#hes been a pampered spoiled rich boy his whole life

[skitskatdacat63]

17,82

War AU x Second Love

Lmao Sam this is literally the plot to the Nandopoleon AU this exists in my head 😭😭

So Fernando is Napoleon, right? And Napoleon had two wives, right? Mark is his first love(i.e. Josephine), older than him, and who he is deeply in love with but has to divorce because Mark can't really provide anything(i.e. no political advantages, infertile, etc.) So Fernando needs to make a political marriage. And who does he marry! The young son of one of the most prominent monarchies in Europe: Lance, Archduke of Austria.

Lance is very resistant to this at first of course. All grumpy like, "Dad, why do you want me to marry the guy who just defeated us in four separate wars. He's literally beaten us since practically my birth, and now I have to marry him? Yuck." Both him and Fernando come into the marriage with bad expectations, Lance despising Fernando for all he represents and Fernando viewing Lance as just a means to an end. But Lance fits in to the kingdom very well and Fernando comes to adore him and pamper him all the time. And suddenly Lance to his father is all like, "the Emperor is great actually 🥰 I was so wrong 🥰"

Meanwhile Mark is just forced to the side, and has to watch while Fernando's love for him diminishes, and his love for Lance grows. They still talk a lot and spend time together, but Mark is constantly sniping at Fernando about his new "wife."

I think Lance would stick by Fernando's side during his exile and subsequent return. He grows to be more loyal to Fernando than to his own family and original kingdom. And even though Fernando originally just views him as a means to an end, he eventually lets Lance fight alongside when they are eventually drawn back into war. Maybe in this AU, he actually wins 😔

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Princess"

Ice Princess by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens x Black Female OC

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

Summary:

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

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

Word count: 22.5K

"I'm so cold I'm dripping icicles

I go and take your man that nigga might miss you

Spent his whole commission on my neck and ear

To stand around me need to have ya winter gear

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

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

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

You broke honey, and they call me

Banks, cause I can loan money

Colder than December, my diamonds on

Anna WintourSo that's fly ice in my life"

Azealia Banks – "Ice Princess"

Erik Killmonger nearly turned down the job.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How many people onboard?"

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

"Just three men?"

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

"I need at least three more men."

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

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

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

Killmonger knocked back the rest of his liquor.

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

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

Portia Keith.

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

He stared at a few pictures.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Quinton appeared on a Forbes magazine cover.

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

She glanced over at Quinton.

He bored her now.

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

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

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

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

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

Quinton grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Killmonger, correct?" Quinton said.

"Correct," Killmonger said.

"Just Killmonger?" Portia asked.

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

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

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

"Hold up," Killmonger said.

Everyone stopped chatting and froze with their refreshing drinks.

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

Quinton glanced at his watch.

"Now? Can it wait until after lunch?"

"No," Killmonger said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do it," he said.

Portia blinked fast several times.

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

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

"Portia?"

Her friend Chelsea called for her.

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

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

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

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

And why was she getting aroused by it?

She was a piece of work.

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh… so you can look normal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your other friends seem intrigued by it."

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

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

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

Tiana looked heavily inebriated.

"I can hold my liquor," Tiana said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bitch," he grumbled.

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

They docked in Crete at the crack of dawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My man is. His money is my money—"

"You sure about him being your man?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She waved her hand above her head.

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

Portia guffawed and pointed to Killmonger's face.

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

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

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

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

The next few days were dull and humid.

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

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

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

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

Quinton walked over, clapping his hands together.

"All good?" Quinton asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A server approached Killmonger with a tray of champagne.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You been hit?" Killmonger asked.

"No!"

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

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

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

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

"Fuck that dog!" Killmonger yelled.

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

"Wait here," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Portia shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hungry?" he asked.

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

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

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

"But they are coming?" she asked.

"Yes."

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

"I want to eat now," she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She'll bark," she said.

Killmonger rolled his eyes.

"Then carry her," he said.

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

Dire?

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

"Ow!"

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

"Watch it," he barked.

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

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

"It's too hot."

"No, it's not—"

"Yes, it is—"

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

"See anything?"

"No."

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

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

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

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

"What's that?"

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

He glanced over at her.

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

"She's a Pomeranian."

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

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

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

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

He held his hand outstretched.

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

Portia pouted.

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" she said

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Penny for your thoughts," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded.

"Night," she called.

"Night," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

Mimi only sat and stared at him.

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

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

"No!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was so scared," she said.

"I know."

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

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

"Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

"That was my job."

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

"Don't go," she said.

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

"Try to sleep," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lemme play in this pussy," he begged.

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

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

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

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

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

"Suck this dick," he commanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pulled his dick out and glared at her.

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

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

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

"I can do better," she pleaded.

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

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

"Sorry, Daddy—"

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

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

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

"Daddy, I'm sorry…" she whined.

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

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

"Damn, Portia… oh… baby… shit!"

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

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

She licked her fingers and then stared at him.

"You were playing with me?" she asked.

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

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

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

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

"Ooh," she moaned, scissoring her clit.

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

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

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

Killmonger held Portia carefully in his arms as they kissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how the tables had turned!

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

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

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

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

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

God!

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

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

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

She touched his scars like they were precious to her.

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

"Without a condom?" he said.

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

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

Shit.

Killmonger regarded her face to make sure she was serious.

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

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

"Are you sure?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like what?"

"Unguarded. Open. Friendly."

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

"Sad life."

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

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

"Have you ever lost an entire team before?"

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

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

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

No more civilian gigs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A spider dropped down on me!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

She nodded against his chest.

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

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

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

"I sit still. Like this."

"Where?"

"That's classified information."

"Really."

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

"Is Killmonger even your real name?"

"No."

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

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

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

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

"You're not too bad yourself."

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

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

"Turn around," he gasped.

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

She showed out.

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

"Killmonger… Killmonger… Killmonger…" she panted.

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

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

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

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

"You wanna cum in my pretty pussy?"

The wantonness in her voice urged him on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, fuck!"

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

"Nobody fuck you like this?" he grunted.

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

"Fuck my pussy," she said.

She looked at him with sweet, innocent eyes.

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

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

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

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

"Ohmigod… Killmonger!" she shouted.

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

Portia curled against his chest.

Sleep came fast.

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

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

"Went for a walk," she said.

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

Wait…

There!

A ship.

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

"It's them?" Portia squealed.

"Yep."

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

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

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

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

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

Something was wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"More soup?" The captain asked.

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

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

"Would you like to rest, Miss Keith?"

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

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

His name badge said Makris.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The back," Killmonger called down.

The man held up his hands.

"Hold on," Killmonger said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Killmonger shrugged it off.

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

Vlachos waved them away.

"Bullet passed right through," Vlachos said.

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

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

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

Killmonger had disappeared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Swiss Alps looked like he imagined.

Cold, white, and jagged.

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

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

He waited.

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

Portia.

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

"Killmonger," she said.

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

"Hey rat dog," he teased.

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

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

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

Two years.

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

He got word of her searching for him.

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

He sensed her unhappiness.

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

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

The duffle moved.

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

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

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

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

She dropped to one knee and peered at her prey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A.N.:

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

[lgbtqmanga]

New Releases Nov. 28, 2023

Anyhow, the Rabbit Is Infatuated with the Puppy by Nie

Office worker Usagi Akira lives for two things: shojo manga, and the spare moments when he can log into his favorite MMO, Tail Earth. There, his avatar is a beautiful bunny girl, and he's able to go on adventures with the charming wolf-boy Gakuto. When Gakuto asks if Akira wants to meet up IRL, Akira agrees. Sparks fly between the two guys--so Akira and Gakuto decide to date. Neither has much experience when it comes to romance, but these two are eager to figure it out together!

Bergamot & Sunny Day by Lyee Kitahala

Café worker Riku has just been dumped... again. Despite always giving relationships his all, Riku can't seem to ever make it past the three-month milestone in any relationship. And then there's Josh, the handsome, wealthy owner of the café who seems to have it all together. When Riku wakes up in Josh's bed after what he can only assume is a consolation rebound, Josh shockingly suggests continuing a no-strings-attached fling.

Fooling around with a rich man... will they drink champagne in a jacuzzi? Riku has no idea, but he's not going to turn it down!

This therapeutic BL features the ideal man who will pamper and spoil his love!

Heaven Official's Blessing: Tian Guan Ci Fu (novel) vol. 8 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

FINAL VOLUME!

White No-Face’s mask is off, and the final conflict has begun. Deep in the ancient caverns and lava flows of Mount Tonglu, Xie Lian must face the one whose hatred has followed him for centuries—but this time, he won’t have to do it alone. Hua Cheng has spent his long existence amassing the power to protect his beloved Xie Lian, and with their feelings for each other out in the open, he’s found even more reason to fight and survive. In this thrilling final volume, can Xie Lian and Hua Cheng overcome the last hurdles in the way of their love?

Also included in this final volume are five short stories that expand and continue the story. Enjoy these extra tales of holiday festivities, bedside comfort, and even a birthday bash!

Limited Edition (one printing only!) of the NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER! The blockbuster danmei/Boys' Love novels from China that inspired the animated series!

This limited Special Edition contains the Standard Edition, but with bonus merchandise shrinkwrapped to the book: a set of eight postcards, a double-sided bookmark, two folded mini posters, a sticker sheet, a lined notebook, and a papercraft standee. Don't miss the new art from guest artists included in this special merch!

Sailor Moon Naoko Takeuchi Collection vol. 5 features story and art by Naoko Takeuchi

Features the updated translation and high page count of the Sailor Moon Eternal Edition in a more affordable, portable edition. Perfect to go wherever you or the magical guardian in your life want to take it!

Teenager Usagi is not the best athlete, she’s never gotten good grades, and, well, she’s a bit of a crybaby. But when she meets a talking cat, she begins a journey that will teach her she has a well of great strength just beneath the surface and the heart to inspire and stand up for her friends as Sailor Moon!

Training Mister Sakurada by Kaya Azuma

Hajime Sakurada is thirsty—for a girlfriend and a good time. He can't get enough of women, even though they've been steadily losing interest in him since his playboy days in his 20s. The new junior in his department, Seiichiro Mibu, is hogging all the babes and the promotions, and worse, he's such a great guy, Sakurada can't even summon any jealousy. But when Sakurada awakens in a love hotel, all tied up, it's Mibu who strolls through the door. He's got a shocking revelation and plans to ruin Sakurada's whole week with a marathon of kink play and revenge! What's Sakurada to do, especially once he begins to enjoy it?

[lassieposting]

Any alive! Skulduggery hcs that you haven't shared? I live by your version of him tbh

Hi anon! I think I covered skug's backstory up to when he signs up to fight and then skipped ahead to when he meets his wife, so you can have the Early War Years

- so when we left skug, he'd been on the pirate adventure and essentially moved in with ghastly's family at age 16, and that's where he stays for the next three years. Ghastly's father introduces him to taking pride in his appearance, Ghastly introduces him to Hopeless, and Ghastly's mother Saoirse introduces him to three things: motherly love, household chores, and the back of her hand for swearing in the house. He settles into the family, flirts with the prettiest local girls, develops an allergy to manual labour, and starts Experimenting™ with Ghastly, who's absolutely besotted with him.

- at 19, he has his surge, and it's bad. Ghastly has his a few months earlier, and it wasn't pleasant, but Ghastly was always going to be an elemental. He was sick and achy for a few days and howling in pain for just one or two. Skug expects much the same: he hasn't used necromancy in years, and he's had the best elemental tutors his parents could find.

- But he's inherited an insanely strong necromancy gene from his biological father, and an insanely strong elemental gene from his mother, and his surge ultimately comes down to two branches of magic trying to destroy each other to be the last gene standing. His temperature skyrockets as the elemental gene tries to burn the necromancy out of him. What looks like black blood seeps from his eyes and his nose and the corner of his mouth. His veins go black as the shadows retaliate. It goes on for days. Ghastly's mother is beside herself trying to get water into him so he doesn't die of thirst.

- If he hadn't also inherited the extremely rare genetic abnormality responsible for magical ambidexterity, his surge would've killed him. But he did, so it doesn't, and eventually he comes out of it and spends the next six months or so just recovering.

- at this point, the sanctuary is pushing recruitment. Ghastly doesn't look twice at the posters, but skug does. Ghastly's whole world is his family, their farm, and his father's tailoring business. But skug's father is a diplomat, he's got extended family involved in the war, he was supposed to go to a fancy French university that ended up being burned down during an attack by some pro-Mevolent riots, he's had to field questions from smaller siblings about when - and if - their dad would be coming home. He's highly educated, politically savvy, and emotionally involved. He decides he wants to sign up to fight.

- Saoirse does her best to talk him out of it, but skug is skug, and he digs his heels in and insists this is what he wants to do. He's going to join the war effort.

- Ghastly and Hopeless think it over and decide to join up with him. Hopeless, because he's an idealistic young man looking for glory, and Ghastly because someone has to watch skulduggery's back and keep him out of trouble, or he'll get himself shot long before he gets to set foot on a battlefield.

- honestly, ghastly isn't expecting skug to last long in the army. Skug is a pampered spoiled rich brat, and he's about to be surrounded by people who will scream in his face and make him do drills and expect him to obey orders, and he thinks it will take a few weeks tops before skug wants to desert

- that is. Not what happens

- like. none of them like it very much to begin with. hopeless has never had to do this much exercise in his life, and he hates it. ghastly is lonely and homesick and just wants to go back to dublin. and their first CO decides he hates skug on like, their first day of training, because he's a smart-mouthed arrogant asshole who's never had to be afraid of anything but his own father, and he does not react well to being ridiculed during drills. skug's ego takes a good solid battering because the other enlistees don't appreciate being given extra chores as punishment for him mouthing off, ghastly has to crack some skulls to make sure he won't be bullied for his scars, hopeless doesn't quite fit in and gets some nasty ribbing over it

- but also? they've got untapped talent, all three of them. they end up black ops fighters for a reason. hopeless tops the class for intelligence and undercover operations, because he can become anyone. ghastly is strong and level-headed and does well under pressure. and skulduggery is a natural leader, a ruthless tactician, and has a tendency to pull off insane plans that would go horribly for anyone else.

- they survive basic training. they get sent into the field. and ghastly and hopeless find that they're actually pretty good at this. they earn the respect of the rest of their platoon. and skulduggery? he starts to thrive

- this is the era of wealthy aristocrats buying their way into leadership positions they don't have the experience or common sense to do well in. almost none of the lower-class soldiers have any patience for it, but as a fellow aristo Skug has the social standing to call them out on it, so he still has a habit of making enemies of his commanding officers. he resents being handed orders by men who are less than he is, less clever, less observant, less capable. he goes out of his way to prove that his way of doing things is better.

- and? it works for him, sort of. he gets promoted several times - first he's pulled out of the enlisted ranks to be trained up as an officer, then he makes lieutenant, then captain - partly because he's Challenging to deal with and partly because he's becoming incredibly competent. it's fairly common for skug to get a flogging (for disobeying orders) and a promotion (because it worked out well for him) simultaneously. he has quite a few stripes by the time he meets wifey. when he starts being given command of a squad of his own, he takes ghastly with him as his number two, and hopeless comes along for the ride.

- at some point, skug gets palmed off on then-colonel corrival deuce. it's phrased as "oh here i'll give you some of my best men", but corrival is experienced enough to recognise "god please take this one off my hands im begging you" when he sees it, and sure enough, he butts heads with skug almost as soon as they're introduced.

- by this point skulduggery's men have developed a reputation for being a bit wild, and they're very loyal to him, so corrival has his work cut out. but? he's got a bit of a different approach to a lot of his fellow officers, because he came up through the ranks himself. so instead of locking horns with skug and trying to flog him into compliance, he turns skug into his pet project, his protégé. he gives him a loose rein, defends his decisions to the higher-ups, and doesn't interfere too much with how skug runs his team, but he also doesn't tolerate backtalk, bullshit or cheek. he's the stern-but-fair mentor figure - the Captain Holt/Captain Pellew/Lord Wellington to skug's Peralta/Hornblower/Sharpe. and skug's never had a very involved father figure, because ghastly's father is massively introverted and his own was short-tempered and perpetually disappointed in him, so corrival trips his "kids want boundaries" switch and actually wins him over.

- corrival hangs onto him after that. as he gets promoted and moved around, skug goes with him, and by extension so do his team. corrival learns to use the sensible members of the group - ghastly and hopeless, then erskine - to triangulate skug and stop his temper getting the better of him. he's incredibly proud of his chosen men, and all three of them really come into their own under his guidance. skug turns down promotion a couple times because it would mean a change of CO, and he knows there aren't many people he'd take orders from anymore.

- and then skug meets wifey.

- when skug gets married, neither his mother or father attend. they don't approve of wifey or her pitiful dowry. they assume, as does kenspeckle, that he's marrying her to Do The Decent Thing because he's knocked her up, and his father reassures him that he doesn't have to marry the girl, just send her somewhere far away and send her money to support her brat, and this whole sorry indiscretion can be put behind him. skug is. furious. he was smart enough not to take wifey with him to announce the engagement, and he ends up having a screaming match with his father that ends with him a) walking out and b) getting disinherited. he marries her anyway, and despite mr and mrs pleasant senior snubbing the whole event, he's got a full complement of parents there all the same - ghastly's parents turn up, and so does corrival.

- it's a military thing - skug's in his military dress uniform, they cut the cake with his sword - the parade sword, at least, the one he's never actually used, they walk out of the venue through the sword arch and skug's team do the rifle salute. ghastly's mother drags him to one side, pulls him down by the shirtfront to fuss over his hair and try to make it lay flat, licks her thumb and wipes a smudge off his cheek, embarrasses him in front of all his friends. then corrival snags him while they're waiting for the bride, tells him off for not having perfectly shiny buttons, redoes his collar for him, and tells him, "You'll do" like he isn't about to cry a lil. he offers skug some whiskey from his flask "for courage" and without really thinking skug says he doesn't need it because he's never been so sure about anything in his life and corrival is just. he's fine. he's not choked up at all. stand up straight, boy, for god's sake.

- he also makes a speech ghastly still brings up hundreds of years later, because it's the soppiest the old man ever got with any of them. along the lines of "i never had a son, and if i had, i like to think he would've turned out absolutely nothing like you, because you are single-handedly the reason i am going grey several hundred years ahead of schedule. that being said, i couldn't be prouder of the man you've become; you are at least half as stubborn and annoying now as you were when i met you, and i think i can claim at least some of the credit." and then, to wifey, "as to you, my dear, you have freed me, this monster is yours now. to your health, and my heartiest hopes that your future children turn out like you, because one of him is plenty."

- wifey laughs until her sides hurt and she's wheezing. skug pretends he's offended. ghastly wolf-whistles noisily and gets clipped round the ear by his mama. corrival tears up a little in the middle of his speech and clears his throat to hide it. and when it's all over and they're about to leave, wifey thanks him for coming because she knows it meant a lot to skug, and he promises her he'll do his best to bring skug home safe and sound until this damnable war is over.

(he wishes he'd been able to keep that promise until the day he dies)

[frobster]

Offer of a Lifetime - Ch 3

This only took a million years.

Completely SFW chapter. Bucky takes MJ and Peter to Olive Garden for dinner and talking.

Find the whole story on ao3!

☆☆☆

MJ and Bucky flanked Peter as they walked into the restaurant, which ended up being an Olive Garden. Nothing fancy, like Bucky had promised, but still nice enough to be a treat to Peter. Bucky didn’t even need to say anything to the hostess before she gathered up menus and led them to a corner booth. Peter was once again in the middle.

Bucky had his arm up along the back of the booth like he wanted to wrap around Peter’s shoulders, looking as casual as possible in a family restaurant. He flipped idly through the menu and Peter had to remind himself that the prices didn’t matter even though $20 for a plate of pasta seemed absolutely outrageous to him.

“Order whatever you want, Peter,” Bucky said as he set his menu down, having apparently already decided. “Any appetizers you want? Hell, order everything. You can take the leftovers home.”

Peter swallowed nervously and glanced over to MJ. She seemed vaguely surprised too, but more excited about it than Peter. 

“Could we get the sample platter?” MJ looked over at Bucky and gave him a winning smile. He nodded easily and looked down at Peter.

“You want anything in particular? They got fried vegetables. Ain’t really healthy being fried, but vegetables are still good.” Already, Bucky was trying to take care of Peter somehow. MJ snickered beside him and Peter blushed, ducking his head to avoid looking at Bucky.

“Sure, sounds good,” Peter mumbled.

MJ could easily tell that Peter was feeling a bit overwhelmed, a bit out of place. She knew he struggled with his self-confidence at times and agreeing that he deserved nice things. This was one of those moments - where the option to be pampered and spoiled was right in front of him and yet he was ready to turn it down.

So she nudged him gently and offered a smile when he looked at her. Peter managed a small smile in return and leaned over to lay against her. MJ wrapped her arm around his shoulders and rubbed his arm soothingly.

Bucky watched and made a mental note of the bond between the two. Peter clearly trusted MJ and needed reassurance from her. He didn’t feel slighted, he was actually glad that Peter was so willing to ask for support even when out in public.

“How about those veggies?” MJ asked, her voice soft almost like a mother talking to her child. “You like green beans, right?”

Peter sat up and took a deep breath, looking more settled after his moment with MJ. He nodded and finally opened the menu that was set in front of him when they were first seated, skimming over the appetizer section. The sample platter didn’t have the fried green beans so maybe he could ask for those too.

“Could we get those too?” Peter asked as he looked over to Bucky.

“Of course we can. I told you, you can order anything you want.” Bucky was never known for being gentle in his line of work, quite the opposite. But Peter had him feeling soft inside and he just wanted to make the boy happy however he could.

Soon, the waitress came over to ask for their drink orders and if they wanted any appetizers. MJ got to order her one alcoholic drink, a pomegranate mojito, and Peter ordered lemonade. Bucky asked for just water for himself and ordered the two appetizers.

With their appetizers on the way, MJ flipped her menu to the entree section. She was fully intent on ordering whatever had the most food in it so she could take some home and have leftovers for a day or two. Peter knew that Bucky had the money to buy everything on the menu a hundred times over, but he still felt guilty looking at dishes that cost more than $20.

“You’re allowed to order whatever you want,” Bucky reminded Peter, having leaned over to speak near his ear.

Peter startled, not realizing that Bucky had leaned in so close.

“Y-yeah, I know. I just… Do people really spend so much for pasta? I could make this at home for like five bucks if I had the skill.”

Bucky chuckled and reached up to ruffle Peter’s hair, finding him to be absolutely adorable. Peter grumbled and tried to fix his hair while MJ snickered at the scene. The casual touches between them didn’t feel so awkward or scary like Peter had feared, and MJ could tell that he was starting to feel more comfortable. 

“Hell, get two meals. You can eat a little of both then take the rest home. I just want you to order whatever you think sounds good.”

Even when his aunt was still alive, Peter was never able to order two meals. They had to be frugal with their money and rarely went out to eat at all, only on special occasions. Getting to peek into the life of a rich person nearly had Peter’s head spinning. But MJ nudged him again and pointed to a shrimp scampi dish that came with pasta, and suddenly Peter was much more willing to order.

“Oh, shrimp.” Peter focused on the seafood section of the menu, skimming for shrimp dishes.

Bucky watched, making another note of Peter’s love for shrimp. Maybe he could use it as a treat in the future - offering to make a shrimp dish for dinner if Peter came over again, mentioning that the gala he wanted to take Peter to would have a refreshment table with shrimp cocktail. He chuckled to himself as he continued to look over the menu just to keep his gaze off Peter to avoid making the younger man uncomfortable.

The waitress returned with their drinks and MJ eagerly accepted hers, taking a testing sip before nodding and sipping again. Peter made a face at the lemon seeds clearly visible in his glass and Bucky, ever attentive to Peter, made his own sound of dissatisfaction.

“Excuse me, could we get a lemonade without any seeds? They just make it difficult to drink.” Bucky was looking intensely at the waitress. It wasn’t really her fault, but he wasn’t going to let her leave without fixing the situation. She nodded and snatched the glass away again before hurrying back to the kitchen.

Peter flushed again, embarrassed about being fussed over. He could’ve picked them out with his straw just fine. But Bucky seemed like someone who didn’t let go of details, no matter how small, and Peter would just have to get used to that if he was going to agree to Bucky’s deal. Even though they didn’t really know much about each other, Peter could already tell that Bucky was a very controlling type and used to having everything go his way.

The waitress soon returned with a new glass of lemonade, no seeds visible, and Bucky nodded in approval. She scampered off to fulfill their dinner order and Peter sipped at his drink. He relaxed a little, always comforted by the familiar tang of the drink like his aunt used to hand-squeeze every summer. The memory made him lean into MJ again and she just pet his head gently.

“You gotta try making it yourself one day,” she insisted, knowing exactly where his mind went.

“It wouldn’t be the same.” Peter took another sip. It wasn’t as sweet as May used to make.

“Add some strawberries, make it pink.” MJ set her drink down, which was a deep maroon from the pomegranate syrup used to make it. 

Peter had always been more drawn to pretty, “feminine” colors and themes rather than the typical masculine aesthetic. Light yellow lemonade mixed with the pale red of mashed strawberries sounded like a beautiful drink. Maybe if he could afford fresh fruit one week, he would try it.

“I got a juice press back at the apartment,” Bucky mentioned. Peter glanced back over, immediately interested. “You could come over any time you want and use it.”

MJ grinned, not that Peter saw. She appreciated that Bucky understood the situation and wanted to offer his help as well. Peter’s happiness really was important to him and that was what she wanted to ensure. If Bucky didn’t truly care for Peter, she wouldn’t let Peter run off with him.

“Maybe we can all go back to your place after this? I wanna make sure Peter will be comfortable if he does decide to stay with you.” MJ was as overbearing as ever and Peter just ducked his head. He felt like a kid with his two parents talking about him, much like he did whenever her and Ned spoke. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it did leave him feeling a little helpless.

“If you both feel up to it, sure. I can get Peter security clearance so he can visit any time. And with that clearance, he can bring guests. So you and Ned can visit as well, so long as he is with you.” Bucky’s easy agreement had MJ nodding as she rubbed Peter’s arm to draw his attention back to the conversation.

“Sounds good,” he agreed as he sat up again. Seeming like a needy child probably wouldn’t endear him to Bucky. And he didn’t want to let his chance at a better life slip away before he could make his decision. 

“So Bucky, how’d you get into this line of work?” MJ asked casually before sipping at her drink again.

Peter froze, immediately assuming that Bucky would just up and leave after such an invasive question. Did she really have to jump right into the deep end? He wanted to glare at her but before he could even turn his head to do so, he felt Bucky moving next to him.

“Well,” Bucky started as he shifted in his seat. “That is a long story, and not one I feel inclined to share in a public space. If you truly want to know, I can tell you in the future. But you are essentially a stranger still and that isn’t a story I tell to just anyone.”

It was an evasive yet understandable answer. Peter didn’t expect Bucky to pour out his life story during their second meeting. The man was powerful and private and would likely never share any personal information in a public space.

“Would I be in any danger?” Peter asked softly. He was no stranger to an unsteady life, and working the streets came with its own risks. But living with a mafia boss was a far different experience.

“No. I would never allow that.” Bucky’s voice was firm as he looked at Peter, their first moment of eye contact since they entered the restaurant.

“But you can’t really control it, can you?” MJ was leaning in close, eyes narrowed. This was what she wanted - the chance to really interrogate Bucky.

“Yes I can. I own my apartment building, and most of the buildings on that block. I chose the security myself, I had systems installed, I have them checked every month. My building is safe and Peter will be safe there.”

“I’m just gonna be some kept boy you leave at home while you do whatever you want?” Now Peter sounded offended. He was used to freedom, maybe a little too much. While being taken care of sounded nice, he wasn’t about to be a house pet.

Bucky huffed, sounding as annoyed as Peter felt. MJ watched with interest, curious to see how their first disagreement was handled. Peter was glaring at Bucky and Bucky was glaring at the table. The hustle and bustle of the restaurant around them seemed to fade into the distance as both men tried to mentally prepare themselves for the discussion that could easily become an argument.

“You wouldn’t be a kept boy,” Bucky finally said, looking up again. “I could assign you a security detail so at least one other person is with you whenever you aren’t at my apartment. I could put you and MJ in self-defense classes. I just want you to be safe.”

The raw honesty that caught Peter off-guard in the car hit him again. He blinked at Bucky as he tried to figure out where this affection could have possibly come from. One night together and suddenly Bucky was completely attached?

“I’ll teach you how to handle a knife, how to handle a gun. You’ll be able to protect yourself but you’ll still have security with you. The city isn’t safe, you know that, and I can’t let anything happen to you, Peter.” There was an unusual expression on Bucky’s face, his eyes swimming with emotion that Peter wasn’t used to seeing directed at him. It made his breath hitch and cheeks turn pink.

“Okay,” Peter managed to say, his voice faint as if he had forgotten how to speak.

MJ was wary next to him, but she stayed quiet. This was a conversation for Peter and Bucky, not for her. She would just take mental notes and text Ned so they could decide together if Peter would truly be safe and happy if he decided to live with Bucky.

“Okay?” Bucky brought his arm down from being draped on the booth behind Peter and set his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe with me, I promise. And I ain’t the kinda person who breaks promises.”

Peter had a vague idea how to handle knives. He kept a pocket knife and pepper spray at all times just due to his job. There were only a handful of times where he had to make use of them but he managed well enough. Actually getting training to protect himself, to be lethal if necessary, sent a thrill through him. That was… exciting. He wanted that power.

It was surprising to him and Peter wasn’t sure what to think about his reaction, so he just tucked it away to think about later. 

“Okay,” he said again, voice a little stronger. “I wanna learn how to defend myself. MJ too.” If Bucky had all the money and resources in the world, surely he could manage to fit MJ into the training.

“MJ too,” Bucky agreed with a nod.

The tense mood between them eased off a bit, just in time for their food to arrive. Peter’s eyes lit up at the sight of his plate - shrimp scampi with an indulgent amount of shrimp. It was soaked in butter and lemon juice, and his mouth was already watering. Everyone had their entree in front of them, and the appetizers were set in the middle. Apparently their order was rushed, so it all finished at the same time.

“Enjoy.” Bucky smiled at Peter, who managed to smile back. He most certainly would enjoy this meal, even if there was no possible way that he could finish it all.

Peter didn't know where to start. Should he try the appetizers first, since that was the point of them? He bit his lip as he looked over the full table and tried to figure out what to eat first. There had never been so many options available before.

Taking initiative, Bucky scooped some fried green beans onto a small plate and nudged Peter's entree plate away. The little plate took its place and Peter felt a bit of relief at not having to choose. He felt MJ watching them even as she ate, trying to pretend she wasn't. 

"Thanks," Peter said softly as he picked up a green bean, crunching into it and letting out a happy hum. Bucky set the cup of sauce on Peter's plate too and Peter was happy to dip his green beans. Rather than eating, Bucky just openly watched Peter eat with a smile, seeming quite content with himself. 

It wasn't until Peter finished his green beans that he realized Bucky was watching him too. He glanced over and blushed, feeling embarrassed under the open attention.

"What? I get sauce on my face?" Peter immediately grabbed a napkin and rubbed at his face. 

Bucky chuckled and shook his head, turning his attention to his own plate finally.

"No, doll. I just wanna make sure you're enjoying your food," Bucky answered with a smile. Peter huffed and pushed the small plate away so he could focus on his own entree.

The table was quiet for a bit as all three of them ate. MJ continued to watch the other two from the corner of her eye as she ate silently. She had a decent feeling about Bucky despite his dangerous affiliations and she appreciated that he had paid attention to Peter.

Peter's dish was rich and he had to eat slowly. The shrimp was perfectly cooked and the lemon butter sauce lit up his taste buds like never before. He winced and shivered at a particularly sour bite and Bucky immediately leaned in again to check on him.

"I'm okay. Just not used to such strong flavors.” Peter managed a small smile again, feeling shy and uncertain under Bucky’s attention.

Peter had been trying to build up his self-confidence over the years. MJ had been a big help since he met her after high school and Ned was always available to talk in case he needed cheering up. Top surgery had done wonders for his physical confidence, but Peter still stumbled over words and struggled to process his emotions. He did his best to hide it behind a snarky facade, but Bucky had somehow broken right through that.

Bucky was clearly out of his depth too. Despite the powerful aura around him, there was an undercurrent of doubt as well. Peter could sense it and felt a little less nervous knowing that Bucky actually cared enough to be worried. He scooted a little closer to Bucky, which prompted the older man to drop his arm from the back of the booth to drape it around Peter’s shoulders instead.

Despite being a prostitute, Peter was not very used to affection. Maybe because his line of work wasn’t actually affectionate. He knew twenty ways to suck a dick, but cuddling was way out of his familiarity. It was awkward to have Bucky holding him if only because he didn’t know what to do. What did people usually do when they cuddled?

Peter glanced over to MJ who just grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. He rolled his eyes and she snickered before going back to her food. Peter tried to eat too, but leaning into Bucky got him dangerously close to the man’s fancy, expensive suit and he didn’t want to risk getting any food on it. Bucky liked him, but he was sure there were limits to that affection. Likely ending at getting his suit ruined.

“Are you full?” Bucky gently rubbed Peter’s shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Um, n-not yet. I just didn’t wanna get anything on you,” Peter mumbled, ears going red with embarrassment.

Bucky huffed, whether in annoyance or amusement, Peter wasn’t sure. He shifted nervously as Bucky pulled his arm away and immediately assumed he had done something wrong. But all that happened was Bucky taking his suit jacket off to drape over the booth on his other side before grabbing another napkin to lay over his lap.

“There, now you don’t have to worry,” Bucky said with a smile as he wrapped his arm around Peter again.

Peter was continuously surprised by the generosity and thoughtfulness of Bucky’s actions towards him. He blinked for a moment before leaning in again and stabbing another forkful of shrimp pasta. 

“Thank you,” he murmured after he swallowed, still blushing.

Their meal continued peacefully with the waitress coming to check on them almost every ten minutes. She was quick to refill drinks and clear empty plates away, clearly not wanting to upset Bucky. Whether she knew who he was or not, Peter knew anyone would fear Bucky. His eyes could get cold and emotionless as a glacier when he glared, and he could convey a threat without even opening his mouth. It was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

By the time everyone was full, Peter felt like he would never need to eat again. He was leaning heavily into Bucky and knew he had eaten too much. But it was all so delicious and he couldn’t help himself. A few other waitstaff came over to get their food into boxes to take back home and Peter was grateful that he didn’t have to move and do it himself.

MJ seemed happy enough so far, but she was still determined to go to Bucky’s apartment and make sure Peter would be comfortable and cared for there. She wanted to make sure the building was safe, that Peter wouldn’t be risking his life just by being associated with Bucky.

Bucky paid for the meal once everything was packed up, purposefully angling the bill away from Peter so he couldn’t panic about it. When everything was settled, Bucky slid out of the booth and pulled his jacket on again before holding out a hand for Peter.

“I promised we would go to my apartment together. Are you still feeling up for that?” Bucky asked as he held Peter’s hand again.

Peter glanced over to MJ, who nodded as she gathered up the bags.

“I’m not letting Peter out of my sight. And I need to give your place my stamp of approval before anything else happens.” Her tone was firm and confident, everything Peter tried to be.

“As you wish.” Bucky led them out of the restaurant and into the same car as before. Peter tucked closer to Bucky this time. “You two can spend the night in a spare room or I can drive you both back to your own homes. Up to you.”

The car started moving but Peter didn’t sway as much that time. He was comfortably tucked against Bucky, eyes closed and hands on his stomach. A sleepy, lazy feeling had settled over him after eating so much and all he wanted to do was take a nap. Whether in his own bed or Bucky’s, he didn’t really mind.

“I think Peter may have already made that decision for us,” MJ joked with a smile. 

Bucky was happy to hold Peter, to make sure he was comfortable during the drive to his apartment. Both he and MJ had their own protective feelings towards Peter, and MJ knew this. She was growing to appreciate Bucky’s efforts rather than being suspicious of them.

“I’ll still have him sleep in a separate room from mine. It wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of his exhaustion,” Bucky insisted. He wanted MJ to like him. She was a good person and meant so much to Peter.

MJ just nodded and leaned back in her seat. Maybe they would spend the night. It would give her more time to explore and think through everything. She didn’t want to overlook any detail that could lead to Peter’s discomfort or unhappiness. 

Both Bucky and MJ were thinking the same thing: Peter deserved perfect happiness.

[chaoswillfallrpg]

LUCIUS MALFOY is TWENTY-NINE YEARS OLD and a SOCIALITE amongst THE SACRED TWENTY-EIGHT in LONDON. He looks remarkably like AUSTIN BUTLER and considers himself aligned with THE DEATH EATERS. He is currently TAKEN. 

→ OVERVIEW:

A proud and pampered young man who believes the world owes him everything and more, Lucius Malfoy is known for prowess, powers of persuasion and pompous attitude. The only child of ABRAXAS and SULPICIA MALFOY, Lucius was raised in the lap of luxury at his family home Malfoy Manor in rural Wiltshire. A spoiled boy, Lucius was informed from a young age of his birthright as a Malfoy. He was entitled to his family estate and all their riches but also a legacy that spanned generations and included some of the most powerful people who sat on the fringes of the wizarding world. His father Abraxas had too much money to believe a job was any sort of a necessity but also believed that having a hand in government was very important. Their family had strict values and were well known in their beliefs that members of the magical community should reign superior over Muggles they were forced to shy away from. Growing up in the deep countryside, Lucius never had any contact with Muggles and instead based his opinion on the word of his father who would come home and talk at length about his disgust in them and the Minister for Magic at the time Nobby Leach. His father’s opinions stretched also to Muggle-Born witches, wizards and sorcerers who head the same level of disregard for, believing they were Muggles who managed to steal magic in order to join their world as well as rule their own. 

Though Lucius was never offered a firm answer on the matter until Abraxas was on his deathbed, Lucius had long suspected his father had a hand in the ousting of Nobby Leach from office, having skuled in too many corridors growing up and seeing familiar faces pass in and out of his father’s study until the day it was announced he was to resign during Lucius’ third year at school. Some faces remained, those of his father’s friends from other important families. THIEBAUT LESTRANGE, CYGNUS and WALBURGA BLACK were regular visitors of his father’s with children of a similar age to Lucius he was informed to befriend. Abraxas was a cold and demanding parent with high expectations of Lucius to join the social elite and continue his work of furthering their family legacy and improving the world around them. Lucius was taught that people like RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE and BELLATRIX BLACK were the right sort of friends, whilst those like ARTHUR WEASLEY who would also be in his year at school did not deserve the name wizard due to their family obsession with accepting and Muggles and befriending Muggle-Borns. Before Lucius had even received his letter to study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry he had a clear idea of how his time at school would unfold. 

Already informed by his father that Bellatrix and Rodolphus were awaiting him, Lucius was confident that he would fulfil his father’s wishes of making the right sort of friends and was promptly sorted into Slytherin alongside them before the hat had even grazed his head. Immediately positioning himself as a model student, Lucius was made a prefect in his fifth year and became a firm favourite of PROFESSOR HORACE SLUGHORN who invited to join The Slug Club alongside his friend DECIUS FLINT who had been collected by Slughorn due to his Quidditch prowess rather than his academic accolades like Lucius. Though Lucius became close with a number of Slytherin students during his time at Hogwarts including Bellatrix, Rodolphus and their friends EVAN ROSIER and CASTOR WILKES, Lucius attempted to separate himself from them and establish his own group of friends with Decius which included THORFINN ROWLE, CHRISTIANO PARKINSON and MARSHALL FAWLEY. The boys asserted themselves above the rest of their fellow students and were both feared and revered for their antics whilst at Hogwarts. Lucius was popular during his time at school though mostly with other students from similar backgrounds to himself from notable Pure-Blood families. His arrival at Hogwarts coincided with a movement taking shape with Bellatrix at the helm. 

A dark wizard whispered as Lord Voldemort was beginning to collect followers through Bellatrix who saw potential in Lucius. At first Lucius had no desire to be part of any club intent on overthrowing a whole government, scared it would upend his standing within society until his father weighed in on the matter. Their family views aligned with the man who Lucius would later come to learn was once called TOM RIDDLE, his father seeing opportunity for their family in this movement he believed his son should take better notice of. Although Lucius had an eye on the situation, his focus was on finishing at Hogwarts a decorated student and set on the person he would have by his side when he finally took over at the helm of his household. His mother had quite fancied him take a shine to NARCISSA BLACK, but a much younger witch than he was he had cast her aside as quick as his mother had mentioned it and instead began to look amongst his group of friends before his eyes settled on ANDRESSA PARKINSON. A beautiful witch from a very notable family, he knew Andressa would make a fine wife and began to make arrangements to begin courting her upon leaving school. Graduating from Hogwarts, Lucius moved back to his family estate and began living off the Malfoy creature comforts that he was entitled to. 

The first few years after leaving school were filled with parties with other notable families, attending Quidditch matches and rubbing shoulders with the wizarding elite and growing closer to Andressa who soon became his girlfriend. Lucius was content with the life he was living, despite watching friends round him joining The Dark Lord’s movement he didn’t feel the need to pledge his assistance in the belief that whatever happened the Malfoy family would weather the storm. It was the sudden death of his father when Lucius was twenty-five that changed his perspective on the war. Abraxas who called his son to his bedside told Lucius to join their family friends in their support for The Dark Lord as his dying wish, detailing to Lucius his involvement in the coup to rid The Ministry of it’s Muggle-Born Minister in the hopes it would bring about a better life for their people. He passed later that day leaving Lucius the Malfoy family home, fortune and a way of carrying forward his family legacy. At the funeral Lucius approached Bellatrix once more and expressed his desire to follow up with his father’s work and support The Dark Lord in any way he might need.  Heir apparent to a long line of political patronage in the magical community, Lucius wasted little time in carrying on the family tradition of frequenting the headquarters of the Ministry of Magic in London.

Claiming the Malfoy’s stringent opinions had died with his father he quickly charmed TIBERIUS MCLAGGEN, BILLIUS WEASLEY and HARRISON BAGNOLD, bringing them to his girlfriend’s speakeasy and attempting to garner information from them over multiple glasses of firewhiskey, successfully used his family name and fortune to curry favour with a number of high-ranking Ministry officials, and became a very well-connected among them. With Bellatrix trusting him with more information and responsibility as he ferried back information to The Death Eaters he was entrusted with a mentee. SEVERUS SNAPE reminded him a lot of himself, a quiet and studious man he was not as much of a peacock as Lucius but preferred to watch situations and could read people with ease which Lucius only helped him sharpen. His life was going according to plan, then Lucius was reintroduced to a spanner in his perfect plans. Bellatrix’s youngest sister Narcissa Black had emerged into wizarding high society and grown to be one of the most beautiful witches he had ever laid eyes on. Lucius wanted to believe he was happy with Andressa, but with every exchange he shares with Narcissa his perfect relationship seems to be fragmenting before his very eyes.  

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male 

Sexuality → Up to Roleplayer 

Relationship Status → In a Relationship with Andressa Parkinson 

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin)

Societies → N/A

Family → N/A

Connections  → Andressa Parkinson (girlfriend), Decius Flint (best friend), Thorfinn Rowle (best friend), Christiano Parkinson (best friend), Marshall Fawley (best friend), Severus Snape (close friend/mentee), Bellatrix Black (close friend), Rodolphus Lestrange (close friend), Evan Rosier (close friend), Castor Wilkes (close friend), Tiberius McLaggen (friend), Harrison Bagnold (friend), Billius Weasley (friend), Arthur Weasley (adversary), Narcissa Black (potential love interest)

Future Information → Husband of Narcissa Black, Father of Draco Malfoy 

LUCIUS MALFOY IS A LEVEL 6 WIZARD.

[ntshastark]

ok, I’ve finished watching it so here it goes:

Bridgerton final impressions

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Daphne: I love her!!!!!!!!! I loved her on the book and I loved her on the show. My only complain is..... The Scene........ The way they changed it up made it so they could’ve easily swapped The Scene for a confrontation. I guess they didn’t want Simon to be the only asshole of the two but then they never addressed how Daphne was wrong too??? They just use the Whistledown voice-over to basically say “oh she’s desperate so it’s understandable” and then kinda shift all the blame onto Violet - and, don’t get me wrong, her sex talk is shit and she should know it, but what Daphne did was already after Rose really explained her how sex really works, so ignorance isn’t really an excuse....

Simon: I love him!!!!!!!!! I loved him on the book and I loved him on the show. My only complain is how they handled his daddy issues arc’s resolution. Like, Daphne just tells him he doesn’t need to be perfect to be loved and! Just like that! He is cured! Childhood trauma? I don’t know her! They don’t even address the real problem, which is Simon going from living to please his father to living to spite his (dead) father, and the book just handled it SO WELL, I really don’t understand why they changed it in the show.

I hope Simon and Daphne don’t get brushed off to the side now that their book’s story is over. Simon and Anthony’s friendship still needs a little patching up; there’s the Will and Alice storyline that, if they choose to continue, Simon will likely be involved in; and Daphne is pregnant during Anthony’s book, so they can do something about that too, and maybe about her helping out Eloise during her first season... I know they won’t be the focus of the story ever again, but I just hope they keep showing up like ABC and E did on this season, and aren’t just mentioned to be doing their own thing off-screen like Francesca was.

Anthony: .......................................................Sigh. I don’t know who that incompetent, irresponsible, lovesick idiot is, but it’s sure as hell not Anthony. They literally took everything about his character, cut into pieces, made a nonsensical collage and called it characterisation. The real Anthony has an incredibly strong sense of duty and responsibility to both his title and his family, because he feels he has to do it as good as his father would - which, in his head, is perfection. He doesn’t skip and/or arrives late to important events because he’s fooling around with his mistress, and he wouldn’t just wave away his responsibilities to his brothers - especially because they are also his responsibility. The real Anthony cares deeply about the happiness of his siblings, and does everything to secure them the Happily Ever After he himself doesn’t believe he’ll ever have. He would never force one of them to marry someone they clearly despise, especially with no serious reason. The real Anthony was a rake who jumped from bed to bed without letting himself create real attachments, because he deeply believes he’s going to die young and can’t bring himself to make someone go through the same pain his mother did when his father died. He simply wouldn’t remain seeing a woman if he thought he was developing feelings for her - and that only changed when he was forced to marry Kate - and he definitely wouldn’t ask someone to run away with him when he’s finally free of society, jesus fucking christ what the hell even was that?????? And so they - knowing he was going to be next season’s protagonist, mind you  - took all of the characteristics Anthony developed in the 10 years since his father’s death, largely because of Edmond - both in how he raised him and in how his death traumatised him - and said “hey, what if we make all of this happen in like 3 months, and be all about that opera singer he kissed once in the book!”

Violet: I love her, but I feel like they sacrificed a lot of Anthony’s character for her sake......... The Nigel thing is a great example of that: The way she solved it was amazing, but for that to happen they had to make Anthony cause the problem in the first place, which was so ooc it physically hurt. And the way she’s constantly reminding him of how much he sucks as a Viscount, and even straight up saying that his father would’ve been much better was icky tbh

Eloise: Loved how they explored her relationships with Daphne and Benedict - and the queen thing was funny - but that’s about it. She’s so incredibly entitled holy fuck. Combine the fresh-faced feminist who just learned the buzzwords and now thinks sexism is the single biggest plague to ever walk this earth with the spoiled rich girl who wants the entire world to bend to her whims and refuses to do anything she doesn’t want, and that’s how you get show!Eloise. But, tbh, I don’t really mind. She’s a teenager, that’s just how teenagers are. We didn’t really see that much of her before the time jump in the books, she has a long way to go until her story takes center place, and I’m perfectly ok with us watching how she becomes the woman we see in TSPWL. Basically, not that big of a fan of her characterisation, but she is in a spot where she can spend some time turning into the woman from her book - unlike Anthony :)). My big issue is actually how her going from vehemently anti-marriage as a teenager to happily married and with a bunch of kids as an adult is going to feed such a tired trope...

Penelope: I love her, obviously, but oh boy is she fucked. I agree very much with this post re: what she did to Marina. I guess, because LW was initially just a writing device to allow for exposition, the show is gonna go WAY deeper into how the things that happen to Penelope (and her being a teenager) affect what she writes, and into the consequences of doing what she’s doing, but honestly? They might have overplayed it...... I really don’t see how in the fuck they’re gonna make the ending of RMB work in the show’s universe - and I already thought the books glossed over the consequences way too much. So, uh. Good luck I guess.

(Also, I wonder what they’re gonna do about that heir cliffhanger. I just assumed Penelope was gonna do what she does in the books and find a way to give part of the Whistledown money to her mother. Gotta admit it never occurred to me that, with all the Featherington children being women and their father being dead, the title and what comes with it technically belonged to a uncle or cousin or something)

Marina: I fucking hate them for making me get attached to her knowing what’s gonna happen. This poor girl, jesus christ. And, ok, a lot of times she seemed rude and ungrateful but 1. Her situation was fucking terrifying and 2. She was suddenly thrown into this world of pampered, superficial, and naive girls, and that can test anyone’s patience. Also, yeah, the whole manipulating Colin thing was not cool, but, again, it was either that, an elderly likely-abusive husband, or a life of shame on the margins of society, so uhhh.

(Also, that scene when she said she would love for her, Penelope and Eloise to be sisters........ And I thought Eloise becoming Oliver and Amanda’s mother couldn’t hit me any harder......... Imagine an AU where George survived and he and Marina get married and Eloise marries Philip and Penelope marries Colin and they’re all sisters-in-law to each other and I cry my eyes out)

Colin: Gotta be honest with ya, chief... I don’t think he passes the sexy lamp test. Missed his and Daphne’s special relationship, missed his love of food, missed his sense of humour... At least he and Penelope were cute. I’m actually already shipping them more in the show than in the books.

Benedict: I think they’re trying to mirror him being in a relationship with a woman of no status (now Genevieve, then Sophie) with being gay and hmm. Really not sure about it. He does seem bicurious to me but I think they’re hesitant to give him an arc focused on exploring his sexuality when we know his love story is gonna be with a woman (but then again, they weren’t afraid of giving Anthony an arc about having a relationship with a woman of no status when we know his love story is gonna be with a perfectly respectable one, so *shrugs*). Once again, very glad they decided to make him and Eloise so close from the get-go. It’s going to make that scene on TSPWL where Benophie’s son gets sick so much more meaningful and painful, I can’t wait.

Siena and Genevieve: They’re both amazing women with an incredible friendship. Benedict and Genevieve have the relationship I was hoping Anthony and Siena would have, from the trailers.

Francesca: Glorified cameo. Disappointing. I know she doesn’t show up much in the books other than her own, but that should just have been seen as an opportunity to do whatever they wanted with her! Not make her disappear for 6/8 episodes! Hope they show more of her on the next season.

Gregory and Hyacinth: They’re baby. The scene where Gregory makes both Anthony and Simon fall on the water should’ve been there. Loved Hyacinth acting like she’s Simon’s BFF. Loved that they cut Hyacinth’s “wait for me” scene bc it reminded me too much of my annoying little cousin and made me not like her for the longest time.

Lady Danbury: 10/10. Please hit me with your cane. Am currently entertaining the idea of having her and Violet get together.

Barry B. Benson: A cold-blooded murderer

Overall: This didn’t fit into any character, but oh god........... the lack of chemises............ But  I loved the show, even if some things annoyed me,  and I can’t wait for season 2 AND MY GIRL KATE!!!!!!!!!!!!

[i-went-to-a-cuddle-party-once]

Dance, Dance

Summary: Jessica makes Teen Malcolm go to a dance. He makes the best of a bad situation.

Warnings: Not many? Bullying and people being jerks. Some cursing. 

A/N: So I wrote this a few weeks ago and then forgot to post it and when I looked at it today to make any edits I ended revamping the whole dang thing because Why Not!

He sat in the leaned back chair while the esthetician rubbed yet another lotion on his face. He huffed and wished he was literally anywhere else in the world.

"Can you at least pretend to be enjoying this Malcolm? You're having a spa day, not being tortured by the Spanish inquisition."

"It's not exactly my form of relaxation mother. If you wanted to pamper someone you should have brought Ainsley," he replied through grit teeth.

"There, all done." The woman awkwardly smiled at both of them before leaving the room.

"Usually I would have," she returned her attention to her son," but I needed to get you ready for the dance."

"The what?"

"The dance. Malcolm we talked about this. I allowed you to buy that sword from the auction and you agreed to go to a social event of my choosing." He cradled his head in his hands. It was a nice katana, 15th century, great condition and it looked gorgeous on his bedroom wall.

"Don't touch your face sweetheart, you'll undo all the hard work she did. We can't have you breaking out before the big day!" She squealed with excitement and Malcolm felt himself die a little on the inside.

…

"I don't even go to that school. Or any school! I won't know anyone." They sat at the dinner table hours later, the arguments end nowhere in sight. Ainsley was practically glowing with the endless amount of fuel for teasing that had come along with all the preparations for the dance.

"That's the point, Malcolm. You don't know anyone. Anywhere. You don't socialize!" She set her fork gently down, staring daggers at her son.

"I talk to Gil all the time! And Jackie! And you and Ainsley. And-"

"Don't you dare say his name and ruin our good day," Malcolm slouched in his chair sulking, "Gil and Jackie don't count and you live with Ainsley and I. Although I still wouldn't count what little interaction you grace us with as socializing." She wiped the nonexistent crumbs from her face with a cloth napkin.

"I haven't even told you the most exciting part yet. I got you a date!" Malcolm's mouth hung open, completely speechless, and Ainsley burst into laughter.

…

He had given up on begging and bargaining and had settled into a state of acceptance. Hair carefully combed new suit on, corsage in hand. He sat stock-still next to his mother in his date's living room. His mother spoke animatedly with the girl's parents and Malcolm tried his hardest to remember what Gil had told him.

Of course, he was happy for him. Both Jackie and Gil squealed with the same sort of joy his mother had when she told him about the dance and date. None of them seemed to understand the embarrassment that stemmed from having your mother procure a date for you.

"Just try to enjoy yourself kid. You don't even have to dance. Although I do recommend it," he heard Jackie giggling in the background and could imagine Gil had taken her in his arms, twirling her around.

"Make your own fun. And please, be safe. Call me if you need me to get out of there." He kept the thoughts in his mind wishing he could call Gil now when his date finally joined them in the living room.

They made a handsome pair. Ashley and Malcolm. He could see his mother planning their wedding already. Her parents and his mother enjoyed themselves arranging the two of them for pictures like they knew each other and hadn't just met two minutes earlier.

She was pretty. Her blonde hair was piled into an intricate updo, dark blue eyes staring him down and a dangerous smile that made his stomach do flips that had nothing to do with attraction. She was deadly. The same type of girl that had bullied him mercilessly until he had begged his mother to allow him to be homeschooled.

He knew other boys his age would die to go on a date with a girl like her but all he saw was someone who could be paid off to go on a date with a complete stranger.

After what felt like a lifetime they finally left the house in a limo. The drive to the dance was excruciating. He hated small talk. Hated false pleasantries. They sat in silence. He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair, something he'd promised his mother he wouldn't do.

There was something that he knew inexplicably. Despite his temperament, odd interests, and father he was handsome and if he wanted to be he could be very charming. He swallowed his nerves before beginning his performance.

He looked up at his date, catching her eye with a flutter of his eyelashes before smiling shyly. She took the bait and gave him her full attention.

"I know this night probably isn't what you were hoping for. My mother sprung the whole idea on me three days ago. Though I can't say I'm entirely disappointed," he eyed her carefully knowing he'd done well when a slight blush crawled across her cheeks and a hint of a smile touched her lips.

"I only agreed to this because my mom owed your mom a favor. And I broke up with my boyfriend two weeks ago and didn't have a date and I was not going by myself." He laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd heard before shifting to sit closer to her.

"I highly doubt you would have a hard time finding a willing date." She giggled and he ignored the feeling that this was a bad idea.

...

The venue was just as loud as he had expected, music blaring from what felt like every direction. Ashley grabbed his hand in her own and pulled him in, quickly finding her friends and introducing him. He laughed when appropriate and smiled his wide alluring smile. He was clever and told jokes and when Ashley pulled him to the dance floor he danced without protest. He despised every moment of it.

He was only half paying attention when it happened. Half his mind was elsewhere, still trying to weigh if keeping his katana was worth all of this mess. It was the sharpness of his date’s voice that brought his attention back to the moment.

"Look, it's crying," She laughed, "I didn't know lower life forms had feelings." He looked to the girl her words were aimed at, tears and mascara already running down her face.

"What, you thought some cheap makeup and a store-bought dress could change the fact that you don't belong here? You're not Cinderella." His date and her friends laughed and he felt his anger rising.

"What the fuck is your problem," he was standing and the words were falling from his mouth before he could think to stop them. "I knew you were a spoiled brat who thinks that money is a replacement for a personality but I guess I was wrong," he clapped "you're a spoiled brat and an asshole who thinks they can get away with saying anything because mommy and daddy never had had the guts to tell you no." Ashley stared at him in shock before ripping her corsage off.

"This date is over," she stomped away, friends in tow eyeing him.

"Thank God, if I had to listen to another minute of your incessant rambling I was going to jump out of a window," he called back to her.

He looked to the other girl, her shoulders hunched and shaking. He guided her to an exit and watched her sit on the sidewalk before taking a seat on the pavement next to her.

"Thanks," her voice cracked. "I guess that's what I get for attempting to have one glamorous night. I know I'm not blonde and rich like her but does she have to be so obnoxious about it?" She looked down at herself with anger. "Not that all rich people are bad," she added taking a quick glance at him before blushing. He laughed his first genuine laugh of the night.

"No, I think we're all pretty terrible. Myself included." She chuckled and accepted the hankie he handed to her.

"Holy shit I didn't know rich people actually carried these. Is it sanitary?" He laughed again.

"I swear it's clean." He watched her wipe her tears and pull a compact from her bag before groaning at her reflection.

He tried not to stare but allowed himself to look at her, convincing himself that he was just trying to make sure she was okay. Her hair was in tight curls and swung loosely around her shoulders. Brown eyes rimmed with red from crying. Crimson lipstick painted on her full lips slightly smudged. She sat more relaxed, anxiety leaving her position.

"My name is Jenae by the way, and you are?" She offered a hand to him. He shook it, trying and failing to ignore the way his skin tingled at her touch.

"Malcolm. I'm Malcolm."

…

They sat on the curb for over an hour talking. He explained to her how he got roped into the whole situation ("that's the stupidest fucking thing I've heard. God, boys are dumb.") and she explained her situation to him. She had been accepted to the school due to an outreach program offered to underprivileged students. She loved the school and extensive science department but loathed the snooty rich kids that filled its halls. She was glad to put it all behind her in a few years.

"Do you wanna get out of here and do something fun? I have a limo?" She raised an eyebrow and he realized how his words could be interpreted." Oh, oh, no. I didn't mean it like that. I meant like Ice cream or something!” she giggled at his stammering and he had another thought, “Although getting into a limo with a guy you just met probably isn’t the best idea either, huh. How about in a cop car?”

…

Gil was there in minutes despite living over a half-hour away. Malcolm would question him later about it but for now, he was just grateful for the man coming without questioning what happened to the limo and why he was now on a date with a completely different girl. He drove them to an ice cream parlor he had regularly taken Malcolm and Ainsley to when they were younger and stayed in the car while Malcolm and Jenae went in.

She teasingly stole his phone and saved her number to it so he could text her later and his heart skipped a beat. Later. She wanted to talk to him and see him on a night other than tonight.

"You'll be a great scientist, I mean you're already thriving amongst a bunch of single-cell organisms." She groaned at his joke before frowning.

"I should probably head home my Abuelita will ground me for life if I get home after midnight." He offered her a hand down from the stool she sat on and nearly tripped over his own feet when he realized that instead of letting go she had wound her fingers between his.

…

The drive to drop her off went faster then he wanted it to last, which was forever. His hand was sweaty and he was sure she noticed but he refused to be the first to let go.

"Do you have any plans next weekend," she asked, "there's this art show I was thinking of checking out."

"Yes!" He cleared his throat and glared at Gil who was chuckling in the front seat. "I mean yeah, that'd be cool. Just text me the details."

The pulled up in front of her apartment building he held the car door open for her. He watched her make her way up the stairs to the door before closing his eyes, leaning against the car and unabashedly grinning to himself.

"Hey, Malcolm?" He opened his eyes to find her standing closer than he expected and before he could reply she leaned toward him and softly kissed his cheek. She turned away from him and ran up the stairs and through the front door. He slid his way into the passenger's seat where he could feel Gil's eyes on him. He covered his blushing face with his hands.

"It looks like you had a good time."

"Shut up Gil," the older man snorted, started the car and drove into the night. "Do you think it's too soon to text her?"

[faulty-writes]

Your TodoIida one shot was EXCELLENT. It was quite fun seeing Todoroki act so mischievously out of character on purpose, and seeing Iida show his, how should I say, "sassier" side. I fangirled internally the whole time I was reading. I would LOVE to see the date Todoroki and Iida had at the Iida Estate.

[ I actually forgot I wrote that. But either way, I need more SHIP requests so I hope you enjoy. This has something of a hint from the manga but nothing as bad as to spoil anything. ] 

Love was a strange thing, Tenya wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up in this situation. But he was a nervous wreck, he hadn’t really focused on the more romantic side of his High School career. But could anyone blame him? He was aiming to become a hero, carry on his brother's will, and take the name Ingenium. Perhaps one day, he could even take over Team Idaten and be its new leader.

Though he was more than grateful that his brother had been doing better, yet it still pained Tenya to see the one he once admired in a wheelchair. But Tensei seemed in high spirits and that almost made it batter. His life was slowly changing, though one must expect such things. Time stopped for no man, no matter how fast your engines. Even so, he had told his family with no fear that he had a date and that this date agreed to come to the Iida Estate and made it a point for his family to show the utmost Iida attitude.

Though he was a little confused as to why his mother reacted strangely when he confessed his date was none other than Shoto Todoroki. “Maybe she didn’t expect it to be the son of the number one hero, that’s all Ten.” his brother tried to reassure him, though Tenya as smart as he liked to believe he was. Often didn’t think of the small details and yes, the fact that Shoto was Endeavor’s son was something he hadn’t taken into account.

When he saw the fellow male all he thought about was a friend, a good rival, and judging on how this date went, possibly his future romantic partner. Tenya had tried to make sure everything was perfect, that his home was spotless and that there was a dinner that would surely impress Shoto. He had also made sure to dress properly, regardless if this was his home or not. It was still a date and one must look proper for a date.

Which is why Tenya had slicked his hair back and put on one of his best suits. He looked rather sharp dressed in black and a red tie, good enough to impress. At least he hoped, though that didn’t lessen the nervous feeling he got as he looked to the clock. Each tick made his stomach twist as the time neared for Shoto to arrive. He took a deep breath, “Do not lose your cool, you are Tenya Iida. Class president. I shall show him a wonderful time that he cannot possibly forget!” he declared as he pumped his fist in the air before the doorbell sounded.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie before taking a deep breath. “You can do this, just another obstacle to overcome yes! Another obstacle!” he exclaimed as he walked to the door and slowly opened it, there stood Shoto. He was dressed in what appeared to be semi-casual clothes. A nice blue button-up with a black shirt underneath and jeans with appropriate sneakers. His eyes widened when he saw what Tenya was wearing and he felt his heart skip a beat, damn.

Tenya looked good in anything, of course, he had quite the body. Muscular and lean, part of him wondered what Tenya’s workout routine was. But maybe that was a question better left for another day. “Uh, Iida...you look…” Shoto began but ended up taking a step back when Tenya bowed. “Welcome to the Iida Estate! I do hope you will enjoy our date, I have everything planned accordingly and,” he paused as he leaned back up and blinked when he saw Shoto’s outfit.

“Oh…” he rubbed the back of his head. “I did not realize a date required casual clothing, shall I change?” he questioned and Shoto couldn’t help but chuckle, Tenya was cute sometimes. Especially when he was clueless, he took everything seriously which was kind of funny in a way. Shoto waved his hand, “Oh no, it’s alright. You look nice.” he replied before stepping inside and taking a look around. “So this is your home, I must admit. I expected nothing less from you, Iida,” he said as he slipped his shoes off and Tenya cleared his throat, a soft flush coming to his cheeks.

“Yes well, the Iida family has worked hard to keep this house humble. I am very pleased to know you enjoy it. Come.” he insisted as he walked past Shoto. “I have tea set up in the garden area, I thought it would be the most romantic and uh, colorful place in which we could drink and have a conversation.” Shoto smiled and followed behind Tenya. “Sounds wonderful,” he replied, his eyes still curiously looking around.

There looked to be expensive pieces of furniture and vases around, though there was a casual feeling in the air. Almost like Tenya’s personality. He appeared to be some rich boy, but he didn’t act the part. No, he didn’t act privileged or even snobby. Just someone who wanted to try their best and follow in the steps of someone they admired. “Here we are, please sit down.” Tenya insisted as he pulled out the chair for Shoto who in turn looked surprised, he wasn’t used to this kind of pampering. If that’s what you’d call this.

“Uh...thank you?” he said, a tad bit confused as he took the seat and Tenya pushed him in. “There, I trust you are quite comfortable. Now, may I be so humble as to pour the tea.” he circled around the table and that’s when Shoto noticed that everything was on a silver tray with an expensive-looking tea set. He decided to keep quiet as Tenya poured the tea and handed him a cup. “Thank you,” Shoto said before taking a small sip, he had no fear of burning his tongue as he could summon ice to any part of his body including his mouth.

His eyes were more focused on Tenya as he took his seat, his posture was straight. Almost perfect, Shoto wondered if that was due to the years at that private academy Tenya spoke of when they first met. “Forgive me,” Tenya said as he took a sip of his tea before placing it down. “I’m afraid I do not know much about dates, I just did what I assumed would impress you. I believe that is the purpose of a date, correct?'' Shoto smiled again, it was a funny thing.

Most would think Tenya annoying because of his oblivious nature to the obvious things in life. But somehow, it made Shoto happy. “You have already impressed me, Iida. You don’t need to do anymore or should I steal your glasses once more to make that a point?” Tenya’s body went stiff and he reached up to grab his glasses, “You wouldn’t dare!” he said, almost as if he were truly scared Shoto would pull the same stunt he did before.

It was scary and while Tenya had plenty of spare glasses. He didn’t want to purposely break a pair. Shoto just chuckled, “Oh?” he questioned as he got up from the table and walked over to Tenya who remained seated. “What would happen if I try again, hm?” Shoto questioned as he leaned down and rested his hands on Tenya’s thighs. “Todoroki…” Tenya said in a threatening manner, why did it always seem that Shoto turned into such a playful youth when glasses were involved?

“Yes Iida?” he questioned as he reached over to cup the other’s cheek which was growing hotter underneath his touch. “I...I insist you finish your tea at once!” he demanded and though Shoto could have had more fun with him, he knew when to stop when he was ahead. Most of the time anyway, so he reluctantly leaned away. “Very well, Iida as you wish.” he chuckled before returning to his seat, giving Tenya a chance to breathe again though he did get some amusement in knowing that he had made the class president blush.

Though for now, he had decided to let Tenya take a moment to calm down. “I trust you enjoyed the tea? I made it myself, I often enjoy tea after a good long run. Especially during the winter mornings.” he said, “Oh?” Shoto replied before smiling. “That’s interesting to know, you run even in the winter then?” Tenya nodded, “Oh yes, I try to wake up early to get a good run before class starts or if it happens I have the day off. Then some good exercise before a hearty breakfast.” he then rose from his seat and walked over to Shoto.

“I believe a walk around the garden would be most appropriate.�� he offered the other his hand and though Shoto was a little shocked by the kind gesture. He nonetheless took Tenya’s hand and allowed the other to walk him through the garden, the colors, and placement of the flowers were amazing. “Did you do this?” Shoto questioned as he continued to walk, squeezing Tenya’s hand.

“Oh no, this was done by the gardeners. The Iida Estate must look it’s best,” he replied before Shoto looked ahead and noticed a small wooden bench, it almost seemed out of place, but as they got closer. He noticed what looked to be metal cylinders along the ground. He stopped in his tracks, “Hm?” Tenya quickly came to a stop as well and looked back at Shoto who walked over to pick one of the cylinders up.

Looking it over before his eyes widened in realization. “Iida is this one of your-” before he could finish Tenya nodded, “I...was hoping you wouldn’t notice that but yes...those are my exhaust pipes…” he confessed, almost looking ashamed. “But why…” Shoto trailed off, he didn’t want to think about it. But Tenya seemed to want to give him an answer. 

“My brother informed me...that if I wish to become a better hero, that is to train my quirk so that I may run faster and farther. That I must rip out my own exhaust pipes, new ones will grow and they can withstand the increased burden.” Shoto almost looked horrified, “But doesn’t ripping them out cause you pain?” he questioned and Tenya glanced to the side, biting his lip.  

“It does...but that is the price I am willing to pay if it means becoming a better hero,” he replied and Shoto noticed that serious glance in his eye. He knew there was no arguing with Tenya once he got this way and dropped the exhaust pipe. “Iida…” he said as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the other's neck, “Uh...T-Todoroki?” he questioned but made no move to stop the other.

“I know it’s for the better that you do this, to improve yourself. But at least let me soothe some of the pain...by doing this.” he closed his eyes before pressing his lips against Tenya’s and while he remained calm. Tenya’s arms frailed all over, trying to process what was happening. Yes, he was well aware that Shoto Todoroki was kissing him. But why? Did he feel sorry for him because of what he just confessed or was it something more?

Either way, Shoto’s lips felt cool against his own and so soft. Tenya could feel his heart racing and hear the soft humming of his engines seemed they liked to activate when Tenya was feeling rather...excited about something. Regardless, his arms slowly came to a halt and he wrapped them around Shoto’s smaller frame. Though he knew next to nothing about kissing, that same determination he felt during training seemed to burn within him.

That need to be better, to surpass his fellow classmates. With that in mind, he returned the kiss. Placing his foot forward to give himself some leverage as he deepened the kiss, determined to be the victor of this lip-lock action. He closed his eyes, bluntly ignoring the possibility that anyone could walk into the garden and see them. Including his brother, but it didn’t matter.

Oddly enough, Tenya felt as though the only thing that mattered at this moment was Shoto who was rather surprised Tenya had taken the more dominant approach to the kiss. Though he should have seen it coming, after all. This was the class president, the future Ingenium. If he ever wanted to make it big being a Pro Hero, he’d have to take charge when needed. Not that Shoto minded much, it was nice to feel Tenya’s lips working so hard against his and the feeling of those large but gentle hands securing his back.

It was amazing. Shoto curled his hands into the front of Tenya’s rather expensive blazer and tried to hold on for a few more moments. He didn’t want the kiss to end however, he was quickly running out of breath and accepted defeat. He gasped for air when he pulled away, his face flushed and his lips glistened over. He looked to Tenya, his face was equally as flushed and he too was giving soft pants before he reached up to adjust his glasses.

“Ahem…” he cleared his throat, “I uh...I do hope I wasn’t too aggressive, apologies if I appeared so. I did not mean to cause you any harm and-mm!” Shoto quickly silenced him with another kiss, his fingers still holding onto that blazer. “I believe you need to relax,” he said before reaching up to loosen Tenya’s tie which of course, caused the young boy to stir. “W-What are you doing?” he demanded but Shoto ignored him and continued to fiddle with the tie, effectively loosening it and unbuttoned the front of Tenya’s dress shirt.

“There,” he said when he was finished, admiring the small amount of skin his possible future boyfriend was now showing, part of him wanted to reach out and run his fingers across it. But he knew Tenya might not favor that, so instead, he stayed put. “Does that feel better? You look rather hot.” he said in reference to Tenya’s blush, “And your engines...they’ve been…” Tenya blinked and looked down, taking note that his engines were indeed humming and smoke was coming out of the pipes.

A rather embarrassing thing, “Well I uh...that is...I...my quirk may...influence my mood...apologies.” he said before bowing, such a thing has never happened to him before. Did Shoto somehow increase his mood to the point where his engines revved off on their own? He wasn’t sure, but either way, it was quite shameful behavior. At least for now, his aim was to impress his date and he fears he may have ruined everything.

Though much like with every situation, Shoto seemed unphased by Tenya’s display. “It’s alright. Plenty of people can't control their quirk when it comes to certain emotions, I assume I’m the first person you’ve kissed.” They had kissed back when Shoto confessed his feelings, but even then it appeared as if Tenya didn’t know how to respond to that type of affection. 

Tenya trembled and leaned back up, “Well I…” he wanted to reply, but his mouth felt dry. Perhaps they should go back inside. “That is, not many people seemed attracted to me and yes, I have not kissed another. You are my first. But understand, I never thought I would get a date.” he began to explain, his arms plastered to his sides and his hands chopping through the air. 

”I didn’t put much thought into romance, my one goal is to become a hero.” he continued, “So love, relationships and such never crossed my mind,” he finished as he glanced down and his cheeks turned a soft red color. Shoto just smiled, wanting to laugh at the display but he knew Tenya was rather fragile at this moment. “I see, so I truly am your first kiss then. That makes me happy,” he said and Tenya shifted his gaze to Shoto, his eyes full of surprise. 

“You...you are happy to be my first kiss?” he repeated and Shoto nodded. “Yes, is that so strange?” Tenya seemed rather lost and clamped his hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “I...um…I suppose not. Though it is still quite shocking you have feelings for me in the first place.” he said and Shoto shrugged. 

“Perhaps, but it was not me who chose to feel the way I do about you, it was my heart. I couldn’t help myself, there was something about you, Iida. From the first day, from when we fought at the Sports Festival. You didn’t hesitate to do what you believed was right and even managed to land a hit on me.” he recalled the scene very well, Tenya had almost thrown him out of the ring.

“Apart from Midoriya. There is no other that has impressed me, but you,” he confessed before looking back at Tenya, he almost felt bad that his face seemed to be glowing a deep red. “Iida...do you need a drink?” he questioned, quickly becoming concerned that his date would faint at any moment. “I um, perhaps a drink would cool me down, yes,” he said before walking past Shoto. “We can go to the kitchen and-” he felt a tug on his hand which caused him to stop in his tracks.

“Hm?” he turned his head and noticed Shoto had grabbed his hand. “What are you doing?” he questioned before feeling Shoto’s fingers slip between his. “I wanted to hold your hand again, that is also something you do on a date,” he explained flatly and though Tenya looked confused, he seemed to accept the explanation. “R-Right, of course! Forgive me, I still have much to learn,” he said before he resumed walking.

Once inside, Tenya poured two glasses of cold tea before dinner was announced. He insisted Shoto and himself take it to the private dining room, though there wasn’t much conversation as they ate. The time seemed to be flying by however and Tenya was rather surprised when he looked out the window and noticed the sun was setting. “Uh, Todoroki…” he said, “Do you have to be heading home soon? I am quite certain that your father-” Shoto growled at the mere mention of his father and curled his hands into fists.

“Please...do not speak of my father,” he said, each word came out of his mouth with a hiss which almost scared Tenya. “Uh, yes...apologies,” he said before hearing another growl. “Stop apologizing when you haven’t done anything wrong.” he hated people like that, though he understood it coming from Tenya. He took a deep breath and looked away, “Sorry...I just lost my cool for a moment. My father and I aren’t on good terms, so I would rather not be reminded of him and furthermore I…” Shoto tightened his fists.

“I would rather...stay with you, Iida...may we spend the night together?” he questioned, looking at the man from across the table. Dinner was wonderful but more than anything he just wanted to spend more time with Tenya. “I…” The other cleared his throat, unsure of how to respond. Shoto seemed so intent on staying with him and in a way, he’d feel bad if he made him leave.

So that only left him one option. “I suppose that would be alright, we have plenty of extra bedrooms and-” Shoto interrupted him, “I would like to sleep in the same room as you if that’s not too much trouble. We are both boys so it shouldn’t be a problem, we don’t have to share a bed. I don’t expect you to either if you have a sleeping bag. I’d be happy to take the floor.” he explained and Tenya’s face lit up, this was indeed a strange date.

“Well I...uh, I suppose that can be arranged and it is getting late, I believe I can lend you some sleeping clothes. I’ll show you to my room.” though the Iida Estate was rather large. Tenya found it easy enough to navigate, his bedroom was on the second floor, right next to Tensei’s and he was more than certain they wouldn’t disturb his brother. “Here we are, please make yourself at home. I will retrieve the sleeping bag and a pair of pajamas. You’re welcome to use my private bathroom to wash up.” he said and Shoto nodded before looking around Tenya’s room. Everything seemed basic and blue.

“Ah, here we are, as I stated you may use my private bathroom. I will change out here,” he said as he handed Shoto a set of clothes and a washcloth. “Uh thanks, Iida…” he said before walking to the bathroom. After washing up, he slipped on the clothes provided for him. Though a little baggy, he almost felt happy wearing them. Especially knowing that they belonged to Tenya and his scent faintly lingered on them.

When he stepped out, Tenya was dressed in his pajamas, complete with an old fashioned sleeping cap which was almost adorable. “Ah there you are, I’m quite happy to see the clothes I provided fit. Are you done with the restroom?” he questioned and Shoto nodded, “Ah, good. I have set up the sleeping bag with an extra cushion for comfort. Now if you may excuse me, I would like to brush my teeth.” he smiled at Shoto before walking to the bathroom and the boy walked over to the sleeping bag and sat down.

He felt lucky to be spending this much time with Tenya, but he wondered how far he could push it. He debated about this for a few moments before Tenya walked back out and sat on his bed. “Ah, it seems a rather wonderful night.” Shoto nodded, “I am going to turn out the light, is that alright with you?” he asked before darkness filled the room. Tenya had no fear of the dark, unlike most children.

He did not require a night light as a child, especially knowing that his heroic brother was just a door down from him. In addition to that, Tenya preferred a minimal amount of light when sleeping. The smallest bit proved to disturb his slumber too much. Though unlike Tenya, Shoto didn’t seem to fall asleep that quickly. In fact, he seemed to be having trouble. Tenya was laying in the bed, less than a foot from him and if Shoto was being honest, he wanted to be near Tenya.

Yes, he had spent a good portion of the day with him. But he wanted more, it was strange. This desire he felt for the other, “Mm…” he nibbled his lip before looking at Tenya who continued to lay still in his bed. “Tenya?” he questioned, though the other didn’t stir. Shoto quickly climbed out of his sleeping bag and loomed over the other, his eyes were closed and his glasses were placed on his dresser. Shoto smiled and reached over, gently cupping Tenya’s cheek.

He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping and Shoto couldn’t help himself as he leaned down and pressed his lips against Tenya’s, the man seemed to stir but didn’t wake up. So Shoto kissed him once more and promptly climbed into the bed. Yes, he knew he didn’t ask permission. But he doubted that Tenya would care and even if he did, Shoto could always talk his way out of it. He would prefer this date to end with cuddles and sleeping together side by side. “Mm...goodnight Tenya.” he said, smiling as he stared at the man so peaceful in his sleep. Though next time, Shoto would plan the date.  

[jmespottuh]

❛  if there’s one thing the gods love, it’s tragedy. with wings that burn and boys who fall. ❜

* ╰   brandon arreaga  ;  17 ;  he/him  —— wow, james potter sure has changed. i guess he is feeling isolated from the other gryffindor members. guess you can’t really blame them. i still remember them being so charming & incisive now they just seem dependent & inexorable.  guess being a  pureblood isn’t helping matters much either.  i’m hopeful though. they’ll be just fine.

links: pinterest, stats character parallels: bellamy blake ( the 100 ), shane madej ( buzzfeed unsolved ), jake peralta ( brooklyn nine-nine ), stefan salvatore ( the vampire diaries ), scott mccall ( teen wolf ), steve harrington ( stranger things )

james henry potter ( named for two his two grandfathers, maternal and paternal respectively ) was born on april 4th, 1960 to two of the most loving parents a child could have.

fleamont and euphemia had been trying for a child for years. they’d been together for basically all of time, having been that typical good-looking, well liked couple in hogwarts that everyone always just assumes will get married ( spoiler alert: they did ), however had had to postpone kids due to fleamont’s brief stint as a professional quidditch player for eight years following their graduation. after that, they would try every month for a child, and after many years of disappointment, eventually gave up. it was during this time that fleamont developed the sleekeazy hair potion which only added to their immense wealth. 

finally at age forty-one, they were surprised with the arrival of james. obviously, they saw him as their miracle child, and as such he was pampered and completely spoiled from the moment he was born.

i cannot stress enough how much this spoiled upbringing shaped james into the person he is today. if you’re wondering why he was ever an arrogant prick, it’s because he was always used to getting absolutely everything he ever wanted. he grew up with money, he grew up with fame and with every bit of attention he could garner, and so it was really no wonder he was a bit of an asshole by the time he started at hogwarts.

obviously, james had a pretty cushy childhood, and as such, shit didn’t start getting real until he started at hogwarts. 

it took all of three seconds for the hat to sort him into gryffindor, and i guess you could say he pretty much considered himself to be the gem of the house. he was the absolute epitome of a gryffindor, basically considered him the poster boy and all but expected everyone to love him.

really did not help his ego to know that everyone did.

in typical sterotype-gryffindor fashion, james hated slytherin. he had always been taught growing up that purists were basically the root of all evil, and his father had had no qualms in lumping all these people in with the house of the snakes. james and his friends took a particular disliking to severus snape almost immediately for the poncy way in which he seemed to believe he was superior to all for his intelligence and his house status, and this dislike only grew when lily evans was tossed into the mix, too.

for basically the first four or five years of hogwarts, james really was that stereotypical arrogant asshole that he’s often made out to be. he always got everything he asked for, he was incredibly popular and incredibly intelligent, he had the most amazing friends and his eyes on the most amazing girl. he was set!! shit was good!!

shit was not good, though. definitely was not.

despite having known of remus’ furry little problem since second year, things didn’t really start to settle in james how awful it was until third or fourth year. he hated seeing his friend in pain, he hated that he couldn’t help, and so he rallied the boys to put into action their worst plan yet!!!!

becoming animagi!!!!!!

it took fucking forever, obviously, but by the end of fourth year they did it!! we stan icons

except then in fifth year shit hit the fan again in just, like… so many ways

first, it was the whole severus ‘mudblood’ situation. honestly, james was absolutely furious. he’d always hated snape but this just made everything 1000 times worse. even if it had happened to anyone else, he would have been fuming. but for it to have happened to lily like… yikes. 

this was also a horrible time for james though because lily rejected him for the thousandth time. like, look, what a yikes thing to think when she was just called a mudblood, but frankly he was sick of being rejected and he was sick of being the asshole who kept pressuring her so that was the breaking point — he gave up on her. 

and tbh, he changed a lot from here on out. grew up!! became a better person bc he saw how horrible snap was and decided he was sick of horrible people!! saw, recognised and acknowledged that just bc he was hot and intelligent and rich he wasn’t always going to get everything he wanted ( see: miss evans ) and just generally learned that oh shit the world doesn’t revolve around him!!!

oh and then there was that whole thing with sirius and snape and remus the werewolf and ohhhh boyyyy…. that infuriated him. 

he loves his bros so much and y’all know he would die for them, but to see his friend abuse remus’ pain and suffering for his own gain was heart wrenching. it just pushed him further to pull him in line, to realise that not everything was about games, or petty rivalry, or ‘ getting the girl ’ — life was heartache and mistakes and it was never going to go the way he wanted it to.

now look, this isn’t all to say that james is now a super strict, super intense, brooding weirdo. he’s still a bit of a child, and he’s still a bit of an arrogant prick, but ultimately what wins out is his morals — every time. he wants to lead the world to a better place, without war and without hate, he wants everyone to have the same opportunities he had as a kid and he wants nothing more than for blood purity to be eradicated.

get that shit outta my house!!! gross!!!!!!

now in his final year, james is always flipping between taking his role as head boy deadly serious and turning it into one big game of mischief. he’s still a marauder at heart, after all, and has definitely abused his power sometimes for the benefit of fun and games, but when it comes down to it, he can be very strict and lowkey paternal. the leader really just…. popped right outta him, it came to play and it came hard, and really you’d think he’s minister for magic with how serious he treats it sometimes.

i hate him.

the disappearance of one of his best friends, one peter pettigrew, landed james to flop pretty fucking hard on the side of seriousness. once you spend months without knowing where your best friend is, thinking he’s dead, you’re bound to start to lose a bit of that which once made you smile. it was this piled on top of what james had already been feeling which led the head boy to start finding ways he could join the revolution within the walls of hogwarts --- it’s been bloody hard but james is determined to make a difference, to make sure no one else he loves suffers in a war that they never asked to fight in the first place.

anyway here’s some fun facts that didn’t fit up top

james is a lot less intense with his hatred for slytherin’s. he has come to recognise that not everyone from that lifestyle is going to be the same, not everyone who grew up a certain way or was sorted into a certain house is going to think with a deadly mind, and while he’s still a bit wary, he’s a lot more relaxed about it, especially as head boy ( gotta at least pretend shit’s fair !!! )

he’s very dependent as in like… boi cannot go a week without his friends. he is used to having people to bounce off, that’s always the type of leader he has been, and as much as he would probably be amazing at anything on his own, he’s never really tried. too scared!! i hate him!!!!!

super unforgiving. like, if you have gotten on his bad side…. i’m sorry. it is going to be very difficult to return from there. his moral compass is pretty black and white, you’re either good or your bad, and if you’ve done something he considers bad well sucks to be you, i guess. sorry not sorry.

takes his quidditch very seriously tbh. so many people have told him he needs to be a pro like his dad, but he’s like haha fuck you i know what i wanna do ( hint hint: he wants to rule that goddamn auror office, make that shit far more efficient then he thinks it is now ). but srsly, he’s so intense abt the game and it really like… idk gets him in the zone, keeps him level-headed in amongst all this chaos. 

he’s smart. i guess. straight a’s and shit idk. just very naturally intelligent, finds everything he does easy, like.. really is that asshole who is just good at everything he does.

[stagjmes]

❛  if there’s one thing the gods love, it’s tragedy. with wings that burn and boys that fall. ❜

—wait a second, is that HIM, the PUREBLOOD sorted into GRYFFINDOR house? their name is JAMES POTTER but they share a startling likeness with AUBREY JOSEPH. in their SEVENTH YEAR, they’re known as the SHEPHERD, probably because they are CHARMING but DEPENDENT. i wonder what side they’ll end up on at the end.

james henry potter ( named for two his two grandfathers, maternal and paternal respectively ) was born on april 4th, 1960 to two of the most loving parents a child could have.

fleamont and euphemia had been trying for a child for years. they’d been together for basically all of time, having been that typical good-looking, well liked couple in hogwarts that everyone always just assumes will get married ( spoiler alert: they did ), however had had to postpone kids due to fleamont’s brief stint as a professional quidditch player for eight years following their graduation. after that, they would try every month for a child, and after many years of disappointment, eventually gave up. it was during this time that fleamont developed the sleekeazy hair potion which only added to their immense wealth. 

finally at age forty-one, they were surprised with the arrival of james. obviously, they saw him as their miracle child, and as such he was pampered and completely spoiled from the moment he was born.

i cannot stress enough how much this spoiled upbringing shaped james into the person he is today. if you’re wondering why he was ever an arrogant prick, it’s because he was always used to getting absolutely everything he ever wanted. he grew up with money, he grew up with fame and with every bit of attention he could garner, and so it was really no wonder he was a bit of an asshole by the time he started at hogwarts.

obviously, james had a pretty cushy childhood, and as such, shit didn’t start getting real until he started at hogwarts.

it took all of three seconds for the hat to sort him into gryffindor, and i guess you could say he pretty much considered himself to be the gem of the house. he was the absolute epitome of a gryffindor, basically considered him the poster boy and all but expected everyone to love him.

really did not help his ego that everyone did

in typical sterotype-gryffindor fashion, james hated slytherin. he had always been taught growing up that purists were basically the root of all evil, and his father had had no qualms in lumping all these people in with the house of the snakes. james and his friends took a particular disliking to severus snape almost immediately for the poncy way in which he seemed to believe he was superior to all for his intelligence and his house status, and this dislike only grew when lily evans was tossed into the mix, too.

for basically the first four or five years of hogwarts, james really was that stereotypical arrogant asshole that he’s often made out to be. he always got everything he asked for, he was incredibly popular and incredibly intelligent, he had the most amazing friends and his eyes on the most amazing girl. he was set!! shit was good!!

shit was not good, though. definitely was not. 

despite having known of remus’ furry little problem since second year, things didn’t really start to settle in james how awful it was until third or fourth year. he hated seeing his friend in pain, he hated that he couldn’t help, and so he rallied the boys to put into action their worst plan yet!!!!

becoming animagi!!!!

it took fucking forever, obviously, but by the end of fourth year they did it!! we stan icons

except then in fifth year shit hit the fan again in just, like… so many ways

first, it was the whole severus ‘mudblood’ situation. honestly, james was absolutely furious. he’d always hated snape but this just made everything 1000 times worse. even if it had happened to anyone else, he would have been fuming. but for it to have happened to lily like… yikes.

this was also a horrible time for james though because lily rejected him for the thousandth time. like, look, what a yikes thing to think when she was just called a mudblood, but frankly he was sick of being rejected and he was sick of being the asshole who kept pressuring her so that was the breaking point — he gave up on her. 

and tbh, he changed a lot from here on out. grew up!! became a better person bc he saw how horrible snap was and decided he was sick of horrible people!! saw, recognised and acknowledged that just bc he was hot and intelligent and rich he wasn’t always going to get everything he wanted ( see: miss evans ) and just generally learned that oh shit the world doesn’t revolve around him!!!

oh and then there was that whole thing with sirius and snape and Remus the Werewolf and ohhhh boyyyy…. that infuriated him.

he loves his bros so much and y’all know he would die for them, but to see his friend abuse remus’ pain and suffering for his own gain was heart wrenching. it just pushed him further to pull him in line, to realise that not everything was about games, or petty rivalry, or ‘ getting the girl ’ — life  heartache and mistakes and it was never going to go the way he wanted it to.

now look, this isn’t all to say that james is now a Super Strict, Super Intense, Brooding Weirdo. he’s still a bit of a child, and he’s still a bit of an arrogant prick, but ultimately what wins out is his morals — every time. he wants to lead the world to a better place, without war and without hate, he wants everyone to have the same opportunities he had as a kid and he wants nothing more than for blood purity to be eradicated.

get that shit outta my house!!! gross!!!!!!

now in his final year, james is always flipping between taking his role as head boy deadly serious and turning it into one big game of mischief. he’s still a marauder at heart, after all, and has definitely abused his power sometimes for the benefit of fun and games, but when it comes down to it, he can be very strict and lowkey paternal. the leader really just…. popped right outta him, it came to play and it came hard, and really you’d think he’s minister for magic with how serious he treats it sometimes.

I hate him

he’s a lot less intense with his hatred for slytherin’s. he has come to recognise that not everyone from that lifestyle is going to be the same, not everyone who grew up a certain way or was sorted into a certain house is going to think with a deadly mind, and while he’s still a bit wary, he’s a lot more relaxed about it, especially as head boy ( gotta at least pretend shit’s fair !!! )

ok i’m so tired this is abt to turn into a rambling mess

uHhhHHh he’s very dependent as in like… boi cannot go a week without his friends. he is used to having people to bounce off, that’s always the type of leader he has been, and as much as he would probably be amazing at anything on his own, he’s never really tried. too scared!! i hate him!!!!!

super unforgiving. like, if you have gotten on his bad side…. i’m sorry. it is going to be very difficult to return from there. his moral compass is pretty black and white, you’re either good or your bad, and if you’ve done something he considers bad wELL sucks to be you, i guess. sorry not sorry.

takes his quidditch very seriously tbh. so many people have told him he needs to be a pro like his dad, but he’s like haha fuck you i know what i wanna do ( hint hint: he wants to rule that goddamn auror office, make that shit far more efficient then he thinks it is now ). but srsly, he’s so intense abt the game and it really like… idk gets him in the zone, keeps him level-headed in amongst all this chaos.

i don’t know what im saying anymore pls send help

uhhhhh he’s smart. i guess. straight a’s and shit idk. just very naturally intelligent, finds everything he does easy, like.. really is that asshole who is just good at everything he does.

i’ve run out of things to say, pls just love him

[rookthorne]

How can I resist murder bby? It’s simple, I cannot. 😌

He was smart enough to realise it was probably rooted in his parents not showing him physical affection as a child - no hugs goodbye, no forehead kiss goodnight, not even a damn high five for a job well done in school.

damn it why do I have to have something in common with him?! OOF

Why would people want that? Why would you go out of your way to spend more time in connection with someone than you had to?

oh sweetheart you have a whole world ahead of you

However, you were different. You told him off when he crossed the line. Held him to a higher standard than he held himself. For some strange reason, which Ransom couldn’t fathom, it seemed that you wanted him to be a better version of himself than the spoiled narcissist his parents had raised.

You had this endearingly inspiring quality about you which always made him feel like he could do anything, including improving himself to be more than just the pampered, pompous rich boy.

pausing here for a mo.

YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING STYLISTIC WRITER EM AND I SERIOUSLY CANNOT GET ENOUGH

continuing on.

You must have sensed his rigidity beside you. When you looked up at him, all wide eyed and believing you had done something wrong, moving to pull your hand away from his, he clamped his hold on your pinky even tighter.

You must have been able to read his intent from the expression on his face - you were always good at doing that - because instead, you smiled up at him, scrunching your nose in the adorable, involuntary way he adored, and kept your finger joined with his for the rest of the party.

NOT THE FUCKING NOSE SCRUNCH pls have mercy on me

The people currently in the room with him had provided the opposite of that his entire life - they had only caused him anguish and loneliness. It was all he was used to, and yet with a gesture as simple as holding hands, he knew for a fact he had found that solace with you.

AHHHHAHAHA WHERE DID THESE ONIONS COME FROM THIS ISN’T ANGST

hittin’ me when emotional baby, hittin’ me good 😭

“Let me thank you properly.”

OH GOD

Ransom wasn’t about to deny what you wanted when you asked so politely.

“Such a needy girl aren’t you?” He asked before generously adding an extra finger, your grateful groan in appreciation making his dick twitch. “Look at you, my gorgeous little slut creaming on my fingers right outside my parent’s house where they could see us. You like that, don’t you?”

HNNNNG

FUCK

“That’s my good girl. Let go baby, I got you.”

I did not book in to visit a sauna

And because of that, someday, he’d make sure you knew just how much he cherished you by giving you a ring to wear proudly on your finger.

OFF TO A FUCKING BEAUTIFUL START EM ho my god

now excuse me while I jump into an ice bath.

Your Hand In Mine

Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ransom was never a physically affectionate person, at least, not until he met you.

Prompt: @suck-tember day 1 prompt ‘fingers’

Warnings: strictly 18+ only, NSFW, fingering, semi-public sex. TRIGGER WARNING: mention of Ransom’s parents being neglectful and physically abusive. Mention of drugs and alcohol - not consumed by reader. Ransom is fairly soft in this

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: so I know it’s not focussed on oral fixation as intended for @suck-tember, but the prompt inspired this idea so I ran with it. Banners by @maysdigitalarts, dividers by @silkholland

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Ransom Drysale was always someone who liked to keep to himself.

Not that he didn’t enjoy going out, being the life of the party, managing to spend a regular person's yearly wage in one night, or arguing his opinion with anyone who was willing to take the bait.

But in the sense that he enjoyed his physical space.

He was smart enough to realise it was probably rooted in his parents not showing him physical affection as a child - no hugs goodbye, no forehead kiss goodnight, not even a damn high five for a job well done in school.

The only time his parents ever touched him was if he was being dragged somewhere didn’t want to go, their hands in a vice around his arm as he wailed and cried, like the spoiled brat they incessantly told him he was. His father sometimes resorted to physical punishments to prevent his weeping, regularly enough that Ransom quickly learned not to resist their demands, to simply go along with it if he were to avoid their punishment.

And with his compliance, went their last reason to touch him. Though, Ransom was thankful for that.

As he got older, Ransom’s aversion to physical affection born solely from innocent, non-sexual intentions only grew stronger.

Wherever he went he’d see couples interlocking hands, using any excuse to hold each other, sit in each other’s lap, mindlessly fiddle with the other's fingers, placing chaste kisses to foreheads, shoulders, hands.

Why would people want that? Why would you go out of your way to spend more time in connection with someone than you had to?

Ransom was by no means averse to some physical forms of intimacy - having a woman in his bed for the night who could wet his dick provided far greater pleasure than his own hand could. His body had figured that one out for himself.

But that was all about his own sexual release. It had nothing to do with romantic feelings, affection or comfort. Nor the satisfaction of his partner in those carnal activities. It was purely about himself.

How selfish.

Well, he was a Drysdale after all.

Nobody expected anything more of him.

And then he met you.

Your compassion for others were second to none, and even though Ransom had never done anything in his pampered and overindulgent life to deserve any sympathy, you showed him incomparable kindness nonetheless.

If Ransom wanted something, he got it. Friends and strangers alike never said no to him, not with the wealth and stature his family notably held. That same status was something you didn’t place importance on - you treated everyone the same regardless of their background or what material items they could offer you.

Most were too scared to call Ransom out for his bullshit, so he continued to toy the line to see what he could get away with - it was all a game to him, knowing his family money could buy him out of any real trouble he found himself in.

However, you were different. You told him off when he crossed the line. Held him to a higher standard than he held himself. For some strange reason, which Ransom couldn’t fathom, it seemed that you wanted him to be a better version of himself than the spoiled narcissist his parents had raised.

That intrigued Ransom. Mostly because society viewed him as purely the wealthy enabler who paid for everyone’s night out, but that’s where their attachment ended. He knew he was only tolerated because he funded lavish parties, supplied the alcohol and facilitated his so-called friends' drug habits - if it weren’t for that, he’d just be the dickhead nobody liked.

You had this endearingly inspiring quality about you which always made him feel like he could do anything, including improving himself to be more than just the pampered, pompous rich boy.

And he found that he wanted to. For you.

You would later tell him it was his courage and resolve to better himself that really made you fall for him. And though Ransom rarely felt shy, he was apprehensive to inform you that you were the reason he tried in the first place. Because that would mean admitting not only were you the only person on the face of the earth who actually gave a damn about him, but also the way he felt about you was developing into a deep fondness he was unable to control.

In most contexts Ransom was usually the person in charge, directing what needed to happen and when. Yet, when it came to his relationship with you, you were the one who instigated everything.

His lack of experience in affairs born of the heart rather than pure lust, made him feel like an insecure, inexperienced teenager. Yet you were always patient with him, which only resulted in his ever growing attachment to you deepening.

With a romantic relationship came expectations of chaste physical intimacy, and that perhaps more than anything scared Ransom. He couldn’t understand the reasoning behind wanting to be close to someone in that way, and with the deficiency of experiencing any physical touch his whole life, he was concerned he may never be able to provide that for you.

He felt comfortable enough to express this worry to you, and with the unparalleled empathy you possessed, you promised him to start off nice and slow.

You were both attending a book release for his grandfather when it happened for the first time. In tedious discussions with relatives who Ransom had completely forgotten how he was connected to, you inconspicuously reached over and interlocked your pinky with his.

That’s all it was. Just his smallest finger connected with yours. And yet he found himself never wanting to let go. That one minuscule act, that seemed at least outwardly to not affect you at all, had Ransom’s entire body paralysed.

You must have sensed his rigidity beside you. When you looked up at him, all wide eyed and believing you had done something wrong, moving to pull your hand away from his, he clamped his hold on your pinky even tighter.

Ransom wasn’t quite sure why he felt that if you were to let go his whole life would crumble before him. It seemed a drastic overreaction to a simple caress of fingers. But he felt that way deep in his chest nonetheless.

You must have been able to read his intent from the expression on his face - you were always good at doing that - because instead, you smiled up at him, scrunching your nose in the adorable, involuntary way he adored, and kept your finger joined with his for the rest of the party.

Ransom tried to not let the thought of innocently touching your hand consume him, but he failed miserably. He had previously only ever experienced repulsion at chaste touches, and yet he welcomed your touch so freely, only wanting to experience more of the warm sensation.

It wasn’t until two weeks later, while having Sunday family dinner at his parents house, that you chose to perform a similar action.

His mother was on a tirade about certain members of the family whom she didn’t approve of, something she ended up doing when she had one too many glasses of wine, when your name fell from her lips followed by the words ‘gold digger’.

Ransom’s hands were immediately clenched in fists, and rage boiled so fiercely within him that he wouldn’t be surprised to see steam billowing from his ears. He opened his mouth, ready to return the attack when it happened.

Your soft hand pried his fist open, nestling yourself between his fingers. You barely looked down at where you now connected with him, instead choosing to look deep into his eyes as if to say ‘she’s not worth it’.

He could feel his heart rate immediately start to slow down. The anger which had been ferociously bubbling in his chest now felt like barely a ripple.

All because you touched him.

Not sexually. Not in the sensual, teasing ways your hands would roam his body when you wanted him to fuck you.

No, not like that at all. You were simply holding his hand with no additional motivation. You were gaining nothing from this exchange, the act was solely for Ransom’s benefit. Interlocking your fingers with his and affectionately rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand, as if it were the most normal and natural thing you could do.

And that’s when it all finally clicked in Ransom’s brain.

The reason all those lovey dovey couples that annoyed him everywhere he went couldn’t get enough of holding each other - why they’d use any excuse to be connected with their person.

Comfort. Support. Security.

The people currently in the room with him had provided the opposite of that his entire life - they had only caused him anguish and loneliness. It was all he was used to, and yet with a gesture as simple as holding hands, he knew for a fact he had found that solace with you.

Linda across the table repeated his given name a couple of times in the scorchingly frustrated way only she could manage when directing conversation at the son she regretted having. However, Ransom was too caught up in his body’s reaction to your affectionate touch to give a shit about his mother at that moment.

The table went silent as Ransom finally stood and declared “eat shit, we’re leaving.”

Heads held high, you walked side by side out of the hostile house, Ransom not letting go of your hand until he opened the passenger side door of his car. As soon as he let go, a feverish tingle rushed up his arm which he suspected only your touch could soothe.

“Thank you.” Ransom breathed out. Somehow the air in his small car wasn’t as stuffy as it was inside his parents' giant house. Ransom couldn’t remember the last time he thanked someone, if ever. Yet the words felt right in his mouth when you were the one he was thanking.

“You’re welcome, Ran.” You returned, seemingly knowing exactly what he was thanking you for without him needing to say it aloud.

As if to make him fall even harder for you right then and there, you chose that moment to yet again join your hand with his, and place a kiss to his knuckles. A warm, fuzzy feeling erupted in Ransom’s chest, one he knew for certainty he had never felt before.

It concerned him for a moment that possibly he was having heart palpitations, or an anxiety attack. But perhaps what startled him the most was that this feeling was actually a surge of love and devotion to you.

He had never loved someone before.

But when he looked into your eyes, he was sure. He could see his whole life in front of him. He never thought finding someone who would put up with him for longer than a night would be on the cards for him, and yet here you were, sticking by him even when you knew the dark and ugly parts of him.

It was both exhilarating and terrifying that for the first time in his life, there was someone more important to him than himself. Someone he wanted to truly be better for.

“Let me thank you properly.”

Without thinking, or even really knowing how he managed it in his small car, he shifted you from the passenger seat onto his lap, pulling you into a bruising kiss.

Ransom felt an inherent need to pleasure you with his fingers, the same part of your body which you had used to provide comfort to him earlier. Pushing your skirt up over your thighs, his hand instinctively reached for the damp patch already forming on your panties.

“Please Ran, please. I need you.” God you sounded so desperate, and that only turned him on even more.

Ransom wasn’t about to deny what you wanted when you asked so politely. Pushing your panties aside, he coated the tips of his fingers in your slick before slipping his middle finger into you. He could tell at once it wasn’t enough by the way you wiggled your hips eagerly to increase friction.

“Such a needy girl aren’t you?” He asked before generously adding an extra finger, your grateful groan in appreciation making his dick twitch. “Look at you, my gorgeous little slut creaming on my fingers right outside my parent’s house where they could see us. You like that, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod when Ransom used his thumb to draw small circles over your clit while simultaneously scissoring his fingers inside you, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

Unlike with his previous sexual partners where all Ransom was concerned about was his own orgasm, being knuckle deep inside your pussy was about your pleasure.

Did the sight of you whimpering above him, feeling your soft walls fluttering around his fingers make him painfully hard? Absolutely.

But this wasn’t for him. This was all for you.

He continued to relentlessly thrust his fingers inside you, instinctively curling them to brush over the spongy spot that had your thighs quivering, relishing the moans and whines slipping from your lips right beside his ear.

“I love all those pretty little sounds you make.” Knowing he was responsible for every breathy gasp, every whimper trickling from your lips only fueled him to pump his fingers faster, to hear more of them.

As he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, Ransom could feel your grip on his shoulders tighten and your pussy squeezing his fingers gloriously.

“Shit, right there! Oh God, Ran, I’m gonna cum.” Your head fell to rest your forehead against Ransom’s shoulder, fingers tugging at his hair and though your eyes fluttered shut in pure ecstasy, he couldn’t take his eyes off how beautiful you looked.

“That’s my good girl. Let go baby, I got you.”

Your entire body shuddered as the wave of your orgasm overcame you, crying out an incoherent combination of curse words and his name as your gushing climax coated his hand and the front of his pants. Though, Ransom didn’t relent the pace of his pumping fingers until he was satisfied that you had fully come down the other side of your high.

The dazed smile you shot him once you managed to sit upright in his lap again mesmerised him. In that moment all he wanted to do was give you mind blowing orgasm after orgasm so he could continue to experience the heavenly sight of your writhing body and that bewitching, satisfied smile.

Ransom removed his fingers from you and brought them up to his mouth to taste the slick of your release, which was as sweet as he knew your soul to be. Lord, he could just drown in the taste of you - something he planned on doing once the location allowed for it.

“Let’s go back to your place, and I’ll return the favour.” You mumbled against his lips in a sloppy kiss before manoeuvring yourself back into the passenger's side seat.

The entire drive home Ransom covered your hand with his on the gear stick, his large fingers slotting between yours perfectly.

In his small car beside you, driving ever further away from his old family house, Ransom had never felt more at home. He intrinsically knew that he’d never find a safer place than his hand enclosed in yours.

And because of that, someday, he’d make sure you knew just how much he cherished you by giving you a ring to wear proudly on your finger.

I will be scrapping my taglists soon. To be notified of all fic updates, please follow and turn on notifications for my library blog

Everything taglist: @imagining-harrypotter @tripletstephaniescp @asgardwinter @demonpoxballad @nagygreta @libbymouse @mayasreadingnook @thecraziestcrayon @hallecarey1 @sea040561 @smallmercies33 @buckysbirdie @moongoddessmox @coolbeans32 @foreverindreamlandd @pitifulbaby @seitmai @emi11ie @princessphilly @daydreaming-lightly @440mxs-wife @brasspistol

[kirain]

More kids movies! More kids movies! These are my childhood!!!!

How about a top ten list of animated non-Disney films, since I tend to enjoy them more?

1. The Iron Giant

This was one of my favourite movies as a kid, and nothing about it is dated. No matter how advanced we get in animation and story-telling, I can’t imagine The Iron Giant ever losing its relevancy. The story follows a young boy named Hogarth, who lives with his single mother in 1957 America during the height of the Cold War. As Hogarth is a bit of a nerd and “poindexter”, he’s often bullied at school and doesn’t have any friends. That is, not until a giant robot seemingly falls out of space. Hogarth becomes its first human contact and comes to rely on him in order to survive. While Hogarth works to keep the giant’s existence a secret from the government, their bond strengthens as they experience life through childish innocence.

2. The Secret of NIMH

I think I mentioned before that I don’t like movies with anthropomorphic animals, but there are always exceptions. NIMH is one of those exceptions, and is in fact one of my favourite children’s movies/books ever made. The story follows a common field mouse named Mrs. Brisby, who’s only goal is to protect her beloved children. As she lives on a farm, she must soon move her children to avoid plowing season; however, her youngest son becomes bedridden with pneumonia. Her family friend and doctor, Mr. Ages, tells her that her son must stay inside or risk death– but if she can’t move they will all be in danger. As such, Mr. Ages tells her to seek out the rats of NIMH, a pack of escaped genetically mutated lab rats who live in a nearby rosebush. He explains that with their heightened intelligence, they might be able to devise a way to move her whole house, and that since her late husband Johnathan was one of them, they’ll likely feel obligated. When she seeks them out, however, she stumbles onto a mess of conspiracies, power struggles, and murder most foul.

3. The Pagemaster

Definitely dated and not the nicest animation, but an amazing children’s story nonetheless. The Pagemaster is a movie about a young boy named Richard Tyler who lives his life based on statistics and fears literally everything. One night, during a thunderstorm, he wanders into a huge library where he meets a strange librarian. While the man tries to figure out what kind of books Richard likes, all Richard can think about is getting home. When the librarian fails to trigger Richard’s basically nonexistent imagination, he sends the boy on a wild goose-chase through the massive bookshelves to find a phone so he can call his parents. While searching, he slips and hits his head, then wakes up in the form of an illustration. In this new world, he befriends three living books, Horror, Adventure, and Fantasy, whom he works with to face several trials before he can return home. The overall message of this movie teaches children to face their fears, believe in themselves, and enjoy their childhood while they have it.

4. The Road to El Dorado

My favourite unlikely tale of two Spaniards who set out to find the lost city of El Dorado. One craves adventure, the other craves gold. This fun little travel-comedy shows children the consequences of lying and greed. When Miguel and Tulio manage to traverse a dangerous jungle and find the great City of Gold, they pose as Gods to trick the natives into forgiving their trespass. Spoiled, pampered, worshipped, all seems to be going well for our “heroes”, until a real threat emerges and they struggle to save face. How long until their farce is discovered, and how many people will they hurt along the way?

5. Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron

Essentially, Spirit is a movie about severe animal cruelty and how horses were treated during the construction of the railroad in the middle of the grisly Indian Wars. A nameless horse, dubbed “Spirit” by a Lakota boy, is captured by some American wranglers in an attempt to be domesticated. Strong-willed and stubborn, Spirit does whatever he can to defy his captors, eventually escaping with the help of the aforementioned Lakota boy, Little Creek. His newfound freedom is short-lived, however, because the boy’s tribesmen appear, tie him up, and take him to their camp. There he meets a beautiful mare named Rain, who attempts to show him how well animals are treated among the natives. Despite the softer and kinder approaches, however, Spirit refuses to be ridden and only longs for his freedom. It just goes to show that no matter how tame a creature may become, it deserves to run wild.

6. Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland

Looking back on this movie, I admit that the plot is somewhat messy, but it’s still a solid children’s movie that’s sure to bolster their imagination. Little Nemo is a story about a young boy who experiences bizarre dreams. It’s never known why, until one night he’s taken to a magical kingdom called Slumber Land. It’s here that he meets King Morpheus and Princess Camille, who tell him that he is ordained to become the new prince. Without much explanation, Nemo is entrusted with a key that keeps the evil Lord of Nightmares sealed behind a giant, mystical door and told to protect it. Unfortunately, a local troublemaker named Flip convinces Nemo to open the door, and the nightmares spill out, shrouding Slumber Land in darkness. Determined to fix his mistake, Nemo and friends set out to Nightmare Land to find the evil king and put a stop to him forever. The animation, colours, music, and visuals make this movie quite compelling, and I’d recommend watching it at least once.

7. Balto

Balto is a wonderful tale based on a true story. Balto is a shunned half-breed from the small Alaskan town of Nome, where no one (man or dog) is willing to trust him because they believe his wolf blood makes him dangerous. One day, however, a little girl named Rosie shows him kindness when he prevents her new hat from being squished during a sled race. He leaps in the way and grabs it just in time. In thanks, Rosie pets him, compliments him, and lets him pull her sled– until her father kicks him away. Sadly, a few days later, Rosie is hospitalised with diphtheria, a horrible disease that killed many children in the winter of 1925. Due to severe whirling snowstorms, the train carrying the antitoxin to save Rosie, and countless other children, is halted. It cannot be transported by air or vehicle either. As such, the people of Nome devise a race to find the fastest dogs, which will join the sled team that will risk everything to retrieve the medicine on foot. Balto wins, but is once again shunned when the musher realises he’s part wolf. Balto is left behind, but soon gets word that the sled team fell off the grid, taking the serum with them. Determined to save Rosie and the other innocent children, Balto sets out to find the team and bring them home. Naturally, this movie is about prejudice, and not judging people based on their heritage.

8. FernGully: The Last Rainforest

Definitely one for the environmentalists, FernGully is a movie about a young fairy name Crysta who lives in a stunning rain forest that’s been untouched by man for centuries. Naive and curious about humans, Crysta flies off and encounters a vile construction zone where a young city boy named Zak is cutting down trees. When he sees her, he attempts to catch her, thinking she’s some bizarre bug he’s never seen, but in doing so gets distracted. A large tree begins to fall, and in order to save him from getting crushed, Crysta shrinks him down to her size and flies him out of the way. Soon, Zak gets pulled into her world, where he learns the value of nature– but by the time he figures it out it’s too late. His employers cut down a sacred tree and release Hexxus, a man-made embodiment of pollution whom the fairies locked away centuries ago. In order to save the forest, Crysta and Zak must work together to stop Hexxus and the lumberjacks before there’s nothing left.

9. A Troll In Central Park

A Troll in Central Park is one of those rare gems that few people seem to have heard of, but it’s a fantastic children’s movie nonetheless. The story focuses on Stanley, a troll with a green thumb who’s been driven underground because humans have ruined the surface with buildings and bridges and roads. Fearful of humans, he tries to avoid them at all costs, until one day an infant named Rosie falls into his hidey-hole. Desperate to stop her crying, he shares his magic and begins to sprout colourful plants left and right. Just when Stanley begins to think he may have judged humans too harshly, Rosie’s older brother Gus tracks them down and begins to destroy the place. Seeing how angry Gus is at his parents (who are often away at work), Stanley instead decides to teach Gus the importance of happiness, forgiveness, and beauty. The story does take a very dark turn, hoever, when Gnorga, Queen of the Trolls, attempts to kill Stanley, as she believes trolls are meant to be crude and callous. I don’t want to spoil too much, but I honestly can’t do this movie justice. I highly recommended it to anyone and especially to anyone with children. They’ll love it.

10. We’re Back! A Dinosaur’s Story

This movie is weird. Even when I was a child I thought it was weird, and as an adult … I still can’t come up with a better word to describe it. It’s a weird blend of magic and science, past and future, dinosaurs and humans. It’s just weird. But it was also one of my favourite movies as a kid, and one that I watched over and over with no regrets. The plot follows a group of four dinosaurs who are brought back from the past by a crazy scientist who invented time travel. With a special cereal, he domesticates these otherwise murderous giants and gives them human-like features. When he releases them into the streets of New York, they quickly become the talk of the town, and befriend a lonely young urchin boy named Louie and a neglected rich girl named Cecilia. Joy abounds, until the children run into a creepy old man named Professor Screweyes, who seeks to revert the dinosaurs back to their prehistoric form and use them to terrify others. To be completely honest, there could be countless meanings to this movie, or really none at all. Either way, it’s a movie I highly recommend to anyone who might be looking for a little something extra in their kid’s movies. After all, it’s really weird.

[ofprcngs]

BRANDON ARREAGA — Well, if it isn’t JAMES POTTER, the GRYFFINDOR superstar. For those of you who don’t know HIM, you can spot them sitting with the other SEVENTH years. Most people think that they’re CHARMING and INCISIVE, but they can also seem pretty DEPENDENT and INEXORABLE. Sometimes people call them the SHEPHERD. Sure, they’re a PUREBLOOD, but that doesn’t define them. 

i literally have 0 explanation for why i did this other than i’m in love with him. but also, he’s a mess, so jot that down. if you wanna know more about him ( protip: don’t ) then i recommend checking out his pinterest and then i dunno.... contemplate why i’m a punk ass bitch, i guess. enjoy this mess. plot with me. ily.

james henry potter ( named for two his two grandfathers, maternal and paternal respectively ) was born on april 4th, 1960 to two of the most loving parents a child could have.

fleamont and euphemia had been trying for a child for years. they’d been together for basically all of time, having been that typical good-looking, well liked couple in hogwarts that everyone always just assumes will get married ( spoiler alert: they did ), however had had to postpone kids due to fleamont’s brief stint as a professional quidditch player for eight years following their graduation. after that, they would try every month for a child, and after many years of disappointment, eventually gave up. it was during this time that fleamont developed the sleekeazy hair potion which only added to their immense wealth. 

finally at age forty-one, they were surprised with the arrival of james. obviously, they saw him as their miracle child, and as such he was pampered and completely spoiled from the moment he was born.

i cannot stress enough how much this spoiled upbringing shaped james into the person he is today. if you’re wondering why he was ever an arrogant prick, it’s because he was always used to getting absolutely everything he ever wanted. he grew up with money, he grew up with fame and with every bit of attention he could garner, and so it was really no wonder he was a bit of an asshole by the time he started at hogwarts.

obviously, james had a pretty cushy childhood, and as such, shit didn’t start getting real until he started at hogwarts. 

it took all of three seconds for the hat to sort him into gryffindor, and i guess you could say he pretty much considered himself to be the gem of the house. he was the absolute epitome of a gryffindor, basically considered him the poster boy and all but expected everyone to love him.

really did not help his ego to know that everyone did.

in typical sterotype-gryffindor fashion, james hated slytherin. he had always been taught growing up that purists were basically the root of all evil, and his father had had no qualms in lumping all these people in with the house of the snakes. james and his friends took a particular disliking to severus snape almost immediately for the poncy way in which he seemed to believe he was superior to all for his intelligence and his house status, and this dislike only grew when lily evans was tossed into the mix, too.

for basically the first four or five years of hogwarts, james really was that stereotypical arrogant asshole that he’s often made out to be. he always got everything he asked for, he was incredibly popular and incredibly intelligent, he had the most amazing friends and his eyes on the most amazing girl. he was set!! shit was good!!

shit was not good, though. definitely was not. 

despite having known of remus’ furry little problem since second year, things didn’t really start to settle in james how awful it was until third or fourth year. he hated seeing his friend in pain, he hated that he couldn’t help, and so he rallied the boys to put into action their worst plan yet!!!!

becoming animagi!!!!!!

it took fucking forever, obviously, but by the end of fourth year they did it!! we stan icons

except then in fifth year shit hit the fan again in just, like... so many ways

first, it was the whole severus ‘mudblood’ situation. honestly, james was absolutely furious. he’d always hated snape but this just made everything 1000 times worse. even if it had happened to anyone else, he would have been fuming. but for it to have happened to lily like... yikes. 

this was also a horrible time for james though because lily rejected him for the thousandth time. like, look, what a yikes thing to think when she was just called a mudblood, but frankly he was sick of being rejected and he was sick of being the asshole who kept pressuring her so that was the breaking point --- he gave up on her. 

and tbh, he changed a lot from here on out. grew up!! became a better person bc he saw how horrible snap was and decided he was sick of horrible people!! saw, recognised and acknowledged that just bc he was hot and intelligent and rich he wasn’t always going to get everything he wanted ( see: miss evans ) and just generally learned that oh shit the world doesn’t revolve around him!!!

oh and then there was that whole thing with sirius and snape and Remus the Werewolf and ohhhh boyyyy.... that infuriated him. 

he loves his bros so much and y’all know he would die for them, but to see his friend abuse remus’ pain and suffering for his own gain was heart wrenching. it just pushed him further to pull him in line, to realise that not everything was about games, or petty rivalry, or ‘ getting the girl ’ --- life  heartache and mistakes and it was never going to go the way he wanted it to.

now look, this isn’t all to say that james is now a Super Strict, Super Intense, Brooding Weirdo. he’s still a bit of a child, and he’s still a bit of an arrogant prick, but ultimately what wins out is his morals --- every time. he wants to lead the world to a better place, without war and without hate, he wants everyone to have the same opportunities he had as a kid and he wants nothing more than for blood purity to be eradicated.

get that shit outta my house!!! gross!!!!!!

now in his final year, james is always flipping between taking his role as head boy deadly serious and turning it into one big game of mischief. he’s still a marauder at heart, after all, and has definitely abused his power sometimes for the benefit of fun and games, but when it comes down to it, he can be very strict and lowkey paternal. the leader really just.... popped right outta him, it came to play and it came hard, and really you’d think he’s minister for magic with how serious he treats it sometimes.

i hate him.

he’s a lot less intense with his hatred for slytherin’s. he has come to recognise that not everyone from that lifestyle is going to be the same, not everyone who grew up a certain way or was sorted into a certain house is going to think with a deadly mind, and while he’s still a bit wary, he’s a lot more relaxed about it, especially as head boy ( gotta at least pretend shit’s fair !!! )

ok i’m so tired this is abt to turn into a rambling mess 

uHhhHHh he’s very dependent as in like... boi cannot go a week without his friends. he is used to having people to bounce off, that’s always the type of leader he has been, and as much as he would probably be amazing at anything on his own, he’s never really tried. too scared!! i hate him!!!!!

super unforgiving. like, if you have gotten on his bad side.... i’m sorry. it is going to be very difficult to return from there. his moral compass is pretty black and white, you’re either good or your bad, and if you’ve done something he considers bad wELL sucks to be you, i guess. sorry not sorry.

takes his quidditch very seriously tbh. so many people have told him he needs to be a pro like his dad, but he’s like haha fuck you i know what i wanna do ( hint hint: he wants to rule that goddamn auror office, make that shit far more efficient then he thinks it is now ). but srsly, he’s so intense abt the game and it really like... idk gets him in the zone, keeps him level-headed in amongst all this chaos. 

i don’t know what im saying anymore pls send help

uhhhhh he’s smart. i guess. straight a’s and shit idk. just very naturally intelligent, finds everything he does easy, like.. really is that asshole who is just good at everything he does.

i’ve run out of things to say, pls just love him

WANTED CONNECTIONS

girlfriend: i hate to expose myself as a whole ass jily stan but... here i am i guess. but also, listen: he really thinks he’s over her right now. like, he truly believes his days of pestering lily evans are behind him. it was just a crush! it’s gone! ( spoiler alert: it’s not ) BUT he is so convinced that he has got himself into this relationship which is really just... a mess. like highkey it’s obvious he could never fully love her bc his Heart Belongs to Lily or whatever but he does care for her deeply and has tricked himself into believing it’s love. it’s hard, man. he’s confused. send help.

ex-girlfriend(s): more of above but like... less intense? or more intense! who knows, frankly.

childhood friend(s): i’d die for childhood friends. jake/gina dynamic? iconic. just anything, really.

odd friend: ok like... as i mentioned, he’s still kinda wary of slytherins and ppl who grew up in purist culture, but i would love love love to see someone who was one of the first to show him that not all those people are so bad. like someone from a purist family or the like who was just chill and friendly and actually befriended this asshole even when he was... well, an asshole. it’d be fun, ig. also if they eventually do end up recruited for the de’s bc of family stuff or whatever... bonus points.

rivals: i’m tired. you understand.

[druidcore]

nsfw alphabet and split it up between all of our muses because... stealing your words... IDC DO IT DANI

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Tessa I can imagine being super snuggly after sex. Running her finger down Ford’s chest, sighing contentedly like a happy little kitten. She stretches out, burrows down into the bed and will stroke Ford all over. Her hands will grip his biceps and rub all the way down to his hands and up again, while she hums. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

April’s favorite body part for herself is actually her stomach. She’s spent hours before in front of her mirror running her hands over her taut skin, admiring the way her ribs don’t protrude, but expand like wings wrapped around her heart. She deeply romanticizes forgotten ares of her body showing them the love that the rest of her body gets without prompting, but her stomach is her favorite one. She intends to preserve it forever. 

On Dominic, her favorite body part is his back. It’s corded with muscle speaking of years and years of dedicated work and labor. She daydreams daily of kissing him there, an inch above his jeans all the way to the nape of his neck. Her fingers itch to knead into his skin, working out all the tension and stress knotted there. His back is magnificent. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

One of Rhiannon’s dirtiest fantasies is to have not one –– but multiple people cum on her face. There’s something to the act, a little degrading and a little rewarding which pleases her. To be an object of desire that not just one but two (or even three) guys are obsessed with is something that has always fascinated her. She’s never admitted it to anyone though, out of partial shame and fear that she’ll be ridiculed or slut-shamed for it. Opinions on the matter tend to vary, and if she’d ever do it, she’d want to do it with people that wouldn’t make her feel dirty (in a bad way) for it. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Penelope once masturbated in the Quidditch stands. She was one of the only people there –– it was a cold day out –– and the Slytherin team was likely practicing and she was trying to study, but the more she watched them practice, the more she got the urge to do something a little… dirty. And before she knew it, her fingers were her down her skirt, behind her books. She came once and instantly stopped. The whole experience was incredible, but extremely nerve-wracking and she never did anything of the like again. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Safe to say Mandy’s got little to no experience. The first boyfriend she had tried to pressure her into sex and she didn’t want to and ended up running out of his house. The most they did was over the top petting and he made her stroke him and she hated it because he kept pointing out everything she was doing wrong, and it was all just too much too fast. And then her next boyfriend was a kid from her mom’s Church, and she set them up, and when Mandy was making out with him and actually wanted to jerk him off, he shamed her and made her feel dirty. Her relationships since have been with guys who make out with her and bring her to family events and stuff, but she always gets cheated on with other girls “willing to put out”. Because she’s from a small town there’s word around that she’s a goody goody among the school kids and then that she’s promiscuous among the church kids. Either way, no one is giving her any, so she hasn’t had chances to explore what she likes or not. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Ronan’s favorite position is actually simple missionary –– he likes to see a woman’s pleasure on her face as he’s, ahem, giving it to her. And honestly, what woman would protest that? Having him above with a hand braced on the wall, driving into her? It’s been nothing than successful so far. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Zahra is definitely kinda goofy. She likes to make her partners feel comfortable and will probably like laugh and smile a lot during sex, which sometimes intimidated some of her ex boyfriends because they weren’t secure in their confidence as a result of hers. She likes having fun, wild sex and trying new things and sometimes kind of embarrassing incidents occur and sometimes you just have to laugh them off and she’s great at that. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Before the whole apocalypse started, Willa occasionally shaved down there when she had to –– for bikini season and for swimming classes. But after, obviously things sort of took a turn. Razors weren’t really one of the most important things to stock-pile or focus on, so that… kind of took a backseat to bigger and more important things. Still, when her and JP started sleeping together, she put an effort into finding a pair of scissors at at least trimming a little when things got too wild. She’s not too bothered about the situation down there though, she’s never been too hairy, and honestly if he can’t deal with her body hair during the zombie apocalypse, there’s no way they’re ever going to make it out of it. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Nesrin has a hard time being intimate, if she thinks about it. Her favorite sex positions are reverse cow-girl and doggy, just because that level of eye contact and kissing during sex are so... intense and she never knows how to handle it. She’s never really had sex with someone she was in love with, and whether she knows it or not, it’s like she’s subconsciously waiting to be fully intimate (and romantic) with someone she does genuinely have feelings for. Malcolm, probably, would be the first. Uh oh. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Fallon can never get herself off. It’s just one of those things where it’s unsatisfying and she’s always left more frustrated after than before. She can’t manage to get out of her head –– she needs to be firmly planted in the moment to really get off. Her inability to do so leaves her feeling discontent and insecure. She’s tried –– believe her, but at a certain point she sort of just gave up and hasn’t bothered to keep trying. Now she only orgasms when someone (Graham) gives her one. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Mera’s definitely got a huge daddy kink and is always interested in a lg/dd type relationship. She wants to be pampered in every aspect of life and being “daddy’s little princess” is something that highly appeals to her. Her dating history has always landed her with attractive but trifling and broke men and so she needs someone sturdy and reliable, but still a little wild and sexy (and preferably rich lmao) to lay it down good, and spoil her with goodies and love and lots of sex.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Dana’s favorite places to “do the do” are pretty wild, as compared to the usual bed, bathroom, etc. She likes doing it in wide open spaces. Her biggest fantasy is to do it in big palace courtyard or something of the sort. Other places that rank up there are rooftops (element of danger there, obviously) and her high-school basketball court (the acoustics in that thing are phenomenal okay??). 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

There’s just something about sexting in plain view which gets Lauren wet like no other. When her and Josh are on opposite ends of the counter, looking so innocent as they wait for new customers in silence, but being so absolutely filthy in reality, she sometimes feels like she could hop onto the counter and ask him to have sex right there and then. 

And the way his arms flex whenever he does anything flexible is also an incredible turn on. He’s got strong arms, and large palms. She finds herself daydreaming about their imprint on her ass more often than not. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Taylor’s absolute biggest no-no is anything to do with bodily fluids separate from cum. No golden showers, none of that. Despite being pretty nasty in bed, this is the one thing she’ll be super judgemental about and easily disgusted by, not only because personal hygiene is important to her, but because she also thinks it spawns terrible expectations and ideas in people’s minds. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Wes likes to receive more –– but that’s just because he’s so used to giving in all other aspects of his life, that getting feels like a huge gift to him? I feel like he really savors and appreciates every single blowjob he ever gets. As for his own skill in giving, his first girlfriend was older than him and boy did teach him him well. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Cassia is as #romantic #aesthetic sex as it gets. I’m talking like, candles and having slow sex in the moonlight. It’s hips writhing like the slow roll of the ocean waves and the drawn-out rise and plunge of herself on his length. It’s the complete opposite of frenzied. It’s intense, and yes, incredibly sensual. It’s a stimulation all over the body, everywhere they touch. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

It depends on the person she’s with, when it comes to Aislinn. She’s come to hate them with her boyfriend, because it feels impersonal and almost disrespectful, but she has a feeling that might not be the case with Jax, because he actually pays her pleasure attention. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Parker’s kind of wild tbh. He’s experimented a lot. He love love loves rectal stimulation and is always down to try new things, including but not limited to: threesomes, sex parties, sex swings, swinging… Anything along those lines he’s always ready to try at least once. His mantra happens to be: try it once, and if you don’t like it try it again just to make sure. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Justine is kind of-kind of not a virgin. There’s never been time to lose her virginity to someone, as in have sex, but she has broken her hymen before using –– yes, you guessed it –– a hairbrush. It hurt a lot and she had to weather it herself, but it hasn’t scared her off sex. She just hasn’t had time to have a boyfriend or anything, but she’s eager to actually have sex for the first time, especially since she won’t have to deal with the pesky issue of losing her virginity to someone who’ll blunder through it. She wants someone experienced who will take care of her right. But again, where even is the time? 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Tessa has tons, tons, tons of toys. In her line of work she prided herself on not having to sleep with anyone, but since a) not many of her past boyfriends had ever been adept at finding her G spot (or her clit) and b) she’s sometimes had to go through long dry spells without sex, she’s built up quite a nice little collection of toys. She tends to prefer dildos to vibrators because most brands tickle her too much, even though dildos are more work. Her favorite one is a waterproof clear silicone one that she saves just for when she wants to take a bath or shower –– which is, for some reason, her favorite place to masturbate. Something about the steam and the atmosphere. 

She’s proud of her toys, and even when she’s in a relationship with Ford, she won’t throw them away. They’re her babies –– in fact, she might even have names for some of them. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tessa is not a tease. Not at all. She has very little patience when it comes to someone she actually likes. If she wants him, she’ll make it obvious and she’ll go for it. And as for being teased, she has a love/hate relationship with it because on one hand she’s getting the attention she wants, but on the other hand, god damn it, its not enough –– she wants more. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Taylor is, of course, loud. Not only is she loud, she’s vocal about everything she’s feeling too. She grunts when Tyler bottoms out, she swears when she’s close to the edge, and during particularly exhaustive romps where they’ve fucked more than once in one night, his name tends to blur into other words. And she’s always been this way –– uninhibited. She’s the roommate you never want to have because sometimes not even wearing headphones is enough to block her out. If you’ll recall, she’s got the lungs of a future broadway star. Her voice can pitch super high –– the shitty university dorm walls never stood a chance. 

BONUS: Tessa gets… very complimenting in bed. Ford can expect a lot of “oh god, I love your cock! don’t stop!” during and after. She’s also opinionated and will easily give directions like, “go faster!” “harder!” etc. until it’s perfect and by then she can hardly speak, save for the gibberish that’s coming out of her mouth. 

EXTRA BONUS: Fallon is quiet. She’s not a screamer, she’s not loud, but in contrast it’s intense and earth-shattering the way she comes. Her breathing deepens and stills and she makes these short keening gasps the closer she gets to orgasm. She’ll try to moan Graham’s name, but the sheer pleasure makes it impossible for her to get past the first three letters before her eyes are rolling to the back of her head and she’s coming for him. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

It had to happen. It’s not that she’s got a dirty mind (alright, she sort of does) but they work at a bagel shop, for Christ’s sake. It’d be criminal of them to not take advantage of the fact. One day Lauren proposes to Josh that they make a bagel with a hole big enough to fit his dick through because… Well, why not? All the tools (pun intended) are at their disposal, and they’ve got the whole place to themselves after they lock up. Even if he doesn’t agree, it was worth a shot to ask, and to see the look on his face. 

And if he does agree? Well, she loves Bagels, and she loves Josh’s dick so… Best of both worlds. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Yeah, Jasey definitely has a piercing down there. Her clit is pierced, something she got done when she was 18 and wanted to do something wild. Her and her best friend got it done together and cheered each other on. Jasey swore up a storm when it was done, because she’s incredibly sensitive down there. It also was a very hard healing process for her because it got infected once, but she took care of it afterwards and now it’s all good. She also happens to not shave or wax, but trips the pubes when they get too long. Her hair is light brown and slightly coarse, and grows slowly. She has to do maintenance maybe every three weeks. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Kaja’s sex drive has never been too high. She’s been called a prude many times simply because of it. Sex has just never been one of her primary, or even secondary interests. She’s also never met anyone where the connection between them has been electric. To be honest, her life has been pretty bland, as far as things go. She entirely expects for sex to be the same, even when others claim it’s this awesome, epic thing. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Nat never really falls asleep after sex. Due to always having to be on the run and on the move, there’s never anytime to sleep, and even if there was, she usually never trusts people enough to fall asleep next to them. However, down the line with Nik, I can imagine that show of like… vulnerability almost where she’d finally allow herself to nod off? I don’t know if she’d tell him the significance of it, though. 

[zombievirusandpeanutbutter-blog]

Growing Up

Allouette stayed perfectly still as her mother fawned over every last blonde curl. Her eyes were focused on the gilded edges of the full length mirror they stood before. She made a pointed study of the delicate engravings--flowers, vines, sparrows--a pointed study of everything except her reflection. She looked more beautiful than she ever had before. She didn't need to see it to know. Her mother had spent nearly two sun steps dressing her, delicately applying makeup, braiding ribbons and jewelry into her hair.

               I'm a lamb being prepared for slaughter

               Sucking in a deep breath she grasped the edges of her skirt tightly between her fingers. She turned her attention to the fine fabric. She had always had nice clothes, she came from a wealthy merchant family and had been especially pampered and spoiled growing up. Yet this dress was nicer still than anything she had worn before. This was a dress meant for nobility. A soft lilac and decorated with small stars and moons embroidered in gold. She wondered if the stars were meant to have meaning, a purpose, some statement to the world about who she was and who she would be. The only meaning she could discern was how small the stars looked in the sky. And how small that sky made her feel. She was insignificant, fleeting. That sky had watched over thousands of lives like hers. To the stars time meant nothing, it rushed by like a flood washing the world clean over and over.

               It's funny. How quickly time passes. It seems to be standing still, but then you turn round and the future you never thought would arrive is suddenly upon you.

            ��  Gentle fingers took hold of Allouette's chin and she found her gaze redirected to her mother's eyes, green like her own. She immediately looked instead at her mother's mouth which smiled widely, proudly. In the turn of her mother's lips Allouette found happiness. In the crease of her mother's eyes there was only sadness.

               "You're perfect."

               Allouette smiled. Nodded. Said nothing. Her mother waited a moment, waited for her to reply. When Allouette said nothing her mother simply nodded.

               "It's time. We should be going. Your father is waiting."

               Gently taking Allouette's hand she led her from the room. As they passed through the door Allouette looked back over her shoulder, finally taking in her reflection. She really did look perfect.

               I'll never look in that mirror again. I'll never stand in this room again.

               At the bottom of the stairs waited her father. Tall, well dressed, handsome. It was easy to see how her mother had fallen for him. Next to him stood her eldest brother, a dashing youthful copy of her father, as though time had folded in on itself so that youth and adult stood side by side. Delicately wrapped around one arm was her sister. They shared the same blonde hair and green eyes and if Allouette grew up to be even a fraction as beautiful she would count herself beyond lucky.

               As they reached the bottom of the stairs her brother and sister embraced her one by one. Hugging her firmly but silently. Allouette was thankful for the silence. It strengthened her. If someone were to speak, to voice what they all felt...

               Allouette's mother was next to take her in her arms and she held her, frozen so long Allouette wondered if she'd ever let go. Then, in one swift movement she let go and retreated up the stairs without looking back. Allouette's brother and sister gave her one last look, then they too took silently to the stairs. Allouette watched until they had disappeared from sight.

               A hand gently took her own.

               Turning her head away from the stairs Allouette looked at her brother. They were twins, but no one would ever guess it. Though they had the same curls he had inherited their father's dark hair and eyes. He stared at her now with those eyes and she felt the wall of ice she'd wrapped herself in begin to melt.

               "Oh Ahlan, we were never meant to be twins."

               He took her in his arms then, hugged her tightly, fiercely.

               "I'm so sorry."

               He was crying, she could hear it in his voice and feel the wet warmth of his tears on her neck.

               I mustn't cry. I'll ruin my makeup.

               Softly Allouette extricated herself from his arms and took her father's arm.

               "Good bye Ahlan."

               And with that she followed her father out of the house she would never again see, away from the family she was no longer a part of. As he loaded Allouette into the carriage he had rented to carry her to her destiny she suddenly spun round and grasped his hands desperately in hers.

               "Dad--Daddy, I'm not ready."

               He was silent for a long time, looking at her hands and his rather than her face.

               "No," he said finally, "I suppose you're not." He looked now over her head, at the flashy houses across the cobbled street. Houses trying too hard to show off their wealthy owners.

               "Garland, the jeweler...his boy...they've been training him since he could stand. Preparing him. We could have...We didn't know what was best. We didn't want your whole life to be focused on this future. We wanted you to have a chance to live a different life than the one you were born for...We just wanted you to be happy."

               I was never happy.

               The thought echoed through her head as the carriage sped her through the streets. Out of the extravagant merchant district, through the plain business district, and on and on towards the heart of the city.

               I was never happy.

               Yet was that true? Her family had loved her, had given her everything she could want or need. Their neighbors and friends had always been kind. She had never been given cause to be sad.

               Still.

               Even as she was shown every kindness she could always see the shadow in their eyes, the pity.

               No she was never happy, but she was never sad either. She was numb. She had always been numb. And today especially--She barely registered when the carriage stopped as she retreated farther and farther into her own thoughts. So far that when a loud voice finally broke her reverie she found she could not remember walking into the large courtyard where she now stood, could not remember assembling with this large crowd of children. Children all her own age. Children from all walks of life, nobility, merchant, poor, orphans, farmers. Allouette looked round, taking them all in for what felt like the first time. Many were dressed in what were clearly their best clothes just as she was. Not far from her a tall boy stood dressed in a tunic so fine it made her dress look like rags. And beside her another boy, small, thin, his clothes clean but threadbare and ill-fit.

               The Cull takes from everyone.

               "--And so I greet you all on this proud day. The day when your lives truly start!"

               Allouette finally turned her attention forward, to the well dressed man who stood upon an austere balcony.

               "We will not pretend it is not a sad day. For you have been brought here, asked--no, demanded to give up all you have known. Yet it is also a happy day, for you are being given an opportunity to become something greater! When our forefathers first addressed the eternal problem of our city, that our finite space would not always be able to support our infinitely expanding population they could have chosen unspeakable methods to resolve this issue. Instead however they established the Academy and decreed that every family to bear more than three children would send the younger children to be trained to be a part of our glorious military when they reached their thirteen spring. There is no greater glory than serving and protecting our great city and of course there are many earthly rewards as well. The city guard transcends all petty social barriers. For the less fortunate this is your chance to become something greater, to attain a better life than you could have ever eked out in the mud alleys. For the fortunate this is your chance to bring yourself and your family great honor worth more than any riches--"

               "He's not going to say it, is he?"

               Allouette started. It was the small boy--could he really be thirteen?

               He doesn't need to say it.

               "Say what?"

               "What happens when we graduate," his eyes looked full, as though he might burst into tears at any moment. "That only the best of the best join the City Guard. That the rest of us will be sent outside the walls on a 'glorious mission to reclaim the world'. They'll send us out there to kill those things...but we won't--we can't--we'll d--" His voice cracked and he dropped his head suddenly, his brown hair falling over his eyes.

               Allouette bit her lip as she considered the boy. "You sound as though you've already given up. You could make it you know. You could be one of the best."

               The boy looked up again, glaring at her through his tears. "No. I won't. No matter how hard I try I won't be strong enough. What about you, do you think you'll be one of the best?"

               Looking down at her hands, soft, pale hands, Allouette considered his question. She had never really thought about it before, even though the possibility had existed since she was born. She bit her lip again, hard, so hard she could taste blood. She'd never thought about it before because she hadn't wanted to face the answer.

               "No. I won't be."