it. They slap Everything onto Caitlyn and call it a day.

Because like I mentioned in my hypothetical, we do originally see Caitlyn still vouching for those in Zaun, saying innocents will die if they bring Hextech weaponry into Zaun solely to make Jinx pay for her actions. Which in turn causes Mel to agree with her, not just because she's against what her Mother's demanding (because she Knows that Ambessa's just puppeteering Salo), but because she also feels that Hextech should be a Last resort in any given situation, Mel still has compassion. Unfortunately, Mel still has to compromise with her fellow councilors, so they settle on sending the Enforcer's after Jinx, just without Hextech. This in turn is what causes Ambessa to set up the attack on the memorial. Because what the councilors have decided isn't going to start a war with Zaun, which is what she's looking for. She needs a catalyst to have people calling for so much blood that not starting a war is no longer an option.

Now I will admit, her bringing up becoming an Enforcer is one of her mistakes. She says to Vi "you can show not all of Zaun supports Jinx" because she believes this. Not just from Vi, but because Jinx's attack was her own, other Zaunites didn't attack the Council, she did. She says "I thought you were on our side" because she thought that Vi would understand because like her, she's lost a parent to an oppressor (and Before you start, I'm talking about Jinx oppressing Caitlyn specifically here. When Jinx threatens her, kidnaps her, and takes away her mom; she's specifically targeting Caitlyn, and for the most part, Caitlyn has been pretty helpless against her. therefore, that makes Jinx an oppressor of Caitlyn). But this causes her to think deeper about it and realize that asking Vi to put on the badge was the wrong thing to ask of her, she says so later in the episode. (btw, it's clear that Caitlyn secured Vi's enlistment Before offering the badge, not after being rejected, y'all are just reaching with this take because you're so blinded by your anger at Caitlyn (ironic isn't it?). Because 1) why would she even have the badge to begin with? But 2) it's pretty clear with with Maddie coming up and talking to her, that Enforcer's have been talking about Vi and Jayce going rouge after Silco's simmer facility for a bit now. And that they're all seemingly impressed with her and how Caitlyn stood up for her, they think that Vi's already agreed because Caitlyn hadn't asked yet)

When she's talking to Jayce, she says that "she understands how easy it is to hate them". because while yes, it is arguable that she was ignorant to people in Zaun back in S1, she didn't see how easy it was for her fellow people to just hate them. Especially after Vi showing her what life was like for people in Zaun. But that was before Jinx went and killed her mom (and gave her her whole baggage of other traumas). But it's still being shown to us that she doesn't lump all Zaunites together just because of Jinx's actions because she still remembers seeing everything down there, she doesn't hate them like other people do.

So, why does the attack at the memorial change things?

Because the attack wasn't made by Jinx, it was made by other Zaunites. Zaunites that she just spent a lot of her time vouching for, being in their defense, giving them benefit. because that's what's happening in Caitlyn's point of view, she doesn't Know (yet, most likely) that Ambessa was the reason that it even happened. She's angry at them and herself because like not shooting Jinx, she's been giving them the benefit when it seems that they don't deserve it. To Her, a peaceful memorial for her Mom that was destroyed by Zaunites that had no reason for attacking them. She Wasn't going to attack them until this happens, because now to her, they're all guilty (keep this in mind, because it actually has to do with her outburst at Vi later).

When she see's that her mom made the vents so that the people of Zaun could breath and not be harmed by the gray, she's so overcome by anger that she uses the gray as a weapon. she plows through the people of Zaun in order to get to Jinx, this is also what she does with Isha later. She isn't thinking rationally at this point anymore, she's simply being controlled by her emotions and thinking that if she kills Jinx it will fix all her problems. And because she now sees other Zaunites as guilty, she doesn't care what her actions are doing to the people of Zaun. they're simply just in her way.

And while Caitlyn says she wouldn't have missed the shot, I'm having doubts about that. Because at that point she's just firing wildly, she misses and takes off Jinx's finger, she misses and hits Vi instead. When Vi grabs the gun and aims it at the ground, look at the face Caitlyn makes here. it goes from shock at what just happened, to looking at Vi in anger. her face Screams "how could you?!" and while Vi's saying she's protecting a child, Not Jinx, that's Not what Caitlyn's hearing. by Vi getting in the way at all, she believes that Vi is still protecting Jinx, that despite Vi telling her to take the shot, that her sister is gone, she believes that Vi was lying to her. That's why she says "I keep telling myself that you're different, but you're not." she now believes that Vi was Never going to kill Jinx, that simply being her sister that was going to be a problem for Vi (because that's what happens in Ep 9. Vi's the one pleading with Caitlyn that "she's my sister" "don't hurt her" etc.). The straw that broke the camels back, however, is when Vi compares Caitlyn to Jinx. Now, Vi's absolutely right in what she's saying here, because Caitlyn has been acting like Jinx (because that's like the whole Point with these two, they're Supposed to be foils of each other). But to Caitlyn, Vi might as well have just slapped her across the face because she just compared her to the person that killed her mom and has been causing all her suffering. In response, she lashes out by hitting Vi with the back of her gun (AGAIN, I'm not saying what Caitlyn did is right, I'm just explaining what's going on and how CAITLYN is currently seeing things).

For a split second, you see regret on Caitlyn's face. She feels bad because she hit Vi, but that isn't quite enough to get her to stay, because the other demons in her head are still convincing her of what she think's Vi's done, so, she turns and leaves.

SO now that we got all THAT outta the way, let's talk about Ambessa appointing Caitlyn as a general shall we?

like I've mentioned in another post, she switches from Salo to Caitlyn because the fool mentioned how much power the Kiramman name wields. Because she simply can't put Herself as leader, oh no no no That would be too obvious. She needs a face for this war to hide behind, someone from Piltover itself, and who Better to Be that face than the new head of the most Powerful house in all of Piltover? Especially now that that new head has been dealing with quite a lot of anger and grief (something that Ambessa is Exceptionally skilled at weaponizing).

She starts with this whole speech of how Zaun has just been attacking Piltover nonstop (despite 2 out of the 3 instances she lists, she Herself is the one that's Responsible), and how "wrath must be met with wrath". Earlier she tells Salo to bring the "Who's who" of Piltover so that Caitlyn CAN'T say no to this because with everyone calling for war, it would look bad for Caitlyn to be like "nah I'll pass thanks". Because you can see everyone's faces, they're Approving of this decision that Ambessa makes, they're Willing to stand behind Caitlyn and the Kiramman name. And so are the Enforcers who Admire Caitlyn, they all begin to pound their chest in solidarity with the Noxian soldiers, they're Also willing to stand behind Caitlyn. and watch the look on her face as Caitlyn walks towards Ambessa, when Ambessa places the cloak on her and swears "her mother will have justice". she's merely starring off, almost in a daze, her rational isn't kicking in, she's merely being lead on a string. here she's being given what she Thinks will solve her problems, and is taking it.

I'm sure that once Caitlyn starts to figure out what Ambessa's doing, not only is her anger going to be directed at Ambessa; but the guilt from the blood that's now on her hands is probably going to eat her alive. She's going to need to make things right with both Vi and Zaun if this has any chance of becoming better but it's rather unclear if that's even going to be a viable option for her. Is there enough time left for Caitlyn to be able to right her wrongs? who knows, it just depends on what they show us.

So all in all, while Caitlyn's actions Are wrong, she isn't this evil, unlovable bitch that just proved that she's been a bitch all along that isn't worth redeeming. thank you for your time.

(before I go, one thing I AM going to say people invalidating Caitlyn's trauma and grief because she comes from a privileged background and therefore "her trauma isn't as bad" is one of the most DISGUSTING things I think I've ever seen. Trauma Absolutely Does NOT work like that. Caitlyn's been through a Fuckton of trauma in merely a matter of Days and is being expected to hold herself together. Yes the actions that she's taking are wrong, I've said this like 5 times during this post, but that doesn't mean her pain and trauma has less value and isn't real. This isn't the trauma olympics, there isn't an invisible line that someone has to cross before you deem "they're allowed to react now")

#arcane #arcane season 2 #caitlyn kiramman #arcane discussion #arcane analysis #caitlyn analysis #arcane hot take #no one will agree #but im saying it anyway #dont compare trauma #thats gross #arcane spoilers #stop hating on caitlyn #shes a victim to #shes going to realize the wrong of her actions #caitlyn support #trauma makes you do bad shit sometimes #thats what we all have to learn

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manheeiim · 1 day ago

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Nothing Lasts Forever - JJ's Arrest

ᥫ᭡ link to nothing lasts forever masterlist

I'm once again with JJ and his friends, minus John B, and we're all gathered in Pope's family's shop. Pope's dad, Heyward, as JJ called him, but that I found out was actually just Pope's last name, Pope himself, was actually a very nice and welcoming man.

I was helping Pope's dad with something at the counter when he leaned in, speaking lowly, "Listen, kid. I can tell you're a sweet girl but I need to warn you." Heyward started.

"About what?" I asked politely but in a confused manner.

"JJ is trouble." Heyward told me. "Love the kid but he's bad news. You've got your whole life ahead of you and you shouldn't fuck it up by getting involved with his family's shit." Heyward added.

I'm silent for a few moments, "Oh... okay." That is all I say.

Was JJ really that bad? Sure, we've gotten into some type of trouble or did something we weren't supposed to be doing basically every hangout. But, he really was so sweet and I really did like him. I had even more feelings for him now after the kiss at the movie night the other night, so everything was very conflicting for me.

Heyward had gone outside for a moment to take care of something while I stayed inside, tidying up one of the aisles in the front. Pope was still very worried about the encounter at the movie night and honestly, I didn't blame him.

"Don't let them get in your head, bro. There's three of them and two of us. That's some typical Kook shit right there." JJ tells Pope.

"Hell, yeah." Kiara agreed as she worked behind the counter.

"What was your thought process, using your head?" JJ then asked Pope.

"I don't know, man. I just kind of acted off instinct, alright? I was a cornered animal." Pope told him.

"Hey, Pope, someone here to see you." Pope's dad called out as he walked inside the shop again. A cop then walked into the shop and JJ was immediately looking over at Pope, in fact, we all were.

“Evening, officer.” Pope said.

“I have an arrest warrant for felony destruction of property.” The cop said and Pope was looking back at JJ. Fuck. What did they do? “Keep your hands on the counter where I can see ‘em.” The cop said as he walked over to Pope.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah- wait. Shoupe, what’d he do?” Heyward asked as Shoupe cuffed Pope up.

“Take a look at the warrant.” Was all Shoupe responded.

“You’re arresting him?” Kiara asked in shock.

I walked over to JJ and watched nervously. Everyone was freaking out as we followed Pope and Shoupe outside of the shop where Shoupe led Pope to his cop car.

“It wasn’t him!” JJ suddenly yelled and everyone looked over at him. “It was me.” He said. JJ started to walk forward, “He tried to talk me out of it, but I was made because he’d just been beaten up.” JJ explained. “I was so sick of those assholes from Figure Eight that I lost my shit. I can’t let you take the blame for somethin’ I did. You’ve got too much to lose.” He said.

“JJ, what are you doing?” Pope asked and then, I realized that JJ wasn’t telling the truth. He was doing this for Pope.

“I’m tellin’ the truth. For once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna tell the truth.” JJ countered. “I took his old man’s boat too.” He then added.

“What the hell, JJ.” Heyward said.

“JJ, come on.” Pope said.

“Shut up, Pope! Just shut up.” JJ told him before looking at Shoupe. “He’s a good kid. You know where I’m from.” JJ told the cop.

“Yeah.” The cop agreed.

“This was all me.” JJ said.

“That’s the whole truth?” Shoupe asked Pope.

“Whole truth, swear to God.” JJ said.

Shoupe looked at him, “I know what you think, damn it, I’m asking Pope.”

Pope looked at JJ for a few moments before slightly nodding, “Yeah, that about covers it.”

As Shoupe uncuffed Pope, JJ looked back at me, giving me a slight nod of reassurance. I couldn’t find any words as I just looked at him, watching him get into the back of the cop car before Shoupe drove off, leaving us all standing there, thinking; what the fuck?

#manheeiim #outer banks #outerbanks #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fanfiction #angst #fluff

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Aww I'm so happy to hear that, friend!! 🥰🥰

It's not a problem Dean, (the gun is obviously BUT) she is beautiful and you will love her and I will cry at your wedding.

Ehehe it's funny you mention their wedding...

Dean no. No feeling bad for saving your girl and for killing the "sack of shit in human clothes."

Ugh right? Trust, he doesn't regret killing that bastard loll.

Also I didn't notice the Colonel Sanderson thing before and now all I can think about is KFC lol.😂 Which is not to take away from how good this fic is or how well it's written. It's just me lol.

Actually THANK YOU for noticing that because Colonel Sanders was an intentional reference! lmao I saw some meme that called Asmodeus "Bullshit Colonel Sanders" and it made me cackle, so I included that a little bit here. 😂😂

Oh goodness she is already so protective of him and oh my word the wink had me melting lol.

See! It's not taking that long at all for her to start softening up towards him loll. At the very least, she doesn't want to see him killed for her after killing for her.

I also don't think that I mentioned this before, but I really like how you wove in the other characters in the show. Seeing Benny and Cas show up just made me so happy.

Aww thank you!! 🥰🥰 When it comes to AUs, I try my best to fit in canon characters where they make the most sense to me, and try to make them feel "as themselves" as possible.

Oh my word seeing that fight in my head, um... YES PLEASE. And the loyalty?! The love for their friend?! The "Goodbye brother."? It's so good.

Imagining Dean in uniform, even if he's fighting his friends, just does things to me too loll.

Ultimately, Benny and Cas are good men even in this world, and they didn't want to have to bring in him or Mila to the Colonel either. 💜

She's squishing his face! That is so cute, oh my stars. Plus I am cackling at how long it took him to be able to say her name.

Ahaha this was my favorite part to write for this chapter! Dean struggled, bless his heart. 🤣🤣🤣

I absolutely love this! I really love it when writers pick the names of their characters based on the meaning behind it. And the fact that you gave the meaning of her name a backstory of her mom having a dream and the butterfly meaning that Mila "would have a free mind" is just so perfect for her. Because she is stubborn and she does have "a free mind" by being rebellious and strong, by being a strong female character who does not conform to the whims of what other people deem to be appropriate for her. Also it was funny that Dean thought she was like a "lioness."

Aww thank you!! I'm usually pretty conscious of names and the meanings behind them, but especially in this story I got deep into the research of the Lakota people, and I found that names are very important to their culture, now and historically.

When I was looking for a name for her, Kimmímila stood out as being beautiful (with a nice nickname), but perhaps on surface level didn't reflect her true personality. So that's why I worked in that backstory with her mother's dream, vs. who she wanted her daughter to be, and who Mila considers herself to be. And bonus, what Dean observes of her! lol

So I absolutely love all of your observations here, because that's exactly what I intended for her!

This is a really wonderful line, that the war "never really ends." It really fits this story and honestly it really fits the entire early history of the United States when it was acquiring territory and embracing the "manifest destiny" ideals.

Aww thank you so much!! That's what I thought as well, not just for this story, but for the greater context of U.S. history during this time and the push to industrialize the entire country.

Okay, the whole part where she is explaining things about her life and her culture was so sweet. Them opening up with one another is just so soft and a little fluffy and I'm so glad that they got to have those gentle moments with one another. Not to mention this bit where Dean admits how much he likes listening to her, is just so good lol. And I thought it was really on brand for him to be a little upset that she doesn't completely trust him yet, even though that he killed one of his men. But he's got to learn to be patient... and then propose. LOL.

That was so fun for me too! The "getting to know you" aspect. I thought that opening up to one another was needed here, and it gave an opportunity for more historical tidbits!

Ahaha yep, she's a hard nut to crack, but Dean need only be patient. He's won a lot more brownie points with her than he realizes. 😏 "And then propose" -- I'm weeeak!! 🤣

Don't be afraid to admit it Mila, we all know how good he is to look at. And why shouldn't you look at your future husband? 💍

Ha!! Ikr?? Also, you're getting dangerously warm to what's coming in Part 3. ❤️‍🔥

Oh my sweet goodness, the TENSION!! This is so good my friend and I am so excited for what the future of this series holds and am praying that it doesn't end in death!😬💗

The romantic tension is real!! lmaoo

Thank you so, so much, friend!! Part 3 is my favorite part, I think, and I hope you'll be happy with the outcome, even though we've got a fair bit of action and angst ahead...

The Honorable Choice - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: “Getting to know you, getting to know all about you…” ⬅️ If you’ve seen The King & I, then you’ll probably be singing that line in your head like I do.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 3.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Dean, historical tidbits, fluff

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🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 2: Death & Sacrifice

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and the hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock…

He just can’t do it.

His finger eases off the trigger of his gun, and he lowers it to the ground beside him.

“I told you,” he says. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Her head tilts as she stares at his gun, then at him. She relaxes somewhat, and she backs off of him, sliding from his lap down to the grass beside him. Her closed fist with the knife comes to rest at her side. She gives him a look of wary bewilderment.

“You are a strange man,” she says.

Dean has to laugh a little, smiling at her afterward.

“I guess so,” he replies.

Her brows furrow. “You killed one of your own…for me?”

He nods, and his smile falls with a weary sigh. The hard part about that is he doesn’t feel much guilt about what he’s done. At the same time, he does, and the conflict churns in his stomach. He knew what kind of man Roman was. He was the kind of soldier that could’ve filled Colonel Sanderson’s shoes one day. A fellow soldier under Dean’s command...

And a sack of shit in human clothes.

Dean leans back on his hands in the grass and slides his legs out long. His stare falls to the earth between his boots. The ground is soft underneath him. Maybe it rained this morning.

“Yeah, that’s gonna make it tough when I go back,” he says. “At best, that’s a court martial. At worst…”

The Lakota woman frowns, her dark brows nearly meeting in the middle as she considers him. He wonders what she sees when she looks at him.

“Tell you what,” Dean said. “Give yourself and your horse a rest tonight. I’ll go back and tell them I lost you in the canyon.”

Her eyes widen further in surprise. He can’t blame her for it. He’s surprising himself every time he opens his mouth.

“Will they kill you?” she asks.

Dean shrugs. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

She levels him with a firmer look, one that demands the truth.

His nonchalance wanes, and he sighs.

“They might,” he says.

She shakes her head. She seems to deliberate over something, but eventually she comes to a decision. Just when she opens her mouth to speak, a gunshot rings out and hits the ground not far from their feet. A warning.

The sound of hooves thundering on the earth reach them before they look up. Two horses gallop towards them in the distance, their riders wearing blue uniforms.

They both tense up, but Dean is the first one to move. He grabs her arm and helps her stand along with him. They scramble back and lead the horses by their reins further into the trees. They find a denser patch and a raised hill to crouch down and hide behind.

The mustang is too tired to go very far, but Baby is already making anxious sounds, protective of her rider.

“Shhh,” Dean whispers, and runs a soothing hand over her side. He leads her to lay down with her legs tucked underneath her.

The Lakota manages to do the same with the mustang after whispering to him softly in her language. There’s a trust between them, Dean realizes. They have a connection that seems to mirror his own with his horse. He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.

“Captain!” Benny calls out.

Dean grimaces, but he stays quiet. He turns to the woman and holds a finger over his lips. She stares back at him in apprehension. He begins to creep slowly around the hill, but she grabs onto his wrist. For a second, she looks just as surprised as him by the reflexive action. Then, she shakes her head at him.

Don’t go out there, her eyes say.

Dean smiles, and he gives her a reassuring wink. He gently removes her hand and gestures at her to stay where she is. He army crawls up the side of the hill. It gives him a vantage point to watch his men, who approach just a few feet down below.

“Captain Winchester!” Cas calls next.

“We don’t want to have to come and get you, Dean. Come on,” Benny says. He does sound reluctant, for his part. His voice grows more somber when he says, “Colonel’s given us orders to bring you and the girl back…dead or alive.”

Dean knows the position he’s put his own men in. He doesn’t blame them for following the Colonel’s orders. He just hopes they can forgive him for what he’s about to do.

He leaps off the edge of the hill with a yell and brings Benny with him to the ground. He sweeps Cas’s legs out from underneath him, then tosses a punch that lands on the corner of Benny’s chin. He kicks Benny’s gun away, and wrestles Cas until his pistol falls from his hand. The three men scrap and trade blows, until Dean is the only one left standing. His men are groaning on the dusty ground, slowly picking themselves up.

Dean’s heaving for breath as well as he leans back against the side of the hill. Despite that momentary victory, he knows what they all know: that this fight isn’t going to end until either they’re dead, or he’s dead.

“Where’s the girl, Dean?” Benny says. He implores him to see sense. “We take her back with us, we can smooth all this over with the Colonel. All of it, even Roman.”

Dean lets out a deep breath, but he shakes his head.

“Can’t do that, Benny,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a question circling in his friend’s eyes, but after a beat, Benny seems to know the answer to it. He picks up his gun from the ground. Just like Dean once did, the Lieutenant now has a choice to make.

He shares a heavy look with Cas. The two of them nod, before they focus back on Dean.

Benny’s hand falls, and he stows his gun.

“You died today,” Benny says. “We found your body somewhere in the canyon. Your horse too.”

Dean nods, with something of a smile. He supposes faking his death is the only option now. He rips the badge off his uniform jacket and tosses it to Benny.

“There’s your proof,” he says.

Dean shares a grim nod of respect with Cas while Benny examines the torn patch denoting a captain’s rank.

“Take care of each other,” Dean says.

Benny’s head raises, and he meets Dean with a somber gaze.

“Goodbye, brother.”

Dean doesn’t return to her until the men are out of sight through the trees. She’s still hiding along with the resting horses, waiting for him. That alone surprises him. It would bring a small smile to his face, if the weight of that goodbye didn’t feel so heavy on his shoulders.

He reaches out a hand for her. It takes her a moment to consider it, but she accepts his offer.

He helps her to her feet, after which, she quickly pulls her hand back. She’s wary of his touch, her face guarded when she looks up at him. Dean supposes he can’t blame her, even if it does strike a nerve. After what he just did for her…

His face becomes stoic, and he turns away to grab his hat from the dusty ground. “We should probably head out.”

She nods and calls to her horse to encourage him to his feet. Despite himself, Dean can't help but be curious. How did this girl manage to tame that wild beast?

“Does he have a name?” he asks.

“Mato,” she replies.

“Mato,” Dean echoes. “Does that mean something? You know, in your language.”

She eyes him wryly, brushing her hand over Mato’s hide.

“It means angry, like a bear,” she says.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, good name.”

He remembers his bruised side (and ego) from when the mustang threw him off his back.

Dean watches her with another realization as she gracefully mounts the horse. Baby has gotten up to her feet as well, already nudging the back of his arm with her snout. He rubs her nose in affection.

Then he turns to climb up onto her back, settling his feet into the stirrups and loosely grabbing the reins. He follows his companion’s lead farther into the forest, but he guides his horse to fall into step beside hers.

“Will you tell me your name now?” he asks. “Think we’ve been through enough together at this point, don’t you think?”

She considers it with a tilt of her head. She looks over at him with a small smile.

“Kimmímila,” she says. The syllables roll off her tongue effortlessly.

Dean raises his brows. “Kim…Kimmeela.”

She shakes her head at him, her lips pursing.

“Kimmímila.”

Lord help him, but he tries his best. His brows furrow.

“Kim…mila,” he attempts. She guides Mato closer and grabs Dean by his cheeks with one hand.

“Kimmí.”

“Kimmí,” he repeats with his cheeks squished. His face is starting to warm up, and not altogether in embarrassment.

“Mila,” she says with a nod.

“Mila,” Dean says. “Kimmímila.”

He’s treated to her smile, warm and true. She releases him, her gaze flitting over his face. Then she keeps riding. Dean grins to himself.

“Think I’m gonna call you Mila,” he says. Make it easier on myself.

She even laughs, a honeyed sound. “Yes, my father does too.”

“What does it mean? Your name.”

“In your language?” she says, in a tone that teases him back. She becomes thoughtful as she searches for the word. “It means…butterfly.”

“Really?” Dean remarks. She doesn’t strike him as a butterfly.

More like a lioness, he thinks, only somewhat holding back his grin.

She gives him some side-eye, despite her amusement.

“You think it does not suit me,” she observes.

“Well, I didn't say that—”

“I don’t think so either,” she admits. “There are many things that don’t suit me.”

Dean chuckles. He can imagine that.

“But my mother had a dream before I was born,” Mila says. “She saw beautiful wings, and said I would have a free mind. When I grew, and wanted to spend my days with horses more than cooking and sewing things, she didn’t call me free. She called me stubborn.” Her face begins to fall. “Maybe too stubborn.”

Dean offers her a rueful, sympathetic look. “Yeah, I get it. My brother always said I was damn hardheaded,” he says. “…Maybe we’ve got more in common than we thought, huh?”

Mila’s smile returns, however slightly.

“You have a brother?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah. He’s a lawyer, so he’s more needed back home,” Dean replies.

Damn. He really does miss his bookish little brother.

He explains to her about his family, his brother and mother who still live in Lawrence, and how he joined the army, in part to honor his father.

“What happened to him?” she asks.

“He died…in some cornfield near Sharpsburg, Maryland, fighting the Confederacy,” he replies, heaving a breath.

"Con...federacy?" she questions.

"The South," Dean explains. "See, most of our southern states thought they should be their own country, letting slaves plow their fields and mind their kids. I may have lived on a farm, but my father always paid his workers. He fought for the Union."

"So you fought among yourselves, over land that did not belong to you," Mila points out.

Dean falls silent. After a little while, he concedes her point with an incline of his head.

"Fair enough," he says, glancing over at her. “I think my dad thought the fighting would end with the war, but, uh...it never really ends, does it?”

Her expression of curiosity fades, turning more solemn.

“No,” she agrees. “…I am sorry for your father.”

Dean's a little surprised to hear that from her, but he nods his thanks. They continue to talk as the sun begins to set in the west. When it dips behind the canyon, they stop to make camp for the night, and he helps her catch a rabbit to roast on the fire they build together.

That night over the meal, she slowly opens up to him. He learns that she’s an only child, though she has a sibling-like bond with her older cousin, Šóta. She spends most of her days planting or harvesting their crops, depending on the season, as well as sewing, painting, helping the elders of her tribe with tasks, and helping her mother and aunt cook.

When the rabbit is gone, she unbinds her long, thick hair and untangles it while she speaks. She explains that the Lakota are just one of many tribes. There are six other bands of Sioux who live in this region. Along with the Dakota and the Nakota, they are the “Seven Council Fires” who have made the Great Plains their home for generations.

She tells him about the way her tribe lives, caring for one another, giving the land back as much as they take, and letting it rest. The men hunt and protect the village from the outside, but the women protect the inside, their way of life.

Most of all, Mila tells him, she loves caring for the horses. She goes out and rides whenever she can duck out of her mother’s watchful eye.

Dean enjoys listening to her stories. He likes what he learns about her, but also, he just likes the sound of her voice, smooth and steady, almost calming. He thinks she might like the sound of his too, the way she’s smiled at him, laughed with him, glanced at him when she thinks he’s not looking.

She still picks a spot as far away from him as she can to sleep though. She keeps the fire pit in between them. He even catches sight of her knife, hidden in the hand she tucks underneath her cheek. Evidently, she doesn’t fully trust him just yet.

It annoys him at first, considering how many times he’s saved her already. How much he’s sacrificed just to get them this far…

Until he remembers how they met. He remembers the disdain and anger in her brown eyes, then the mistrust, and the fear hidden underneath. He thinks of every experience she’s likely had so far with the U.S. Military, and anyone else who looks like him.

Dean settles down on the ground and stares up at the innumerable stars in a raven sky. He’s exhausted, but his thoughts don’t let him rest for a while.

At the very least, the way she looks at him now is softer than that first day.

In the morning, Mila watches the strange man wake.

He blinks and rubs his bleary eyes, yawning, groaning at the sun’s brightness like a child. She hides her smile by bowing her head over the apple she’s cutting with her knife. The orchards span wide across the forest, and soon he’ll find two yellow-red apples beside his head.

His brows raise at them, then he looks up at Mila sitting with her legs crossed behind the small fire pit. The wood there is just ash and blackened remains now, but it still carries the smell of burning.

“Morning,” he greets.

She nods back at him and pretends not to watch when he sits up with a groan, stretching and bending his arms high behind his head. He removed his uniform jacket to sleep. It allows her to see every dip of male muscle that his plain white shirt clings to, even in the long sleeves.

Her gaze furtively runs over the broad shoulders, the tapered waist, then back up to his half-bearded face, defined by a strong jaw and dark brows. The sun catches on his brown hair and teases the ends of it golden.

She would never admit it, but he’s not unpleasant to look at.

Last night, she declined his offer to travel with her until she reaches her tribe safely, but he was insistent. Again, strange.

So here she is, with him. Here they are.

Dean turns to see the horses grazing nearby. Mato no longer has the saddle and bridle his men put on him. He looks rested and at ease. He even whinnies at Baby, tossing his head a little. She answers him and flicks her tail. They continue eating together.

Dean smiles, then grabs an apple. He raises it to her in thanks before he takes a large bite. Its juices run down the corner of his mouth, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand. Mila can’t help but be drawn to the sight.

She tears her eyes away when he looks over at her.

“We have a long way to go. Three days, if the weather is good,” she says, continuing to carve pieces of her apple to eat. “We will know we are close when we reach the river.”

Dean nods in understanding. With a grunt, he gets to his feet and takes another bite out of his breakfast. She doesn’t expect the way he approaches her with a hand outstretched. She looks up at it, then at his expectant face.

“Come on. Let’s hit the road then,” he says.

Mila considers his offer for another moment. He seems to be making this a habit. Amused, she wonders if this is just kindness, or if the women of his people aren’t allowed to stand without a man’s help.

She pockets her knife, swipes her braided hair over her shoulder, and slips her hand into his, allowing him to help her to her feet. When she gets there, he’s closer than he should be.

A breath gets trapped in her throat as she once again looks between his warm hand closed over her smaller one, and his face. In the small space between them, there is a different kind of tension than before. Mila can’t tell what the man is thinking when he looks at her like that, but she doesn’t like it.

And at the same time, she does.

She takes back her hand, and she goes to the horses. She firmly ignores how her heart gallops, even as she rubs at her chest like it’s an ache that can be soothed.

She doesn’t hear Dean’s unsteady breath, nor does she see the way his green eyes follow her.

AN: *rubs hands together* Well, here they are! It's all starting to come together. What did you think of Dean's decision?

Coming up next, we have the final part: some action, some fluff, and some potentially perilous situations for Mila and Dean...

Next Time:

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

COMING 11/17! (New chapters every Sunday.)

Or read Part 3 on Patreon now!

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zhuoyichenpretty · 1 day ago

Text

Ep 26 Commentary

Alrightyy I've mustered up what's left of my brain for a belated ep 26 commentary post. IRL responsibilities are getting a bit away from me so I wasn't able to spend as much time on this as usual; apologies if the haste shows through! Consider this more reaction than meta.

As always, spoilers under the cut:

A carry-over comment, but I really do appreciate the Li Lun/ZYC scene in ep 25 for how it solidified ZYC's resolve and reminded him of where his heart is, what he believes in, what he chooses to defend. Such a load-bearing and pivotal conversation for both characters in opposite directions of development. It also makes ZYC's return to the Bureau triumphant in a way, despite all the preceding trauma, despair, and hopelessness. WX embraces him in relief that he's safe and in comfort for what they've all just been through, and for us, it's doubly meaningful as a sort of homecoming after a confrontation that only we have witnessed. It's also interesting, the cutaway as they hug, the things we have been made privy to and the things that are kept private from us.

Ouuughh the lines voiced over as ZYZ and ZYC meet eyes for the first time since all that transpired in Tianxiang Pavilion. It gives such a deep sense of wordless understanding and intimacy. I'm reminded of when the show did that for Ranyi and Miss Qi's final lines.

As I mentioned previously, a lot of subtext became text in this episode, which was quite exciting (and also extremely adorable the way ZYC was like "I think I've said too much" /// afterwards). I didn't expect ZYC to convey his understanding of ZYZ to him so soon, but that really goes back to something I love about ZYC: that he doesn't really waste time expressing something once he's come to an emotional conclusion. Maybe there's something to be said there about how he knows, after the loss of his family, how important it is to say the words when you have them to the people in front of you while they're still here.

If ZYC's words and his tears offered to a catatonic ZYZ in ep 23 were an expression of star-crossed and conflicted love, this parallel scene is just an utterly unrestrained confession, the stars be damned.

Also, tbh I never found ZYC's reactions to ZYZ to be unfounded or unreasonable, even when misguided in the beginning (and necessarily so, given the narrative and premise) or at times harsh (which I also found much-needed for ZYZ to hear, and delivered with obvious sympathetic anguish). He was clearly reflecting and actively revising his own preconceived notions this entire time, feeling for ZYZ the whole way through, and I do think he's demonstrated realistically and impressively the full extent of empathy perhaps as far as it can possibly stretch without personally experiencing ZYZ's life himself and while still living and feeling for his own. But to see ZYC so ready to address his previous flaws, to admit them and correct them, to go beyond them and to reach out so plainly for ZYZ in front of him now that he has that personal experience—the relationship between them has transcended the initial set-up of two opposing characters meeting in the middle. The show has gone that extra step and made their perspectives one. And given that I didn't personally find that step to be narratively necessary, so to say, (as in, even without it there's not truly a narrative obstacle because I already believed ZYC loves ZYZ despite everything and we've already seen the lengths he'll go to not to kill ZYZ), it feels like a choice in every definition of the word. Like a development motivated by love all the way down.

WX gets the least traumatic cloak-draping scenes out of the three of them, thank god.

Oh shit I forgot about fixing the Wilderness I'm so glad they didn't lmao.

Ahhh the crossroads moment at a literal (kind of) crossroads right before entering the Bingyi Clan's forbidden area. ZYC suddenly wanting to go alone or back out, stuck weighing the danger to everyone's lives, who they can and can't save depending on his choices. It makes me think of what happens when we let intense love in and it comes with intense fear, makes us freeze up. Suddenly, the stakes are in sharp relief, and the courage to move forward isn't so simple anymore.

"修好了，你也別死" ("Once it's fixed, don't die either.") Head in hands. ZYC's voice here, his expression, that desperation. Yeah I think this episode was so draining because of how all pretense is being stripped away and all that's left is ZYC's profound love for everyone, so raw and vulnerable that it hurts to watch, especially knowing he won't have it easy trying to keep everyone alive.

Kind of love how freely ZYC cries and says the vulnerable things in front of all his loved ones. Like. That's truly his family, his people, his heart.

ZYZ please. Imagine ZYC's grief without you. Please just stay.

Yay 12 seconds of angst-free bickering right before (as someone else called it) the trolley problem

Ok so, I'm not sure how common this interpretation/reading of the following scene is, but it's been rattling around in my head for a while now so I'm just gonna include it here. If y'all disagree, pls disregard! Basically, when ZYC first turned to PSJ and thanked her, I was terrified for a moment that he would ask her to stay. Because on one hand, ZYC would never, but on the other hand, imo there's a lot of (I think deliberate) ambiguity baked into the scene. In ZYC turning to PSJ right after we're told "one of your friends or all three of them," in him starting the series of goodbyes with the character he has the least onscreen development with, in the finality of what he says to her but also the lack of clarity on just who this is final for, in PSJ's expression and WX's reaction, in the dramatic turning away at the end. Like, until he turns away from her, I think there's room for interpretation on what he's decided to do, and as someone who's grown quite surprisingly invested in the ZYC-PSJ dynamic, I'm kind of morbidly interested in this reading of events.

What might be going through PSJ's head at ZYC's words, if at this moment she hasn't yet realized his self-sacrificial intent? Does she think she's going to be asked to stay? Does she assess the situation, conclude that she's the person ZYC is least close to and perhaps the one least able to contribute in whatever comes next as the only human here, and begin resigning herself to this outcome? Are the tears in her eyes the sole indication of her conflicted unwillingness to die here that makes it through because as he's talking, she's evaluated that this is the best possible scenario for them all (esp for WX) and will commit herself to his decision even if it also breaks her heart to be chosen this way?

I may be taking this and running a bit far with it, but I just think the ambiguity of this one brief moment can create such angsty implications between the lines (as if we needed more angst...) and despite their scarce onscreen interactions, I'm kind of a sucker for the "extremely noble (to the point of tragedy) knight choosing to acknowledge and follow and dedicate their silent loyalty to a leader they deeply respect" dynamic, even if it is understated with all the other relationships going on in this show. Given how reticent PSJ is, it makes a meaningful impact on me every time she displays concern for ZYC, so you know it crushed me to watch her desperately and irrationally (the most pragmatic of them all!) try to shoot at him with her arrows while knowing there's no way it'd work. The way she was the first to act, the sound of nothing but the ice and the stretch of the bowstring. I really do love their platonic bond much more than I expected to.

Oof. The freezing. I don't want to sound like a broken record but I loved TJR's acting here because I think it's so easy for this scene to look awkward as he's stuck facing forward and pretending to freeze haha. His microexpressions as he realizes ZYZ is behind him, as he tries to chase him away with his words, as he's probably burning from the inside out with all that ice. That last tear as his gaze turns hollow. A+

I also love ZYZ's lines about not believing he can't overcome ZYC's powers like yeah this is a newborn demon with no inner core and ice powers that he taught him lmao

Okay, that's a wrap for my thoughts on this ep! I was originally going to include ep 27 reactions here too, but seeing as this is getting a little long, maybe I'll roll 27 into my thoughts on ep 28? We shall see!

#fangs of fortune #fangs of fortune spoilers #episode commentary #meta #zhuo yichen #tian jiarui

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cosmicjoke · 3 days ago

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Levi never Glorified Violence and Never needed to be Taught a Lesson that Violence is Wrong:

Nothing makes me want to rip my hair out more than when I see clowns saying Levi was "blinded by revenge" over wanting to kill Zeke, that he was "too violent", and that's why he got blown up by the thunderspear.

It's such a deeply, fundamentally WRONG understanding of why Levi wanted to kill Zeke, and also, of why he ended up getting blown up. I've already spoken about the strategically sound reasoning behind Levi's actions, which you can read here, if you're interested: https://www.tumblr.com/cosmicjoke/746918499422781440?source=share But to summarize, Levi hooking Zeke to the thunderspear made perfect, logical sense within the context of Zeke's own actions and behavior up to that point. Zeke was someone who until then had engaged in tactics of deception and double-crosses, who had only killed others while at a safe distance and within the cocoon of his Titan form. Decidedly the actions and behavior of a coward. Levi had no, good cause to suspect Zeke would be willing to blow himself up to also take Levi out, and so his reasoning that the thunderspear would act as insurance against Zeke escaping while Levi was preoccupied with driving the cart back to the capital was a reasonable and logical conclusion for him to make. It wasn't a decision blinded by rage or an action taken in hast. Just like it was reasonable for Zeke to assume Levi would rather die than cut down his own comrades, because he knew of Levi's compassion. Both of them underestimated each other, and both of them paid for making assumptions about the other.

But further to the point, this whole idea that Levi was being "punished" for his violence is the stupidest shit I've ever seen. Because it basically posits that Levi glorified violence, and so needed to be "taught a lesson" that violence was wrong, when he's the one character in the story who NEVER did that. He never reveled in violence, he never tried to frame it as something good or desirable, or even tried to justify it. He always spoke about and treated violence for what it was, a means to an end and nothing more. He never tried to moralize it or excuse it. He was always completely objective about it.

Compare, for example, the matter of fact way Levi explains violence and killing to Armin and Jean, versus how Zeke frames his own actions of violence. Zeke calls his murder of people a "mercy". He frames it as a positive action which results in a positive, better outcome. He has a totally warped view of killing and violence because he tries to justify it and moralize it to himself and others. He tries to frame his violence as something which makes him a hero. Levi does no such thing. He tells Jean and Armin that he doesn't know if it's right or wrong to kill, only that if Armin hadn't killed that MP, they would all be dead, and that Armin can't go back to the person he was, because he's now taken human life. He isn't justifying it, or moralizing it, he isn't trying to spin it into something positive or good, or even into something bad or wrong. He's simply stating an objective truth and then telling the 104th that they need to make their own choice about what they believe is right and wrong in any, given situation.

Or compare the way Levi approaches torturing Sannes to how Hange does. Hange goes into that situation gung-ho at the idea of torturing Sannes, because she wants revenge on him for killing Pastor Nick. She thinks she'll enjoy torturing Sannes, and attempts to enjoy it by taking it to an extreme, only to realize she's getting no satisfaction at all from her cruelty. By comparison, Levi never does or even attempts to take pleasure in the act of torture. He approaches it as a means to an end, something he has to do in order to obtain the information they need to overthrow the current government. There's no justification in his mind, no excuse he tells himself to make himself feel better about it. He already knows it's horrible and ugly. He already understands perfectly the wretched reality of violence. Again, he's the ONLY character in the story who does, from start to finish. It's why Hange is so rattled and upset after torturing Sannes, because she thought it would be fun, only to learn it was anything but. Levi never thought it would be fun, he never expected it to be, never wanted it to be, and he never tried to convince himself that it was anything better than what it actually was. It's why we see his shocked expression when Hange engages in unnecessary cruelty by ripping one of Sannes' teeth out. He's always been the most objective character when it comes to violence. He's never labored under any belief that his violence made him a hero, and he never tried to glorify violence to anyone or told them they were heroes for killing.

It's also why Yelena says to him what she does, during the final arc, and the battle at the docks. Because she knows that he knows, better than anyone, the inherent violence of the human condition and the ugly reality of it. Yelena is trying to again push her fanatical belief in Zeke's antinatalist philosophy, by pointing out that people are always going to kill and be cruel to each other, and she makes the point to Levi specifically, because she knows Levi is the only one who'd already long ago understood and accepted that truth.

So this idea that Levi is this ultra-violent, revenge-obsessed lunatic that needs to be taught that "violence is bad" is fucking moronic, and I am SICK TO DEATH of seeing people perpetuate that bullshit take. I want to tell everyone who does to just shut the fuck up already, because they're actively damaging the perception people have of Levi's character every time they spew that garbage.

#Levi Ackerman #analysis #meta #commentary #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin

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eyebulb · 3 days ago

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Kay, I'm not done w. The whole Stolas thing.. Cus talking to antis piss me off.

Do you not realize that Stolas and Blitz have very similar issues?? That just present itself in different ways (although not entirely)

Both of them have history w. Abuse. Verbal and physical. Blitz has abandonment issues, Stolas has been isolated his entire life. They're both afraid of loneliness and not being enough.

Now.. What about some of their bad habits, hmm? Things people looove to critique.

First up: delusion and deflection

Stolas lives in a fantasy world to escape life. He makes things up in his head and therefor ends up acting to a false reality. He's scared at looking too deeply into things that aren't that great so tries to play it off w. Changing the subject, fleeing, flirting etcetc.

Blitz doesn't live in a fantasy world.. But he's an expert at deflecting. Through humor, anger or just simply ignoring things he doesn't want to hear. Blitz is also afraid of looking too close, but this also include good things lest he fucks it up. This guy is more in the "expect the worst" kinda camp. Cus he does have a version of reality that isn't quite true too. Due to all of his self-hatred among other experiences.

Boundaries..what's that?

Lots of people like to criticise Stolas on this one. His delusion leads to him flirting aggressively and uncomfortably w. Blitz and not seeing when Blitz isn't into it. He also takes Octavia to a place she didn't wanna go despite her saying so, he also talks a little too freely to Blitz in front of her.. (demeaning speech is also included in his uncomfortable flirting)

Blitz.. Is notorious for boundary breaking. He stalks M&M constantly despite them telling him no repeatedly. He also stands in the way of Loona as a protective father which makes her lash out cus she's an adult. (totally get him but still crossing a boundary). He pry into their sex life and does a little bit of inappropriate touching on Moxxie (in a joking manner ofc.. I thought it was hilarious.. But still a boundary). He stalks his sister despite everyone telling him not to. He makes fun of and comes back to scream at a broken hearted Stolas who thought it was over and done after the full moon. (if you wanna try to keep the bird don't make fun of his feelings and break into his home my dude). Not to mention breaking and entering to steal a very valuable book in the first place.

They both have their own reasons for doing this but still.. They're both doing this.

Blames themselves.

Both Stolas and Blitz are very much in the "I'm a piece of shit" camp. As in.. They think very lowly of themselves.

Stolas sings about missing signals, not being enough, being a monster, doing the wrong thing, on several different occasions. He is anxious and insecure in social situations and he tries to hide when he doesn't feel welcome. He has stood up for himself twice but it's rare.

Blitz is self-hatred galore! Which makes him push people away before they can get too close to him lest they see the real him and oh how much worse it would hurt to be rejected then. He made one big mistake that everyone ended up blaming him for and he leans into the role of shitty as much as he can. So he acts out if threatened by treating people around him badly and hurting himself in the process.

They are both their own worst enemy.

Both have fear of loneliness.. However this is a little different.

Stolas has always been lonely... He holds hope of genuine connections and tries desperately to hold on if he finds someone. He is hopefull and falls hard but he doesn't want to force people to stay if they don't want to.

Blitz hasn't always been alone but has been lonely for a longass time. He fears being abandoned since he was pushed away as a child and lost everyone he cared about in one big accident. Blitz also craves genuine connection and hopes for it but is scared of it cus he's lost it before. He wants to get close but not too close.. Except he does want to be too close too. Actually he's quite clingy. But being clingy is scary sooo let's keep our distance.

They both are kinda clingy honestly. Both want to love and be loved. Both are family people. Both are desperate and keep making dumb choices because of it.

There are definitely things that are very different too. Which is a reason to why they don't understand each other yet. But they're starting to.

And I've probably missed things but these are a few similarities in the way they act that makes me wonder why they aren't judged equally..

#Stolitz

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weebsinstash · 3 hours ago

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So back on my pervert shit, you know what I've been thinking of?

Red string soulmates Reader x Lucifer except not only are you extremely nervous and hesitant and scared of him when you first meet and keep completely shooting him down and rejecting him, but, just as you two are starting to become close and you're actually legitimately starting to like him, it's Extermination Day and he arrives just in time to watch a holy spear pierce your heart and you just straight up fucking DIE

... which then leads to him developing a divinity kink for you when it turns out your soul was redeemed and you're now an angel in Heaven and he starts viewing you as like an ACTUAL "true" angel, basically viewing you almost akin to God, and becomes actually genuinely religiously obsessed with you

Lucifer just absolutely inconsolable after your death, lying in bed every single day completely unable to get up except for the bathroom, drinking eating crying in bed all day long, and then... one night... he dreams of you, and you look... so glorious, dressed all in white, with beautiful white wings and a gentle glowing halo. You look radiant, downright regal, and at the sight of this vestige of you, he's throwing himself to the ground on his hands and knees begging for you to forgive him for being such a worthless waste of life, how he would give his own soul to make you real again, how he would do ANYTHING if it meant seeing the real you again

and then you touch him. You all but drop to your knees to embrace him, pulling him into your chest and holding him close. You're crying too as you apologize for leaving him feeling so heartbroken and alone, how it's been so hard for him, how much he was looking forward to getting to know you as his soulmate and you blame yourself for pushing him away and then dying, taking that away from him. You stroke his hair and pet his back as he feels your tears dropping onto his head

...but it's all too real. The touch is all too real, the smell of you is all too real. Lucifer suddenly pulls away to look at you with huge eyes. He can feel your soul when the two of you touch. This angelic appearance of yours is just too radiant and grand for him to possibly imagine, at least in his eyes. He. Can. Feel. You. You're still alive, just, not in Hell, and somehow, some way, your souls met in the plane of dreams, and now he knows, definitively, that you're in Heaven, that you're an angel now, and here's the devil himself looking at you like you're a god

Imagine having THE actual Lucifer Morningstar himself, the Angel of the Bottomless Pit, a man you once thought wasnt even real, an actual divine creature older than humanity itself, all but crawling on his hands and knees to prostrate himself in front of you, kneeling, looking up at you weeping tears of joy while he says with complete sincerity and absolute bliss that YOU must be the entire reason he was born. He's clutching at his chest, sobbing that you've made him whole again, that the entire reason he's alive must surely be for this moment, to meet you and serve you in every single way that he can. You weren't born to be his soulmate; he was born to be yours, to serve you and elevate you to your true potential and glory and forever shield your immaculate grace

Then he wakes up, and all he can think about is that you need him, immediately, whatever it takes. He was born to serve you, be by your side, and every single breath he takes and move that he makes that doesn't serve the purpose of aiding you is an unforgivable transgression. He's just, IMMEDIATELY making his way up to Heaven, because what the fuck are they going to do?

"HI, I'm here to pick up my angel ^^"

"Lucifer you can't just come in here and take a soul, they live here now, there's a balance-"

"OK then I can just start killing you all until I find them :)"

"Oh, uh, you know what, that's so funny haha I just got a text from the heavenly father, my mistake, you're cool, please take this single soul back down to Hell with you and leave the rest of us alone :')"

You're down in Hell again but, as an angel now, and Luci's calling you everything from "my love, my angel, my purpose, your holiness, your grace, your saintliness" and following you around like a duckling. Is there anything you need? Are you cold? Are you hungry? Do you need him to carry you from room to room because you're "too pure to soil your feet by touching the ground"? He basically becomes your protector and your priest and may even change how he dresses to reflect your angelic garb (and may actually become extremely resistant to letting you wear anything else or anything differently. This man catches you in a pair of denim jeans and he's just, magicking you back into saintly robes because "he doesn't want you to dirty yourself with anything but the greatness that you deserve")

Something something "he develops a fetish for basically every part of your body and yes he does eventually wash your bare feet in a very religiously coded and horny manner" something something "horny idolatry" something something

He considers himself simultaneously unworthy of you yet the most qualified and deserving to be at your side; the other half that makes him whole yet an existence greater than his own. He may feel he doesn't deserve to even touch you and is just satisfied staring at you for hours on end, even as you sleep, but if you touch him? All but groaning and having his eyes roll back, completely offering his body to you for you to touch and do whatever you please

You're uncomfortable but you form the opinion that losing you must have deeply, deeply traumatized the poor man and that this is a coping mechanism, and even if that may be true, he continues to shock you and maybe even gross you out with the lengths he goes with his newfound devotion. You try to, not exactly feed into his delusions but you don't outright reject him. You try to gently guide him back to how he used to be, and, maybe you can get him to tone some things down, but, it's purely because you asked and he'll do basically anything you say at this point. Emotionally, psychologically, he's a different Lucifer than the one you first met, and he doesn't want to go back to even remotely considering you anything other than his divine purpose for living

Oh, but of course, he's still your official soulmate as well, so even if he is essentially your servant now, he still wants to be your husband. I'm torn between whether he'd want like, the absolute LARGEST wedding possible so that all of Hell soon knows of you, or, if he'd want a private ceremony of only you and him so that no one else can gaze upon your splendor.

He's still gotta dick you down too, of course. He ever finds you self pleasuring and he'll all but want to lash himself for "failing to tend to all of your needs", "leaving tou unfulfilled". Mf is over here saying grace before he eats you out. Tell him any fetish or kink you have and he'll do it, no questions asked, unless it's something that involves causing YOU pain. You could whip him like Jesus until the skin is flaying off and he'll do nothing but thank you and wet his face with tears of pure ecstasy

Although, he's not, completely 100% obedient. He'll still kill people who he feels have "wronged you" even if you ask him not to. Oh, a car drove by way too fast and he had to dive in front of you so you didn't become soaking wet? The driver will be tortured and killed. Someone insults you? Tortured and killed. Did someone pr something cause Lucifer to miss out on doing something with you? Tortured. Killed.

You know how in Hell's Greatest Dad, Lucifer is able to duplicate himself? Imagine waking up from a nap searching around everywhere because, for some reason, you just can't find him, and you find a set of large double doors for a room you don't remember being there before and you catch him literally preaching gospel to a room of himself??? Like??? You walk in and Real Lucifer is at the pulpit giving an actual sermon that is definitely very obviously about YOU and a crowd of himself is openly weeping and clasping their hands together, and they all turn to face you with expressions of wonder and awe

If you have some sort of personal symbol or sigil you used for yourself, sort of like how Alastor has specific runes for his magic, Lucifer would all but make pendants and rosaries with the same sigil. He'll put your symbol on his robes, on pennants hanging up in his castle (I'm just assuming lil man has a castle somewhere), he'll wear your symbol around his neck like a cross, holding it between his hands while he prays to you, often in front of you, unless you are massively uncomfortable with it; then he'll just do it in private or in his head

You could be sitting playing video games on your phone and he'll just, lay his head in your lap and purr, delighted just to be with you, especially touching you, and if you briefly take a hand and pet through his hair or stroke along his back he's shivering with pleasure.

He won't allow any harm to come to you so long as he's by your side, and both of you are basically immortal souls, not to mention you're actually bound together cosmicly as soulmates, so... expect to be spending plenty of time having The Lucifer Morningstar adoring and fawning over you with every last ounce of energy that he has, and God forbid, no, may Your Grace forbid that anyone else dare to worship you with the same level of fondness that he does because Lucifer won't hesitate to take that person, that false worshipper, and tear them to pieces, sacrificing their body and soul to an altar he's made special for worshipping you like he KNOWS you truly deserve ❤️

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hellaverse #yandere x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hh #sinprompts

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lucky-clover-gazette · 12 hours ago

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rating the volo voice lines from pokemon masters ex as i hear them for the first time

youtube

“I’m Volo of the Ginkgo Guild, the go-to choice for your mercantile needs.”

Sounds like he’s practicing his merchant persona in front of a mirror. Very pleased with his own performance. Might break out into song about it. 8/10

“Allow me to present this to you.”

Spot-on cadence of Chris Traeger from Parks and Recreation. 4/10

“Here’s a special treat for you!”

Creepy. Feels like he’s going to hand me a bomb. 2/10

“Oh! It’s looking lively around here.”

Sounds like he thinks he’s too cool for the party you’ve both walked into and wants to know that you hate it too. 7/10

“What a joy to be alive!”

Said with the paradoxical determination and resignation of someone who values his own life too highly to end it, but hates that life so fucking bad. 10/10

“Oh! My heart is racing with excitement!”

Sounds like he just made himself think of something he actually cares about in order to generate enthusiasm about your thing. Also, overdoing it on the “oh,” there. 7/10

“If we use this well, the world will open up.”

Whatever you say, beautiful. What are we talking about? 8/10

“I like you better and better!”

He’s telling the truth, but he likes me for reasons way less innocent and simple than my continued business. Regardless, the praise is appreciated. 10/10

“Fancy running into you again!”

Two possibilities: he very intentionally arranged this meeting and is pretending to be surprised, or he was surprised by the meeting and is pretending to be chill about it. 8/10

“Maybe we’ll get to know each other better now!”

Sounds like he’s about to ask for my social security number, and if I’m into men, and if I’m into giving men my social security number. 6/10

“Of course. I’d be glad to help.”

He’s foaming at the mouth to involve himself in whatever protagonist shit I’m up to right now. 9/10

“I can see a whole new world!”

According to Bulbapedia, he says this “upon reaching max level.” Is that like a relationship level? Does that mean I’m his world? Knowing his motivations in PLA, this could easily have a double meaning—getting close to me, and therefore Arceus, allows him to create a new world. This concerns me less because of the world erasure thing, and more because it might mean he doesn’t actually care about me. 1/10

“Let the battle begin!”

Doing a pretty good job sounding normal with this one. 3/10

“That’s it! Go right ahead!”

According to Bulbapedia he’s saying this to Togepi, which is very sweet. Also explains why it doesn’t sound fake as hell. 10/10

“Here you are!”

He says this to Togepi when he gives her an item in battle, I’m assuming a potion? Which is, again, extremely sweet. 10/10

“Pay me later!”

He says this while “using Trainer move,” which I assume is like his signature flourish during battle. The reference to his merchant persona is clever and he sounds like he’s very proud of it. I’m amused by the implication that I’m supposed to pay him for something, though. Is he helping me or battling me? Both? What are we, Volo? 4/10

“Delightful!”

Accompanies the “nice” emote. I’m not going to complain. 5/10

“Careful now!”

Accompanies the “watch out” emote. He sounds concerned, but like, in a “please don’t inconvenience me with your pain” way. I wish he truly cared, but maybe if I lie to myself, I can believe that he does. 3/10

“I’m filled with curiosity!”

Said with the exact cadence of Grunkle Stan talking to idiot tourists at the Mystery Shack. Ostensibly laughing at himself, but actually laughing at the people who are stupid enough to believe him. 9/10

“Pokemon battles are always good fun!”

He only says this when he wins, which means they’re not always good fun. Makes perfect sense for the character and I like the delivery. 8/10

“Too powerful…”

He says, actively fantasizing about eventually proving himself more powerful. 10/10

“BEHOLD! DESTINY! LEGENDS! UNDONE!”

Bulbapedia identifies these words as things he yells during “unity attack/theme skill.” I have no idea what that means. It sounds to me like he’s accidentally taken a double dose of his ADHD stimulant medication and is just saying whatever the fuck comes to mind. 6/10

“Allow me!”

Said while “switching in.” Assuming he’s helping me, this is rather nice to hear. I’m more than happy to set this strange contemptuous man on my battle opponent. 9/10

“Oh dear, that’s too bad.”

Said while “recalling fainted Pokemon.” Option 1: He’s recalling his Togepi and trying very hard to sound brave about it. 10/10. Option 2: He’s taunting me about my fainted Pokemon with a sickly-sweet condescending tone. Also 10/10.

“Good morning! Are you heading out today?”

I appreciate the casual greeting and barely-contained rabid interest in my protagonist activities. 8/10

“In that case, potions are a must.”

Thoughtful and dedicated to his quotas. It does feel like he’s five seconds from calling me “milady,” though. Wait, in PLA I think he actually does that. It might be “madam.” He’s so embarrassing. 7/10

“The weather outsider is lovely today.”

Sounds like he’s about to take his lunch break so we can enjoy it together. 8/10

“So, how about it? Care to go on an outing with me?”

Already beat him to it. He’s trying so hard to sound chill, but I think if I said no it would ruin his day. Also, what’s with “outing?” Just say “date.” The game knows you’re saying “date.” This is a dating sim. 10/10

“Please, don’t overexert yourself too late at night. I don’t want to lose one of my loyal customers!”

First, that’s what she said. 6/10. Second, he’s negging me again. 9/10. Third, he has other loyal customers?! 0/10

“Ah!”

Sounds like the peanut butter baby from that 2016 viral video. 4/10

“Rrrrrrr…”

Nintendog. 7/10

*Sighs deeply*

Agreed. 9/10

“Yes.”

Me when I say “yes.” 5/10

*Increasingly loud fake bouts of laughter*

This man is going to end up on the news. 10/10

*Evil chuckle, tapering off into deranged humming*

This man is going to end up at the Tony Awards. 10/10

*Bitchy throat clear that turns into a laugh*

This is how he laughs at the PLA protagonist after he insults their “curious getup.” 10/10

“Outstanding!”

He’s high, tipsy, and/or sleep deprived, and someone just suggested getting takeout. 6/10

“As expected…”

Apropos of nothing, but he does like to feel smart. 7/10

“CONGRAAAAAAATULATIONS!!!”

This is perfect. This is a perfect voice line. The voice actor understands the comedy of Volo’s character perfectly. Divine madness aside, he is a merchant NPC almost obsessively invested in the protagonist’s adventures—but unlike many such cases, the narrative both understands and demonstrates how fucking weird and off-putting that is. 1000000/10

“I wish you great fortune.”

Reminds me of the PLA line, “Supporting you now is actually an investment in my own fortunes.” The voice actor nails the double meaning. 7/10

“HOOOOW DARE????!!!!”

I can’t find an explanation for this line. I think it’s just random. He’s so fucking weird. Did he read that in a book? Is he in a bad play? 10/10

*Whimpering*

Took a quick break to walk around my apartment and poorly make the bed. No further comment. ?/10

*Relieved sigh*

It’s a relieved sigh.

*Literal actual moaning*

???????????????????

*Various other noises*

The people in the comments of this video were not exaggerating. Holy shit.

“Have some mercy!”

WHAT IS THIS GAME RATED??????

*Deep sigh* “Now then…”

I have no words. I don’t know. Why does this exist in the way it exists.

“Right! Thank you!”

I feel like I just witnessed something that I did not ask to witness. Does the Ginkgo Guild have a HR department?

“My apologies.”

That is not helping his case.

“Leave it to me!”

Good voice line. Great performance. He would say that. We’re back on track, love it. 5/10

“No thank yewwwwww…”

Bitch. 8/10

“Please!”

“Indeed…”

“That is quite something!”

All very normal. 5/10

“You’re too kind.”

This is the weirdest line delivery yet. He sounds unhinged. Something happened around the 1:19 point of this video that neither of us can pretend didn’t happen. ???/10

“Until next time.”

Spoken like a charming male musical theater lead who just did a little song and dance about his life philosophy. 9/10

“Come on, now.”

Getting weird again. There is nothing I could possibly possess that would necessitate that amount of beleaguered desperation. 6/10

“Let’s get our blood pumping!”

Not on the first date—sorry, outing. ?/10

“The mysteries of the past… oH-hO! How they tICKle my curiosity!”

Sure. Why not. 5/10

“Investigating the odd and novel is key to any good merchant’s success.”

This is delivered pretty much how I would imagine in the game! Also just such a fun line for him—he says this as if it makes all the sense in the world, but it literally doesn’t? It’s a total non-sequitor. Investigating the odd and novel have nothing to do with being a successful merchant, and later in the game he even admits to ditching work to do his research. I’ve always appreciated that part of his characterization—the way he knows that he’s bullshitting everyone and getting away with it, and is simultaneously so smug about his clever ruse and so miserable to be alone in his truth. 10/10

“A HISTORIC MOMENT!”

Deeply bizarre final line for a deeply bizarre character. I hope he says this about mundane shit like dropping a cup of coffee or getting an email. 10/10.

#my conclusion is ????????????#it was somehow more insane than i thought it would be #why did they do this #pla #volo #merchant volo #pokemon masters ex

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uzumaki-rebellion · 15 hours ago

Text

"Ice Princess"

youtube

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!

#killmonger fanfiction #Killmonger Smut #Erik Killmonger #erik killmonger fanfiction #Erik Killmonger X Black Reader #Black Panther Fanfiction #Erik Killmonger X Black Female OC #Uzumaki Rebellion

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