#op your mind… genius…

[leatherbookmark]

ootd features the words "black dress" in its lyrics and people are like oh! this is a reference to another group's song, "black dress"!

i'm unwell.

[royalstormpsych]

i feel like i see a lot of people talking about people with ocd struggling with morality and responding with some way to tell whether the person is morally correct or not, but that actually doesnt help the issue of constantly mentally checking every behavior for how morally correct it is, it just like. offers up a method of doing that or a frame of reference to use when doing that

[fuzzycheesecakenightmare]

when they didn't clap for katniss and instead were silent and did the district salute for the dead

THERE SILENCE WAS THE FIRST ACT OF TRUE REBELLION IN THE BOOK

just like the canary stops singing!!!!!

District 12 being one of the poorest, underfed Districts showing how ripe a revolution really was and they were also coal miners and associated the most with music and singing and mockingjays and songbirds they were literally the canary in a coal mine

[021894s]

SIMS ANATOMY - JAKE SIM

SYNOPSIS: you, a top cardiac surgeon, find yourself increasingly frustrated by the distraction over the hospital’s new head of neurosurgery, Dr. Jake Sim. Despite your initial annoyance, you can't help but notice Jake's charm and undeniable skills. As you keep running into each other, Jake’s persistent yet respectful flirtations begin to break through your professional exterior.

PAIRING: neurosurgeon! jake x cardio surgeon! reader

GENRE: workplace romance, situationship

WARNINGS: explicit smut, unprotected sex (don’t), oral (m and f receiving), angst, language, MDNI!!

wc: 12k

You step out of the OR, still riding the adrenaline high from the successful triple bypass surgery you just completed. The intricate dance of sutures and clamps still echoes in your mind as you head towards the nurses' station to update your patient's chart. You’ve always prided yourself on your precision and dedication, and today was no exception.

As you settle into the chair, logging into the system, you can't help but overhear snippets of conversation from the nearby nurses. Their voices are hushed but excited, and despite yourself, your ears prick up at the mention of a new doctor.

"Oh my god, have you seen Dr. Sim yet?" one nurse gushes, her voice practically dripping with admiration. "He's the new head of neuro. I can't believe he's not married with kids."

"Seriously, he's so handsome," another chimes in. "I thought doctors like him only existed in movies."

You roll your eyes internally, feeling a twinge of annoyance. These nurses should be focusing on their patients, not swooning over some new doctor. You know the type—charming, overconfident, used to turning heads wherever he goes. You’ve seen it a hundred times. It’s frustrating to think that professional women, who you’ve seen handle the toughest of medical crises with unflinching composure, could be so easily distracted by a pretty face.

"He smiled at me in the break room," another voice adds, dreamy and far away. "I nearly melted."

You resist the urge to scoff out loud. Instead, you channel your irritation into the chart in front of you, updating the post-op notes with meticulous detail. Your patient, Mr. Harrison, came through the surgery well, and you want to ensure there are no loose ends in his care plan. His vitals are stable, and the grafts look good. You make a note to check on him in an hour.

The chatter continues unabated. "I heard he’s a genius in the OR," someone says. "Apparently, he’s revolutionized some new technique in neurosurgery."

"Brains and looks? Not fair," another nurse quips, and they all dissolve into giggles.

You finish charting, your irritation only growing. It’s not that you begrudge the nurses their moment of levity—being a nurse is hard, often thankless work, and they deserve a bit of fun. But the object of their admiration rubs you the wrong way. You’ve had to work twice as hard to be taken seriously in a male-dominated field, and the idea of a doctor coasting on his looks and charm irks you.

Shaking your head slightly, you stand up and grab the chart. There’s still a lot to do, and you don’t have time to dwell on some pretty boy neurosurgeon. If he’s really as good as they say, you’ll see for yourself soon enough. And if not, well, you’ve never had a problem putting overconfident doctors in their place.

As you walk away from the nurses' station, you hear one last wistful sigh. "I can't wait to see him in action."

Neither can you, you think, but for entirely different reasons.

You step out of the OR, mind still buzzing with the details of the successful valve replacement surgery you just completed. you head to the cardiac unit to check on post-op patients, but something feels off. The usually bustling ward is eerily quiet, with only one nurse, Olivia, stationed at the desk.

“Olivia,” you calls out, her voice cutting through the silence. “Where is everyone?”

Olivia looks up, a hint of guilt flashing in her eyes. “They’re at lunch,” she replies a little too quickly, her tone unconvincing.

you narrows her eyes, knowing Olivia well enough to sense when she’s not telling the full truth. “Olivia...” you say in a stern voice, crossing your arms.

Olivia shifts uncomfortably under your gaze. “Okay, fine,” she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “They’re in OR 2’s gallery.”

Confusion flickers across your face. “Why would they be in the gallery?” you ask, your irritation growing.

“Dr. Sim is clipping an aneurysm,” Olivia admits, unable to meet your eyes.

That’s all you need to know, storming off towards the gallery, your footsteps echoing through the hallways. The idea of your nurses neglecting their duties to watch a surgery infuriates your. Jake’s presence in the hospital had already been a source of frustration, and now he was serving as a distraction for your team.

Reaching the gallery, you push open the door and stride in, your eyes scanning the crowd of nurses huddled around the glass, their attention glued to the procedure below. you spot Jake in the OR, skillfully clipping the aneurysm, his focus unwavering.

“What is going on here?” you demand, voice slicing through the murmurs. The nurses jump, turning to face you with wide eyes. “Why are you all here instead of attending to your patients?”

One of the nurses, Carla, steps forward, stammering. “We... we just wanted to see Dr. Sim’s technique. It’s supposed to be groundbreaking.”

your glare is icy. “I don’t care how groundbreaking it is. Your patients come first. Get back to your stations, now.”

The nurses scurry out, their heads bowed in embarrassment. you watch them go, your anger simmering. Jake’s impressive skills might have captivated your team, but to you, he was nothing more than a distraction. you couldn’t afford to have the nurses slacking off, not when lives depended on their diligence.

you turn back to the OR, eyes locking onto Jake. For a brief moment, your gazes meet through the glass, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps? Or was it amusement? Shaking off the thought, you storm out of the gallery, determined to keep your team on track and your own frustrations with Jake in check.

You catch sight of Jake coming out of the OR, his surgical cap still on and his scrubs marked with the evidence of a long, intense procedure. He’s engrossed in conversation with another surgeon, but as you approach, he looks up and meets your gaze.

“You must be Dr. Sim,” you say, your voice firm.

Jake smiles, wiping his hands with a towel. “Dr. Y/L/N, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I could say the same about you,” you reply, not missing a beat. “Seeing as you’re the reason my nurses are disappearing during their shifts to watch this so-called groundbreaking technique of yours.”

His smile falters slightly, and he raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize my surgeries were causing any issues. I’m sorry if they’ve been a distraction.”

“They have,” you state bluntly, crossing your arms. “My team’s focus should be on their patients, not on observing other procedures or a certain brain surgeon, no matter how impressive they might be.”

Jake’s lips curl into a playful grin. “Oh, so you think I’m impressive?”

You feel a flush of annoyance, typical behavior for a neurosurgeon, always so full of themselves. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it,” he teases, taking a step closer. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to maintain your stern demeanor. “My team doesn’t have time for distractions, Dr. Sim.”

“Fair enough,” he replies, his tone still light but his expression more serious. “I understand, and I’ll make sure to address it with the staff. I didn’t mean to disrupt the unit.”

You study him for a moment, gauging his sincerity. Despite your irritation, there’s something about his demeanor that disarms you slightly. You can’t help but notice his deep brown eyes, plump lips, and the way his Australian accent is way more attractive than it should be. You understand, in that moment, why the nurses might be so captivated.

“Good,” you say, your tone softening just a touch. “I appreciate that.”

Jake smiles again, this time a bit more warmly. “And if it’s any consolation, your reputation as a top cardiac surgeon is well-deserved. I look forward to working alongside you.”

“Likewise,” you reply, giving him a curt nod before turning to leave. As you walk away, you can’t shake the mixture of irritation and intrigue. Jake Sim might be causing headaches for your unit, but there’s no denying his skill and charm. You just hope he proves to be more than just a distraction.

A few days later, you find yourself in the hospital’s busy hallway, reviewing patient charts on your tablet. The hum of activity around you is a comforting backdrop until a familiar voice interrupts your focus.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” Jake calls out, his voice carrying that unmistakable Australian lilt. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You look up, and there he is, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Dr. Sim,” you acknowledge with a nod, trying to keep your tone neutral. “What can I do for you?”

“Just thought I’d say hello,” he replies, pushing off the wall and sauntering over to you. “And maybe ask how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you respond, keeping your eyes on your tablet.

“Busy as usual, I see,” he notes, glancing at the screen. “You ever take a break?”

“Breaks are for people who don’t have critical patients to tend to,” you reply, not looking up.

He chuckles, the sound warm and annoyingly pleasant. “You know, there’s more to life than work. Maybe you need someone to remind you of that.”

You finally look up, raising an eyebrow. “And I suppose you think you’re that someone?”

“Could be,” he says with a confident grin. “I mean, who better to show you the lighter side of things?”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “You’re quite sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Confidence is a necessity in our line of work,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “But I’ve heard it helps in other areas too.”

“Oh really? Like what?” you ask, despite yourself.

He leans in a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Like convincing brilliant surgeons to step out of their comfort zones once in a while.”

You scoff lightly, shaking your head. “I don’t need convincing, Dr. Sim. I have my priorities straight.”

“Of course you do,” he replies smoothly. “But even the best of us need a break sometimes. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you out. Just offering a bit of friendly advice.”

You look at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious. “Friendly advice, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a wink. “Think of it as a, professional courtesy.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite your best efforts to stay stern. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I get that a lot,” he says, flashing that infuriatingly charming smile. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to saving lives. But if you ever need a reminder of what fun looks like, you know where to find me.”

later that day, the hospital corridors are quieter than usual as you make your way to the elevators, finally heading home after a long shift. The soft hum of the building is almost soothing after the constant noise of the OR. You press the button and wait, your mind already shifting to thoughts of a hot shower and some much-needed sleep.

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you see Jake standing inside, leaning against the back wall, his expression relaxed but alert. He looks up and his face lights up with a familiar, playful smile.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets, stepping aside to make room for you. “Heading home too?”

“Dr. Sim,” you reply, stepping in and pressing the button for the ground floor. “Looks like it.”

The doors close, and the elevator begins its descent. The enclosed space suddenly feels a bit smaller with the two of you in it.

“Long day?” he asks, glancing over at you.

“You could say that,” you respond, leaning back against the wall. “You?”

“Same here,” he says, a hint of fatigue creeping into his voice. “But it’s all part of the job, right?”

You nod, a brief silence settling between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s an unspoken tension, a mix of mutual respect and something else you can’t quite put your finger on.

“So,” Jake breaks the silence, a teasing note in his voice. “Any plans for the evening? Or are you one of those surgeons who lives and breathes work even at home?”

You raise an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And what about you? Do you have a life outside the hospital, Dr. Sim?”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and genuine. “I try to, when I’m not dealing with brain surgery. But I’ll admit, it’s a challenge. The job can be all-consuming.”

“Tell me about it,” you agree, your tone more relaxed now. “Sometimes it feels like there’s no room for anything else.”

“Maybe that’s why it’s important to find some balance,” he says, his voice sincere. “Even if it’s just little moments here and there.”

You look at him, considering his words. There’s more to Jake than the cocky, flirtatious persona he often projects. “I suppose you’re right.”

The elevator dings again, signaling your arrival at the ground floor. As the doors open, you both step out into the lobby, the cool night air from outside brushing against your skin.

“Need a ride?” Jake offers, his tone casual but there’s a glint of genuine concern in his eyes. “It’s pretty late.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you reply, appreciating the offer but not ready to blur those professional lines just yet. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Count on it,” he says with a wink. “Have a good night, Dr. Y/L/N.”

“You too, Dr. Sim,” you respond, turning to head towards your car.

As you walk away, you can’t help but feel a strange mix of irritation and curiosity. Jake Sim might be a distraction, but there’s no denying that he’s also starting to become a presence you can’t quite ignore. And maybe, just maybe, that’s not entirely a bad thing.

The next day, you find yourself scrubbing in for a complex procedure. Today’s case is a particularly challenging one: a patient with both a severe cardiac condition and a cerebral aneurysm, requiring the combined expertise of both cardiac and neuro specialists. As you meticulously scrub your hands and arms, you hear the familiar voice of Jake Sim beside you.

“Looks like we’re working together today,” he says, his tone a mix of professionalism and that signature playful edge.

You glance over, meeting his eyes. “Seems like it. Ready for this?”

“Always,” he replies, his confident smile never wavering. “I’ve been looking forward to this case. It’s not every day we get to tackle something this intricate together.”

You nod, appreciating his enthusiasm despite your initial reservations about him. “Agreed. The patient’s condition is precarious. We need to be perfectly in sync.”

Jake gives you a serious nod, his demeanor shifting. “Absolutely. Let’s make sure we give them the best outcome possible.”

You both finish scrubbing in and enter the OR, where the patient is already prepped and waiting. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of tension and anticipation, the surgical team moving with practiced precision. As you take your place on one side of the patient, Jake positions himself on the other, eyes meeting over the sterile field.

“Ready to start?” you ask, your voice steady and focused.

“Ready,” Jake confirms, his expression equally determined.

The surgery begins, and the OR fills with the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the soft hum of machinery. You work methodically, your hands moving with practiced precision as you navigate the complex landscape of the patient’s heart. Jake mirrors your concentration, his focus unbroken as he tackles the aneurysm with equal skill.

“Forceps,” you request, your voice calm and controlled.

“Here,” the scrub nurse says, passing the instrument with a fluid motion. “How’s the heart looking?” jake asks

“Stable,” you reply, glancing up briefly to meet his eyes. “How about the aneurysm?”

“It’s going well,” he answers, his tone steady. “We’re almost there.”

As the surgery progresses, you find yourselves falling into a natural rhythm, your movements synchronized in a way that surprises you. There’s a subtle, unspoken understanding between you, each anticipating the other’s needs and adjustments.

“Nice work on that bypass,” Jake comments, his tone genuinely appreciative.

“Thanks,” you reply, a small smile forming behind your mask. “Your precision with the aneurysm is impressive.”

“Coming from you, that means a lot,” he says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice.

Hours pass, but the intensity of your focus never wanes. Finally, as the last suture is placed and the patient’s vitals stabilize, you both step back, a sense of accomplishment settling over you.

“Great job, everyone,” you say to the team, who respond with nods and murmurs of agreement.

Jake meets your eyes, his expression one of respect and something more. “We make a good team, Dr. Y/L/N.”

You nod, feeling a surprising sense of camaraderie. “We do, Dr. Sim. Let’s hope the patient has a smooth recovery.”

As you step out of the OR and begin the process of de-scrubbing, you can’t help but reflect on the day’s events. Working alongside Jake, seeing his skill and dedication firsthand, has shifted your perspective. He’s still cocky, still flirty, but there’s depth and talent beneath that exterior.

“Drinks tonight to celebrate?” Jake asks, a teasing glint in his eye as you both head towards the locker rooms.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe another time, Dr. Sim. But good work today.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, dropping the formalities for a moment. “Seriously, it was an honor working with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” you admit, giving him a genuine smile before heading off to change.

The next few weeks bring more opportunities for you and Jake to work together, and each collaboration reveals another layer of his skill and personality. Despite his initial cockiness, Jake proves to be a dedicated and talented surgeon, and you begin to see him in a new light. The more time you spend together in the OR, the more you find yourself appreciating his expertise and even enjoying his company.

One evening, you find yourself finishing up some paperwork in the quiet cardiac unit. The day had been long, but fulfilling, with several successful surgeries under your belt. As you look up from your desk, you see Jake approaching, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Hey," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "You still here?"

"Just wrapping up," you reply, setting aside your pen. "What about you?"

"Same," he says, stepping into your office. "I was going to head out, but I thought I'd check in on you first."

"Checking in on me, huh?" you say with a hint of amusement. "What for?"

"Well, I was thinking," he starts, a bit more serious than usual. "We've been working together a lot lately, and I wanted to say thank you. For trusting me in the OR and for being an amazing colleague."

You feel a warm glow at his words, appreciating the sincerity behind them. "Thank you, Jake. You've been a great partner in the OR. I couldn't have asked for a better neurosurgeon to collaborate with."

Jake smiles, the familiar twinkle returning to his eyes. "You know, I think we make a pretty good team."

"I think so too," you admit, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's been nice, working with you."

"Nice, huh?" he teases, his playful side emerging once more. "I'll take that as a high compliment coming from you."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Don't let it go to your head, Sim."

He chuckles, but his expression soon turns more contemplative. "You know, I've been thinking about what I said the other day. About balance and taking breaks. It's something I'm not great at either."

"a little hypocritical to be giving me advice then no?," you reply, your tone light but teasing. "It's hard to switch off when our work is so demanding."

"Exactly," he agrees. "But I've realized that maybe we could help each other with that. Maybe we could find a way to balance things out a bit more."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"How about we start with something simple?" he suggests. "Like taking a real break. Maybe grab a coffee together, no work talk allowed. Just two colleagues, taking a breather."

You consider his offer, the idea surprisingly appealing. "Alright, Dr. Sim. Coffee sounds good."

Jake's smile widens, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Great. Tomorrow morning, then? Before our rounds?"

"Tomorrow morning," you agree, feeling a flutter of anticipation.

The next morning, you find yourself at the hospital’s small café, waiting for Jake. The early hour means the space is quiet, with only a few other staff members milling about. When Jake arrives, he’s carrying two steaming cups of coffee, a smile on his face.

“Good morning,” he greets, handing you a cup. “Thought I’d get us a head start.”

“Thanks,” you say, accepting the coffee and taking a sip. “So, what’s on your mind, Dr. Sim?”

“Just enjoying the company,” he replies, sitting down across from you. “And maybe getting to know the person behind the scalpel a little better.”

You chuckle, feeling a bit more at ease. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

“Let’s start simple,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “What do you do when you’re not saving lives?”

You think for a moment, realizing how rare it is for you to talk about anything other than work. “I like to read, mostly. And sometimes I go for a run. It helps clear my head.”

“Sounds nice,” he says, nodding. “I’m more of a swimmer myself. It’s the one thing that keeps me sane outside the OR.”

“Swimming, huh?” you ask, surprised. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a swimmer.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Y/N,” he says, his tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness.

“Maybe,” you admit, feeling a strange curiosity about him. “But I’m starting to think I’d like to find out.”

The conversation flows easily, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying the time with Jake. As you talk, you see different sides of him—his passion for his work, his dedication to his patients, and even a vulnerable side that he rarely shows.

When it’s time to head back to your respective departments, you feel a sense of connection that wasn’t there before. Maybe Jake Sim is more than just a distraction. Maybe he’s someone worth getting to know.

As you part ways, he gives you a warm smile. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time,” you agree, already looking forward to it.

And so, a new routine begins. Coffee in the mornings, shared surgeries, and increasingly personal conversations. The barriers you once held up start to crumble, and you find yourself drawn to Jake in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

Weeks pass, and the connection between you grows stronger. One evening, after another successful surgery, Jake catches up to you in the hallway.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” you reply, curious.

“I was thinking,” he starts, looking a bit nervous for the first time. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. I’d like to take you out for dinner. No work, just us.”

You feel a flutter of surprise and anticipation. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “What do you say?”

You consider for a moment, then nod. “Alright, Jake. Dinner sounds good.”

As he walks away, you can’t help but smile.

The evening of your date arrives, and you’re both excited and a bit nervous. You’ve chosen a smart but casual outfit, and after a final check in the mirror, you’re ready. Your heart flutters with anticipation as you hear the sound of a car pulling up outside your apartment.

When you open the door, Jake is standing there, looking effortlessly charming in a blazer and jeans. His eyes light up as he sees you, and he smiles warmly.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he says with a grin. “You look pretty.”

“Thank you, Dr. Sim,” you reply with a smile, feeling a bit flustered. “You look pretty sharp yourself.”

He gestures to the car parked behind him. “Shall we?”

You nod and follow him down to the car. As you slide into the passenger seat, Jake starts the engine and glances over with a playful smile.

“So, are you ready for an evening of fine dining and even finer conversation?” he asks, his tone light and teasing.

“I’m definitely looking forward to it,” you reply, settling into the seat and feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity.

As he drives, the conversation flows easily. Jake talks about his day and a recent surgery he performed, and you share some anecdotes from your own work. The drive is filled with laughter and engaging conversation, making you feel more at ease.

When you arrive at the restaurant, Jake parks and opens the door for you, offering his hand to help you out. The restaurant is a cozy bistro with warm lighting and a relaxed atmosphere. Jake leads you inside and to your reserved table, which is positioned by a window with a view of the city lights.

“This place looks lovely,” you say as you take your seat, admiring the ambiance.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jake replies, settling into his chair across from you. “I thought it would be a nice spot for our first dinner out.”

The evening progresses with delightful conversation and delicious food. Jake is attentive and charming, making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself. As you both talk about various topics, you find yourself opening up more than you expected.

At one point, Jake asks, “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the chance to yet?”

You think for a moment, considering the question. “I’ve always wanted to take a cooking class. I love to cook, but I think it would be fun to learn some new techniques and recipes.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Jake says, nodding. “Maybe we could take a class together sometime. I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook Italian cuisine.”

You smile at the thought. “That could be fun. I’d be up for that.”

As the evening progresses, the conversation turns more personal. Jake shares stories about his family and his upbringing in Australia. He talks about the challenges of being far from home and the sacrifices he’s made for his career.

“It’s not always easy being so far away from my family,” Jake admits. “I miss them a lot, especially during the holidays.”

“I can imagine,” you say sympathetically. “My family is close by, and we have our own share of drama, but I’m grateful for their support.”

Jake nods, appreciating your understanding. “Family can be complicated, but it’s important to have that support system.”

You both continue to share personal stories and insights, finding common ground in your experiences. By the end of the evening, you feel a genuine connection with Jake, one that goes beyond professional respect.

When the check arrives, Jake insists on paying. “It’s my treat tonight,” he says with a smile. “Consider it a small thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you, Jake,” you reply, feeling touched by his gesture. “I really appreciate it.”

. The night air is crisp and refreshing, and the drive home is filled with easy conversation. When you arrive at your apartment, Jake parks and turns to you with a hopeful expression.

“I had a great time tonight,” he says softly. “I hope you did too.”

“I did,” you reply with a smile. “Thank you for such a lovely evening.”

you hesitate for a moment, then look at jake with a warm smile. “Would you like to come up? Maybe just hang out and talk some more?”

he considers the offer, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity. “That sounds nice. I’d love to.”

He smiles and follows you up to your apartment. As you enter, the space feels even more welcoming with the soft lighting and cozy atmosphere. You both get comfortable on the couch with drinks, and the conversation continues to flow effortlessly.

You find yourselves talking about everything from past relationships to future aspirations. As the conversation flows, Jake starts to open up about his past relationships. “You know, I’ve had my fair share of relationships that didn’t work out. One of the biggest challenges was balancing the demands of work and personal life. It’s not easy to find someone who understands the hours and the emotional toll.”

“I get that,” you say sympathetically. “It’s hard to maintain a relationship when your job takes up so much of your time and energy. My last relationship ended for similar reasons.”

Jake looks at you with genuine curiosity. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, reflecting on your past. “We were together for a few years, and it started out great. But as time went on, he couldn’t handle the unpredictability of my schedule and the stress of my job. We drifted apart, and eventually, we just grew in different directions.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jake says softly. “It’s never easy to end a relationship, especially when it’s someone you care about.”

“Thanks,” you reply. “It’s part of life, I guess. We both moved on and found our own paths.”

Jake nods, taking a sip of his wine. The easy conversation slows, a new, more, intimate silence settling between the two of you.

Jake shifts slightly, closing the gap between you. his eyes locked on yours. you could feel the heat radiating off his body, and you suddenly felt very aware of your own. He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

your heart raced as Jake leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. you responded eagerly, parting your lips to allow his tongue to explore your mouth. you could feel the heat building between you as you kissed, your bodies pressed together.

Jake's hands began to wander, tracing patterns on your back. you could feel his fingers brushing against the zipper of your dress, and you shivered with anticipation.

Jake pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "May I?" he asked, his hand hovering over the zipper.

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps. Jake slowly unzipped the dress, his fingers brushing against your skin as he did so. You felt a thrill run through your body as the dress fell to the floor, leaving her standing in just your matching black bra and panties.

Jake's eyes roamed over yourbody, taking in every inch of you. You could feel yourself growing wet as he looked at you, his desire obvious and reflecting your own.

Jake stepped closer to you, his hands reaching out to touch you. You could feel his fingers tracing the lace of your bra, you shivered with pleasure. He leaned in and began to kiss your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

a soft moan escapes as Jake's lips moved down your body, his hands following close behind. “you’re so fucking beautiful” He reached your breasts, his fingers tracing the outline of your nipples through the lace of your bra. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, your body begging for more. “been thinking about this since the first day I saw you”

Jake reached behind You and unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He cupped your tits in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your nipples. You moaned as he touched you, your body responding to his touch.

Jake's mouth moved lower, his lips brushing against your stomach. you could feel his breath against her skin, and she shivered with anticipation. “w-ant you” He reached for your panties, “relax baby I got you”, his fingers tracing the outline of your pussy through the fabric.

you gasp as Jake's fingers slip beneath your panties, his fingers exploring your folds. you could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, your body begging for more.

Jake pulled your panties down, his eyes locked on your pussy, “shit baby, you’re so wet f’me, such a pretty pussy” He leaned in and began to kiss your inner thighs, his lips igniting the heat pooling in your lower belly.

Jakes mouth moved lower, his lips brushing against your pussy. a loud moan leaves your lips as he began to lick at your entrance, your hand instinctively going between your legs to run your fingers through his black locks. “fuck, jake feels so fucking good don’t stop” he hums in response, the vibration going straight to your core.

he’s practically making out with your cunt licking and sucking, his saliva and your juices combined, making a mess on your couch, but that was the last thing on your mind right now. “fuck i’m c-cuming” your orgasm rapidly approaching. “yeah baby cum on my tongue, fuck can’t get enough of you, you taste so sweet”. at his words, your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body shaking with pleasure.

Jake stood up, his eyes locked on yours. you could see the desire in his eyes, and you knew what he wanted. you reached out and unbuttoned his pants, fingers brushing against his hard cock.

Jake stepped out of his pants, his hard cock springing free. while he wasn’t remarkably long, he definitely made up for it in girth. You reached out and wrapped your hand around it, stroking it gently. “ah shit baby” you could feel him growing harder in your hand, your excitement noticable.

he pushed you down onto the couch, climbing on top of you. “condom?” he asked, stopping in his tracks before he gets too ahead of himself. “it’s fine, just put it in” you reach down between you two, taking hold of his length as you begin to guide his cock into your dripping heat. his cock twitches at the thought of feeling you with nothing in between, “fuck, are you sure?”, “yeah, m’on the pill, just fuck me already please” your walls clench around nothing, needing to feel him inside you more than anything.

without another word he slides in. the stinging sensation quickly turning into one of pleasure. your pussy gripping him tightly as he sets a pace that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “so fucking tight, pretty, you’re squeezing me so good. pussy was made for my cock mhm?” you can’t even find the words to reply, the pleasure all too much to even think straight.

“feels so good jake” your words encourage him, his thrusts growing more quick, chasing his release as well as your own. the room is filled moans and the sloppy, wet sounds of his cock pounding into your hole. “s-so close, faster baby, want your cum inside me” you don’t have to tell him twice, his hips snapping into a pace that has you seeing stars.

“cum for me baby, cum on my cock” his hand reaches between you to rub your clit in quick circles, sending you over the edge “fuck! i’m cumming!” your release consumes you, his following not too long after.

he collapses next to you on the tiny couch, the both of you panting and out of breath as you come down from your high. “that was amazing” you turn your head to look at him, his eyes closed from pure euphoria he just experienced. “amazing is an understatement. it was fan fucking tastic” you let out a laugh at his pure honesty, a comfortable silence settling in the room.

he pulls you in by your waist, positioning you so your back is against his chest, a more comfortable position since your couch is definitely not meant for this. “i had a good time tonight” you can’t help the smile that grows on your face “me too”

as if the universe was against you, a beeping noise cuts through the silence, ending your moment. his pager was going off, they probably needed him back at the hospital, the realization of your jobs hitting you like a truck. “way to ruin the moment” he says getting up to check the pager “I gotta go, i’ll see you at work?” you smile at him nodding. he quickly gets dressed and presses a quick peck to your lips “get some rest” he tells you before rushing out the door to make his way to the hospital.

you can’t help but be a little disappointed. The obligation of your job was one of the many reasons you didn’t date, simply because it didn’t work. why did you expect this to be any different?

you drift off into a slumber, too tired to let your thoughts cloud your mind.

The next morning, the hospital is bustling with the usual chaos as you walk through the corridors towards your office. Despite the busy environment, your mind keeps drifting back to the night before with Jake. The memory of his touch, his kisses, and the intimate conversations you shared fills you with a warm, lingering sense of connection.

As you turn the corner, you see Jake standing near the nurses’ station, discussing a case with a colleague. He looks up and catches your eye, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. There’s a new glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a mixture of warmth and mischief.

“Good morning, Dr. Y/L/N,” Jake calls out, his tone playful and a bit louder than necessary, drawing the attention of nearby staff. “Did you sleep well?”

You feel a blush rising but manage to keep your composure. “Good morning, Dr. Sim. I did, thank you. And you?”

“didn’t sleep much, had a lot on my mind,” he replies, his grin widening as he walks over to you. “Must be the excellent company I had last night.”

Several nurses and doctors nearby glance over with curious expressions, but Jake seems unfazed. He stops just a bit too close, his presence commanding your attention. “I was hoping we might catch up over lunch. I’ve been craving some more of those conversations we had.”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting the smile that’s threatening to break through. “Is that so? Well, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

Jake chuckles, leaning in slightly. “You do that. In the meantime, if you need anything at all, you know where to find me.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “Or maybe I should say, you know where to call me.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head at his audacity. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Sim.”

He winks at you before stepping back, returning to his conversation with the colleague but not without a lingering glance over his shoulder.

Throughout the morning, you find yourself running into Jake more often than usual. Each time, he manages to throw in a playful comment or a flirty remark, making it clear that last night’s intimacy has only fueled his interest.

In the break room, you’re pouring a cup of coffee when Jake slips in beside you. “we meet again,” he says, his tone light. “I was just thinking about how good you look in scrubs.”

You roll your eyes but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement. “Really? I’m sure you say that to all the doctors.”

“Only the ones who make a lasting impression,” he replies smoothly, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

Later, while reviewing patient charts at your desk, you receive a text from Jake. It’s a picture of a heart drawn on a napkin, with a message: “Couldn’t help but think of you during rounds.”

You can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. It’s clear that Jake’s flirting isn’t just a passing fancy; there’s a genuine interest and warmth behind his actions that makes your heart skip a beat.

Weeks turn into months, and your relationship with Jake settles into a comfortable, intimate rhythm. Without any formal labels, your connection grows deeper, rooted in shared moments and unspoken understandings. Lunches in the cafeteria become a regular occurrence, interspersed with stolen glances across the OR and late-night encounters that leave you breathless and wanting more.

You find yourself looking forward to these moments, the thrill of sneaking around adding a layer of excitement. During shifts, Jake’s flirtatious comments become a highlight of your day.

One afternoon, you’re in the break room, reviewing patient charts when Jake walks in, his usual confident stride and easy smile making your heart skip a beat. He leans against the counter, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hey, beautiful. Busy?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Always,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the turmoil in your chest.

Jake walks over, his presence commanding your attention. “You look like you could use a break. How about a coffee?”

You glance at the clock, knowing you have a few minutes to spare. “Sure, why not?”

As you walk to the “coffee shop” side by side, jake quickly takes a glance around to make sure no one is watching and pulls you into the on-call room, the tension between you palpable, you can’t help but feel the thrill of anticipation. The moment the door closes behind you, Jake’s hands are on your waist, pulling you close. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s both urgent and tender, a mix of passion and familiarity that leaves you breathless.

“You’ve been on my mind all day,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands roaming over your back.

“you pulled me away for this?” you let out a slight chuckle. “mhm want you so bad” his lips move down to your neck “jake we’re at work.”

your eyes shut closed, enjoying the feeling of his soft, plump lips on that sweet spot behind you ear that he always found instantly. “doors locked, no one’s coming in here” he mutters out.

you give in, your hands immediately going to his pants and undoing the tie on his scrub bottoms. “well in that case, I wanna suck your cock” you whispered, lowering down into your knees in front of him. Jake's eyes widened in surprise, but then he grinned.

"Fuck, yeah," he said, dropping his pants and boxers. His cock was hard and thick, the tip already glistening with precum, your heart pounding with excitement.

you reached out and wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking it gently. Jake groaned and closed his eyes, his head thrown back. you leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock, tasting the salty precum. Jake's groan grew louder as you opened your mouth and took him in, lips sliding down his veiny shaft.

you started to suck, head bobbing up and down as youworked his cock. Jake's hands were in yoir hair, guiding you as you sucked him off. you could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth, his balls tightening as he got closer to cumming.

"yeah, baby," Jake groaned, his hips thrusting forward as he fucked your mouth. "You're gonna make me cum so hard."

You moan around his cock, the sound vibrating through his shaft. You could feel his cock twitching in yourmouth, his balls tightening even more. you continued faster, fingers digging into his thighs as you worked him.

Jake's groans grew louder, his thrusts more urgent. you could feel his cock swelling, his precum flowing freely. you sucked harder, cheeks hollowing as your mouth got him to his release.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Jake groaned, his hips bucking as he came hard in your mouth. You swallowed, throat working as you took every drop of his cum. Jake's hands were in you hair, holding your head as he came, his hips still thrusting as he emptied himself into your mouth.

When he was done, you pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Jake's cock was still hard, but it was starting to soften. You stood up, smiling at him.

"Did you like that?" you asked, voice soft and seductive. Jake grinned, his eyes still glazed with pleasure.

"I loved it," he said, pulling you into a kiss. "That was amazing."

As the weeks went on, you and Jake continued the little rhythm you had set in place. He flirted with you every chance he got. The both of you ending up in each others beds more often than not.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day at the hospital, you’re sitting in your apartment, staring blankly at the schedule in front of you. Your mind keeps drifting back to Jake—the way he looked at you during lunch, the warmth of his hand on your back as he guided you through the crowded cafeteria. The realization hits you like a tidal wave: you’re falling for him. Hard.

It terrifies you.

You’ve always prided yourself on being focused, dedicated, and in control of your emotions. But with Jake, everything feels different. The boundaries you set for yourself are blurring, and you’re not sure if you can handle the implications.

The demands of your job loom heavily over you. The long hours, the constant pressure, and the emotional toll of the medical field leave little room for anything else. As you stare at the schedule for the coming weeks, packed with surgeries and patient consultations, the reality sinks in: maintaining a relationship would be nearly impossible. The thought of trying to juggle your career and a growing emotional commitment to Jake feels overwhelming. After much soul-searching, you come to a difficult conclusion. It’s not fair to him or to yourself to continue something you can’t fully sustain. With a heavy heart, you decide it’s best to end things, believing that stepping back is the only way to preserve the little balance in your life.

The next day, you’re in the break room, trying to focus on patient charts when Jake walks in. He greets you with his usual easy smile, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Hey, what are you up to?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

“just charting, the usual,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the turmoil in your chest.

Jake walks over, his presence commanding your attention. “You wanna step away for a bit and grab lunch with me?”

You hesitate, the words on the tip of your tongue. You want to say yes, but the fear of what it might mean if you keep going down this path holds you back. “Actually, I have a lot to catch up on. Maybe another time.”

Jake’s brow furrows, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

You force a smile, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed with work.”

He doesn’t push, but you can see the worry in his eyes as he nods and leaves you to your charts.

Over the next few days, you start to pull back, keeping your interactions with Jake strictly professional. You avoid the on-call room, decline his offers for lunch, and keep your conversations short and to the point. It’s not easy, and you can see the confusion and hurt in his eyes every time you brush him off.

One evening, you’re leaving the hospital when you run into Jake in the parking lot. He’s leaning against his car, arms crossed, his expression serious.

“Y/N, can we talk?” he asks, his voice a mix of frustration and concern.

You nod, knowing you can’t avoid this conversation forever. “Sure.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me, and I don’t understand why. Did I do something wrong?”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. “No, Jake, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About what we’re doing.”

Jake’s expression softens, and he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “Talk to me, Y/N. What’s going on?”

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the weight of your decision pressing down on you. “I’ve realized that I can’t keep up with a relationship right now. Our jobs are so demanding, and I’m constantly running on empty. I don’t think I can give you the attention and commitment you deserve.”

Jake’s expression shifts from confusion to hurt. “Y/N, I thought we were making this work. Why now? What changed?”

You struggle to keep your voice steady, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “It’s not about you. It’s about me and my inability to balance everything. I’ve been trying to make it work, but I can’t keep up with both my job and a relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Jake’s eyes drop to the floor, and he takes a deep breath, trying to process what you’ve said. “So, this is it? You’re just… ending things? before they even started?”

You nod, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “I think it’s best. I care about you a lot, but right now, I can’t handle more than what I’ve got.”

Jake remains silent for a moment, then looks back at you with a pained expression. “I get it, Y/N. If this is what you need, then I respect your decision. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

You reach out, touching his arm gently. “I’m so sorry, Jake. This isn’t what I wanted, but I need to focus on my career right now. I hope you understand.”

He nods, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “Yeah, I understand. It doesn’t make it any less painful, but I get it.”

As you turn to leave, you feel a deep ache in your chest, knowing that you’ve made the right decision for yourself, but also feeling the weight of the loss. The break room seems colder now, and the empty space where Jake used to stand feels like a gaping hole in your heart.

Adjusting to life without Jake is more challenging than you anticipated. The hospital, once a place of shared glances and flirtatious banter, now feels strangely empty. The absence of his smile, his reassuring presence, and the warmth of his touch leaves a void that’s hard to ignore.

At work, you focus intently on your patients and your responsibilities, but the familiar routine feels different. The small moments that once brought you joy—a playful comment during a surgery, a quick coffee break together—are now replaced with an uncomfortable silence. Conversations with Jake are limited to work-related topics, and every interaction is laced with a professional distance that feels foreign and awkward.

In the OR, you work side by side, your focus on the patient and the procedure. Jake’s skill and calm demeanor are still impressive, and you find yourself appreciating his expertise even more now. But the casual camaraderie you once enjoyed is gone, replaced by a formality that feels both stifling and isolating.

During breaks, you find yourself missing the easy conversations you used to have with him. You used to share small victories and frustrations, but now those moments are spent in solitude or with other colleagues who don’t quite fill the gap Jake left behind.

Despite your best efforts to maintain your composure, you can’t help but feel the pangs of loneliness. Your personal life remains focused solely on work, and the connection you once had with Jake seems like a distant memory. You remind yourself why you made the decision, focusing on the demanding nature of your job and the need for balance.

Gradually, you begin to adjust, finding solace in the routine of your work and the support of your colleagues. The initial pain of Jake’s absence dulls over time, replaced by a newfound focus on your career and a deeper understanding of your own needs. Though the void remains, you learn to navigate your days with a renewed sense of purpose and dedication.

You’re passing through the hospital lobby, your mind preoccupied with patient charts, when you spot Jake standing near the information desk. He’s engaged in a conversation with Dr. Choi Miyeon, the oncology attending. Your steps slow involuntarily as you notice the easy laughter between them.

Jake’s smile is wide and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that once made your heart flutter. But today, the sight of that smile, directed at someone else, sends a pang of jealousy through you. Dr. Choi, with her poised demeanor and confident air, seems to be enjoying his attention, and the familiarity between them feels almost too intimate.

You try to focus on your task, but your gaze keeps drifting back to the two of them. Jake’s hand gestures animatedly as he talks, his face lighting up in a way that you haven’t seen directed at you in weeks. Dr. Choi’s laughter is soft and melodic, and she tilts her head slightly, clearly engaged in the conversation.

The sight of Jake looking so at ease with someone else brings an unexpected rush of emotion. You find yourself clenching your jaw, trying to ignore the gnawing sense of loss that accompanies the jealousy. It’s a reminder of the connection you once shared and the void left behind by your decision.

You force yourself to look away, turning back to your work with a renewed determination to focus on your patients. But the image of Jake’s smile and the easy rapport he shares with Dr. Choi lingers in your mind, leaving you with a mixture of regret and longing that’s hard to shake.

As you continue with your tasks, the memory of Jake’s interaction with Dr. Choi lingers, clouding your focus. Every time you glance up from your charts or interact with colleagues, your thoughts drift back to that moment in the lobby.

In the break room later that day, you catch sight of Jake entering, still visibly animated from his conversation with Dr. Choi. He looks up and sees you, his face lighting up with that same welcoming smile that used to be exclusively for you. The sight of it only intensifies the pang of jealousy you felt earlier.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake says, approaching you with his usual warmth.

“Hi, Jake,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. You make a deliberate effort to maintain your professional composure, avoiding any mention of the earlier encounter.

Jake seems to sense a change in your demeanor but doesn’t press. Instead, he casually starts discussing the upcoming surgery, his tone light and engaging. You nod along, responding with the necessary professionalism, but your mind is elsewhere. You keep picturing him with Dr. Choi, the way they interacted so naturally, and it’s hard to ignore the twinge of regret.

As you wrap up the conversation and head to your next task, you can’t help but feel a deepening sense of frustration. The realization that you still care about Jake more than you initially admitted weighs heavily on you. The professional distance you’ve maintained seems more like a barrier than a solution, and the void he left behind is harder to ignore than you thought.

Later that evening, as you drive home, you replay the scene in your mind, questioning your decision. You wonder if stepping back from Jake was truly the right choice, or if you were merely trying to shield yourself from the possibility of a meaningful connection. The jealousy you felt is a clear sign of unresolved feelings, and it becomes evident that the emotional aftermath of ending things is more complex than you anticipated.

By the time you reach your apartment, you’re left grappling with the realization that you might have made a mistake. The lingering image of Jake’s smile, coupled with the undeniable ache in your chest, leaves you pondering whether there’s a way to reconcile your fears with the genuine affection you still feel for him.

But it would be utterly selfish of you to go running back to him when he’s seemingly started to move on. This was all your doing after all. He had every right to find what you couldn’t give him in someone else.

The ache in your chest refuses to fade. The image of Jake smiling at Dr. Choi replays in your mind like a loop, and the jealousy you felt transforms into a deeper, more introspective turmoil. You sit in your apartment, the stillness of the room amplifying the thoughts racing through your head.

You replay the conversations and moments you shared with Jake, recalling the comfort and joy he brought into your life. The connection you had felt real and profound, and now that it’s gone, the void seems more pronounced than you expected. The professional distance you’ve maintained does little to mitigate the lingering emotional impact, and the space between you feels even more significant.

The next day, you find yourself in the hospital, struggling to maintain the professional facade you’ve carefully constructed. Every interaction with Jake, though polite and necessary, feels strained and awkward. You avoid his gaze when you can, focusing solely on your patients and tasks, but the undercurrent of unresolved feelings remains.

During a particularly intense surgery, Jake is once again by your side, and the familiarity of working with him brings back a rush of memories. His presence, though professional, is comforting, and you find yourself drawn to him despite your earlier resolve. As you work together seamlessly, the shared glances and brief touches become almost impossible to ignore, reigniting a flicker of the intimacy you once had.

After the surgery, you’re in the on-call room, trying to catch your breath and clear your mind. Jake enters, a small smile playing on his lips, and for a moment, the professional barrier you’ve erected feels flimsy. He approaches you, his tone soft but playful.

“Everything okay, Y/N? You seem a bit distracted today.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. His concern and warmth are genuine, and it only adds to the confusion you’re feeling. “Just a lot on my mind,” you admit, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Jake’s eyes linger on you, a hint of frustration and worry evident. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

His words cut through the walls you’ve built, and for a moment, you allow yourself to consider what you’ve been missing. The idea of opening up to Jake, of sharing your fears and feelings, feels both daunting and inviting.

As the day goes on, you grapple with the decision to reach out to him. The barriers you’ve erected are crumbling, and you realize that avoiding Jake might not be the solution you hoped for. Instead, you begin to consider whether there’s a way to address your fears and find a balance between your demanding career and a meaningful relationship.

The thought of reaching out to Jake, of possibly reconciling your emotions with the connection you still feel, starts to take shape. It’s a daunting step, but one that feels increasingly necessary as you navigate the complexities of your feelings and the emptiness left by his absence.

The days following your realization feel like a mix of regret and self-reproach. You can’t ignore the growing sense of remorse over ending things with Jake. The emptiness left by his absence is more acute than you anticipated, and the thought of missing out on something meaningful drives you to act.

One evening, determined to make things right, you head to Jake’s apartment, hoping to talk things through. Your heart races as you reach his door, and you take a deep breath before knocking.

After a moment, the door opens, and your heart sinks when you see Dr. Choi Miyeon standing there. Her presence immediately sends a wave of jealousy and discomfort through you.

“Doctor Y/L/N?” Miyeon says, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity.

You stand frozen for a moment, the sight of her at Jake’s door intensifying your doubts. “Doctor Choi,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.

Miyeon’s expression shifts to one of mild confusion. “Did you need something?”

The thought of Jake being with Miyeon, combined with the realization that you’re intruding on what feels like an intimate moment, makes your decision for you. The hurt and uncertainty you’ve been feeling come to a head, and you realize you’re not ready to face him under these circumstances.

“I uh actually I’ll come at a better time”. Without another word, you turn and walk away from the door, your heart heavy with a mix of regret and frustration. You can hear Miyeon’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop. The realization that you’ve arrived at the wrong moment only deepens the sense of regret.

As you leave the building, the cool night air hits your face, offering a brief respite from the emotional storm you’re navigating. You’re left grappling with the decision to return, to try again, or to accept the possibility that you might have missed your chance. The weight of the encounter with Miyeon only adds to the complexity of your feelings, leaving you to ponder your next steps in the solitude of the evening.

The following days are a haze of frustration and introspection. Seeing Miyeon at Jake's apartment made you feel even more disconnected from him. At work, maintaining your professional facade becomes more difficult as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you.

One morning, you’re at your locker, preparing for your shift, when Olivia walks in, her usual cheerful demeanor tempered by concern. “Hey, Y/N, you okay? You seem a bit off lately.”

You force a smile, trying to mask your turmoil. “Just a lot on my mind, Olivia. Thanks for asking.”

She nods sympathetically. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. We all have rough patches.”

You thank her and head to the OR, trying to push your thoughts aside. But every encounter with Jake is a reminder of what you’ve lost. You see him in the corridors, in meetings, and every interaction is laced with a painful awareness of the distance between you.

One afternoon, you’re in the middle of reviewing patient files when Jake approaches you. His expression is neutral, but there’s an underlying tension in his eyes. “Y/N, can we talk?”

You nod, setting your files aside. “Sure, what’s up?”

He leads you to a quieter corner of the hospital. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the other night. I saw you at my apartment, and then you just… left. What happened?”

You take a deep breath, the memory of that evening still fresh and painful. “I came to talk to you, to explain that I made a mistake in ending things. But when I saw Miyeon, I realized I couldn’t do it.”

Jake’s expression softens, a mix of understanding and frustration in his eyes. “Miyeon and I were just going over some research. There’s nothing between us, Y/N. But I get why you’d feel that way.”

The weight of your regret feels heavier now, knowing you misinterpreted the situation. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’ve been struggling with everything, and seeing you with her just… hurt. I felt like I’d already lost you.”

He steps closer, his voice gentle but firm. “You haven’t lost me, Y/N. I care about you. But we need to figure out what we’re doing here. This back and forth isn’t good for either of us.”

You nod, feeling the weight of your emotions. “I know. I’ve been scared, Jake. Scared that our jobs would make it impossible to have a real relationship. But I realize now that pushing you away was a mistake.”

Jake’s gaze softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand. “We can make this work if we both want it, Y/N. But we have to be honest with each other, and we have to be willing to try.”

You squeeze his hand, a sense of relief washing over you. “I do want to try, Jake. I want us to work.”

He smiles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Then let’s take it one step at a time. We’ll figure this out together.”

As you stand there, hand in hand, you feel a renewed sense of hope. The road ahead won’t be easy, but the thought of facing it with Jake by your side makes it seem possible. For the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re on the right path, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

The days following your night with Jake are a blend of professional decorum and personal confusion. You both agreed to take things one step at a time, but it's hard to ignore the magnetic pull between you. At work, Jake is as focused and brilliant as ever, but there’s an added layer of warmth in his interactions with you, a silent acknowledgment of what you share.

One afternoon, you find yourself in the break room, sipping coffee and going over department paperwork . Jake walks in, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

"Hey, Y/N," he says, his tone casual but with an underlying hint of playfulness. "How’s your day going?"

You look up, trying to suppress a smile. "Busy as usual. Just finished a tricky valve replacement."

Jake nods, moving closer. "I heard. You did a great job."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his praise. "Thanks, Jake. How about you? Any groundbreaking surgeries today?"

He chuckles, leaning against the counter. "Just the usual brain stuff. Nothing too exciting." He pauses, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, dinner tonight? My place?"

You glance around to make sure no one is within earshot. "Are you asking me out, Dr. Sim?"

Jake’s grin widens. "Maybe I am, Dr. Y/L/N. What do you say?"

You pretend to ponder, then nod. "Alright. Dinner sounds good."

The evening arrives, and Jake picks you up from your house. He’s dressed casually but still looks incredibly handsome. The drive to his place is filled with light conversation and laughter, easing any lingering tension.

Once inside his apartment, you feel a sense of familiarity and comfort. Jake leads you to the living room, where he’s set up a cozy dinner with candles and soft music playing in the background.

"This looks amazing," you say, genuinely touched by the effort he’s put in.

Jake shrugs modestly. "I wanted to do something special."

The dinner is delicious, and the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about your families, past relationships, and the challenges of balancing demanding careers with personal lives. As the night progresses, you feel the barriers between you dissolving.

After dinner, you move to the couch, a glass of wine in hand. The atmosphere is relaxed, and there’s a growing sense of intimacy.

"Tell me more about your family," Jake says, his voice soft and curious.

You take a sip of wine, thinking about your parents and your brother. "Well, my parents are both retired now. My mom was a nurse, and my dad was a teacher. My older brother is a lawyer. We’re close, even if we don’t see each other often."

Jake listens intently, nodding. "Sounds like a solid family. Mine’s a bit scattered. Parents divorced when I was young, so I spent a lot of time between Australia and the States. I have a younger sister who’s an artist. She’s currently exploring Europe."

The conversation continues, each revelation bringing you closer. You talk about your past relationships, the heartbreaks and lessons learned. There’s a vulnerability in the exchange, a mutual understanding of the complexities of your lives.

As the night deepens, you find yourself leaning closer to Jake, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. He reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Y/N," he says softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I really care about you. I want this to work, despite the challenges."

You feel a rush of emotions, the sincerity in his words touching you deeply. "I care about you too, Jake. I want us to work."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. The kiss deepens, your bodies pressing closer together. The desire that has been simmering between you ignites, and you find yourself losing track of time as you explore the depths of your connection.

You found yourself crossing the room to stand in front of him, heart pounding in your chest. You'd reached out, hesitantly, and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. And when he'd looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, you knew that you couldn't resist any longer.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was both gentle and passionate. He'd responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. And as you kissed, you felt a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

You pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes. "Jake," you whispered, voice husky with longing.

"Yeah, baby?" he'd replied, his voice low and rough.

And then you stripped, slowly and deliberately, letting him watch as you revealed her body to him. You’d seen the heat in his eyes as he'd taken in the sight of you, and you knew that you had him.

You moved closer, pressing your naked body against his clothed one. You reached down, unbuttoning his pants and freeing his hard cock, dropping to your knees, taking him into your mouth and sucking him deep.

He'd groaned, his hands tangling into your hair as you worked magic on him. “s-shit baby, taking me so good, that’s it” you sucked and licked and teased, driving him wild with pleasure. when you felt him on the brink, you pulled back, smiling up at him.

"Fuck me, Jake," you commanded, voice husky with desire.

He'd obeyed, lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, spreading your legs wide and burying his face between them. You cried out as he licked and sucked your clit, bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

And then he entered you, driving deep and hard. Your wrapped her legs around him, meeting him thrust for thrust as you made love. It had been passionate and intense, a connection that went beyond the physical and was different from the previous times you had indulged in each other’s bodies.

when you finally reached your peak, collapsing in a tangle of limbs, you knew that you made the right decision. You finally acted on your attraction, and in doing so, you found a deeper connection with Jake.

You both lie there, still engulfed in the bliss of this newfound feeling between the two of you. He can’t help what he says next, feeling as if keeping it in was impossible. “i love you Y/N”.

you snap your neck in his direction, maybe it’s the post orgasm haze but you search for reassurance anyways.

His big brown eyes confirming his words. “I love you too jake”.

The next morning, you wake up in Jake’s arms, the sunlight filtering through the curtains. He stirs beside you, his sleepy smile a welcome sight.

"Good morning," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning," you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you.

As you lie there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside seems distant and unimportant. In this moment, you feel a sense of peace and certainty. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know you can face them together.

At the hospital, the dynamic between you and Jake shifts subtly but unmistakably. The stolen glances, the brief touches, the shared smiles—all are infused with a new depth of intimacy. Your colleagues notice, but no one comments, respecting the unspoken bond you share.

In the weeks that follow, the relationship deepens. You navigate the challenges of your demanding careers, finding solace and strength in each other. The on-call rooms become your private sanctuaries, the moments of stolen kisses and whispered confessions a lifeline in the chaos of the hospital.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift, you find Jake waiting for you in the parking lot. His presence, as always, is a balm to your weary soul.

"Hey, pretty" he says, pulling you into a hug. "How was your day?"

"Tough," you admit, resting your head against his chest. "But it's better now."

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "Come on, let's go home."

As you drive back to his place, the city lights blurring into a comforting glow, you realize just how much Jake has come to mean to you. The fears and doubts that once plagued you have faded, replaced by a certainty that you can face anything as long as you're together.

Back at his apartment, you settle into a comfortable routine, cooking dinner together and sharing stories about your day. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and affectionate touches.

After dinner, you move to the couch, your bodies naturally gravitating towards each other. Jake pulls you into his lap, his hands resting on your hips as he looks into your eyes.

"Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I know we've had our challenges, but I want you to know that I'm all in. I want to be with you, no matter what."

Your heart swells with love and gratitude. "I feel the same way, Jake. I want us to be together, through everything."

He smiles, his eyes shining with affection. "Good. Because I can't imagine my life without you."

You lean in, capturing his lips in a slow, tender kiss. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms.

As the night wears on, you find yourself reflecting on the journey you've been on together. From the initial tension and uncertainty to the deep, abiding love you now share, it's been a rollercoaster of emotions. But through it all, you've found something rare and precious: a connection that transcends the challenges of your demanding careers, a love that grows stronger with each passing day.

and as you fall asleep in Jake's arms, you know that whatever the future holds, you'll face it together, hand in hand.

taglist: @hyunjinheartbreakprince @jaehoonii @enhaslxt @sumzysworld @justalittle-hee @seunghancore @curiousgworge @blockbusterhee @ribbioniki @chocolate-scoups @ineedsomezzz @theonewithouttheuwus @rairaiblog @chansloverr @armycarat2612 @slutforjaeyun @lovingvoidgoatee @jjklvr9 @fertilizedtoesw @ikeuverse @yohanseyebrowmole @mysticalenchantress @hchoes @en-gine @jakesbbygirl @miszes @simpjay @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @vveebee

[fyodoro]

UNEXPECTED LOVERBOY

-> in which you overhear your calm and secretive boyfriend gushing over you like there’s no tomorrow (1.1k wc)

Cw) gn!reader, manga characters (no spoilers), sakura still malfunctions when it comes to romance topics

Calling Hayato Suo an enigma would be an understatement.

Not a soul knows what lies under that eye patch. He’s calm, collected, and composed at almost all times, but it was a task of its own to grasp why. It’s impossible to catch him eating anything other than teacakes, and he often replaces his meals with a hot cup of tea. He claims to be on a diet, but every diet needs some protein incorporated into it.

Everything there is to know about Suo can be followed up with the same question: “Why?” and “What?”

However, there was an exception to his mysterious nature: You.

Of course, you didn’t know that. Hell, even Suo failed to notice his quite obvious soft spot for you until now. But as Nirei’s eye glittered with joy as he scribbled new notes onto Suo’s page in his notebook, and Sakura’s pupils shrunk with his cheeks flaunting a new shade of red, everyone knew.

Hayato Suo’s in love.

“(Name’s) a beauty, really. They may be rough around the edges at times, but I’ve never met anyone with a soul like theirs,” he babbled uncharacteristically.

He brought his teacup to his lips with closed eyes, missing the baffled expressions on everyone’s faces. But the moment he opened them, he couldn’t help but quirk a brow. “What’s with the shocked faces?”

Umemiya coughed into his hand graciously. “We’re just a little surprised, that’s all,” he began, too immersed in the conversation to notice you entering Kotoha’s cafe. “It’s not often you ramble like this.”

“I didn’t know Suo could be so open about his feelings,” Nirei exclaimed with a smile. “You must reallyyyy like (Name), huh?” he questioned, holding his pen in one hand and notebook in another as if this were an interview.

Suo’s head tilted. “Of course I do, that’s why I’m dating them.”

“You’ve been rambling on and on about (Name) for almost 10 minutes, it’s gross,” Sakura grumbled with flushed cheeks.

“But we wanna hear more! Keep going,” Nirei added.

Everyone looked at Suo attentively, including you. Somehow, the group failed to hear the bell chime when you entered the cafe. You’re clueless as to what’s going on, but it didn’t take a genius to realize it had something to do with you considering the amount of times your name was thrown around.

“My, if you insist,” Suo chuckled. “But I fear I’ve already said it all, unless I forgot to mention how cute it is when their cheeks puff up when they’re annoyed?”

Sakura held his head in his hands in fear that it’d melt off with how hot his face felt. “No, you didn’t. But we get it! You love (Name)!” he shouted.

“They’re impossible not to love,” Suo commented with his usual calm smile.

“That’s just Sakura’s romance sensor going haywire,” Kiryu teased. “Don’t mind him.”

The split-haired boy sulked in his seat, trying to dismiss the heat he felt on his face. “You’re all so…”

His voice trailed off, catching a glimpse of your frame standing behind Suo.

“Su-“

“Trust me, if you were in my shoes you’d be doing the same thing. (Name’s) one of a kind, not to mention beautiful. I can’t imagine a life without them, honestly.” The brunette went on, unbeknownst of your looming presence behind him. “Anyone can fall in love if their heart is stolen.”

“Someone like Suo being so head over heels in love… it must feel like a fairytale for (Name),” Umemiya chimed.

“Oh trust me, it does.”

Everyone’s heads turned to face you, except Sakura, who had noticed you seconds prior.

“(Name)?!”

“I didn’t know I could be such a fun subject of conversation, Hayato.” you teased, hands resting on your boyfriend’s shoulders as you leaned down to his ear.

He gulped, hiding his flustered heart through his relaxed exterior.

“We were just talking about you!” Nirei said happily. “Is it true? That Suo never lets you hold doors open, and holds them open for you? Or that he gave you his umbrella when it was pouring rain because he’d rather get soaked than risk you getting sick?” Oh! What about-“

The boy in question sat in silence, allowing Nirei to ask his heart away to confirm that this wasn’t one of his absurd lies.

You nodded at the blonde. “Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Except he technically kept the umbrella- he just held it over me so my hands wouldn’t get cold,” you corrected, recalling the awful weather of that day.

“What a romantic~” Tsubaki swooned.

“I try my best,” Suo smiled shyly.

“Suo never talks about his life! This is the most he’s ever told us, (Name)! Does he talk to you about his personal life?” Nirei inquired politely, trying not to make you feel pressured into answering.

You thought for a moment. For one, you felt honored that Suo didn’t wanna keep your relationship a secret like the rest of his life. But the blonde’s question made you realize something yourself- you really didn’t know much about your boyfriend’s personal life.

“Well… what can I say? He’s a mystery to everyone, including me.” you replied unsurely, glancing at Suo from the corner of your eye.

“Interesting…”

Nirei wrote something down in his notebook, and you didn’t bother looking. Instead, you held eye contact with Suo. He didn’t have to speak for you to know what he was thinking.

He wasn’t hiding anything from you. He just didn’t like talking about his past, and you understood.

“My love, you know more about me than anyone else in this room,” he stood after finishing the contents of his teacup. “After all, you were the one who told me to take baby steps, correct?”

You vaguely recalled those words. It was weeks ago, but he felt guilty for not telling you or anyone else about his history. In response, you told him to take as long as he needed, and baby steps were always the first steps.

“I did,” you affirmed. Your voice was soft, but it didn’t hide your intentions of making his heart pound a little harder. “But I didn’t think I'd catch you gushing over me like you’ve lost your composure~”

Suo almost broke, and you laughed.

“Woah, is Suo blushing?”

“Who could blame the guy? It’s the most open he’s been with us,” Hiragi commented with truth.

Kotoha giggled from behind the counter. “Not to mention how close (Name) is to him right now, it might be too much for the poor boy to handle.”

The red in Suo’s cheeks slowly faded, and he let out a small sigh. “I’ll see you all later, we’re gonna get going now,” he waved.

The two of you walked out hand in hand, and everyone else was left either baffled, confused, or unphased. Unless it was Sakura, who was somehow all three.

Little did you know, Nirei left a small comment on the corner of Suo’s page in his notebook.

‘Quite the loverboy.’

© enassbraid 2024. i do not permit plagiarism, translations, or reposts of my work on any platform.

[ysobelfours]

Lando's First Win — LN4

in which your boyfriend won a grand prix for the first time in his career.

lando norris x fem!reader

warnings; 18+ content !! MINORS DNI !! half of the story is SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), clubbing, drunk lando, praise, hair pulling, oral both receiving, and etc. word count: 3978

note: not proofread, not edited, will maybe; also, this oneshot has no mentions of y/n!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

i was glued to the tv, watching the race like my life depended on it. man, i wish i could've been there in person, but nope, some last-minute work drama had me stuck at home. so there i was, heart pounding like crazy as i saw lando leading the pack, holding onto that sweet p1 spot with just 10 laps to go.

after a nail-biting ten laps, lando clinched his first-ever grand prix win in miami, crossing the checkered flag with style. bursting with excitement, i immediately sent him a message to offer my heartfelt congratulations. and of course, i had to capture the historic moment, snapping a quick pic of his finish on my tv screen and sharing it with the world on my instagram story.

amidst the interviews, podium celebrations, and photo ops with the mclaren team, lando's mind kept drifting back to one thing: my message. he couldn't shake the anticipation of reading my words of support, knowing that even though i couldn't be there in person, i was cheering him on from afar.

finally, as the chaotic whirlwind of post-race activities began to settle, lando seized the opportunity to check his phone. with a quick swipe, he navigated to his messages, looking for my name. his heart skipped a beat when he saw my name.

"hey baby! can't believe it, i did it!" lando greeted me as soon as i picked up his call. i could tell that he was smiling from the tone of his voice.

"oh my gosh, lan, i knew you could do it! you were incredible out there!" i excitedly responded to him.

"thanks, baby! it feels unreal. i'm just so pumped right now!"

"you should be! you deserve to celebrate this big win. any plans?"

lando pauses, thinking "hmm, not really, just thinking of winding down, you know?"

i frowned upon hearing his response, how could he not celebrate his first win properly?!

“absolutely not! you were on fire out there! you know what? you've got to celebrate this win properly." i rolled my eyes as the words came out of my mouth.

lando laughs, "yeah, baby? you think? got any suggestions?" he asks eagerly.

i started to think and an idea popped up in my gorgeous, genius mind! fortunately, i was done with the work assigned to me.

"hmm, how about a little victory party at the club? you deserve to let loose and enjoy the moment, along with the grid, ya know?!" i giggled, hoping that he would agree so i could push through with my plan.

lando considers it, "you might be right, sweetheart. but i'm not sure…" he sounded sarcastic on the other line, probably just to tease me. i sighed and rolled my eyes, again.

"come on, lan! you've worked so hard for this. make some memories! trust me, you won't regret it." i demanded, hoping that he would agree now.

lando was obviously smiling "alright, you've convinced me! let's do it!"

"that's the spirit! now go have some fun, and i'll catch up with you later, lan, okay?":

“sounds like a plan! love you, baby!”

"love you too! enjoy the celebration!"

as lando hangs up, little does he know that i've already booked a two hour long flight to miami along with a suite, determined to surprise him and celebrate his victory in person. with a mischievous grin, i start packing my bags, thrilled at the thought of seeing the look of surprise on his face when i show up unannounced.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

inside club velocity, the atmosphere pulsed with energy as lando, surrounded by his fellow drivers, basked in the euphoria of his first grand prix victory. the music thumped, mingling with the cheers and laughter of the crowd as they toasted to his success.

lando, wearing a grin that could light up the night sky, raised his glass in a toast, his eyes sparkling with joy and gratitude. around him, his friends and teammates clapped him on the back, their voices blending into a chorus of congratulations.

as the night wore on, the celebration only grew more spirited, with lando at the center of it all, soaking in every moment of his well-deserved triumph. little did he know, an even greater surprise awaited him, one that would make this unforgettable night even more memorable.

as soon as i finished getting ready, i messaged carlos to ask him which club they’re at.

me: "hey carlos! hope you guys are having a blast celebrating lando's win! which club are you all at?"

carlos: "hey! yeah, it's wild here! we're at club velocity on south beach. you should come join us!"

me: "awesome, thanks! see you there!" with carlos's reply in hand, i quickly went inside my rented vehicle, my heart pounding with excitement at the thought of surprising lando and joining in the celebration of his first grand prix victory.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

i got to the club as quickly as possible. still making sure that i wore my signature carol h. good girl scent.

as i approached lando, i noticed his glazed eyes scanning the crowd, seemingly lost in a haze of alcohol. but then, something shifted. his brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before his expression softened, and he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly.

suddenly, his gaze sharpened, and a spark of recognition ignited in his eyes. "wait… i know that scent," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the music.

a smile spread across my face as i watched him, knowing exactly what he was sensing. then, in an instant, his face lit up with realization, and he turned towards me with newfound clarity.

"it's you, baby! it’s you!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with delight as he lunged forward to envelop me in a warm embrace.

relieved and touched by his recognition, i hugged him back, feeling the tension melt away as he held me close. it was a moment of pure connection amidst the chaos of the club, a reminder of the bond we shared.

as we pulled apart, lando's grin was infectious, his eyes bright with happiness. "i can't believe you're here, baby, you’re really here" he said, his voice filled with genuine surprise and gratitude.

i chuckled, shaking my head fondly. "wouldn't miss celebrating with you, lan. even if you're a little… tipsy."

lando laughed, a sheepish expression crossing his face. "yeah, maybe i went a bit overboard."

"seriously though, you're swaying more than the palm trees outside and your words are starting to sound like a foreign language. i think it's time we got you home, don't you?"

lando slowly nods sheepishly "yeah, you're probably right. i guess i got caught up in the moment." he giggled and pinched my cheek.

“i missed you so much, baby. i love you” he whispered in my ear, lightly biting it. i couldn't help my cheeks from turning hot after what he said.

i struggled to make up my words before i responded, “i missed you too, lan. i love you.” i gave him a peck on the cheek and ruffled his curly hair. he smiled at me, a smile warm enough to melt my heart.

“let’s get you some rest, lan. say goodbye to the grid.” i guided lando to stand up, his hand wrapped around my waist to help him navigate his way through the crowd.

“hey guys, i just wanted to say a huge thank you for being here tonight to celebrate with lando. it means the world to him, and to me."

"of course! lando's victory is something we all wanted to celebrate together!" carlos smiled and gave lando a pat on the back.

"absolutely, it's been an amazing night. but right now, my love needs some rest. take care, everyone!"

as we exchanged farewells and well-wishes, i couldn't help but feel grateful for the support of lando's friends. with smiles and nods all around, lando quickly waved goodbye and thanked his fellow drivers.

as we navigated out the club, lando's whispers filled the air, his words a mixture of adoration and drunken rambling. "you're so beautiful, baby" he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "and i've missed you so much."

i chuckled softly, feeling a wave of warmth wash over me. "i've missed you too, lan. but let's save the sweet talk for when you're a bit more sober, alright?"

lando nodded earnestly, his gaze locking with mine. "yeah, you're right, baby. but seriously, your smell… it's intoxicating. i can't get enough of it."

grinning, i squeezed his hand gently. "thanks, love. i'll take that as a compliment, even if it's coming from a slightly intoxicated mind."

with a sheepish grin, lando leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "i mean it, though, my love. you always smell like home to me."

as i opened the door to the shotgun seat, lando stumbled slightly as he climbed in, his movements slowed by the alcohol. with a patient smile, i guided him into the seat, making sure he was settled before reaching for his seatbelt.

as i leaned over to fasten his seatbelt, lando took advantage of the close proximity and planted a quick, sneaky kiss on my neck. the unexpected gesture sent a tingling sensation through me, but i brushed it off with a playful roll of my eyes.

"behave yourself, lan," i teased, my tone lighthearted as i finished securing his seatbelt.

with a mischievous grin, lando giggled and leaned back in his seat, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. i closed the door with a soft chuckle, taking a moment to compose myself before heading around to the driver's side.

as i settled into the driver's seat and started the engine, i couldn't help but smile at the lingering warmth of lando's kiss against my neck. but with a shake of my head, i focused on the road ahead, determined to get us back to our hotel safely.

as lando drifted off to sleep beside me, his face softened into a peaceful expression. i couldn't help but admire him at that moment. here was a guy who'd poured his heart and soul into his passion, and tonight, it had paid off big time.

i thought back on all the blood, sweat, and tears he'd poured into his career, the late nights at the track, the tough races, and the moments of doubt. but through it all, he'd never given up.

now, as he slept, i saw a sense of calm wash over him, like he'd finally achieved what he'd been working towards all this time. it was a pretty amazing feeling to witness.

at that moment, i realized how lucky i was to share this journey with him. and as i stole glances at him sleeping, i couldn't help but feel a wave of pride for everything he'd accomplished.

as i shook lando awake, his sleepy voice sent a blush creeping up my cheeks. "hey, love. did we make it to the hotel already?"

i managed a smile, trying to hide my embarrassment. "yeah, we're here, sleepyhead," i replied softly, guiding him out of the car.

lando leaned heavily on me, his arm draped over my shoulder. it was a struggle to help him towards the elevator, his weight making each step a challenge.

"you're amazing, baby" lando slurred, his words sincere but slightly garbled.

i chuckled, feeling both amused and touched by his compliment. "just doing my best, lan" i replied modestly, navigating us through the lobby.

lando's closeness sent a flutter through me, his arm around my neck, dangling through my breasts as we walked made me feel the way i felt earlier when he kissed me on the neck.

as we reached the suite, i gently guided lando towards the bed, urging him to lie down and get some rest. but to my surprise, he resisted, his eyes pleading as he reached out to me.

"i don't want to sleep yet, baby" he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "i've missed you so much."

my heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth flooding through me. despite his drunken state, there was an intensity in his gaze that left me breathless.

"i've missed you too, lan," i whispered, my voice barely above a hush as i met his gaze.

“c’mere, beautiful” lando patted the space next to him in the bed, asking me to sit down beside him.

there was a charged silence between us, the air thick with unspoken desires and yearning. in that moment, it felt as if time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of us in the dimly lit room.

and then, almost as if on instinct, lando's hand reached out to cup my cheek, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. the intensity of his gaze held me captive, drawing me closer until our lips were mere inches apart.

without a word, our lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, a silent expression of all the emotions that had been building between us. it was a kiss filled with longing and desire, a silent promise of what was to come.

"so beautiful, my love," lando mumbled in between our kisses, his voice thick with emotion. "you don't know how long i've waited for this."

his words sent a thrill through me, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between us for far too long. with each touch of his lips against mine, i felt myself melting into him, consumed by the heat of our passion.

our kisses deepened, each one more fervent than the last, as if we were trying to convey all the pent-up longing and desire that had been simmering between us for so long. "tastes like heaven, baby" lando murmured between kisses, his voice husky with desire.

"i've missed this so much, lan" i confessed, my breath hitching as his fingers traced patterns along my skin.

lando paused, his touch gentle yet charged with an electric intensity. "i've missed this just as much, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "more than words can say."

his hands roamed over to my wet panties that sent shivers down my spine, igniting a hunger that burned hotter with each passing moment. "you're so beautiful, and wet for me, baby" he whispered, his voice filled with reverence as he started to play with my clit.

i arched into his touch, wordlessly urging him closer, craving the delicious friction of our bodies melding together. "don't stop," i pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper as the sensations threatened to overwhelm me.

two of his fingers slipped inside me, and i found myself clutching his hair. “don’t stop, lan. more, please,” i urged, my voice tinged with urgency and longing. and, as always, he delivered without hesitation.

“so wet for me, and only for me, baby,” he murmured against my skin, his tone raw with desire, igniting a primal spark within me.

lando's eyes darkened with hunger as he drew nearer, his breath a tantalizing caress against my ear. "you're mine," he whispered, possessiveness lacing his words, sparking a thrill of excitement in my chest. "all mine."

a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine at his words, a silent agreement to the intensity of our connection. "yes, lan," i responded softly, the words barely escaping my lips, "only yours."

with a shared understanding, he guided me onto his waiting mouth, each movement charged with unspoken longing.

“want to taste you so bad, baby,” he growled softly, his breath warm against my skin as his tongue danced with mine, exploring every curve and crevice with eager reverence.

“tastes damn good, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice a husky murmur of appreciation as he savored the intimacy of the moment.

with every lick, i felt myself edging closer to the end, our bodies moving in sync, a symphony of pleasure and desire. he quickened the pace, driving me towards the edge until i was teetering on the brink, my senses ablaze with sensation.

"fuck, lan. i’m so fucking close," i moaned, the words tumbling from my lips in a breathless plea for release.

i hit my breaking point, just lost in the moment, riding that wave of pure pleasure, my voice echoing in the silence of the room.

as i caught my breath, i gazed at lando with a sense of wonder, gratitude swelling in my chest for the connection we shared.

“c’mere, pretty. take my pants off for me, will ya?” he said, his voice tinged with anticipation. and without hesitation, i obliged, eager to reciprocate the pleasure he had just given me.

as i removed his pants, his eyes locked onto me, filled with unmistakable desire. when he pulled out his length from his boxers, i was taken aback; it seemed even bigger than before.

lando noticed my gulp as i stared at him, clearly turned on by my reaction.

without warning, he guided himself into my mouth, gently gathering my hair into a makeshift ponytail as he directed my movements.

"i missed this fucking mouth," lando grunted, his hand instinctively moving my head forward and backward until his length reached my throat.

“ah, fuck, baby, your mouth feels incredible,” he moaned, his eyes closing in pleasure as he savored the sensations. releasing his grip on my head, he allowed me full control.

i licked the tip of his shaft teasingly, before gradually taking him deeper until i reached his base. “you're so fucking beautiful like this, love. such a good girl, taking me fully” he struggled to praise, his words punctuated by moans of pleasure.

each sound he made spurred me on, igniting a deeper desire within me. with passion driving me, i gave him my all, the rhythm of my mouth against his cock filling the room.

“so good with your mouth like this, love. fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he thrust his hips, his movements growing more urgent.

“baby, i’m about to cum,” he warned between moans. i yearned for him to finish so we could move on to the next stage; my anticipation palpable.

“i’m cumming, baby. fuck, i’m cumming. you’re so fucking good at this, my love,” he smiled appreciatively as i swallowed, clearly impressed and aroused by my eagerness.

turning me around, he instructed, “on your knees, my love.”

"lando," i breathed, my voice a mix of warning and longing, almost on the edge of a whine. my legs remained spread as i faced away from him, fighting the urge to squirm, my patience wearing thin.

lando's grin widened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his hands pushed my legs further apart, positioning himself at the entrance of my wetness.

"you look stunning from this angle, love," he hummed, his voice laced with teasing sweetness. "you need me badly, don’t you, love?" his length traced over my folds teasingly, sending shivers down my spine.

though i hesitated to admit it, i couldn't deny the truth as my hips involuntarily bucked upwards, a strangled moan escaping me when he pinched my clit.

"i need you," i whimpered almost shamefully, my head falling back in surrender. "so bad, lan."

"i need you inside me," i mumbled, making his smirk return.

"missed you so fucking much," he hisses, parting my legs further as my breath got faster.

"missed you too, lan" i assured him, a moan slipping past my lips as i felt his tip pressing against my folds, though he made no further movements. i pushed my hip back to feel his length.

his hand tangling in my hair and creating a makeshift ponytail ─ one he tugged on immediately, forcing my head up.

"use your words, m' love" lando's lips grazed my ear, his cock still lightly pressing against my entrance, causing me to cry out.

"i want you to fuck me," i whined, rushing my words out as my hips pressed backward.

"need you, lan, please," i whimpered, sounding desperate.

he entered me without warning, bottoming out as my walls wrapped around him, our gasps mingling as i gripped the bedsheets below.

"always taking me so well," lando grunted in my ear as his thrusts became rougher, deeper, ensuring i felt every inch of him.

every movement sent pleasure coursing through my body, my moans filling the room as i surrendered to the pleasure.

"you feel amazing, lan," i stumbled out, my eyes rolling back as my body melted under his touch.

lando, too, seemed lost in the sensation, his head thrown back as he moved with purpose, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room.

"does it feel good?" his question was rhetorical, just a way to chase praise, but i could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

i nodded, the only response i could manage in his hold.

"damn, you're just perfect, baby," lando grunted, his kiss on my shoulder was gentle compared to what was happening between my legs.

it was almost too much, the tears and whimpers making it clear i was close to another climax. and just the thought had him reaching his own peak.

"cum on my cock, baby. cum for me," he urged in my ear, sending shivers down my spine as my second orgasm hit. i practically screamed, going limp in his arms.

feeling me tighten around him had him climaxing too, groaning as he leaned against me, both of us catching our breath.

his touches became softer as he pulled away, guiding me to lean against the counter. we fell into a comfortable silence, his hands gentle on my waist.

"wanna hop in the shower?" lando's voice broke the quiet, a grin spreading across his face, and i felt a wave of relief.

i grinned back and nodded, and he chuckled, lifting me effortlessly and carrying me off to the bathroom.

after a relaxing shower together, we dried off and crawled into bed, exhausted yet content. the weight of the day's activities and the intimacy we shared left us feeling pleasantly worn out.

"baby, that was something else," lando chuckled, his arm wrapping around me as he pulled me close. his laughter was infectious, echoing the contentment that filled the room.

"definitely," i agreed, snuggling against him. the warmth of his body against mine was comforting, a tangible reminder of the bond we shared.

in the morning, we woke to the gentle rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. the tranquility of the moment was almost tangible as we lay intertwined, basking in the quiet stillness of the early hours.

"morning, love," lando greeted me with a smile, his eyes filled with affection as he pressed a tender kiss to my lips. the warmth of his lips against mine was a sweet welcome to the new day.

"morning, sleepyhead," i teased, returning his kiss with a playful grin.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

hope u enjoyed reading my first fan-fic <3 feel free to give prompts and request !! enjoy !

[puffypanickedpancakebabies]

As one of the “chronic” folx, this is very helpful and I WILL be using it.

Everyone should be using is.

Please spread the word.

Add “distress” to your pain scale

Pain scale? More like pain in the booty. No two people seem to read it the same way, and chronic folks tend to downplay their pain.

So here’s an idea: when asked to rate your pain, provide a number to rate your distress levels in addition to your pain levels.

Some examples:

“I’m at a 5 on the pain scale, but my distress is basically a 1 because this is my usual.”

“I’m at a 3 on the pain scale, but my distress is a 7 because this is new pain and affects a part of my body that’s very important to my work.”

It’s a great way to consider how your pain is impacting you—and to get a doctor’s attention where it’s actually needed.

[jasonstodger]

Mind blank, just thinking of Jason todd eyeing how you giggled and laughed with an old friend, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing as he leaned up against the wall, teeth digging into his bottom lip and eyebrow twitching out of suspicion and irritation, only to fuck the reader dumb once they're back home, marking them all over their neck — even concealer can't cover how dark the Hickey's were.

ohmygodohmygod OP you are a GENIUS I can't get this out of my head 😩😩😩😩😩

18+ / nsfw - "OLD FRIENDS"

summmary: smut (duh) | jealousy | possessive behaviour | fem!bodied reader | rough sex

word count: 2.5k

You had taken Jason to the pub to be introduced to one of your former university buddies, but it was not going as planned.

Jason's arms were crossed over his chest, and a frown hung on his face. You could feel his aggressive gaze burning into you, and your heart was pounding. The longer he stayed there, the tighter his jaw clenched, and you could almost taste the anger rolling off of him.

You mustered up the strength to tear your eyes away from him for a few seconds. That respite was short-lived; laughter erupting close by jerked your head back toward Jason. His lips were now pulled tight, revealing an expression of displeasure as he watched your old college friend touch your arm and chuckle about a memory that excluded him. With every laugh, Jason’s face seemed to grow more intense, causing the energy between you two to become increasingly acrid.

You knew you had to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. You stepped away from your college friend and turned to face Jason, who was now tapping his foot impatiently. You took a deep breath and spoke with as much calmness as you could muster.

"Jason, you need to calm down. Have a drink, live a little."

"I don't like the way he's touching you and laughing with you. It's disrespectful."

You could feel your patience wearing thin. It had been a long day, and you weren't in the mood to deal with Jason's possessive behavior. You placed your hands on your hips and looked him straight in the eye.

"Jason, he's a friend. He's harmless. You're making a scene."

"I'm not making a scene," he spat back, his voice cold and harsh. "I'm just saying, I don't like the way he looks at you."

You go to speak, but your attention is dragged away again as your friend comes back with more drinks, and Jason's eyebrow twitches with frustration. His jaw ticks, and he looks away, trying to hold his tongue.

You giggle at something said across the table, sipping at your drink demurely, and that seems to be the last straw for him. Jason stands quickly, grabbing his jacket, and holding his hand out for you. "Come on, y/n. We're leaving."

You go to protest, but his face does not

allow any room for argument. You sigh, knowing that it was going to be a long night. As you exit the pub, Jason takes hold of your hand, pulling you close. His grip is tight, and you can feel his nails digging into your skin. The silence between you two is palpable, and you can feel the anger radiating from him like a heatwave.

"Jason, what the hell was that?"

"That stupid friend of yours," he growls, his eyes darkening. "I don't trust him."

"He's my friend -"

"He wanted you. I could see it in his eyes!" Jason snaps, wrapping an arm around your waist possessively. "I can't stand other men looking at you, touching you. Making you laugh! You're mine, y/n. Mine."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You know that his possessiveness is unhealthy, but a part of you finds it strangely alluring. His grip tightens on your hand, and he pushes you into a cab, sliding in beside you.

He is silent the entire way back to your apartment, but you can feel his palpable heat and frustration as he fumes beside you.

It's when he drags you through your front door, slamming it sharply behind him, that you really see the full effect that seeing you with another man has had on him:

He grabs you by the waist, pressing his body against yours, and you can feel the hardness of his muscles. His breath is hot against your neck as he leans in and bites your earlobe, making you moan softly. Despite his possessiveness, you cannot deny the way he makes you feel, the way he dominates you with his power and strength.

"Mine," he growls again, his fingers digging into your skin.

You surrender to his touch as he pushes you against the wall, kissing you fiercely. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, feeling the heat radiating off of his body. His hands roam down your body, exploring every curve and dip, and you can feel yourself growing wet with desire.

He breaks the kiss, his breath ragged, and looks at you with a dark intensity in his eyes. "I won't share you with anyone," he says, his voice thick with emotion.

"I'm yours," you whisper back, pulling him in for another kiss, twisting your tongues together.

"Come here," he groans, his hardening erection slowly dragging against your thigh as he grinds your bodies together. He twists a hand in your hair, pulling your head back as his lips drop down to your jaw, then to your throat, sucking and biting hard at the tender skin.

"Jason..." you moan softly as his teeth sink gently into the soft flesh below your ear.

"Say it. Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whisper, your body going weak in the pleasure of his touch.

"Good girl," he growls, his fingertips trailing down the curve of your body to the hem of your shirt.

He lifts it slowly, his eyes dark and lustful as he takes in the sight of your breasts, bared before him.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he says, a dark tone in his voice. He leans in again, kissing your lips hungrily, then trailing his lips down your body. He pulls your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. "Too beautiful."

"Jason," you breathe, a slight whine in your voice. You can feel your body growing damp as his fingertips leave a trail of fire across your bare skin.

"Mmmm... gonna teach you a lesson," he murmurs, still trailing kisses down your body. He reaches the top of your pants, and his hands slowly slide down the back, expertly unhooking your bra. He pulls the straps down over your shoulders, and you reach behind you to pull the bra off completely. "You're mine, baby..."

He groans softly, his hand moving to your hip to keep you still as his mouth finds the peak of your right breast. He sucks hard, and your body tenses with pleasure. You bring your hands up to thread through his hair, trying to urge him on.

"Oh fuck Jay," you whimper, and his eyes trail up to meet yours. He smirks darkly, letting your nipple fall from his lips.

"Turn around," he commands, and your body shivers in anticipation. You press yourself against the wall as he unzips your pants, sliding them down over your ass and thighs. He unfastens your bra, sliding it off along with your shirt and pants, leaving you clad only in your panties and heels.

"Didn't like the way you laughed at your friends' pathetic jokes," he murmurs against your ear before trailing kisses down your neck again. His hands slide up your thighs, his fingers caressing your skin as they drift closer to your dampening pussy. "You find him funny, huh? What's so funny about him?"

You whine needily, arching against his touch, and he tuts, nibbling gently at one of the growing red welts dotting your throat.

"Ah-ah. No. Beg me. Tell me how funny your little college friend really was," he says, his fingers teasingly close to your clit.

He gently strokes the lips of your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties, teasing you into submission. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you can feel the vibrations radiating out from between your thighs. Your eyes flutter closed, and you press yourself against Jason.

"Please, Jay -"

"Please what? Please touch you? Please make you come?"

"Yes," you moan, grinding your body against his hand. He curls a finger into your panties, dragging them down over your thighs, exposing your glistening pussy. You can feel his hot breath against you, oh so close, and your eyes flutter shut -

"Look at me," he growls, grabbing you by the jaw. You can smell the scent of your own juices on his fingers, see them sticky and wet in the dingy light of your living room. "Who's funny now, y/n?"

You whimper, and his eyes flare with pleasure. He reaches up, grabbing your leg and pulling you slightly off-balance, positioning you just above his hips.

"No one," you moan, pressing your pussy against him. "No one's funny but you."

"Good girl," he says, and you feel his cock brushing against you through his boxers, the fabric wet and translucent with precome. Your back arches, and you press yourself against it eagerly.

"Jason," you moan. "Please..."

"Yeah, baby?"

"Please... I need you..."

"Need me to what?" His hands tighten around your thighs, holding you in place as he ruts against you, teasing you slowly with the head of his cock.

"Need you to fuck me, Jay..." you whisper, leaning your head back against the wall. His breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel yourself growing wetter. "Please fuck me..."

"Yeah?" he says, kissing just above the soaking wet fabric of your panties. "Are you ready for my cock?"

You nod vigorously, your body trembling on the edge of orgasm as his fingers trail teasingly along your wet slit.

"You're mine. No one else can have you, no one else can make you scream," he says, his fingers stroking your pussy.

You moan as his fingers curl into your wet folds, caressing your clit.

"Mmmm... You know I want you, don't you? Tell me how much you want me," he orders as he slowly slips a finger inside of you.

"I - I want you...," you say dedperately, biting your lip. You can feel his cock straining against his boxers, and you press your hips forward, the ensuing friction sending a thrill through you."I want your cock... I want you to fuck me... I want to feel you inside of me, stretch me open -"

"That's right," he says, his voice low and deadly. "You want me to fill you up with my fucking cock. No other man is ever gonna make you feel this good, baby, no one gets to put their hands on you but me."

"I'm yours, Jay. I'm yours," you pant, your voice ragged.

"You're god damn right you're mine," he groans, leaning in to bite at your neck.

"Jason," you groan, your body trembling with need. "Please fuck me, fuck me right now-"

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you," he growls, pulling down your panties with your thigh. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week."

You shiver at his threat, and he pulls you forward, the head of his cock sliding against your wetness. You can feel the heat of him through his boxers, and you press yourself against him, eager for more.

He reaches down, taking his cock in hand and squeezing tightly, hissing.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't think of anyone but me for a week," he repeats, the threat clear in his voice. His eyes blaze with passion as he lowers you onto his cock, filling you up in one smooth motion.

You moan, your body trembling as his thick cock stretches your pussy to near-unbearable limits. He pulls you down hard, forcing his cock deeper inside of you. You can feel his cock pulsing as he thrusts against you, your body reverberating with pleasure as he hits deep, sensitive places inside of you.

"You're wanna laugh at another man's jokes?" he says, bucking his cock against you. He presses his face against your shoulder, leaving delicious craters in your skin with his teeth. "You think your pathetic friend was funny?"

You shake your head, babbling desperate apologies, eyes rolling as he slams into you roughly.

"I'm gonna make you scream," he growls into your ear, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. "You're so fucking tight for me, baby. Gonna remind you who owns you."

"Jason," you moan, your head falling back against the wall. His hand travels down to the underside of your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist and holding you in place as he thrusts against you.

Your pussy throbs as he presses against your clit, and you buck your hips forward to meet his every thrust. The head of his cock hits deep inside of you, sending waves of intense pleasure rippling through your body.

"Oh my god, baby," he growls. "You're so fucking tight..."

"Harder, please," you beg, your voice barely a whisper. "Please don't stop..." you whine.

"Shut up," he growls. You feel his fingers dig into your ass, squeezing, and his hand comes to grasp your throat, pinning your head back against the wall. syllables leave your throat, wordless and unintelligible as your muscles squeeze around him.

"You're not laughing at anyone else," he grunts, his hand tightening around your throat. His other hand slips between your legs, and he gropes your clit as he slams his cock into you. "You're not thinking about anyone but me..."

You moan and bite down on his shoulder, your nails digging into his back. He flicks at your clit roughly, and you can feel your body start to tighten around him.

"Come for me, baby," he growls into your ear, his breath heavy and gruff. You let out a long, keening wail as he slams into you, pressing his fingers into your clit and sending you careening over the edge.

You moan, wordless and unable to slur even an affirmation, your voice barely intelligible as your body trembles. You feel his cock twitching inside of you, and you shake your head. "Nnnhg..."

He chuckles, breathy and panting.

"You know you want to come on my cock," he says, his lips brushing against your ear. He bites your earlobe, his fingers pressing against your pussy rhythmically, and you cry out, shuddering against him.

"Come for me, baby," he growls into your ear. "Come for me."

Your body shudders, and you wind your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder. Your pussy clenches around him as you come, the orgasm radiating out from between your thighs. He moans against your neck, and you can feel him coming inside of you, his cock twitching inside of your pussy.

You collapse against him, a whimpering mess. Jason holds you upright as your legs buckle, wiping his fingers against your leg. He pulls out of you, his come dripping from your pussy, and he leans in close to whisper into your ear, his tongue flicking out to tease the violent blemishes marking your neck.

"You won't cover those. Couldn't even if you tried. Everyone will know you're mine," Jason growls, his voice low and deadly. He squeezes your throat gently, before he pulls away from you, leaving you to slide down the wall to the floor, your legs jelly. He watches you, a light smirk playing on his face. "You wanna laugh at another man's jokes? I'll show you how funny I can be."

[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!

[spoonv]

THE COLLAR DETAILS!!! I'm gonna steal that for when I draw his winter fit omg it's so good and the starry sky look I'm losing it

Are you going to draw Harvey in his winter outfit? Only asking because I love that man so much and when I saw him in that trenchcoat he looked like a romance novel love interest to me

YESSSSS... YES!!!!! i've actually been itching to draw his winter fit!!

1.6 outfit spoilers!! 👇

[absurdthirst]

A Bumpy Road {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6k

Warnings: Fake marriages, mentions of emotional alienation/affairs, fighting, drunk driving, death, feelings, injuries, mentions of surgeries, confessions, oral sex, vaginal sex, mentions of family planning

Comments: In order to stay on his team and keep his toxic ex in-laws from gaining custody of his daughter, Frankie does something crazy. He marries you, his friend. You need insurance and he needs someone to care for his daughter, ignoring how he feels about you until he ends up hurt on his deployment.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You have an idea, it’s outrageous, outlandish and completely insane but it might just actually work. You bite your lip nervously as Frankie paces in front of you, swiping his hands through his hair and it’s unusual to not hear the rasp of the shorter military high and tight he used to wear. Since being accepted into Delta, he had been allowed to grow his hair out past normal regulation, the need to look less like the soldier necessary for the ops he would be running. Unless he has to give up his entire career because of the three year old little girl currently napping in her room upstairs. 

“How could they do this?” Frankie hisses, angry and frustrated. Scared that they actually could take his daughter from him, terrified they would. “They can’t do this. I just- I asked for help while I was deployed! Not to take her from me!” It had been a mistake to reach out, to talk about his upcoming deployment. The papers had been delivered by a court server today. He was being sued for full custody of his little girl by his late wife’s family. 

Your mind races, trying to talk yourself out of the crazy idea but you can’t. It would work. Better yet, people who knew you would believe it. And Frankie could prove that he had care in place for his daughter, stability. The military would get off his back and his former in-laws would have no case. The bonus would be that you would have health insurance for the first time in years. “Frank.” You murmur quietly, following his frantic pacing. “Frankie!” You call louder, getting his attention this time as he stops mid-turn to look at you. “Marry me.”

His eyes widen, absorbing your words, and he thinks back on how damn long he’s been in love with you. It’s hard to think about but he nods, knowing that this is smart. You need your meds and the insurance will get them for you. He needs a caretaker for his daughter that isn’t his toxic former in-laws. “You’re a genius.” He declares and cups your cheek to kiss your forehead. “God, how - you are a goddamn angel, baby. That’s perfect. We can - we can get married before I deploy and then Ana can have someone - are you sure you want to take over caring for her? I know you babysit and when I’m away but - full time? It’s a lot of work.” He says, lowering his hands from your cheeks.

“I won’t lie and say that I’m not nervous.” You chuckle and melt at the soft, grateful expression in his warm eyes. “But she’s a good kid. And there’s the daycare, so I can still work.” The more you think about it, the more that you know it’s the right thing to do. “Ana loves me, and I know you don’t want to lose her or give up your spot on the team. The boys need you.” The fact that you have very strong feelings for Frankie doesn’t need to factor into this. “I say we get married quickly so you can let your in-laws know that it’s a losing case.”

Frankie can’t believe you’ve agreed to do this and he knows he will owe you for the rest of his life. He can’t lose his daughter but he also can’t leave his friends, his brothers, to go into danger without him. “I want you to pick a dress. I’ll pay for everything. Rings too. I- I want it to be us and Ana. No one else. She loves you already and I- are you sure you want to do this?” He asks, reaching for your hands to squeeze them.

“It’s not completely altruistic.” You remind him, knowing that he is aware of your need for health insurance. “I want to do this. I know we need to take care of things, power of attorney and things like that, but I want to help you, Francisco.” You promise quietly, imagining a small courthouse wedding with the handsome soldier. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t sure. We’re friends. It’ll be easy.” 

Frankie nods, knowing you know him inside out, even the dark things he hides from the outside world. The dark sins he has committed. He leans in to kiss your forehead, “I think so too, I- I can’t believe I’m saying this but - but I can’t wait to marry you.” He smiles as he pulls back. You are his best friend and as much as he tries to deny it, he’s in love with you. He knows you’re better off in the dark on that particular sin. It wouldn’t benefit you to know that. His late wife knew and that’s what killed her. 

**** 

“Janet, please. Just calm down, sweetheart.” Frankie pleads, following his wife down the hall. Ana is crying, woken up by the screaming, and Frankie is desperate to deny what Janet is accusing him of. 

“You’re fucking in love with her! Just say it. I- you didn’t love me. Did you? It’s always been her.” Janet screams down the hall and Frankie shakes his head, unable to answer. When Janet got pregnant, he was just about to be called up for a deployment and he knew he had to do the right thing and marry her. He loved her, he did. In his own way. He can’t love her like he does you, though. You are the sun, the moon, the stars. Everything to him. He had done the right thing and married Janet but she was never you. When Ana came along, she became his world and he stayed for her, fought for her. 

When Frankie doesn’t answer again, Janet shakes her head. “I knew it. You bastard! You shouldn’t - you shouldn’t have married me. It’s over Frank. It’s done. I- fuck. I gotta - I gotta go.” Janet says, rushing towards the front door. 

“Wait. Don’t. You can’t fucking drive. You’ve had three glasses of wine.” Frankie growls, having long accepted that his wife became an alcoholic in his absence, drinking when the nights were lonely and Ana wouldn’t stop crying. He didn’t realize it until he came home from that first tour. 

“I’m fucking leaving otherwise if I stay in this house, I’m gonna kill Ana.” She threatens and Frankie growls, grabbing her purse. 

“You fucking - threatening the life of our daughter? You- I know you’re hurt but you’re a - get the fuck out. Go kill yourself on the goddamn road for all I care.” He growls, shoving her purse at her. She doesn’t say a word as she leaves and Frankie watches her drive down the street. 

Little did he know that he’d be getting a call an hour later to tell him that his wife had died in an accident, driven into a tree. He was upset, mostly for Ana, for the mother she’d never get to have. Janet looked after her well-being but was never affectionate or caring. Now she has no mother at all. “I’ll be right there.” He promises the cop and the next number he dials is yours. “Hey. Yeah, um, I know it’s late but can you come over? I need someone to watch Ana for me. I’ll explain when you get here.” He says and hangs up after you agree. His wife just died but his heart still beats at the sound of your voice. He’s committed many sins but tonight might just be the worst of all. 

****

“You don’t need to be nervous.” You remind yourself as you look in the mirror, hands trembling as you lean towards the glass and smudge a little more of your eyeliner into place. “It’s Frankie, he’s not- he doesn’t actually love you.” That stings more than you thought it would as you wear the white tea dress you had picked out to get married in. Feeling like a bride and yet not one all at the same time. It’s going to be just ten minutes before Frankie will be here to drive you to the courthouse to exchange vows. The marriage certificate is ready to be signed by the magistrate that will officially declare you Mrs. Francisco Javier Morales. The knock on the door startles you, and you look towards it before glancing back in the mirror. “It’s time.” 

When you answer the door, Frankie’s breath is taken away from him. You look devastatingly beautiful. “You look so pwetty.” Ana grins up at you and you look at her in her little white flower girl dress that is similar to yours, her hair done in what looks like an attempt to style it by Frankie. 

“She’s right. You look - you look incredible.” He says, his dark eyes meeting yours and he offers you a boyish grin.

Frankie is wearing his uniform, you had asked him to but it’s impossible to think of anything but how handsome he is wearing his medals. “Not nearly as incredible as you.” You reach out and your finger strokes his jaw. “You shaved.” Your finger grazes his lip and you pull back, aware that if you keep touching him, you will want to kiss him for real. “Every single woman in town is pissed at me today.” You promise. 

Frankie suppresses the shiver that runs through him at the way you caress his face and he knows it’s going to be hard not confessing how he feels. He knows you only think of him as a dear friend and even if, by some miracle, you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to look past his sins. He’s not good enough for you. He blushes and clears his throat, “alongside every man.” He counters and Ana tugs on your hand, “daddy got me petals.” She holds up the basket that she insisted Frankie get her. She had heard about flower girls from her friends in pre-school and she insisted Frankie let her throw the petals down before you walk down the aisle. “I know it’s only a courthouse wedding but Ana wanted to make it special.”

“Thank you, Ana.” You bend down to look the little girl in the eyes, knowing how excited that she is. For her, this is exciting and fun, something that she will play with her friends the next time she sees them in school. “You are the prettiest little flower girl I have ever seen.” You promise, making her smile and you reach out to cup her little cheek. “Now I know your daddy talked to you about it, but how would you like me to come stay with you and daddy? Help him make breakfast and do your hair? Would you like that?” 

Ana nods, her eyes wide, “yes! Daddy never gets my hair right.” She says with a pout, “are you my new mommy?” She asks and Frankie had spoken to her about this. How you were going to come live with them, how you were going to be his new friend and that her mommy was still with her. He hates how selfish Janet was to drink and drive and the guilt he felt when she died after he all but forced her into the car, but there was something in her eyes. He’s seen that look before. She would’ve hurt Ana and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

“I-” You frown slightly, unsure of what to say to the young girl. “I would like to be your friend. A good friend. But I also don’t want you to feel like I am trying to become your mommy unless you would like that.” It might be a little more than a three year old understands, but you don’t want her to feel like she has to forget Janet. 

Frankie kneels beside his daughter, “your mommy is your angel, remember? She’s gonna look after you.” Frankie smiles and says your name, “she’s gonna be your friend when daddy is gone fighting the bad guys, okay? You are safe with her and she loves you as much as daddy does.” Frankie knows his job is much more complicated than good guys and bad guys but it’s how he can explain to a three year old that he’s gonna be gone for so long. He hates missing huge parts of her life but he can’t let his team down. 

“Okay daddy.” She hands him the basket and steps closer to wrap her small arms around your neck.

You smile at the two of them together and you know that you are doing the right thing. You are giving Frankie the opportunity to keep his daughter here with him so he can come home to her when he can. “Are you ready to go throw the petals down, sweetheart?” You ask softly. “I bet daddy will take us out for ice cream after.” 

Ana grins and nods, squealing “lets go!” 

Frankie chuckles and stands up, holding his hand out to his daughter and he winks at you, “lets go get hitched, baby.” You smile and he holds his arm out to you, guiding his girls to his truck. 

****

Ana beams as she tosses the flowers on the floor, Frankie would say in heaps more than scattered but he chuckles and she comes to stand beside him. When you walk down the small aisle, Frankie exhales shakily, his heart pounding and he’s certain you can tell he’s sweating. When you stand in front of him, you beckon Ana to stand between you and Frankie knows he’s made the right choice for his daughter. It’s always been you.

The magistrates ceremony is brief and you barely remember any of it, grinning like an idiot as you stand there with Frankie, imagining if this were actually real. “Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?” He asks, making you swallow harshly before you squeeze his hands. “I do.” You promise clearly.

Frankie nearly yells “I do” but manages to control himself, staring into your eyes as the officiant declares you husband and wife. “You may now kiss the bride.” Frankie knows this could be the only chance he gets to kiss you so he leans in to cup your cheek, pressing his lips to yours and he is firm but not demanding. It’s not brief but it doesn’t drag, despite Frankie wanting to pull you against him and slide his tongue into your mouth. This is an agreement between friends and nothing more. He pulls back and smiles, looking down at Ana between you who looks happy. This feels right. After signing the marriage certificate, Frankie takes your hand to guide you and Ana back to his truck. “I - I hope you don’t mind…it was supposed to be a surprise but the guys put together some food and drinks at Tom and Molly’s.

“Really?” Your mouth drops open in shock and you smile when he nods. “Oh my god, that’s so sweet.” You gush before you frown. “Wait.” Twisting in your seat, you watch as Frankie buckles Ana into her car seat. “Do they- uh, know what the situation is?” You ask softly, unsure of what you can say around them. 

Frankie shakes his head. “No.” He finishes pulling the strap up Ana’s chest and looks over at you. “I wanted them to be able to truthfully say they believe it is real.” He explains, making you nod in understanding. There’s the possibility that Frankie’s in-laws could still come for custody or challenge the validity of the marriage and it’s better if everyone thought this was real. “Got it. Happy newlyweds.”

Frankie is grateful that you’re going along with this. He knows it benefits you too but it’s a lot to ask, to pretend to be married to him. The drive to Tom’s house is quiet and when you knock on the front door, Molly opens it with a “congratulations!” You grin and Frankie holds your hand and Ana’s as he walks inside. All of his team are there, several of your mutual friends, and Frankie is blushing when they shout “congratulations.”

“Hot damn!” Benny bellows, making you automatically grin as the younger Miller brother bounds into view. “Fish got married! You son of a bitch, you hid it from us!” He tackles Frankie in a bear hug while Molly pulls you in for a  hug. “What? Afraid she’d see me in my dress uniform and run off with me?” Ben teases, pulling back to grin at his friend before he scoops you up in a hug. “She wouldn’t have done that? Would you, sweetheart? You’ve been in love with ole Fish for years.” Benny teases.

Frankie picks Ana up, not wanting her to be excluded and he tries to ignore the comment, aware that people have thought you and him have been in love with each other for years. It’s true on his side but he doesn’t fool himself into thinking you love him as more than a friend. “Shut up Benny, my wife has good taste.” He jokes and Pope walks over. 

“Couldn’t pick a best man so you decided to do it solo?” Pope jokes and Frankie gives him a one armed hug. 

“Uncle Pope!” Ana cheers as Santi takes her into his arms, “hey chiquita.” He kisses the cheek of his goddaughter. 

Frankie smiles, turning towards Will. “You finally did it, huh? You convinced her to marry you, you son of a bitch.” He chuckles and Frankie hugs his friend. 

“Guess so.” He grins as you greet your friends and they admire the ring Frankie had bought you. He had spent quite a bit of money on it, wanting to make something about this situation real.

The party is fantastic but after a few hours you are ready to leave. Not because anyone is rude, but the jokes about you being pregnant before Frankie leaves for deployment and giving Ana a sibling just curl in your stomach. Knowing that you are never going to have that with your husband because he didn’t marry you for love. He married you for Ana and to fight off his in-laws. With the little girl passed out against her father’s shoulder, you use that as an excuse. “We need to get her home. Today was a big day for her.” You tell Molly when she offers to keep Ana overnight so you and Frankie can have some time alone. “I think we will settle in better if she’s there with us.”

Frankie nods, aware that he won’t be getting a wedding night. He’s not that stupid. He would never ever ask it of you. “She’s right. I want Ana to feel settled since we are leaving soon.” He says and rubs your back with his free hand. “Let’s go, sweetheart.” He murmurs and he keeps Ana in his arms while he says goodbye to his friends, knowing he will see them soon.

In his truck, you look over after he’s pulled away from Tom and Molly’s. “We didn’t discuss sleeping arrangements.” You realize, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I can stay at my apartment until you leave, but I would rather Ana get used to me being there.” You admit. “Or I can stay in the guest room if you prefer? When Ana notices that we aren’t sleeping in the same bed, you can say that you don’t sleep well beside me? Or….” you bite your lip, imagining curling up next to him. “We are both adults. We can sleep next to each other, right? You have a king sized bed.” 

“We can share a bed. We are adults. Not like we haven’t before.” He reminds you of when he used to get drunk and end up in your tiny one bed apartment, seeking solace and a late meal after a night out with the boys. “Besides, I think it would be best if Ana thinks this is real. I want her to think that this is real so she is happy with you. Not that I don’t think you’re not - you know what I’m saying, right?” He asks as he drives to his house.

“I know what you mean.” Reaching out, you pat his hand and give him a smile when he looks over at you. “It’s a good thing we’ve started carting some of my things over, right?” You have every intention of selling most of your things, since Frankie’s is already established and your furniture holds no sentimental attachment for you. “We can go get my ID and everything tomorrow. Get me set up in the system as your wife?”

Frankie nods, “yeah. We will sort everything out tomorrow.” His heart pounds in his chest at hearing you call yourself his wife and he swallows harshly, knowing that nothing can be done. For your sake and Ana’s. He can’t fuck this up by letting his feelings get involved. He sighs and pulls into his driveway, killing the engine and he’s careful as he takes Ana out of her car seat.

As Frankie takes Ana to lay her down, you take the bag that Frankie had brought over into the master bathroom so you can change out of your wedding dress into some comfortable pajamas. They aren’t fancy or sexy but you had bought some new, cute sleeping clothes since you would be sharing a house with Frankie. Washing the makeup off and taking your hair out of the careful style you had put it in for the ceremony. Looking more like your normal self when you open the door to find your new husband in the bedroom you will share. 

Frankie is carefully hanging up his uniform when he sees you and his heart clenches at how fucking beautiful you look. He feels guilty that he’s got you in this situation, in a marriage of convenience when you deserve all the love in the world. He strips down to his boxers, pulling a plain shirt out to pull on. “You want some water?” He asks, clearing his throat and you nod so he ventures into the kitchen, exhaling shakily to force himself to calm down. This isn’t a real wedding night. “Here you go, sweetheart.” He says and hands you the glass.

“Thank you.” You sit on the end of the bed and take a sip of the water, trying to calm your nerves and you sigh. “I know that this is- that we aren’t actually together, but I want you to know that I’m not going to embarrass you while you are deployed.” You tell him. It's been a long time since you’ve dated but just because you aren’t really Frankie’s wife in all senses doesn’t mean you are going to mess around with anyone. “You don’t have to worry about that.” 

Frankie comes to sit down beside you, reaching for your hand. “I- I know this isn’t easy but if you do meet someone…you need to tell me and we end this. I shouldn’t - I don’t want to get in the way of the rest of your life. I love you - for - for doing this for me, and I will never be able to repay you. You’ve helped me keep Ana and I’ll forever be in your debt. I can’t - I can’t hold you back if you find someone and want to live your own life.” It kills him to say it, hating the thought of you with anyone else but he can’t be selfish, not when you’ve done so much for him.

It’s hard not to immediately assure him that you would never meet anyone else. Not when you are in love with him and no one has ever stood up against Frankie in your heart. Instead, you nod. “And I want you to do the same thing. You deserve to be happy, Frankie and when you meet someone that does that for you….” You give him a weak smile and go for a joke. “It will be the easiest divorce in the history of divorces.”

Frankie chuckles softly, his heart sinking but he ignores that and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Let’s get some sleep. It’s been a long day and I know Ana will be waking us up with excitement to have our first day together. I want to do as much as I can with her before I leave. Tomorrow, let’s go get you in the system and go for breakfast.” He says and lets go of your hand so he can slide under the covers.

Frankie has his side of the bed established, so you climb in on the other side. Knowing that you don’t mind it and you are thankful that his bed is comfortable. “It was a good wedding, Frankie.” You murmur as you lay down beside him. “Thank you. For not thinking that I was crazy.” You grin at him, knowing that he is also thankful you are willing to do this. “Goodnight hubby.”

“Goodnight wifey.” Frankie chuckles, leaning over to turn the lamp off and you curl up, falling asleep pretty quickly. He doesn’t. Staying awake and listening to your soft snores, murmurs, and breathing. His heart aches for you, to curl around you and breathe you in. He can’t ruin this. You don’t feel the same way, you want the insurance and to help him out. It takes a while but eventually he falls asleep, unaware that he had ended up doing the thing he was trying to avoid: curling around you.

Waking up in Frankie’s arms is a special kind of hell. Because you know that this is only because he’s asleep and not because he’s decided that he wants you in the middle of the night. Even if the very prominent hardness pressed against your ass makes you want to pretend that he does. The good thing is that Frankie is a heavy sleeper when he’s home so you manage to wiggle away from him before you wake him up. “Morning.” You huff when he starts to stir. “I have to pee, go back to sleep.” You urge softly.

He grumbles, hugging the pillow you were sleeping on, inhaling your scent from it, and he falls asleep again, wanting to make the most of this time at home. When you walk into the kitchen, you decide to get a start on making some coffee and eventually, Frankie wakes up, rolling onto his back and willing his morning wood to disappear. When the mental attempt is fruitless, he gets into the shower. Groaning as he wraps his hand around his cock, he remembers the dream he was having of you underneath him, celebrating your wedding night for real.

In the kitchen, you are reminding yourself that Frankie is just a man who wakes up with a hardon. It doesn’t mean that he wants to throw you up on the counter and fuck you. Deciding that you will make a small breakfast for Ana, giving Frankie some space and allowing you to cool down.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” Frankie groans, jerking himself as his cum paints the shower wall. He’s lost track of how many times he’s imagined fucking you while in this shower. After cleaning off the shower and himself, Frankie brushes his teeth and shaves, getting dressed just in time for you to finish Ana’s breakfast. “Thank you for doing that.” Frankie says and fixes himself a cup of coffee after he sees you already have a cup.

“Of course.” Ana squawks over the baby monitor, obviously just waking up and you smile. “Do you want to get her or do you want me to start getting into a routine?” You ask, before you answer your own question. “Let me get her. I’ll be right back.”

Frankie watches you go, sipping his coffee and smiling as he listens to Ana sleepily say good morning on the monitor before she realizes you’re still there and she is excited, telling you how she wants to make cupcakes and show you all her dolls. It makes Frankie feel comforted that his little girl will be looked after while he’s gone. “Morning baby girl.” He greets her when she walks into the kitchen, eyes still sleepy and he picks her up to kiss her cheek. 

“Daddy. I want pancakes.” She demands and Frankie chuckles, “we will get pancakes later baby.” He says your name, “she made you some eggs for now.”

Ana frowns slightly and shakes her little head. “I no want eggs.” She pouts, crossing her arms and you try not to smile at the ferocious little look on her face. 

“Oh, well..” you sigh softly, “I guess you don’t have to eat the eggs. Even though they give you lots of energy to play.��� You tell her softly. “Especially since this is just supposed to be first breakfast.”

“First breakfast?” She pipes up and Frankie nods, “yeah. Pancakes are second breakfast. But only if you eat the first breakfast. You wanna show off all your dolls, right baby girl? You gotta have energy to do that and eggs give you that.” Frankie explains to his daughter who lowers her arms. 

“With ketchup.” She insists, walking over to you.

Laughing, you turn back towards the refrigerator. “Eggs with ketchup, got it.” You don’t miss the way Frankie winces and you wonder if it’s something that she had learned from Janet. Frankie’s first wife had never hidden the fact that she hadn’t liked you, so you had tried to give her the distance she wanted, though you weren’t going to stop being friends with the guys or Frankie for her. “After you eat, I’ll help you get dressed and we will do your hair, how does that sound?” 

Frankie is reminded of Janet, who he used to make fun of for having eggs with ketchup and she used to make it for Ana when she started eating solids. “Can I have braids?” She asks, wanting to have her hair different from the styles Frankie just about manages to put together. “Of course, sweetheart.” You say and Frankie smiles as he watches Ana hug your leg.

Breakfast goes easy for Ana and you leave Frankie to clean up the kitchen while you and Ana go to get ready. The young girl sitting extremely still for a three year old, excited for her braids. You don’t blame her. The dolly she had introduced you two had braids and she wanted to look like her. Making her gasp in the mirror when she looks at her reflection.

When Ana comes out, squealing happily about her braids, Frankie ooohs and awws and tells her how pretty she looks. He winks at you, “you did a good job, baby.” He says and he doesn’t even think about the nickname he calls you and Ana admires the braids. “You wanna get ready and I’ll entertain the little lady?” Frankie suggests.

“Thanks.” You nod and try not to take his nickname to heart. It’s just practice for when you are in public and around others. “I’ll try not to be too long,” you promise, turning and heading towards the bedroom where your bag is. You need to shower and plan on doing just basic makeup for your ID photo.

****

Frankie glances over at you while he drives, admiring your profile in the sun and his gaze drops down to his ring on your finger. It makes his heart twist that he didn’t propose to you properly but again, he’s reminded that this isn’t real. “You got everything?” He asks while looking in the mirror at Ana who is admiring her Barbie.

“Social security, birth certificate, marriage certificate, driver’s license.” You go through all your documents and grin. “Yep. Although now I need to change all of that too. To reflect the last name Morales.” Your stomach twists pleasantly and you remind yourself that you are a Morales in name only. “Plus a passport change. That’s the one I dread.”

“It’ll be fine. You’ll have the insurance soon. Do you have enough meds to last?” He asks, knowing you have been halving the dose and he hates that, seeing how it has taken a toll on you. You aren’t your usual self and he wants to see you’re okay before he leaves.

“Yes.” You bite your lip and reach for his hand on the gear shifter. “Thank you Frankie. This is- I am grateful. I hated choosing between my medications and eating sometimes.” You hate how expensive it is to live when you don’t have health insurance and your job does not provide employer insurance since you are technically a contractor.

Frankie exhales, hating that you have to even choose. “Fucking country.” He huffs under his breath, knowing that he fights for freedom but those freedoms don’t allow you to have what you need when you desperately need it. He pulls into the parking lot of the administration building and comes around to open your door, helping you out before he moves to unbuckle Ana.

“Thank you.” You feel your cheeks heat up from Frankie’s attention to manners. You grab the diaper bag just in case and the three of you make your way to the first office to have you officially added to Frankie’s record as his wife and dependent. You will have to memorize his social security number because that is how they will give you the services you need from now on.

Frankie remembers adding Janet to his file when she was newly pregnant before he was first deployed and he squeezes your hand as you walk out, officially added as his dependent. He will call his lawyer later to tell them about the wedding so he can get Janet’s parents to drop their custody case. For now, he’s going to take his family to breakfast. 

****

“Silly daddy!” Ana giggles when he puts the empty glass to his eye and pretends to look at her through it. Pancakes eaten and bellies full, he hasn’t been this happy in a long time, glancing at you when he lowers the glass from his face.

Frankie is such a good father and it makes your heart pound. Imagining that you are a real family and wishing that you could be looking forward to giving Ana a little brother or sister. “Daddy is silly.” You tease, sending him a smile.

He chuckles, reaching for your hand so he can caress the ring with his thumb. “Daddy is silly!” Ana giggles and leans into Frankie’s side. He cuddles her with his free arm, knowing it’s going to be hard to leave but he has to, he can’t abandon his brothers. 

**** 

“Is she asleep?” You ask as Frankie walks into the kitchen. 

“Out like a light.” He tells you and groans in appreciation when you hand him the bottle of beer. He leaves in a few days and tomorrow he begins to prep for his departure. He has one last night to spend with you in relaxation. 

“You wanna finish that show?” You ask and he nods, watching you dish up the pasta that you’ve been cooking after giving Ana her simple buttered noodles earlier. 

“Sure baby.” The nickname comes naturally now and it slips off of his tongue without thought.

Your evenings have been so natural, perfect together. The friendship between the two of you had made it easy to be around each other and the only thing that you are struggling with is to not try to jump Frankie. He’s so sexy, especially when he comes home in his uniform. Waiting until he’s asleep to touch yourself while you are laying next to him at night or using your toy in the shower before Ana gets up is the only relief that you are getting. Bringing the pasta over to the couch, you sit down beside him and hand him his bowl. “Hopefully we figure out if they are going to get together this episode. I don’t want to wait until next season to find out.” 

“Probably not. It’s the waiting that makes the end result sweeter, don’t you think?” He asks, thanking you for the food and he hits play on the show. “Fuck, this is good.” He groans after swallowing the first bite. You are a damn good cook and he is going to miss your food when he’s got MREs on the menu. You eat in companionable silence, it’s comfortable and he loves that he can just be himself around you. Janet’s parents were furious to hear Frankie had married you, having heard from their daughter about how she thought he loved you more than her. Still, they didn’t have a case anymore so it was dropped

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind.” You start as you turn towards him. “I told Ana that we will drop you off together. She wants to see you off and I couldn’t say no. I think it will help her understand why daddy has to be gone for a long time.” You know this will be the first deployment that she will remember and you want it to be as good as it can for her. “I also got you one of those recordable books. You know? The ones that we saw in the toy store? That way you can read her bedtime story anytime she’s missing daddy.” 

Frankie swears he falls in love with you even more in that moment. Watching you with his daughter, how caring you are, how much you love her, it makes him want to stay and just spend the rest of his life with you, not missing a moment. When you were in the kitchen baking cookies with Ana last weekend, he imagined you pregnant with his child and it’s almost too easy to envision. “Yeah? That’s a great idea. I’ll do that tomorrow when she’s napping. I-I’m worried that she’s gonna forget all about me.” He admits his deepest fear, knowing he could potentially leave his daughter an orphan if he were to die on this deployment. It keeps him awake at night.

“I’m not going to let that happen.” You promise him softly, reaching over and taking his hand. “You have your will set up, you know I will make sure that if something happens, she knows all about her wonderful father, Francisco Morales.” You bite your lip. “Maybe you can record some videos for her? Send them to my phone to show her when she’s needing to see your face?” You know that video chatting will be sparse, sometimes impossible, but you want to make sure that she remembers him. “And we are going to be making you care packages.”

He smiles, unshed tears stinging in his eyes as he squeezes your hand. “You are amazing. I- I know this is - this is hard but I want you to know that I love you. You’re my best friend and I couldn’t do any of this without you.” He admits, “I owe you everything, baby.” He blinks and a tear escapes, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability, knowing that you’d never think of him as weak or not enough. He trusts you implicitly.

Your heart aches because you know that he doesn’t mean ‘love’ like you wish that he would. Still, you swallow down your feelings and lean over to kiss his cheek. “I love you too, Frankie.” You promise him quietly. You do, you love him with everything that you are and you always will. “I promise you that I will hold down the fort until you can get back home.”

**** 

It’s early and Frankie knows Ana is sleepy but she insists she comes to say goodbye to her daddy. The enormous hangar is full of families saying goodbye to their soldiers, some for the first time, others are well practiced in this. Frankie adjusts his pack over his shoulder when he sees his team. Tom saying goodbye to Molly and the girls, Will and Benny saying goodbye to their mom. Pope saying goodbye to his current girlfriend. “Come here, baby girl.” Frankie says, bending down to pick Ana up after setting his pack down once he’s standing with the team, not wanting to tear up in case it upsets his daughter more than it should.

“Daddy, I don’t want you to go.” Ana sniffles and you reach over to rub her little back. She had been very brave while Frankie was packing and had even stuffed a picture she had drawn for him in one of the pockets. “I want you to stay with mommy and me.” 

Frankie has mixed feelings, so happy that Ana is comfortable enough to call you mommy but he’s sad that she doesn’t remember Janet. As much as he resented her mother for what she became, he wants Ana to know her mother. Your eyes widen slightly and he knows he will email you to discuss this when he can. Now isn’t the time or place. “I know, baby girl.” He kisses her hair, “but I can’t stay. I gotta go fight bad guys, remember? You’ll be safe here with mommy and I promise you, I’ll come home as soon as I can. I will call you as many times as I can. I love you. So much.” He chokes a little and swallows the lump in his throat.

You know that it’s important for you to kiss Frankie goodbye, everyone around would expect it. You lean in and kiss his cheek. “I’m going to miss you. We are going to miss you. Take care of yourself please.” You beg him quietly. “Come home to us.” 

Frankie doesn’t know if he will come back and he nudges his nose against yours, “I- can I kiss you goodbye? Properly?” He asks, knowing it’s important for him to show you are his wife to anyone watching. You nod, unable to speak, and he cups your cheek, pressing his lips against yours. It’s brief but he tries to pour as much into it as possible. Ana clings to him as he nudges his nose against yours again before he pulls back. “I’m going to miss you, baby.” He tells you, adjusting Ana on his hip and he gets the minute warning to say goodbye.

Taking Ana, both you and she give Frankie a tearful goodbye, another fierce hug before he is walking away. His daughter is clinging to you as you both wave frantically as he boards a bus to take them to the plane. “Okay, baby girl.” You murmur softly, stroking her back as the little girl tucks her face against your neck. “We’re going to be okay. We’ll talk to daddy soon.” 

Frankie looks back at you before he boards the bus. Walking away is the hardest thing he has to do but he does it because he cannot turn back. He has to be there with his team. With a sigh, he steps onto the bus and takes a seat, unable to tear his eyes away from you and Ana as the bus pulls away. Pope slaps his shoulder, “they will be okay, hermano.” He promises and Frankie silently prays he’s right.

****

“Hello?” You quickly answer the phone, hoping that it is Frankie, letting you know that he’s gotten to his base overseas. “Frank, is that you?” You fumble for the light beside the bed and sit up. It’s late, or early but you don’t care. Ana groans next to you, having slept in the same bed for the last couple of nights since Frankie had left. “Hello?”

“Hey baby.” Frankie smiles against the phone when he hears your voice. He’s aware of how late it is there but he wants to hear your voice. He’s going to his op brief in the morning, diving straight into it, and he doesn’t know how long he will be dark for. 

“Hey.” You reply sleepily and Frankie’s heart twists, remembering how you’d curl into his chest during the night. 

“Just wanted to let you know I’m safe. Fucking cold here right now. How are you? How’s Ana?”

“She’s good.” You look over at his spot to see his daughter sprawled across his pillow and taking up even more room than he does if that's possible. “She’s sleeping in your spot. Wanted to cuddle daddy’s pillow.” You murmur quietly so you don’t disturb her. “I won’t let her get used to it, but she needs some comfort right now.”

“I miss her already. So much. I, uh, I want you to give her the bear tomorrow.” He says. He’d gone to the mall to Build A Bear and recorded his voice, telling Ana how much he loves her, and he wants her to have it now that he’s gone. The bear is wearing a uniform like daddy does. “How are you doing? I know it’s a lot to look after her alone.”

“Taking it one day at a time, baby.” You tell him. Thank god for her pre-school, allowing for you to work without having to entertain her. “Molly promised to come over and help out, we will get along just fine.” Reaching over, you pull up her covers and smile when she frowns just like Frankie does. “The bear will be the first thing she sees when she wakes up, I promise.”

“Good. I- I’m heading out any day now. Not sure when, but I’ll be dark for a while until we come back to base. I- I don’t know what’s gonna happen out there but I want you to know that you and Ana mean everything to me.” He confesses, wanting to leave you with that as his time is nearly up.

“We’ll be waiting to hear from you and putting together your first care package.” You hate how your stomach twists but you put on a brave front for him. 

“Sounds good. I gotta go now, sweetheart. I- I’ll talk to you soon.” He promises, aware of how much he wants to say to you but he can’t. He has to stay strong and not drag you into his stupid emotions. “Bye Frankie.” You murmur and he smiles, “bye baby.” He says and hangs up, closing his eyes and he knows this is going to be harder than ever.

**

You knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. Living in his house, raising his daughter. But it has moments where you can’t imagine anything else. Packing up care packages with his favorite things inside for him to have a bit of home and shipping them off faithfully. Living with your phone nearby at all times, because you don’t want to miss his calls. They are few and far between, but emails are regular, making you create a file folder to keep them all in. It’s been three months and you are finally settled into being Frankie’s dependent.

Frankie devours every email, every photo, every damn video you send of Ana. He wishes you’d include photos of you - not sexual, he just misses your smile. “Baby girl, daddy misses you.” He tells Ana on the video chat, back on base after a few hard hitting missions and he’s glad to see his daughter’s face. “Mommy. Give daddy a kiss!” Ana demands, having been kissing the phone to Frankie herself making his heart yearn for his family.

“Hey!” You light up when you see Frankie on the screen. Your hand automatically goes to your hair. You haven’t done it and you are wearing leggings and one of his t-shirts while you clean. Not your best look. “It’s good to see you, baby. How are you?” You think he looks tired but you don’t want to say that. You know he’s been out of communication so he’s been outside the wire.

God, you’re gorgeous. Frankie inhales sharply and bites his lip, “I’m good. Exhausted. We think we are gonna be sent out again. It’s - it’s rough.” He admits, running his hand through his hair. He realizes you are wearing his shirt and his cock twitches, knowing he’s gonna imagine you wearing just that when he goes to shower. “I miss you.” Frankie says softly.

“I miss you too.” Admitting that is easy. You miss your friend. The man you have fallen in love with. “Ana has a playdate on Saturday. We are going to Chuck E Cheese with one of the little girls from her preschool and her mom. Her dad is on the deployment with you.” You ramble, filling him in on all the small things about the time he’s been out of communication. “And we started a countdown for your tentative return.” You grin and angle the camera towards the calendar, showing where you’ve been marking off days.

Frankie hates that you’re waiting on him but he loves it at the same time, having a family to come home to. It keeps him going. It allows him to put his entire being into making sure he flies the team out of danger. It motivates him. “Hopefully I won’t be a day late coming back to you.” He says, asking you how your work is. Menial conversation but it means the world to him, he loves how simple it is to hear about your day but compared to the horrors he sees, he appreciates it.

You know that the call will have to end soon. Plenty of others want to talk to their loved ones. “We are planning on mailing you another package since Benny ate all your Oreos.” You laugh. “I put in a package for him so he doesn’t steal yours .”

Frankie grins, “thanks baby. I could’ve killed him when he bragged about stealing my cookies with the goddamn crumbs in his teeth.” Frankie shakes his head and Ana rushes up to the phone. “Daddy! Mommy got me a Barbie!” She holds her new doll up and Frankie admires it, reminded of how good you are with her. He’s not sure what will happen in the long run. When you meet someone and want to divorce. It will kill him but he will do it. “Okay my loves. I gotta go. Ana, sweetheart, I love you.” He says and she blows him a kiss, “love you daddy.” He looks at you, “I love you too. I’ll call when I can.” He promises and you nod, “bye Frank.” You blow him a kiss and he knows he will be thinking of that all afternoon.

****

“Coming!” Drying your hands on a dish towel, you rush towards the door, wondering who it can be. Maybe Molly, she had said she would drop by. Your friendly smile freezes the second that you open the door and see uniforms. Heart sinking, you feel like you’re going to be sick. You’ve seen this scene in a movie way too many times. “No-“ you gasp out, making the one with the silver leaf on his lapels remove his hat- or cover as Frankie called it. 

“Mrs. Morales?” You can’t breathe, you can’t speak as you imagine the next words, praying that you are finding yourself in the middle of a nightmare. “I am sorry to report that your husband has been injured in combat. He was shot multiple times and is currently being flown to Germany. You are his medical power of attorney and we need you to consent to surgery for when he arrives.” His words almost sound like you’re underwater. “Mrs. Morales, do you understand?” He asks you with a frown.

You blink stupidly at him for several moments before his words sink in. “He’s alive?” You whisper, reaching out for his arm desperately. “Frankie’s alive? Yes, yes whatever they need.” You rush out, tears streaming down your face. “Oh god, Germany?” You swallow. “I need to be there. I need to go be with him.”

“We have already arranged for you to go to Germany. Pack your bag now and we will wait. There’s no time to waste.” He says and you nod, rushing into the house to the bedroom to frantically pack a bag, grabbing your passport, and you go into Ana’s room, grabbing things for her, and you are grateful that Frankie got her a passport in hopes of taking her to Chile to see his distant cousins one day. “Mommy? What’s wrong?” She asks with a frown after she stops playing.

“Honey.” Bending down, you brush Ana’s hair back. “Daddy - daddy got hurt. He’s going to be okay, but we have to go visit him. Cheer him up.” You don’t want to scare her, but how do you explain to a three year old that her dad was in surgery after getting shot. “Can you be a big girl and come with me now? We have to be good because it’s a long trip.”

“Daddy’s hurt?” She asks, her lower lip trembling and you nod, “yes but we are going to kiss his boo boos better, okay? Can you be a good girl and pick out some toys for us to take?” You ask, grabbing her backpack and she nods, picking up her favorite dolls to take on the trip. Once you’re all packed up, you alarm the house and lock it, stepping out to the men waiting for you.

It’s surreal, being driven to a plane that is scheduled to take off in just a few hours. Apparently they had delayed it and you’ll never know if it was them or providence that had you up in the air so quickly and on your way to Germany. Praying the entire time that Frankie would be okay as you tried to entertain Ana, worried what you might learn when you land.

****

“Morning baby.” Frankie smiles, kissing along your neck. 

“Hmmm. Morning.” You grind back against his hard cock and smile, “someone is eager to start the day.” 

Frankie chuckles, sliding his hand under the t-shirt you’re wearing to cup your tit. “Always when it involves you.” He rasps, pinching your nipple and you whimper when he slides his hand down your belly after letting go of your breast. It’s starting to round, you’ll have to announce that you’re pregnant soon and Frankie knows you won’t be able to wait long after you both tell Ana. She will spill the beans within hours. His hand slides lower to disappear into your panties and he wastes no time rubbing your clit. Your soft moan has him biting down on your shoulder, grinding against you. 

“Fuck, Frankie.” You whine softly and he smiles against your skin, “mmm love it when you moan my name. My beautiful wife.” He sighs and pushes two fingers inside of your wet cunt, making you turn your head to find his lips. His tongue slides into your mouth as he pumps his fingers, loving the way you push your pleasured sounds into his mouth to muffle them. It doesn’t take you long to cum, sensitive from the hormones, and he pushes you over the edge by twisting his wrist to press his thumb to your clit. “Cum for me.” He begs against your lips and you fall apart with a cry of his name. He kisses along your jaw, working you through it until he’s pulling his fingers out of you. 

There’s a beeping noise and he frowns, looking over at the nightstand. “Did you get a new alarm clock?” He asks and you shake your head. 

“No. Frankie? Frankie?” Your face blurs and he’s back into the void.

**

“Frankie.” You carry Ana, rushing through the hospital behind the nurse who is bringing you to his room. He’s out of surgery but he hasn’t woken up yet. The danger is still there but he’s stable. Tears stream down your face when you see him looking grey and still in the hospital bed, hooked up to the heart monitor. “Oh god, Frankie, we’re here.” You promise, rubbing Ava’s back. “It’s okay baby,” the little girl has turned away from the sight of her daddy in the bed and tucked her face into the crook of your neck. “He’s okay, he’s sleeping. Trying to feel better.” The doctor had explained his injuries and the surgery and you are so damn thankful he survived.

Ana whimpers, “is daddy okay?” She asks and your heart breaks at the fearful tone to the voice. 

“Yeah, baby girl. Daddy is gonna be fine.” You try to be positive, hoping that he’s going to be okay. 

**

You’re not sure how many hours have passed. Ana is asleep on the chair, curled up after the hospital staff brought her and you some food. Time will tell if Frankie wakes up, his head and chest bandaged and you can’t seem to look away from the rise and fall of his chest, the beeping of the heart monitor reminding you that he’s still here.  When he does wake up, he blinks, wincing at the bright light above, and he tries to remember what happened.

“Oh thank god.” You sigh breathlessly when you feel him shift, looking up to find his eyes slowly opening. “Frankie. It’s okay, take it easy.” You don’t want him to be startled or scared. Squeezing his hand gently. “It’s me. You’re in the hospital in Germany.” Trying to keep your voice soothing until he turns to head to look at you.

His throat is so dry. Like he has been stranded in the desert for days without water. He swallows, trying to speak, and he tries to remember what happened but all he can say is “love you.” His dreams were lucid, showing him what life could be like. A life spent with you and Ana. You as his wife, his actual wife, not some paper so you can get healthcare. He closes his eyes again, feeling exhausted.

“I love you too.” You cry, relieved that he’s okay. That he’s awake. The fear and the anxiety make you sob as you lean forward and kiss his hand. “I’m so- god, I’m so - god I was so worried.”

The nurse comes in to check on you at that moment and you turn towards her, “he’s awake.” The nurse nods and comes over to Frankie, ushering you away and pushing the button to summon the rest of the medical team to assess Frankie who is still half drugged up but aware of his surroundings.

You move over towards Ana, leaning over and checking on her while the doctors and nurses come into the room. Smiling as she cuddles the beat that had his voice recorded in it while she sleeps. You have to talk to him. You can’t do this. Not when you really love him. You can’t pretend you don’t want a real future with him while playing as his wife.

The medical team eventually filters out and the doctor approaches to tell you that Frankie’s vitals all look good. He was shot in the head but it was just scraped and didn’t go in. He had a bullet to the chest which punctured his lung but didn’t go near his heart, and a bullet to the shoulder. He’s lucky to be alive but he should make a recovery as long as he’s stable.

Listening to the doctor, you are so damn thankful for the fact that Frankie pulled through as well as he has, hugging yourself as you hear the prognosis and what will happen going forward with rehab for him. “Thank you.” You murmur as the doctor leaves, letting you move back towards Frankie. You can tell that he’s about to fall asleep as you take his hand again. “Baby, I-” you choke out the words, new tears falling and you just squeeze his hand again, unable to get the words out. Frankie’s eyes flutter closed again and his breathing evens out as he falls asleep again. 

****

“Daddy! Mommy wants pancakes.” Ana declares and Frankie chuckles, “oh she does? I guess it is Mother’s Day after all.” Frankie says as he slides the pancakes he was already making onto the plate. “Come on then. Let’s go.” Frankie says once he’s got everything and Ana opens the door for him to find you holding the baby, breastfeeding him. 

“Happy Mommy Day!” Ana declares and you smile, looking up at Frankie as he holds the tray. 

“Happy Mother’s Day.” He says and kisses your cheek even though he showed you how much he loves you this morning before the kids woke up. “I’ll hold him while you eat.” Frankie offers after his son pulls off of your breast. You nod and Frankie takes the baby into his arms, certain that this is a dream. The life he’s always wanted with the woman he’s always wanted.

“I’ve been thinking.” You smile sweetly at the picture Frankie paints holding your son. 

“Yeah baby? What have you been thinking about?” He asks, looking up from Miguel to find you grinning at him. His heart flutters every time he sees that smile. 

“I think that once the doctor clears me, we should try for another.” You admit, chuckling when his eyes widen. “Have a set of Irish twins. What do you think?” You had cursed him while you were pushing Miguel out, but immediately apologized once the pain had passed and your son was in your arms.

Frankie’s eyes widen, “really? You want another one so soon?” He asks and you nod, “yes. Yes. I don’t want to waste time. It’s precious.” He agrees, knowing how quick time flies. “Let’s do it.” He says and he is leaning in to kiss you. “I love you baby.” He murmurs and you hum into his mouth, making him smile.

****

Frankie squeezes your hand while he continues to rest. Letting you cry in solitude while Ana still sleeps curled up in the chair. “I love you Frankie.” You admit quietly. “I’ve always loved you. It’s why it was so easy to offer to marry you. I- I want you to recover for Ana, but for me too.” Leaning down, you kiss his hand again, wondering if he’s dreaming. If he is, you hope that it's a good dream.

Frankie blinks against the bright light again, annoyed that he’s been dragged away from his dream of making another baby with you. The dreams were so real he mourns the life he had in those dreams and he opens his eyes to find you crying while holding his hand. “Wha- baby?” He croaks, throat still so dry and he wonders why you are crying.

Looking up, you press your lips together as you hold back a sob. Leaning forward and pressing your lips to his cheek and forehead, taking care to keep away from his bandages. “Oh god baby, you're awake. I - I’m so glad.” You pull back, knowing he is probably confused. “You were- you were shot.” You explain quietly. “You’re in a hospital in Germany. I- Ana and I flew out as soon as possible. I have been so worried about you.” 

He frowns, finally getting his focus, and he looks at you. “Shot? Germany? The- the others?” He asks, suddenly worried about his team. Are they okay? Is anyone else hurt or dead? His heart monitor starts to beep rapidly and he squeezes your hand.

“Everyone else is fine.” You promise, having heard what happened from the officer who had taken you to the airfield to fly out. “You took fire while you were trying to get soldiers out of a heavy fire situation. You were shot, but managed to get them back to the base before you passed out right after you set down your chopper.” Your heart had stopped when you heard how he had barely made it back to base, but you could only be strong for him. 

He’s still fuzzy but he understands what you are saying. He nearly died. He remembers the panic in his mind when he was shot, thinking about leaving you and Ana behind. Fuck, he nearly died. Fuck. “I love you.” He tells you breathlessly. 

“I love you.” You murmur, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“No. No. You don’t understand. I’m in love with you. I love you. I love you. I can’t - I can’t live without you. You’re my best friend. You’re my everything.” He chokes, needing you to understand him.

“You’re my best friend too.” You promise him, thinking that he’s just telling you needing you as a friend. 

But Frankie frowns. “No baby, I don’t- I want to be married to you for real. Forever.” He manages, squeezing your hand. 

“For real?” You frown and then lean forward. “Baby, I want- if this is just some kind of reaction to being shot-“ 

“it’s not,” he insists. “I love you.” 

You lunge forward and press your lips to his. “I love you.” You tell him breathlessly.

He wishes he could reach up and cup your cheek, keep you pressed against him, but all he can do is kiss you back. “I’m so fucking in love with you. Always have been. Even with - even when I was with Janet. It’s why she left that night. We were arguing and I- shit. I’ve made so many mistakes but marrying you ain’t one of them. I love you. I love you.” He says when you lean back to look into his eyes.

Your heart breaks, knowing that you were the cause of what could be the reason that Janet was driving that night, although you know her actions were her own. You know that she and Frankie weren’t good together and you can’t blame him for the past. “I love you, Francisco.” You promise him softly with a smile, kissing him once more. “Will you stay married to me?” You ask quietly, not wanting anyone to over hear. “Make this a real marriage with me?” 

Frankie nuzzles into your cheek, unable to believe how lucky he is to have you. “I love you. It’s always been you. I- I don’t want to waste any more time. I want to start the rest of our lives.”

You smile and giggle happily, reaching up and brushing his hair back from his face. “I love you too baby. Now you just need to heal so you can come home to us.” Frankie’s deployment is officially over and as soon as he is recovered enough to go home, you would be headed back to the states so he could recover fully. 

****

“Frankie!” You huff, pushing at his wandering hands and pushing them away from your ass. “You need to stop. You could pull a stitch.” You chide, finding it harder and harder to push him as the weeks go by.

Frankie grunts, “don’t care. It’s been torture seeing you and not being able to be inside of you.” He admits, and he knows you’ve done stuff. You have sucked his cock and he let you sit on his face, but the doctor told him no strenuous activity. He hasn’t been cleared yet but every day it’s getting harder to not fuck you. He honestly wants to make love to you, something slow and sweet to consummate your marriage…finally.

You bite your lip and you know that he is just as eager as you are to finally have sex. Leaning in, you press your lips to his. “If - and I mean if - you can be good and be still, how about we compromise and I sit on your cock?” You know that Frankie wants to be in charge but he can’t. No with the bandage on his side. But if he could be still, you could ride him. “But you have to be still. Not trying to take over.”

Frankie pouts, aware that he can’t ruin you the way he wants to but he has the rest of your lives to make love to you, to make you cum on his cock while he fucks you. “I can be good.” He promises, sliding his hands down to squeeze your ass. Ana is in bed and he’s so grateful for it so he can push his hard cock into your hip. “I won’t take over.”

You smirk, absolutely aware of the fact that he will try to take over. “Then what are you waiting for, soldier?” You tease. “Get undressed so I can fuck my husband.” You are already getting out of the bed so you can strip out of the t-shirt and panties that you had taken to sleeping in. Enjoying the way Frankie’s eyes wander over your body every night.

He loves seeing you like this. His beautiful wife. The love of his life. He swallows, throat suddenly dries, and he is grateful he isn’t wearing a shirt. His boxers are able to be shoved down and he pushes the sheets down the bed before settling against the pillows. “Baby. Come here. Are you wet? You wanna sit on my face?” He asks, “there’s lube in the nightstand.” He wants you to be comfortable. “And condoms…if you want.” He adds, knowing you haven’t been on birth control and he doesn’t want to push you in case you change your mind and don’t want to get pregnant yet.

He pants, fingers twitching to grab you. He desperately wants you, he wants to make you feel good. “I can’t wait to see you pregnant.” He admits, knowing that the experience will be different than Janet who was a nightmare when she was pregnant. She was demanding and accused him of cheating, and then cried and begged for sex in the same breath. He had whiplash and tried to be there for her but it was hard at times. His hands caress your back and he leans in to kiss your shoulder, just breathing you in while you grind against him.

“Lean back, baby.” You chide, pushing his shoulder back gently. “I’m going to come to you. Give you what we’ve both wanted.” He feels so good against your clit that you can’t help but roll your hips, slicking up his cock with how wet you are and enjoying when his cock flexes against your folds. Leaning in, you press your lips to his in a soft kiss.

“Fuck. Don’t tease me baby. It’s been torture.” He groans when you kiss him slowly, his hands squeezing your hips to encourage you. “Come on baby. I need you to fuck me.” He begs, rocking his hips to grind against you.

Taking mercy on him and yourself, you reach down and wrap your fingers around his thick cock and lift your hips. Eager to have him inside you now and feel his cum filling you up. The first inch makes you gasp, carefully bracing your hands on his chest but not putting any pressure on him. Wanting to make sure you don’t hurt him as you sink down on him.

Frankie whimpers, actually whimpers, when you take his cock inside of you. “Fuck baby. You- Jesus fucking Christ - you feel so good.” He pants, “I- oh God. Wanted this for so long.” He grips your waist, wishing he could slide inside of you on your back and make love to you.

Leaning forward, you press your lips to his and slide your tongue into his mouth as you grind back onto him. Wanting to make sure that you get used to the thick heft of him inside you. “Me too baby, wanted you for so long.” You promise, your walls clenching around him.

Frankie almost feels like he can't breathe. His heart beats out of his chest and he pants when you clench around him. "Fuck, sweetheart. Feel so good. Can't - can't wait to feel this for the rest of our lives. So damn lucky." He kisses along your jaw and down your neck, wanting to worship you as much as possible.

“I’m lucky.” You start to slowly roll your hips, in no hurry to cum. You want this time to be soft and sweet. Not only for him, but so you can feel every inch of him scrubbing through your walls. “Love you.” You close your eyes as he kisses you, absorbing the groans and loving how his hands wander as you slowly ride him.

“Love you too.” He vows, knowing he’s going to ask you to marry him again. He wants a big wedding, the boys to be there and your friends. He wants to show off how much he loves you. After nearly dying, it’s put everything into perspective and he knows he is grateful for what he has. Others have fared far worse than him. His hands squeeze your breasts and his cock twitching inside of you, imagining them full of milk for his baby. The thought nearly sends him over the edge but he controls himself.

“Ohhh someone thought of something they like.” You tease, seeing the look on his face as he twitches inside you. You wonder if it’s the same as him. Imagining him knocking you up tonight. Your hips roll a little faster and you moan his name softly, reaching up and combing through his hair as your nose touches his and you look in his dark eyes

He chuckles softly, “was thinking about you full of our baby. When your tits get bigger.” He confesses and nudges your nose with his. “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to begin our family with Ana and another child. It’s gonna - fuck - it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.” He murmurs, caressing your back.

You moan, imaging how possessive, how loving he will be when you are showing. Frankie seems like the type to worship you when you are pregnant. “I want that too.” You promise. “Have your baby, share that with you. Raising our kids.” Ana isn’t yours by blood but you love her like your own.

He nods, knowing he wants to ask you to formally adopt Ana and be her mom. He will preserve Janet’s legacy with her daughter but Ana deserves all the love in the world. “Fuck.” Frankie groans when you rock a little faster, his shoulder aches but he ignores it, trying to rock his hips up into you as you grind on top of him.

“Frankie.” You gasp out, clenching down around him when his cock nudges against your g-spot wonderfully. “There.” You pant, knowing that if he keeps hitting that spot just like that, you will cum quickly.

He hisses, concentrating on thrusting up into you at that angle. “Baby. Cum for me baby.” He begs, “come on, be a good girl. Cum for me.” He demands, needing to feel you clamp down on his cock.

You whine out his name, holding onto him as he takes control. 

He wasn’t supposed to do that, but you are beyond caring. As long as he doesn’t rip his stitches, he can take the reins and thrust up into you. “I’m gonna cum baby, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum on your cock.”

“That’s it. That’s it.” He groans when he thrusts up into you, his hands gripping your ass, and you clamp down on his cock. “Fuck yes baby. That’s it. Oh shit. I’m gonna-” Frankie usually prides himself on his stamina but the emotional connection combined with wanting you for years and the added ecstasy of you possibly getting pregnant and his near demise has him sent over the edge. “Fuck.” He moans your name as he cums, cock twitching inside of you.

It’s Heaven, the molten heat of his seed filling you. Making you gasp in pleasure as you grind down on him as he rides out his high, pushing up into you with short thrusts. “Oh god, oh god.” You collapse against him and kiss along his jaw. “I love you so much.”

“Love you.” Frankie pants, his entire body lost in the feel of his orgasm. It’s more than he could’ve ever imagined. He feels complete. His wife in his arms, hopefully pregnant soon with his second child. It’s his dream come true. He just wishes it wasn’t such a bumpy road to get to this point but that’s life. Twists and turns…Frankie still got his happy ending.

[theresattrpgforthat]

As someone who designs games, are there any specific games you've read that do interesting things with the Forged in the Dark or Powered By The Apocalypse systems that get you excited to write your own stuff?

(Asking those two since Protect the Child is FitD, also excited to hear if another system is excited rant worthy)

My friend, thank you so much for giving me space to ramble lovingly about games and mechanics. I don’t know if anything suggested here will be new exactly, but I am relishing the chance to talk about how the games I’ve read and played have impacted my design journey.

This is going to be a walk-through of various games that have given me a lot of tools to work with. Right now my head is full of Protect the Child, so I'm not really thinking about any other design projects, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless!

Brinkwood, by Far Horizons Co-Op, Slugblaster, by Wilkie’s Candy Lab, and Moth-Light, by Dissonance.

I knew of a few Forged in the Dark hacks before I heard about Brinkwood, but when I realized that the Masks were basically communal playbooks, my mind was blown. Both Slugblaster and Moth-Light appealed to me because of their setting, but when I read the rule-books I was also impressed by how they were able to take the base Forged in the Dark and change it to make the rules work for the proper genre and tone.

Brinkwood takes the playbooks with special powers and makes them communal. You can pick up a new set of powers every time but still play the same character, so you can have variety while still pursuing the same character’s storyline. Because the Masks are shared, the “crew playbook” doesn’t look the same as it does in a lot of other Blades hacks, as no matter what Masks you take, you’re still engaging in a rebellion against vampires. Brinkwood also gives the GM a lot of guidance on how to flavour the antagonists in a way that is challenging, interesting and dangerous, while also giving the players a way to veto any subject matter that bleeds too much into real-life boundaries. Honestly, I think Brinkwood probably directly influenced my game A Terrible Fate more than Protect the Child, but the initial moment of realizing how much you can play with the game was a really important step in my development.

Slugblaster re-organizes your dice resources as Boost & Kick, and shifts Stress into a currency (Trouble) that you have to spend, rather than a time bomb. This gives your characters more longevity and takes away a lot of the gritty trauma that works for Blades, but doesn’t make sense for hover-boarding teens. Additionally, Slugblaster gives agency of faction creation over to the players in a way that’s way more personalized than it is in Blades. Specific questions are meant to be answered by specific playbooks, which I think is a great way to speed up crew relationships, as well as ensuring that each player at the table has a piece of the world that they contribute to. When setting decisions are left up to the group as a nebulous whole, one player may have more say over setting creation just because they have the loudest voice or the most ideas. By giving specific choices to specific playbooks, you’re ensuring that each player has a piece of the world they can point to and claim as theirs.

Moth-Light takes the CATS safety tool and embeds it into Pact creation, allowing the genre and tone to shift the way the game is played slightly to reflect the kind of story the group wants to tell. The core setting is the same - a planet with gigantic bugs - but the ways the characters interact with the setting changes depending on the Pact that you choose. I think this is a genius way to give a group a way to use Safety Tools without them necessarily realizing it, and it ensure that the group enters the story on the same page. This mindset fuelled my choice to present the world-building as a series of questions for the players to answer, establishing some truths about the technology levels and the use of magic before players make their characters, setting some basic limitations to make sure folks are on the same page. Currently however, I don’t think I’ve achieved the seamless translation of CATS into a game-appropriate setting exercise - I’ve just ported CATS into the game.

External Containment Bureau, by Mythic Gazetteer.

External Containment Bureau minimizes a lot of their character options and does away with playbook options in order to make character creation customizable while still quick, and one of the primary ways they did this was by changing the way gear rules work in the game. In standard Blades, you can only use equipment to improve your Effect, but in ECB, you can use your equipment to add +1d or improve Effect. This is primarily because ECB doesn’t use stats in the way Blades does, but I liked the way that little tweak gave the player an additional resource.

Additionally, ECB doesn’t care about load. Instead, the character comes with some gear associated with their department, and a few gear slots that they can fill themselves. You can always have everything in your Gear section on you - the limitation is in what’s available. I really liked how the game provided a balance between gear that made sense for your department and gear that reflects the way the player wants to portray their character, so I did the same thing in Protect the Child.

Antiquarian Adventures, by acegiak

I heard about the way Stress works in Antiquarian Adventures when I was listening to the Dice Exploder podcast, and it sparked a lot of thoughts about what Stress can be used for, especially since I knew that I didn’t want to give the characters Trauma in Protect the Child. Thematically, it doesn’t make sense to imply that parenting is inherently traumatic, and I don’t want to cast the Child as a source of trauma for the parents.

Antiquarian Adventures solves this problem by allowing Stress to re-set every time you fill it, as long as the player is able to dictate how the character suffers some kind of setback or brings about some form of trouble as a result of getting too stressed out. The exact trouble is attached to the playbook, adding to the distinct flavour of each trope. In Protect the Child, I made sure to add one Reaction that was unique to the playbook, to reflect the same kind of thing.

Last Fleet, by Black Armada Games.

Last Fleet blew me away with the Pressure mechanic. It’s a physical manifestation of stress that exists in the setting, that doubles as both a player resource and a ticking clock. You can spend Pressure to give yourself a better chance at success, but once it hits its cap, your character is forced into a situation that that they cause themselves.

In many ways, Last Fleet is doing something similar to Antiquarian Adventures, but the one thing it adds is that it gives the player options in terms of how they’ll cause trouble. Some options overlap across playbooks, but each playbook has a unique collection that helps keep it somewhat distinct from the others. One of the best moments I had in play was when one of my players realized that he had the option to actually turn on the group - the reaction was like a little present he’d just unwrapped for the entire group, and it made for an extremely memorable moment for the table.

Last Fleet also inspired me to shorten the Stress Clock in Protect the Child. Base Blades has a 8-mark Stress track, but in early play-tests, I felt like it was difficult for anyone to fill up their clock in a single session. The Last Fleet Pressure track can only hold 5 marks of Pressure, and re-setting it doesn’t empty the track, but rather puts it at 2. I think that constant Stress provides a bit of a friction point for players, which is needed since it’s easier for players to achieve bigger dice pools in Protect the Child.

Beam Saber, by Austin Ramsey

When I was agonizing about how to encourage more roleplay between players, someone recommended that I read through Girl By Moonlight. Unfortunately, I don’t own a copy of Girl by Moonlight. I do, however, own a copy of Beam Saber, so when I decided to comb through other Blades games for relationship mechanics, I stumbled on the relationship clocks of Beam Saber.

In Beam Saber, you write down beliefs you have of each other character in the party, and attach each belief to a slice on a Connection clock. During downtime, you have the option to Cut Loose, which helps two Pilots relieve stress with each-other at the same time as filling the Connection clock. Filling the clock awards XP as well as provides the characters an opportunity to confront each-other about the way they see each-other.

I liked the idea of using time together as a chance to relieve stress. As far as I understand, this moment of connection is also seen in Girl by Moonlight, but I decided to limit the amount of stress you could relieve in Protect the Child because I’m still operating under the ethos I was introduced to in Last Fleet - I want to keep the characters under a lot of pressure, making room for them to make terrible decisions, and therefore giving them room to grow.

Lady Blackbird, by John Harper.

I returned to Lady Blackbird when I realized that the way I’ve set up runs in PtC means that it may be hard for players to do things like engage in long-term projects, or train for XP in a regular Downtime session. I also noticed that it was hard to get the players to roleplay with each-other with the way that Downtime is written in base Blades - it’s often navigated through in a very procedural way. Finally, I wanted to make the game a bit more one-shot friendly, with a way to present a Downtime-like section partway through the game without bogging down play too much.

Lady Blackbird has moments in between Action scenes where it explicitly encourages players to engage in flashbacks or character interactions in ways that allow them to clear conditions and provide a bit of exposition into their backstory. This, coupled with the Impressions in Beam Saber, gave me the tools to both encourage the players to role-play while also giving them the tools to foster relationships with each-other.

Right now, Rest Stops only have two moves: Bond with the Child and Bond with Each-Other. By reducing both of your options to moments where your character interacts with other characters, and encouraging both of these options to reflect your character’s ideals and history, I’m hoping to provide some of the maintenance of Downtime while encouraging the role-play that happens in Lady Blackbird. Longer downtime actions are relegated to Time Passes, which will only come up in campaign play.

I still haven’t perfected this stage though. For example, I haven’t figured out what to do about wounds.

Apocalypse Keys, by Rae Nedjadi / @temporalhiccup.

It’s kind of hard to quantify or describe the influence Apocalypse Keys had on my design, but I’ll give it a shot.

In Apocalypse Keys, your character never has to fail. There’s always options to give yourself a success, it’s just a question of how much you want to sacrifice parts of who your character is in order to get what you want. Apocalypse Keys is itself an amalgamation of a number of different mechanics from various places, such as the way you use tokens to improve your rolls, as originally found in Libretè, or the Theorize roll, popularized in Brindlewood Bay but originating in Codex: Moonlight.

The character playbooks are also centred on different struggles that the player has decided to wrestle with. The Summoned has a lot of moments centred on fighting destiny, while the Last wrestles with grief and loss. Some of the themes in these playbooks give you a lot of freedom to explore struggles and traumas that affect people in real life, but are flavoured in a way to give your monsters great power and extremely interesting backstories.

Finally, the way your character looks is completely up to you, and is irrelevant to the things your character can do. If you want a thousand glowing eyes, it doesn’t matter which playbook you choose. If you want to be the spirit of all werewolves that came before you, it doesn’t matter which playbook you choose. If you want to carry a golden spear that can listen to the regrets of the restless dead, I don’t think it matters what playbook you choose. I think that there’s a bit of a carryover from what I love about Changeling: the Lost to be found in Apocalypse Keys, in that your character’s origin and presentation can be as varied as whatever you can imagine, and can fit into the themes of whatever playbook you decide to wrestle with.

Protect the Child doesn’t directly borrow any mechanics from Apocalypse Keys, but I think the ethos behind the design is there. I want the players to experience the same creative freedom, while tying down specific themes to specific playbooks. I want to enable conversations about real issues that affect real people, while allowing the table to situate those issues in whatever setting makes the most sense for the group. I want the players to feel powerful, and at the same time recognize that the biggest obstacles to being good parent are generally incredibly personal.

I also admire the way that Nedjadi designs, from the rigorous play testing, to the purposeful openness about his inspirations, to his careful documentation of who has inspired him and where his ideas came from. I think being able to provide a clear through-line to the ways your were influenced by other design works is good for the historians of our hobby, and it also reinforces a culture in which game designers influence and allow themselves to be influenced by each-other.

[ylangelegy]

kae 🌟 shared a moment with you! ୨ৎ

initially, i didn't think i could do a 2024 wrapped because i only started writing on this blog in october. when i crunched the numbers, i realized... huh. if anything, this is a reminder not to sell yourself short. <3 sharing some of my stats, insights, and resolutions under the cut. thank you for being here with me!

🧾 TOTAL WORD COUNT (OCT-DEC) -> 120,000+

🎱 IN CASE YOU MISSED IT

mingyu & bento boxes ✩ 2.2k notes.

💬 it’s the “i love you, i want us both to eat well” 🥲 — shirebusking 💬 mingyu is definitely such an acts of service person. cooking is his love language. i can get behind this. mingyu spending $600 on amazon for custom bento boxes and other stuff… is it really that serious? yes!!!!!! yes it is!!!!!! — daegutowns 💬 I LOVE ANYBODY WHO COOKS AS A LOVE LANGUAGE GOD DAMN. it reminds me so much of my own grandma mother and father uncles aunties. THEY ALL COOK AS A FORM OF LOVE MY GOSH. — roselleviennesstuff

blindsided (wonwoo x reader) ✩ 1.5k notes.

💬 yeah this was some good food. it was flirty sexy and fun and using the scene from Business Proposal was perfect. well done! — beomcoups 💬 eagle screaming rn like RAAAAAAAAAAAAH. you cooked frrrrr like i see ur brain is a restaurant the way ur cooking serving and eating + also thank u for including the business proposal gif. needed to be reminded of that fr. your mind! so genius. ty for blessing me w goated fanfic. — ctzenjohnnyreads

lost in translation (minghao x reader) ✩ 1.2k notes. ALSO: 🥇 MY LONGEST FIC OF THE YEAR (25.8k)

💬 the annotations… the amount of thought put into this has actually made my brain expand by like 4 times. i need this hung up at the louvre word by word actually. art is not dead because op exists. i forgot this was fanfiction and needed to take a breather cus i was so… impressed??? — noircheols 💬 author. GRABS YOU BY THE SHOULDER AND SHAKES YOU. i hope you NEVER stop writing. this is genuinely one of the best fics i've read on this app. this is so lovely and warm and so comforting.. oh to have somebody that's just as much as a friend to you as a lover :(((( og tags is real btw. truly Xu minghao the man that you ARE. im so sad. IM DEVASTATED. im in shambles. everyone PLEASE read this fic PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. this is amazing op. please know that. — akiooris 💬 this is so beautiful and intimate and sweet. falling for someone who speaks a different language of you is a privilege not many people get to have but when they do its so beautiful and you nailed it. language makes up so much of a person’s self and learning a language through someone special means getting little bits of themselves as you learn and i can read it in this. especially when they comfortably address you in their own language its the sweetest. — peachiepiesundays 💬 THE YEARNING WAS SO INSANEEEEE. I was genuinely wondering what I was doing reading this because it felt like I was intruding on their private moments. I ADORE THIS. — lanatheawesome

🍊 SPECIAL MENTIONS

✶ babe for the weekend (soonyoung x reader) 16.6k words | cam and em studios' winter with you collaboration

› i worked on babe for the weekend in four different cities, two different countries, an airport, the back of a taxi, etc. it's the first time i participated in a collaboration and it's overall just so much of my heart in one fic. i have yet to annotate for it, but it was such a joy writing a small-town-exes story with one of my biases. ever so grateful for the opportunity and the trust!

✶ catch you when i can part three (vernon x reader) smau | published on @xinganhao

› my love for cywic knows no bounds, but the headcanons ('vernhow') for part three in particular were game-changing for me. this is where i started truly playing around with the forms of my writing, and it's been such a joy getting to challenge myself across the work i put out. i really hope to get to do more of it next year.

📴 other xinganhao formats i loved:

the script in film major!mingyu x reader -> "genius concept & an even more genius execution <3" (gyusbabydoll)

the genius annotations of seungcheol x fanbase!reader pt. 2 -> "i love love love all the little bonus stuff you do for these literally most creative and fun smau writer ur changing the game" (junhui-recs)

the photo exhibit for our beloved summer!wonwoo -> "the headcanons as an art exhibit. WHO GAVE U THR RIGHT TO BE SO SMART" (wonustars)

✶ all of the while, it was you (hyunjin x reader) 4k words

› i didn't get to write for skz as much as i might have wanted to, and this particular fic is also a little janky (told in third person, etc.) but it's where i got one of the first compliments on my k-fic work, which i think of to this day— "Reading this felt like being allowed to tour the Louvre alone and at your own pace," from fruityuncleskeletor. it gave me just enough drive to keep writing on tumblr when i was starting out. :')

📌 HALL OF FAME

kpop soty: sad song by p1harmony

favorite svt song of the year: orbit (the8)

favorite skz song of the year: as we are (seungmin)

non-kpop soty: buzz by niki

movie of the year: how to make millions before grandma dies

book of the year: everything i know about love, dolly alderton

poem of the year: 'catastrophe is next to godliness', franny choi

quote of the year: “what is done with love is done well” — vincent van gogh

⏭️ HERE COMES 2025

write more for skz. ideally at least one anything, once a month + actually start my blue sky series.

read better. in a book sense: read at least one book/month. (instead of 12 books a month, like some type of psycho.) in a fic sense: annotate/review at least one fic/month.

work on my buzz (seventeen's version) series. only jihoon and wonwoo are up as of posting lol.

collaborate. explore collaborations via xinganhao. pluck up the courage to join more collaborations + survive that's showbiz, baby! with tara.

mark my first milestone event. hitting my follower milestone soon, so i'm trying to think of how to celebrate it!

📦 THE FINAL WORD TONIGHT

✎ i never thought i'd come back to tumblr or that i'd ever venture into writing for kpop, but i'm really glad that i did. i admittedly went a little batshit in the past three months because i'm going through a weird time (lol), and so the goodness i've been granted, the people i've met, and the outlet i've carved out have really gotten me by.

thank you for always looking to me with kindness. i hope you're a little happier than me today + i will keep on writing for as long as you will all have me (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )✧ happy new year, everyone! — kae

[obeymematches]

👏👏👏

My demons' periods cycles. By Mc

Note: these are purely my headcanons at the moment, they are based on animal ethology and behaviours that I think would suit each character depending on their personality and Lore. I would love to read your headcanon in case you have them.

Warning: Long text. Possible grammatical errors. It's written as if Mc was writing for themself.

Hey, it me Mc, the best human. Here is a compilation of the behaviours of my demons during their periods, cycles, for practical day to day use. It wasn't easy but I sat them down and got to talk to them, with a little effort I now know what they need. So now I am ready to assist them during these complicated times and be prepared in case I find a dead goat on the porch as a tribute.

Lucifer, Mammon & Levi || Satan, Asmo, & Beel || Belphie, Barbatos & Diavolo || Simeon & Raphael

Lucifer

Light does not bother him, but he rarely sleeps during its periods.

During his cycle his wings are filled with new feathers, to make them more noticeable and showy, many are small and iridescent.

His horns are also covered with iridescent scales.

He's constantly preening his wings, and they are always stretched to their fullest extent (Be prepared to be plucking feathers off your head for months)

The more feathers the better health (The stress of everyday life affects his plumage at this time so if at any time you see it scarce don't tell him :()

Unlike what you might think his nest is not in his bedroom but in secret rooms in the HOL.

Peacocks build their nests by making holes in the floor, Lucifer simulates that feeling by making a nest with high walls (good luck trying to get in and out) .

During his cycle he becomes very territorial and protective over his chicks (his siblings) and his mate (Interestingly Satan has woken up in the nest the most times over time, followed by Belphie)

He doesn't go outside his territory (the house), he feels a strong need to protect the fort (so all RAD paperwork falls on this sheep) .

Lucifer has a pre-heat period which is when he starts to grow new feathers, he eats a lot more and stores some food.

During the cycle he hardly eats, for that he has been accumulating energy ( you have to insist and feed him yourself so that he doesn't end up weakened after the cycle) .

He can talk normally, although when someone outside his family approaches a guttural sound comes out of his throat as a warning.

He produces very strong pheromones, but does not mark with them because there is no need (No one will dare steal what belongs to him)

Although physical contact soothes him, don't rub him if you don't see him relax, especially his wings. Let him initiate the contact.

He's always on guard since he does not sleep. But don't want that his brothers see him in his period.

His main way of courtship is to show off, so to get him to let you live, flatter him, tell him how beautiful his wings are or how majestic he is.

It's funny because sometimes he'll expect you to court him back (I don't have wings Luci, I can't do it) .

His senses are uniformly heightened. Nothing gets out of his control. (Good luck going to the toilet)

His body temperature rises (prepare light clothing, more than for him for you, you're going to need it)

Does he purr? Yes, although it's more like the sounds certain birds make before they sing. It is difficult to hear >:(.

During the cycle his anxiety is accentuated.

Normally demons end up exhausted after their cycle, but because he is so proud he doesn't let you take care of him, and he ends up much worse off.

Mc: So the nest is important?

Lucifer: Very important, yes.

Mc: Essential?

Lucifer: Yes

Mc: … *thoughtful* Are you going to let me leave the house?

Lucifer: No.

Mc: And from your nest?

Lucifer: No.

Mc: …. Let's buy cervical pillows then

Lucifer: *grinning*

Mc: So if I forced you, will you eat?

Lucifer: I think it's possible.

Mc: *grinning * And how do I do it with a spoon or mouth to mouth like the chicks?

Lucifer: *blushing * You… don't make me regret having told you all this

Mc: *half asleep* Everyone is sleeping.

Lucifer: *watching them in the dark with his eyes shining*

Mc: Everything is in order *trying to climb the nest*

Lucifer: *picking them up and lifting them to the nest* … *purring*

Mc: Now, now, let's try to sleep…*still half asleep* you are warm.

Lucifer: *covering them with his wings* Rests Mc.

Mammon

He can stand the light but doesn't like it, during these periods he has a reduced sleep schedule.

During his period he feathers, these feathers help him to be more aerodynamic.

He needs to groom them but as he normally doesn't have that many he is terrible at it (So be prepared to give him a hand) .

He nests, but like crows he does it high up, (make sure you prepare a hanging platform on the second floor of his room or he will end up nesting on the roof) .

Unlike Lucifer, he goes out almost every day, looking for small prey or presents. And don't care if his brothers see him in his period.

During his cycle his obsession for shiny things is accentuated, they don't have to be valuable, just shiny: stones, crystals, metals, floors or polished surfaces (thanks for the idea)…

He is a collector and will bring these objects to the nest.

Mammon is not overly territorial, he doesn't expect his parnert to be in the nest for 24 hours either, but when he comes back from his outings please be there or he will panic. Last time the house almost burned down.

He produces pheromones, and he will only use it on his mate.

He does not have a pre-heat, but you can identify that he's approaching his period by her lack of attention (more than usual).

Mammon eats throughout his cycle, more than usual, mostly meat, but also certain grains and seeds that his relatives collect for him.

He will want to feed you and you will want to feed him. You can't get away from that, you just can't.

His pupils dilate and constrict in an exaggerated manners. And his eyes shine in dark.

Although he talks, he prefers to communicate by squawking and growling.

However, when he is affectionate mood mainly with taps and caresses.

During the cycle he becomes very needy of physical touch, at sleeping, eating and grooming times he must always be skin to skin. Stroke him between the wings or plumage and he will start to purr.

He is happy for you to initiate contact, he doesn't mind if you do it whenever you want.

He sleeps curled up on his companion.

Does he purr? Yes, like his brother it's a similar sound to certain birds, but it's easy to make him purr (pretty much whenever you pay attention to him)

And you always have to pay attention to him.

His form of courtship is to bring you gifts, where did you get coins, pretty stones, luminescent flowers … you can not refuse these gifts or he'll cry (however give a stone or a coin and will not leave the nest in hours, he will think that you have reciprocated the courtship and will be happy)

His senses are sharpened especially his hearing and sight, he can see for miles, there is no threat that escapes him, that is why he is able to leave the territory so much.

He is more honest than usual, if he wants you to hug him he will tell you straight out.

Mammon: *trying that mc eat a leg of an unidentified animal*

Mc: No- NO!, youuuu stay baaaack

Mammon: *grunt*

Mc: *giving him part of their bread * take it

Mammon: *with pupils dilate* Oh *happy bird noises*

Mc: *holding back laughter*

Mammon: Farther to the left

Mc: Here?

Mammon: *stretching his wings higher*

Mc: Here?

Mammon: *purrs*

Mc: How the hell did you preen your feathers before?

Mammon: *curled next to Mc holding tightly a monopoly coin*

Mc: *smiling while stroking his feathers*

Mammon: Love you...

Mc: So your period makes you soft…I wish you were always as honest.

Levi

Nocturnal, light bothers him and can hurt his eyes.

During his period he sleeps more than usual (although he should sleep more often).

His scales cover his whole body and become more colorful. And his horns grow new branches.

He does not need as much grooming as other types of demons, but he needs constant humidity.

During his period the bathtub in his bedroom is full, but sometimes a humidifier is enough.

However during the final part of his period he needs to be totally submerged (so be prepared to go diving)

During this phase Lucifer puts a spell on him to track him. Because his envy can lead him to hide in the deepest pit of the ocean.

Some snakes nest, but most do not, so Levi's safe place during his period is under a pile of blankets, thin cloths and other things (like a burrow).

Since Levi is Levi, you have to make sure to give him wet towels every so often to moisten his body.

Levi is very territorial but he is more elusive and prefers to hide, his insecurity increases and there is no way to get him out of his burrow ( make sure he hydrates because it wouldn't be the first time he gets sick)

He doesn't eat much during his cycle, and if he does it has to be raw, but he has poor hunting skills, guess whose turn it is to take care of this?

Although the final phase of the period (Underwater) Lotan often takes care of finding nutritious prey for him.

When sleeping he wraps his tail around your body, first because you are a source of warmth and second because you are you.

Levi becomes partially non-verbal, he uses a lot of hisses and grunts. After two days they can be easily identified.

He likes physical contact, but he is the one who has to initiate it. (Touch him without his permission and be prepared to search for him in the depths of the Devildom water bodies).

Levi's courtship occurs underwater.

First he shows off, where all his scales glow many colors, this is indicative of health (as Levi does not have a very healthy diet or routine, his color could be better, but we won't tell him that)

And in the second instance it gives a single stone of sea crystals.

The sense that develops the most is the sense of touch and hearing. His skin becomes super sensitive so he can only wear certain types of clothing. And excessive friction hurts him.

His body temperature decreases a lot, more and more as the period progresses because he can not thermoregulate ( that's why he needs to be submerged and that's why you will wake up underwater)

Does Levi purr? Of course, when you talk to him or when he is embarrassed.

After his cycle he will need several days to look you in the eye again.

Levi: *sad hiss*

Mc: I'm telling you that your scales are very pretty.

Levi: *self-deprecating hiss*

Mc: No, I'm not just saying this... but if it really makes you feel bad, starting tomorrow you're going to eat more protein.

Levi: *hiss of indignation* >:0

Mc: Levi, I bring you the food!! Levi?

Mc: *looking for him in the burrow* Levi?

Levi: *poking his head over the bath water*

Mc: There you are… Ah! The humidifier has turned off!!

Levi: *grabbing their sleeve*

Mc: *sighing* we have to be more attentive…. *getting into the bathtub* but now you have to eat.

Underwater

Mc: Who had said that automating a spell would save my life.

Levi: *snuggled next to them with his tail wrapped around their body*

Mc: Are you confortable Levi?

Levi: *nodding*

Mc: Good, love u.

If you have made it this far, thank you very much 🩷

[ranbitteeth]

More subby Mizu!! 👏👏

Had this idea for a while - I don’t imagine Mini being the type to go down on his wife, so what about soft!dom reader eating her out for the first time? Just gently talking her through it, taking the time to just make her feel good.

Pussy Eating, a Delicate Art...

A/N: OP you genius you. Not sure if this aligns well enough with your vision, but alas, viola!

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Tags: Pussy Eating, Ambiguously Gendered Reader, Uses of the word c*nt in reference to pussy, Fingering, Dirty Talk if you squint.

Fill my inbox! I have plenty more where this came from.

—————————————————-

“You think I could?”

The idea had been planted in your mind long before you made it known. When exactly, you couldn’t say. Maybe when you and Mizu first showered together and she shied away from spreading her legs. Maybe it was after a long day of work that you watched her come home, silently groaning to herself before she wordlessly nestled into the soft cushions of your bed. However, you could very much pinpoint when this desire evolved into an insatiable, soul-crushing *need.*

Every month, the two of you made it a point to spend time together. Be it inside the house, on a date, movies, park, with friends. You wanted Mizu to know you loved your wife. You crushed every doubt she could have.

The last month, about a week or so ago— the two of you had reserved a ravishing dinner in a wealthier part of town. It was fun to play dress-up with her, to act and look the part just for the night. You expected her to be wearing her usual slacks and blouse when she asked you “What do you think?”, as the answer was so ready to slip past your lips and sing her praises. It was only when you actually turned around and *looked* that you could see she surprised you with a rather short slip-on dress that reached just to the middle of her thighs. Her long, shapely legs were only accentuated by the heels she decided to match that night. You could've dropped the reservation just then and there to take the night entirely for yourself, but it’d be an embarrassing amount of money down the drain. You’d much rather enjoy the sight, let the world see what they couldn’t have. The delight you relished in seeing Mizu’s legs was short-lived, however, as in the middle of dinner, she had asked to borrow your coat and begrudgingly placed it over her lap. Oh, well. As long as she was comfortable.

You’d think back to that night nearly every day that followed. Of course you’d see her nude, that wasn’t the point. The point was that the sweet thing had conspired behind your back and planned to wear a dress to surprise *you*, and you had been rocked to your core. It was impossible not to imagine running your hands up her legs, spreading them apart and pushing her underwear aside. You wanted those thighs wrapped around your neck, you wanted to hear her voice break with want. Soon enough, you offered this— and Mizu only blinked at the ceiling before pinning you with a questioning stare. *Woof.* Her previous husband had only done the minimum, as was obvious by her aversion to anything besides missionary and the standards.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, toying with her hair as she visibly contemplated the thought. “And even then, we can stop whenever you feel like it. No one will get mad.” No, you couldn’t imagine resenting Mizu for anything. She realized this, it seemed, as she had finally relaxed after a tense moment, nervously looking between you and her lap.

“Do I..?” she began to wonder aloud, awkwardly spreading her knees apart before you huffed out a laugh.

“No, no, you gotta ease into it,” you say, leaning in to close the space between the two of you and languidly pressing your lips against hers. This, she knew, and responded back beautifully. Her lips parted, allowing you access into her mouth before her hands made their way over your face— your heart swells. You break the kiss before you decide to descend onto her neck, though not without a parting peck. Your mouth trails up and down her slender neck, delicately marking up the pale skin of her collarbones until you hear her breath hitch. You pull away to look up at, her hand in yours as your thumb caresses a knuckle.

“All good?” You ask, to which she nods in return.

“I’ll let you know…” she says lowly, pupils blown. You grin at this, relieved she wasn’t forcing herself before you continue. You gently raise the hem of her old tee over her chest, gently cupping one of her breasts in your hands before you take the bud in your mouth. She makes a noise at this, the one you're chasing. You can feel her muscles tense beneath you and take it as a sign to descend further down until your hands slide over her waist, holding it firmly as you begin to pepper innocent kisses everywhere your lips could touch skin. She seems embarrassed at this, averting her gaze while her expression grows into that of feigned boredom and irritation. You knew better. You always did— no way could she be mad now.

“Relax, I’ll get to you soon enough. What if I just want to kiss your tummy the whole night?” You tease, though you eagerly begin to adjust your positions now knowing Mizu’s eagerness to continue.

“Then I would’ve stayed in the dojo.” She responds gruffly. You make a feigned noise and motion of being shot in the chest, to which she only rolls her eyes and shoots you an unimpressed stare, though you smirk in response. You see her lips, her eyes— you know she’s fighting a smile with every muscle in her body.

Slowly, you begin to pull her underwear off her hips, pulling them down past her thighs and over her ankles, allowing her to kick them off herself as you take a place between her thighs. You make a noise in the back of your throat as you’re suddenly face to face with the object of your desires and fantasies for the past few days. Your warm breath fans and tickles over her core, but you can’t be bothered to start yet, too enraptured in the lovely quality about her. What pained you is that she didn’t even *realize* this, didn’t even realize how stunning she was.

“If I wanted to be stared at all night I would’ve—nngh-?!”

Her bratty little retort had been cut short by your tongue suddenly pushing its way past her folds and into the fleshy warmth inside. A strained, awkward noise was heard— though it was not discomfort. Far from it, by the way Mizu’s eyes went impossibly wide, hips jutting forward and greedily chasing the pleasure your mouth provided. One hand instinctively flew over her mouth while the other was entangled in your hair. Oh, now this just wouldn’t do.

Heartlessly, you pulled away from her, pinning her down with a quirked brow and a tilt of your head.

“If you want me to keep going, you’ll do me a kindness and take your hand away from your mouth.” You say evenly, squeezing the soft skin of her thighs as you spoke. “I need to hear you.”

Hesitantly, she obeys, her trembling palm now living away from her face and down to the sheets. You hummed in response, muttering a quick “good girl” that made her stomach flutter.

Slowly, you began to work your tongue around her cunt again, languidly rolling the slick, warm muscle against the insides of her folds before you found her clit— obvious by the startled, sexy little noise Mizu made, forced to air it out into your space. *There,* instead of mercilessly attacking the lovely little bundle of nerves and sensitivity, you grace circles in the surrounding area, massaging and pushing, *sucking* on her flesh and drinking up the arousal that began to coat your lips and chin. Mizu’s shy, strained, and awkward noises slowly began to bloom into unabashed, almost *girlish* moans and whimpers. Rarely did she ever sound this way, being so accustomed to lowering her voice and acting as an intimidator for most of her life. You soaked up these noises like the demon you were, taking it as a sign to continue to relentlessly flick your tongue over and inside of her. Mizu took this all beautifully, arching her back and moaning out your name in a way that awakened something primal in you.

“Mmf…fuck…” you groan into her pussy, enjoying the way she twitched against you. “You taste amazing…” you begin to babble, grabbing her by the hips and pushing her further against you in a way that made her openly gasp.

“(Name…!)” she grunts, fighting against every instinct in her body that urged her to hide her face and noises behind her palms.

Wordlessly, you bring one of your hands away from holding her hips and down to where your mouth met skin, easily pumping your digits inside of her thanks to the gushing quality of her pussy.

“God, Mizu, you’re soaking up the sheets..” you scold teasingly, making her face grow hotter than it was. You look up, noticing her eyes glazed with unshed tears as her body trembles. You coo at the sight, your fingers still relentless.

“Aw, you’re close, aren’t you?” You say, voice light and adoring. You’ve never seen her in such a wreck, but a cruel, primal side of you adored the sight and hungered for more, hungered to keep her desperate and begging for hours— to tear her apart…

But the saner, better side of you was reminded that Mizu could only take so much for her first time, and there would always be more time.

“I got you, baby..” you mutter before you begin to eat her out with far more conviction than before, now desperate to milk out an orgasm that would blind her with pleasure. Your finger massages her deeper, and Mizu’s breath hitches. *There.* At the same time as your tongue, your finger attacks Mizu’s most sensitive areas before you feel her thighs clench around your head as she arches her back and *cums,* voice breaking in all her desperation as she sobs out your name. Greedily, you drink up the arousal that was dripping out of her pussy like a person deprived of water. By the end, you’re both out of breath, bodies slack and lazy against each other. You made haste in readying a warm, damp towel as you cleaned up your wife, making her sigh in contentment. You’re both eventually back beneath the warm covers of your bed, but you’re staring, unashamed and adoring at Mizu’s giddy expression. It was a subtle thing, but everything with Mizu was subtle. The slight squint beneath her eyes, the upwards curve of her lips, the flush over her cheeks.

“I didn’t go too rough, did I?” You ask, now fidgeting with the cloth of her raggedy tee.

She chuckles at that, adjusting herself so that she could face you until your foreheads touched, a warm flush across her face.

“If that was rough, gentle wouldn’t be enough, now would it?” She says, pinning you down with those eyes that drew. you towards her in the first place.

“So I can go again?”

She pauses for a moment, eyes going wide for the slightest of seconds. You resist the urge to laugh.

“Tomorrow.”

[aaabatteryy]

What if Bill defeated the Axolotl and Time Baby and absorbed their powers SOON AFTER destroying Euclydia?,becoming incredibly all powerful. He is now,the Almighty All Seeing eye All Powerful Triangle,or Almighty Cipher for short. Where does Ford come in when he's literally God already?,well... Bill needs a disciple,a successor,a vessel for his power,someone to channel his endless ability for him on Earth in order to expand his following and domain via a magic scepter that has an ounce of his power inside.

Why he wants a successor/vessel: With him having everything he wanted,power fame and recognition,things got REALLY boring and so he wants to shake things up a little by getting involved in Earth's affairs more,thus he decides to seek out a "genius mind every century" and he's actually being legit this time cuz he GENUINELY wants a genius mind to help him with no strings attached (sort of). And even with his literal op abilities,he's still horridly evil he still has his Issues™ and he's still very very chaotic. Almighty Cipher is literally just Bill but if you gave him the powers of a fucking god (or two. time baby is also a god),he was already powerful before,now i made him worse. In present day,Bill travels the multiverse with Ford and his family who are all now with him as interdimensional criminals but they also lead a double life back on earth as normal kids and a normal con man as unlike Ford they're not really keen on CONSTANTLY going on crazy interdimensional adventures for the rest of their lives,ALSO,Ford is a horrid egomaniacal tyrant that lives in a pocket dimension called Sixerville which used to be a peaceful farmworld dimension the Crop Colony that revolved around humble humans and the occasional anthro animal person tending to their crops until Ford came around and decided to enslave everyone because he couldn't stand watching a "bunch of useless vermin" live their lives without doing anything noteworthy like devoting themselves to research or advancing their technology,so he "fixed" them by forcing the inhabitants to serve him lest their entire dimension gets eaten by Bill who's like his fuckin attack dog/husband. Ford lives with Bill in Sixerville and also occasionally goes over to Gravity Falls to visit his family,Ford is like this because Bill kept influencing him and enabling his egotistical behavior that often makes him value his research more than his dignity (and his family),what happens when a god like being and a human that has a very strong tendency of letting his ego get to him come together?,this guy happens,ALSO ALSO,Stan and the twins are lowkey terrified of him even when his horrid behavior doesn't extend to them as well but can you imagine watching your brother/other grunkle drive whole societies to extinction via mass genocide without a care in the world for "Science"?. Also Weirdmaggedon still happens,but like,every year. It's like a holiday for Almighty Cipher and Tyrant Ford. They pick a dimension,plan out everything,and BAM, apocalypse on yet another harmless society. Ya see this is what happened instead of Ford being in the portal for 30 years. Almighty Cipher found Ford,made him his main disciple,the two build the portal with Fidds,Fidds quits because of seeing Bill eat his exoskeleton (although he doesn't lose his mind),Ford stays with his dear muse/god and ends up starting Weirdmaggedon on Gravity falls which horridly messes up the town and basically makes it a Chernobyl-esque chaos no man's land zone with how fucked up and weird everything is now,Stan visits due to the postcard (sent way later when Ford and Bill have taken over the town 10 years after) but only for Ford to have his brother join him in the chaos which he reluctantly accepts,later the two move onto conquering the multiverse which they succeed in doing but after having their fill of being multiversal overlords they decide to make a living traveling and studying dimensions,with Stan and later the twins joining them. The twins STILL go to Gravity Falls for the summer but uh,it doesn't go as planned as the place seems to be a literal war zone with weirdness bubbles constantly floating around eye bats turning everything and everyone they see into stone and the Henchmaniacs just vibin' while either torturing or killing any human they see for shits n' giggles,Ford saw that this would be a problem for the only family he has besides Bill so he decided to offer them protection in the Fearamid for the summer.

The thing i said i was gonna throw up ^^^^^

chewing on your brain /pos

fantastic au idea, and i suppose an idea like this needs sustenance to continue...... (<- wants to yap JAKAKSJSALJSJSJS)

bill being given even more power more directly after "liberating" Euclydia is such an interesting concept bc you have to think- he's gonna be so much more unstable than canon where he had millions- trillions, even, if the book of bill is to be believed- of years to cultivate and hone his power to get the tremendous amount of control he as by the time he meets ford and later by weirdmagedon. so, in theory, his power would be almost running rampant, which could explain the scepter idea you had (could be used instead of his cane? which is just adorable, really) and the need for a vessel and project to channel both that energy and bill's boredom into.

ford being coaxed into feeding his ego is so important to me, with his (rather shitty) self esteem and need to be recognized and needed, and then being able to get that recognition himself, even if it is through.... questionable means (COUGH mass genocide and inter-galactic terrorism COUGH). i really do think he could have the capacity for it, especially if not only was fidds not going mad from memory gun usage and seeing bill without his exoskeleton on while eating, but stan was called later and joined him, and bill didn't try to hide his plans for weirdmagedon from ford

TWINS! BEING! IN! THE! FEARAMID! OVER! THE! SUMMER!!

^^ very, very important, especially since that means they're fairly safe under bill and ford's protection there and we know that bill could manipulate the fearamid into whatever the kid's need or desire, keeping them, most likely, entertained for the duration of the summer. plus, i just know dipper would love to study the henchmaniacs, fearamid itself, the event of weirdmagedon, and the rift/portal while not fighting for his life