#erik killmonger fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reveryfics · 15 days ago

Text

Choices

Erik Killmonger x Male Reader

Summary: Erik faced a tough decision: permanent exile from Wakanda or living under T'Challa's strict rules. While he strongly preferred leaving to submitting to T'Challa, a unique possibly one sided connection to Shuri's associate compelled him to stay.

A/N: Bare with me on this one, I don't know how it went so off rails from my original idea, but here we are. Anyway requests are open, as I rot in bed while sick.

TW: Angst - Unspecified illness - Fluff ending

Words: 7.6k

In the aftermath of actions that had rippled with pain through countless lives, the concept of choice seemed like a distant luxury, one not freely bestowed upon all, especially not upon those who had inflicted such profound suffering. Erik, acutely aware of the devastation he had wrought, had long since abandoned any hope of mercy. He had steeled himself for retribution, for the unyielding hand of justice from T'Challa, fully anticipating a singular, harsh decree: permanent banishment from the sacred lands of Wakanda. Yet, fate, or perhaps T'Challa's discerning wisdom, had a different path in mind. Against all of Erik's expectations, T'Challa presented him not with an ultimatum, but with a choice: an opportunity for redemption, a chance to shed the weight of his past and embrace the potential for a better self, a potential T'Challa believed lay dormant within him. The alternative remained, stark and clear: depart Wakanda forever, never to return.

Logically, the decision should have been effortless, a swift exit from a place he had sought to dismantle. But within the intricate tapestry of his conflicted soul, something, or rather, someone, held him tethered. That someone was you, an outsider, much like him in your initial arrival, present in Wakanda due to the invaluable contributions you offered. He was acutely aware of the palpable disdain and fear in the gazes of others, their eyes reflecting the image of a monster. But your gaze, it was different. It seemed to pierce through the layers of his hardened exterior, to see beyond the monster, as if you perceived a hidden depth, a part of him that only you recognized. It was this profound, unspoken understanding that rooted him to Wakanda. It was because of you that he chose to stay, because for the first time in what felt like an eternity, someone looked at him and made him feel like he belonged, like he truly mattered.

He resolved to endure every trial, every challenge T'Challa would place before him, and to withstand the ostracism from those who condemned his past actions. He would bear it all, for the promise of seeing you at the end of each day was a beacon in his desolate world. And indeed, he did. Each night, he would find you, engrossed in your work at your desk, one leg casually outstretched, the other resting against a footstool, your cane leaning against the desk's edge. Your lips would be pressed together in a silent testament to your concentration. From beyond your immediate line of sight, he would simply observe, content in the quietude of your presence. He cherished the peaceful tableau you presented from afar, a fragile beauty he was terrified to disturb. A lingering fear gnawed at him, the fear that this profound connection he felt was merely a construct of his own desperate yearning, that your gentle understanding was nothing more than pity.

He found himself drawn to the quiet rhythm of your work, a silent observer in the vast, vibrant expanse of Wakanda. Every evening, as dusk settled over the Golden City, he would seek you out. He’d watch you, hunched over your desk, the soft glow of the lamps illuminating the fierce concentration etched on your face. Your movements were precise, your focus unwavering, and he'd simply exist in the periphery of your awareness, a ghost in the corners of your vision.

His observations weren't limited to the quiet of your evenings. He saw you often with Shuri, the princess a whirlwind of restless energy and brilliant ideas. You, on the other hand, were a steady anchor, your calm demeanor a perfect counterbalance to her effervescence. He'd watch as you and Shuri hunched over holographic schematics, your fingers tracing invisible lines in the air, murmuring in low tones about complex algorithms and vibranium applications. He saw the easy camaraderie between you, the way Shuri respected your intellect, even when she playfully chided you for your late nights. He’d catch glimpses of you in the royal labs, your brow furrowed in thought as you manipulated intricate Wakandan technology, your explanations to Shuri punctuated by gestures that were both precise and elegant. He recognized in those moments a shared passion for innovation, a silent language spoken between two brilliant minds.

He also witnessed your presence in the council meetings, a stark contrast to his own past, fraught with violence and defiance. In the grand council chambers, surrounded by the solemn faces of Wakanda's elders and leaders, you spoke with a quiet authority that commanded respect. He remembered one particular session, the air thick with tension as the council debated Wakanda's cautious approach to vibranium's global distribution. While others spoke of caution and tradition, you presented a compelling argument for responsible outreach, your voice clear and unwavering as you articulated the potential for global betterment. He watched as you deftly navigated the political currents, your logic unassailable, your commitment to Wakanda's future evident in every word. You weren't afraid to challenge established norms, always advocating for a path that balanced progress with preservation. He saw the respect in T'Challa's eyes as he listened to your insights, recognizing the valuable asset you were becoming to the nation.

He was there, too, when Shuri, her patience worn thin, would finally erupt in frustration over your relentless work ethic. He’d overhear their hushed arguments, Shuri’s voice laced with genuine concern, yours with a quiet obstinacy. "You can't keep doing this! You'll burn yourself out!" she'd exclaim, gesturing wildly. Your response would be calm, measured, a subtle deflective shrug, a murmured assurance that you were fine. But he saw through it. He saw the fatigue etched around your eyes, the slight tremble in your hand as you reached for your cane, the way you sometimes leaned heavily against the desk when you thought no one was looking. He witnessed the subtle signs that others might miss, the unspoken truth that clung to you like a shadow.

He saw your immense value to Wakanda – your brilliance, your dedication, your unique understanding of vibranium and its applications. You were a bridge between their ancient traditions and the limitless possibilities of the future. You were a force for good, undeniably so. But he also saw why you were truly there, the unspoken, devastating reason. It was in the faint tremor of your hands, the occasional wince you tried to hide, the way your breath sometimes hitched when you pushed yourself too hard. You were sick. A silent, insidious battle waged within you, slowly, relentlessly, claiming its toll.

It all made a chilling, undeniable sense. Wakanda had something you desperately needed, a cure, a treatment, a chance at prolonged life that no other nation could offer. And in return, you offered your unparalleled intellect, your very essence, a brilliant mind exchanged for precious time. He knew then that his own unexpected choice to stay was intertwined with your desperate need, a strange, tragic dance of reciprocal necessity.

It was one of those nights. The palace, usually a hive of activity, had settled into a hushed stillness, the only sounds the soft hum of vibranium technology and the distant chirping of crickets. Erik, a restless shadow in the dim corridors, found himself doing what he often did: wandering. He ignored the wary glances from the few Dora Milaje on late-night patrol, their expressions a familiar blend of suspicion and reluctant tolerance. His focus, as always, was singular: finding you.

He knew you wouldn't be in your lab. He'd seen Shuri earlier, her arms crossed, a stern but affectionate look on her face as she practically herded you out. You, ever the workaholic, had protested weakly, a mumbled "I'm fine, Shuri," but even from a distance, Erik could tell you were anything but. As you finally conceded, slowly making your way down the hall, Shuri watched you go, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "That boy is going to run himself thin," she muttered, not to herself, but to the empty air, her worry evident. Her eyes then flickered, catching Erik's silent vigil in the distance. She paused, a flicker of surprise, then a knowing glint in her eyes before she turned back into the glowing sanctuary of her lab, leaving him to his quiet pursuit.

He also knew you wouldn't be in your room. Your quarters, though meticulously maintained by the palace staff, often felt strangely unoccupied. You were rarely there, a stark contrast to the lively bustle of Shuri's lab or the quiet intensity of your own workspace. It was a detail he'd noticed early on, a subtle indicator of your tireless dedication, or perhaps, your reluctance to face the solitude that awaited you there.

He turned a corner, and there you were. Slumped against the cool, polished wall, your head rested at an awkward angle on your shoulder. Your cane lay beside you on the floor, a silent sentinel. Despite the evident discomfort of your position, a profound sense of peace seemed to emanate from you, a quiet stillness that Erik had come to recognize as uniquely yours.

He moved without a sound, a phantom in the hushed corridor, and sank to the floor beside you. He didn't look at you immediately, instead fixing his gaze on the massive, vibrant painting that adorned the opposite wall – a tapestry of Wakandan history, rich with swirling colors and ancestral figures. The silence stretched between you, not awkward, but companionable, filled only by the distant hum of the palace.

Finally, he broke the quiet, his voice a low rumble, rougher than he intended. "You okay?" he asked, the words feeling clumsy on his tongue. He allowed his eyes to finally drift to you, and the blunt assessment escaped him before he could stop it. "You look like shit."

A soft, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped you. Your head slowly shifted, rolling from one shoulder to the other until you were facing him, a small, wry smile playing on your lips. Your eyes, usually sharp with intellect, held a weariness he knew intimately.

"Took me sitting against a wall like a derelict for you to finally talk to me, huh, Killmonger?" you murmured, your voice a little raspy from disuse, the smile widening slightly. "All under the guise of asking if I'm 'okay,' of course."

Erik felt a flicker of surprise, then a ghost of a smirk touched his lips. He hadn't expected you to call him out, or to use that name. Most people in Wakanda either avoided it or spat it with venom. But from you, it felt... different. Almost familiar, like an old scar recognized.

"Yeah, well," he grunted, the smirk deepening slightly, "figured it was a safe bet you weren't about to collapse from over-excitement in the lab." He shifted, settling more comfortably against the wall, his gaze still fixed on the painting, though he was acutely aware of your presence beside him. The air between you hummed with an unspoken understanding, a shared sense of being outside the norm. He appreciated that you didn't sugarcoat things, didn't pretend he was someone he wasn't. It was a stark contrast to the careful tiptoeing of everyone else.

You chuckled again, a soft, dry sound. "Always the charmer, Killmonger." You adjusted your position slightly, a small wince betraying the effort. He caught it, the subtle tightening of your jaw, the fleeting tremor in your hand as you instinctively reached for your cane. He didn't comment, just watched, his eyes missing nothing.

"Seriously though," he pressed, his voice losing some of its earlier gruffness, a hint of genuine concern seeping in despite himself. "You really are pushing it. Shuri's ready to put you in a padded room."

You let out a soft sigh, turning your head to also look at the painting. "She means well," you said, your voice softer now, tinged with a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. "But there's… a lot to do. And not a lot of time."

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Not a lot of time. It was the truth he'd seen in your eyes, in the subtle signs your body gave away. He felt a familiar knot tighten in his gut, a mix of grim acceptance and something else he couldn't quite name – a flicker of frustration, perhaps, at the unfairness of it. He wanted to ask more, to demand answers about what exactly was consuming you, but he knew better. You weren't one to offer explanations unless you chose to.

He simply nodded, acknowledging your unspoken burden. "So, this is your version of taking it easy, huh?" he finally said, gesturing vaguely at your slumped form. "Propping yourself up against a wall in the middle of the night."

You managed another small smile. "It's surprisingly comfortable," you quipped, a flicker of your usual dry wit returning. "And quiet. A good place to think."

"So," Erik mused, his voice a low rumble, "what's so captivating about a wall that's got you thinking this hard?" He finally turned his head fully, his eyes, dark and intense, fixing on yours. "What's on your mind?"

You let out a low groan as you shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position against the unyielding wall. The slight grimace on your face was fleeting, quickly replaced by a weary resignation. Your gaze met his, a hint of something unreadable in their depths.

"You," you admitted, the word a soft exhalation. It hung in the quiet air between you, a surprising admission.

Erik's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He waited, his expression unreadable, a silent invitation for you to elaborate.

You continued, your voice a murmur. "I've been wondering why you're always there, in the shadows. Always watching. Never talking, not really. What do you get out of it, just... observing?" You gestured vaguely around the empty hall. "It's not exactly a thrilling spectator sport, watching someone work themselves to death." A bitter laugh escaped you, devoid of humor.

He held your gaze, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. "I'll tell you," he said, his voice low and steady, a challenge underlying his words. "I'll tell you why I'm always watching, why I'm here. If you tell me what's going on with you." He paused, letting his words sink in, then added, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, "Why you're really here."

You nodded, the slight bob of your head betraying a deeper weariness. With a soft groan, you began to push yourself up from the wall, your cane clattering lightly as you reached for it. Even with its support, your body swayed precariously, a sudden tremor running through your frame.

Erik was on his feet in a single, fluid motion, his hand hovering inches from your arm, ready to steady you if you faltered. His dark eyes, usually so guarded, held a flicker of genuine concern. He didn't speak, simply waited, a silent sentinel.

"Alright," you murmured, your voice a little softer than before, "I'll talk. But... not out here." You glanced down the empty corridor, then back at him, a hint of a wry smile playing on your lips. "Somewhere a little more comfortable than a glorified hallway wall, don't you think?"

Without waiting for his reply, you reached out and lightly patted his chest, your fingers lingering for a brief moment against the solid muscle beneath his shirt. It was a small, almost unconscious gesture, yet it held a surprising intimacy, a quiet acknowledgment of his presence, his unspoken offer of support. Then, your hand dropping, you began to move past him, your cane tapping a steady rhythm against the polished floor as you headed in the direction of your room, leaving him to follow.

He watched your retreating back for a moment, the faint echo of your touch still a surprising warmth on his chest. Then, with a silent stride, Erik fell into step behind you, maintaining a respectful distance.

The journey to your room was a quiet one, punctuated only by the rhythmic tap of your cane and the soft shuffle of his boots on the polished floors. The palace, usually bustling, felt almost deserted at this late hour. Shadows stretched long and distorted from the ornate pillars, creating a hushed, almost intimate atmosphere. He observed your movements: the slight stiffness in your gait, the way you occasionally leaned a little more heavily on your cane, a subtle grimace flitting across your face when you thought he wasn't looking. He was acutely aware of the vulnerability in your posture, a stark contrast to the sharp, unyielding intellect you displayed in the labs and council meetings.

He noticed small details along the way – a framed piece of Wakandan art you paused to glance at, the way your hand instinctively reached out to brush against a cool vibranium railing. You didn't speak, nor did he. The unspoken agreement to talk seemed to hang in the air, a silent promise waiting to be fulfilled once you reached your destination. He wasn't sure what to expect from this conversation, from you. He had prepared for confrontation, for defiance, for anything but this quiet vulnerability.

Finally, you reached a door, set a little apart from the others in the corridor. With a quiet click, you unlocked it and pushed it open, revealing a space that, while sparse, held a surprising sense of personal warmth. A comfortable-looking armchair sat by a large window, a stack of books on a small table beside it. The air smelled faintly of herbal tea and cinnamon. You stepped inside, leaving the door ajar, a silent invitation for him to follow.

Erik quietly closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the sudden intimacy of the room. He watched as you kicked off your shoes, and followed suit, shucking his own heavy boots. His eyes, ever observant, took in the details of your sanctuary. An old, ornate tea set sat on a small desk, undoubtedly a gift from Queen Ramonda, the various tea leaves beside it hinting at calming rituals. Books lined the shelves, their spines worn from countless readings. He noted the soft, inviting bed, and above it, a painting he recognized – a vibrant depiction of the Wakandan sunrise, the same one he'd often seen you staring at from afar.

He turned back to you, and a silent gasp caught in his throat. You were in the process of changing, having just pulled off your overshirt. The lamplight, soft as it was, illuminated your form in a way the shadows of the hall had not. He’d thought his own scarred body was a testament to hardship, but the sight of you was a different kind of shock. Your skin was startlingly pale, almost translucent, and beneath it, a delicate tracery of veins was unnervingly visible. As you turned slightly, he could see the faint outline of your spine, too prominent, too fragile. It was a stark, visceral illustration of the sickness you carried.

Erik's gaze snapped away, his head whipping around to pretend a sudden, intense interest in a framed, ancient Wakandan map on the wall. He stared at it, his jaw tight, giving you privacy as you quickly finished changing into something more comfortable – a loose, soft pull over and joggers.

"It's not as bad as it looks," you said, your voice a little softer now, tinged with a weariness that settled deep into his bones. He heard the rustle of fabric as you moved, then the soft creak of the bed as you laid down, settling against the pillows.

He finally turned back, finding you propped up on your side, your arm extended, patting the spot beside you on the bed. Your eyes, calm yet searching, met his. Erik hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

You managed a weak, almost wry smile. "Come on, Killmonger," you said, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Laying beside another guy isn't going to kill you. And I'm not contagious, as far as I know."

Erik sighed, the sound a low exhalation, and then, with a quiet grace surprising for his build, he moved. He eased himself onto the bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He didn't look at you, his gaze fixed on the vibrant painting above, the one you often stared at. The colors swirled, a silent explosion of Wakandan beauty, reflecting in the dim light of the room.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, the air filling his lungs before he spoke. "Erik." The single word, his own name, hung in the air, a stark declaration.

You turned your head to face him, your eyebrow subtly crooked in question, a silent invitation for him to elaborate.

He shifted, turning his head to meet your gaze. His dark eyes held a rare vulnerability, a flicker of something he rarely showed to anyone. "I'd like you to call me Erik," he said, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it, a quiet plea in the request.

You simply smiled, a small, genuine curve of your lips. Your eyes, deep and knowing, never left his, even as you began to speak.

"I'm sick, Erik," you admitted, the words flowing out in a quiet, steady stream. "I can't even begin to tell you what it is, because I don't even know myself. Doctors... they can't pinpoint it." Your voice was devoid of self-pity, just a weary acceptance of an unyielding truth.

You then turned your head, your gaze returning to the vibrant painting above. "I'm here because T'Challa thought Wakanda had the answer," you continued, your voice distant, thoughtful. "A temporary fix. A way to slow it down, to buy me time, until they could figure it out. And all he asked in return was that I respected them, respected Wakanda. Everything else – working with Shuri, contributing to the council, everything I do now – added bonus I guess."

Erik lay still, his gaze still fixed on the painting, but his mind was racing. Sick. The word hung in the air, a stark contrast to the strength and intellect he'd witnessed from you. A temporary fix. It explained so much: your relentless work, the guardedness, the subtle signs of frailty he’d observed. T'Challa's trust, and your reciprocated respect, felt like a silent rebuke to his own past actions, driven by a thirst for power and vengeance. You, a virtual stranger, had been given a chance at life, a chance at belonging, by the very people he’d sought to destroy, all because you had something they needed, something you desperately needed in return.

He turned his head slowly, meeting your gaze again. His expression was unreadable, a complex mixture of thoughts swirling beneath the surface. There was a flicker of something akin to grim understanding, a recognition of the brutal truth you had just laid bare. His own body bore the scars of a different kind of sickness, a rage that had consumed him. But yours was a silent, internal war, fought with every breath.

"So," he began, his voice low, a rough rasp, "you're trading your brain for borrowed time." It wasn't a question, but a blunt statement of fact, stripped of any pretense or pity. He watched your reaction, searching for any sign of weakness or regret, but found only a quiet acceptance.

You didn't flinch, your gaze steady. "Something like that," you confirmed, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's a fair trade, I think. I get more days. Wakanda gets... well, whatever I can offer." A faint, melancholic smile touched your lips. "They're trying, Erik. They really are."

A muscle in Erik's jaw twitched. He thought of his own desperate need for Wakanda, for what it could grant him: power, control, the means to reshape the world. You, on the other hand, sought it for survival, for a chance to simply be. The irony wasn't lost on him. He felt a strange tension building within him, a brewing storm of emotions he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge. Pity wasn't one of them, not truly. It was something more primal, a recognition of shared mortality, perhaps even a nascent, unwilling respect for your quiet fight.

He looked back at the vibrant painting above, its bright colors seeming to mock the fragile reality of your life. The silence stretched between you once more, but this time, it was different. It was no longer the silence of observation, but the silence of shared truth, a quiet acknowledgment of the profound and unexpected connection that had just been forged.

He lay there for a long moment, the vibrant colors of the painting above seeming to press down on the quiet truth of your words. Borrowed time. The phrase echoed in his mind, stark and unyielding. It was a currency he understood, a battle against an unseen enemy. He thought of his own fight, his own desperate grab for what he felt was owed to him, and how it contrasted with your quiet acceptance, your selfless contribution.

"And that's why you don't sleep," he finally said, his voice flat, devoid of judgment. It wasn't a question, but a statement born of observation and the recent revelation. "Why you're always working."

You shifted slightly beside him, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "Every moment here is a moment I might not have later," you murmured, your gaze still fixed on the painting. "Every algorithm I refine, every application of vibranium I help Shuri discover... it's a small way to justify the grace I've been given. To leave something behind." A hint of sadness, fleeting but potent, touched your voice.

Erik turned his head fully to look at you, his dark eyes intense. "Grace," he repeated, the word tasting unfamiliar on his tongue. It wasn't a concept he was intimately familiar with, certainly not in the context of his own life. "You think it's grace?"

You finally met his gaze, a faint, almost wistful smile on your lips. "What else would you call it, Erik? They have no obligation to help me. Yet, they do. And T'Challa... he trusts me, even with me being an outsider, even with this." You gestured vaguely at yourself, encompassing your illness.

He frowned, a deep line appearing between his brows. Trust was another foreign concept in his world, often a weakness exploited. Yet, he saw it here, a tangible force. He considered the sheer audacity of T'Challa's choice, to offer you, an outsider with a profound, unspoken vulnerability, such a pivotal role in Wakanda's future. And he considered his own unexpected presence here, an even greater act of defiance against expectation.

The silence settled again, a comfortable weight between you two. The quiet hum of the palace, the distant city, faded into the background. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Erik felt a strange sense of... stillness. Not peace, not yet, but a quiet truce with the world, found in the unexpected company of someone fighting a battle far more personal than his own.

As the silence stretched on, a comfortable weight settling between you two, you shifted slightly. Your body, weary from the day's toil and the relentless internal battle, instinctively sought comfort. With a soft sigh, your head came to rest gently against Erik's shoulder. He tensed almost imperceptibly at first, a reflexive reaction to unexpected intimacy, but then he remained still, a solid anchor in your fragile world.

"I answered your question, Erik," you murmured, your voice a soft whisper against his ear, the warmth of your breath a surprising sensation against his skin. "Now you have to answer mine."

Erik’s shoulder was stiff beneath your head, a testament to his initial surprise, but he didn't pull away. He remained utterly still, the warmth of your head a foreign, unexpected weight. Your question hung in the air, a silent challenge he couldn't ignore. He had demanded honesty from you, and now it was his turn to deliver. The vibrant painting above seemed to mock him with its brightness, contrasting with the dark corners of his own mind.

He took a slow, deep breath, the subtle rise and fall of his chest a silent preparation. "I watched you," he began, his voice a low rumble, rougher now with the effort of articulation, "because you were different." He paused, searching for the right words. "Everyone else here... they either feared me, hated me, or they were T'Challa's people, following orders. They looked at me like a monster." He could feel the familiar bitterness begin to creep into his tone, but he forced it down.

"You," he continued, turning his head slightly so his gaze could meet yours, even though your head was still resting on his shoulder, "you just... looked. Like you were figuring me out. You didn't flinch. You didn't pity me. You saw something else." His voice softened almost imperceptibly, a raw honesty creeping in. "And you were an outsider, like me. Someone here for a reason no one else really understood. Someone who was… useful." He gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "I saw how important you were to Shuri, to the council. And I saw the cost."

He shifted, a subtle movement that subtly invited you to adjust, though you remained where you were. "I saw the toll it took on you," he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "The way you worked, the way you pushed. I knew there was something more. Something you were fighting that wasn't about Wakanda, but about you." He finally looked away from you, his gaze returning to the painting, as if seeking answers in its vibrant chaos. "I didn't know what it was," he confessed, "but I knew it was serious. And I... I recognized a fighter in you. Someone willing to burn out rather than give up."

The air in the room was thick with unspoken truths. He had laid bare a part of himself, a vulnerable admission of his curiosity, his reluctant acknowledgment of your shared isolation and silent struggle.

Your head remained resting on his shoulder, a silent testament to the raw honesty of his words. You had felt his gaze on you for months, a persistent, watchful presence, but to hear his reasons articulated, stripped bare of malice or pity, was disarming. He hadn't seen a monster, but a fighter, an outsider, someone facing their own battle. It was a connection you hadn't anticipated, a mirror reflecting a part of yourself you rarely showed.

"A fighter," you echoed softly, the words barely a whisper, a faint, melancholic smile playing on your lips. "Or just too stubborn to quit." You shifted slightly, the gentle movement a silent invitation for him to remain. The warmth of his shoulder beneath your head was oddly comforting, a grounding presence in the quiet of the room. "I guess we both know a thing or two about fighting, don't we?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, absorbing the weight of his confession, the unexpected intimacy of the shared silence. The hum of the palace, the distant sounds of the Wakandan night, all faded into the background, leaving only the quiet rhythm of your breaths. In this small, intimate space, a fragile understanding had formed, an unspoken alliance between two unexpected souls.

Your hand, almost instinctively, came up to rest lightly on Erik's chest. Your fingers, slender and delicate, began a soft, rhythmic tapping against the hard muscle beneath his shirt, a silent counterpoint to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. It was a gesture of unexpected intimacy, a quiet acknowledgment of the raw truths that had just passed between you.

Erik remained still, but a subtle shift occurred within him. He felt the light pressure of your head, the gentle tap of your fingers, and for the first time in a long time, the rigid tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. He leaned into you, a barely perceptible shift, as if allowing himself to unwind, to finally shed the heavy armor he wore against the world. "Yeah," he rumbled, his voice a low, almost guttural agreement. "Yeah, I guess we do."

You opened your eyes then, your head still resting against his shoulder, and looked up at him. His gaze was already on you, dark and deep, a complex storm of emotions swirling within their depths. A genuine smile, soft and unburdened, blossomed on your face – a smile he hadn't seen before, a stark contrast to the wry amusement or weary acceptance you usually displayed.

"You love me," you stated, your voice a quiet, unwavering conviction, your eyes never leaving his. "I can tell."

Erik froze. The subtle softening in his posture vanished, replaced by an instantaneous rigidity that radiated from him. His dark eyes, which moments ago had held a flicker of something akin to understanding, widened almost imperceptibly, a raw, exposed vulnerability flashing within them before they hardened into a familiar, defensive mask. The casual ease of your touch, the gentle weight of your head on his shoulder, suddenly felt like a brand.

The air crackled with a sudden, palpable tension. He had braced himself for many things: for you to ask about his past, to condemn his actions, even to offer pity. But this? This unvarnished, direct declaration, spoken with such quiet certainty, was a direct hit to the heavily armored core of his being. Love. The word was a foreign body in the rough landscape of his existence, a concept he had long ago dismissed as a weakness, a luxury, or a tool for manipulation.

His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. He didn't pull away, but the warmth of his shoulder seemed to become an unyielding wall. He stared down at you, his gaze intense, searching for any hint of mockery, a hidden agenda, or even delusion. But your eyes, still wide and guileless, held only a disarming sincerity, a genuine, undeniable belief in your own words.

The silence that followed was deafening, far heavier than any that had passed between you before. It was a silence filled with the unspoken questions, the shock of your declaration, and Erik's own desperate internal struggle to process a word that had no place in his lexicon, especially not from you.

Erik's breath hitched, a harsh, almost pained sound that escaped his throat. The word, "love," hung in the air between you like an unexploded ordnance. His dark eyes, which had been fixed on yours in a stunned silence, finally broke away, snapping to stare intensely at the painting above, as if seeking an answer there. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle jumped in his temple.

"Don't... don't say that," he choked out, his voice a low, ragged whisper, laced with an unfamiliar mix of disbelief and something akin to fear. It wasn't a command, but a plea, a raw exposure of a vulnerability he never allowed himself to show. The word itself seemed to scorch him, utterly foreign and terrifying in its unexpectedness. He couldn't reconcile it with the harsh realities of his life, with the person he was, or the pain he had caused. It was a concept so utterly alien to his self-perception that it shook him to his core.

You sighed, a soft, weary sound that brushed gently against Erik's cheek, a stark contrast to the sudden rigidity of his body. "It may not be obvious to you, Erik," you murmured, your voice quiet but firm, "but it is to me." Your hand, still resting on his chest, gave a faint, rhythmic tap. "So tell me, Killmonger," you challenged, your voice dropping to a near whisper, "are you more scared of love... or because you know I'm sick?"

The words hung in the air, a direct strike at the core of his carefully constructed defenses. Before you could even register his full reaction, Erik moved. It was a swift, almost predatory motion, yet executed with an unexpected grace. In what felt like a single, fluid second, he was no longer lying beside you but hovering above you, his body a dark silhouette against the dim light of the room. His hands were braced on either side of your head, not touching, but close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from his skin. His face, usually a mask of controlled intensity, was now raw, exposed, every muscle taut.

His dark eyes, usually so guarded, were wide and blazing, fixed on yours with an almost desperate intensity. The question had hit a nerve, a deep, festering wound he kept hidden even from himself.

"Don't you dare," he snarled, his voice a low, guttural growl, rough with barely contained fury and something else, something akin to terror. "Don't you dare try to tell me what I'm scared of. You don't know a damn thing about me, about what I've seen, what I've done." His breath hitched, a ragged sound. "And don't you ever confuse... whatever this is," he gestured vaguely between you two, his hand trembling slightly, "with weakness. I ain't scared of a damn thing. Not of some sickness, and damn sure not of some... some sentimentality."

He leaned closer, his face inches from yours, his eyes burning into yours. "You think you see something? You think you know? You don't know the first thing about what it takes to survive, about what you have to become to make it out alive." His voice was laced with a bitter, self-loathing edge, a desperate attempt to push you away, to rebuild the walls you had so effortlessly breached.

Erik let out a deep, shuddering breath, the harshness of his outburst slowly deflating. His forehead lowered until it rested gently against yours. The proximity was startling, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cold fury that had just erupted from him. His body, still hovering above you, trembled almost imperceptibly, a raw admission of the control he was struggling to maintain.

"This is why," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, the words laced with a profound weariness and regret. "This is why I'd rather watch you from afar. Why I never should have talked to you. Never should have let you in, even if it was just... just something like this." His words were a desperate attempt to retreat, to rebuild the shattered walls around his heart. You could feel the immense effort it took him to admit this, to acknowledge the vulnerability that had been momentarily exposed. His outburst wasn't anger directed at you, not truly. It was a violent internal struggle, him trying desperately to push you away, to cling to the brutal, hardened identity he'd cultivated for survival, rather than face the possibility of the man you saw within him, the man he, deep down, knew he could be. He was scared. Terrified, perhaps, of the unfamiliar tenderness, of the connection that threatened to unravel decades of self-preservation.

You said nothing for a long moment, simply absorbing the raw confession, the tremor in his body, the heavy weight of his forehead against yours. The air was thick with the unspoken, with the fragile truth of his fear. You felt the faint, ragged rhythm of his breathing, the almost imperceptible shivers that ran through him.

Slowly, carefully, your hand that had been resting on his chest lifted, your fingers gently reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your thumb brushed softly over the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the faint outline of a scar. Your touch was feather-light, yet it held an immense strength, an unwavering empathy.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft but clear, cutting through the remnants of his fear. You didn't argue, didn't try to reason away his pain. You simply affirmed the truth you saw. "I know you're scared, Erik." Your voice was filled with a quiet understanding, devoid of judgment or pity. "But it's okay to be scared. And it's okay... to let someone in."

You kept your gaze steady, looking into the depth of his eyes, letting him see the unwavering belief you held in him, in the man beneath the armor.

Erik's breath hitched, a raw sound in the quiet room. Your touch on his face was a gentle, persistent warmth, a stark contrast to the icy grip of the fear that still clung to him. His eyes, still locked with yours, held a desperate, vulnerable plea.

"How could I?" he rasped, the words barely audible, infused with a pain that went deeper than any physical wound. His voice was thick with unspoken history, with the ghosts of abandonment that haunted him. "How could I let someone in... who's just going to leave me alone again?"

Your heart ached at the raw vulnerability in his voice. His words hung in the air, a profound echo of a deeply wounded past. His fear of abandonment, so deeply ingrained, was laid bare.

"Erik," you whispered, your voice a soft, unwavering anchor in the storm of his emotions. Your thumb continued its gentle caress on his cheek, feeling the slight tremor beneath your skin. "Everyone leaves, eventually. That's just... part of life." You saw a flicker of defiance in his eyes, a renewed tension, but you pressed on, your gaze unwavering, holding his. "But I'm not leaving you alone now. And I won't. Not when you're finally letting me in."

You took a slow, steady breath, letting the weight of your promise settle between you. "And when I do leave," you continued, your voice softening to a near murmur, "because of this," you gestured vaguely to your own fragile body, "it won't be because I chose to. It won't be because I wanted to abandon you. It will be because I couldn't fight it anymore."

You saw the truth of your words register in his eyes, the grim understanding that flickered there. You shifted your hand from his face, letting it rest on his shoulder, your fingers gently squeezing. "But until then," you stated, your voice gaining a quiet resolve, "I'm here. And you won't be alone. You don't have to be."

Erik’s eyes, usually so fierce and guarded, remained locked on yours. He absorbed your words, the stark honesty of your fragile future, and the unwavering promise you offered in the present. The truth of your impending battle, a fight against an unseen enemy, seemed to resonate deeply with his own history of relentless struggle. His initial terror, born from the fear of abandonment, slowly began to give way to something else, something softer and more profound.

He didn't pull away. Instead, a subtle shiver ran through his frame as if the last remnants of his defensive walls were finally crumbling. The harsh lines around his mouth softened almost imperceptibly, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to finally release. His body, which had been poised for flight or fight, now relaxed, the weight of his forehead settling more fully against yours. He took another deep, shaky breath, the sound rasping in the quiet room.

"Yeah," he finally whispered, the word a raw, guttural admission. It was an acknowledgment not just of your words, but of the profound shift occurring within him. It was an acceptance of your promise, an acknowledgment that, for now, in this quiet room, he was not alone. The fear hadn't vanished entirely, but it was now mingled with a fragile, almost bewildered sense of connection. He didn't know what this was, this unexpected solace, but he knew, in that moment, he didn't want it to end.

The early Wakandan dawn, painted in hues of soft violet and rose, began to filter through the window, chasing away the deepest shadows of your room. Erik remained above you, his forehead still resting against yours, the subtle tremor in his body having long since faded into a profound stillness. The tension that usually radiated from him, a constant hum of barely contained power, had dissipated, replaced by a quiet vulnerability you hadn't dared to hope you'd ever witness.

You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin, slow and steady now, a stark contrast to the ragged gasps of fear from moments before. Your hand, still resting on his shoulder, felt the solid muscle beneath the soft fabric, a grounding presence. The world outside the room was waking, but in here, a fragile, new world had just begun.

He eventually lifted his head, slowly, as if breaking a delicate spell. His eyes, no longer burning with anger or fear, held a deep, reflective gaze, softened by something akin to wonder. He looked at you, truly looked at you, taking in your pale face, the slight smudges beneath your eyes, the quiet strength that radiated from you even in your most vulnerable state. There was no judgment, no pity, only a quiet, understanding acceptance that mirrored your own.

He gently shifted, settling down beside you once more, this time closer, his hip brushing against yours. He didn't speak, but his hand, large and calloused, hesitantly reached out, his fingers brushing against your hair before resting, almost tentatively, on your arm. It was a gesture of profound tenderness, unpracticed and raw, yet more meaningful than any words. He lay there, staring at the painting above, the vibrant sunrise on the canvas now reflecting the quiet, unexpected dawn breaking within him.

You closed your eyes, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The warmth of his presence beside you, the gentle weight of his hand, was a comfort beyond measure. You felt safe, truly safe, in a way you hadn't felt in years. This wasn't the kind of safety that came from vibranium shields or skilled guards; it was the safety of being truly seen, truly accepted, even in your fragility.

The sun climbed higher, painting the room in golden light. Erik remained, a silent sentinel, his presence a comforting weight. He hadn't left. He hadn't pushed you away. He had, in his own rough, beautiful way, let you in. And in that quiet, shared space, as the city outside hummed to life, a new understanding bloomed, a gentle promise whispered not in words, but in the enduring warmth of a touch, and the unwavering presence of someone who finally chose to stay.

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x male reader #erik killmonger x ftm reader #marvel x ftm reader #marvel x male reader #x ftm reader #xftmreader #x male reader #xmalereader #fanfiction #fanfic #mlm #marvel #michael b jordan #slight angst #fluff ending

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imaginesandideas · 7 years ago

Text

No more scars

summary: Erik comes back from a mission. But that doesn’t make you any less worried about him.

WARNINGS: angst (and fluff) mentions of implied assassinations

word count: 1,698

~~~~~

“Babe, I’m home!” You heard as your long gone boyfriend Erik entered your apartment. It’s been a few weeks since he left for yet another mission. Another mission you had known very little about. He always made sure to calm your nerves down by explaining why he had to go, and when would he be coming back. For you however, it was often a roller coaster of anxiety.

Soon after his first missions, you realized that he was a weapon. A very good one, but still a weapon. Killer machine.

Erik always assured you that he’d never kill a civilian, neither someone innocent. He’d always say that they deserved it, that their hands were drowning in the ocean of blood.

But were his hands any cleaner?

Your heart jumped as you heard his sweet voice again. No matter how strong and careful he was, you always worried about whether he was or wasn’t coming back home in one piece.

“Erik?” You stood up from where you were sitting and marched hurriedly to the hall.

“Well... were you expecting someone else who’d call you ‘babe’?” You run up to him and jumped up at your lover, holding onto his arms. He caught your hips, and placed your thighs around his waist kissing you. You felt the strong grip of his warm hands on your body, as you planted heated kisses all over his face. You sure had missed him.

“Darl, if you won’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop myself either. And frankly speaking I’m too tired to do so.” He panted out of breath and you sighed. Disappointed but with indulgence, you placed your head on his chest, closing your eyes. You’d missed his smell, so pepper-wooden like, his strong body holding you, his heartbeat. So similar to your own.

“Alright... but you have to make it up to me later.” You sent him a knowing look and he gripped your hips showing his golden canines and dimples you adored so much. The last thing you saw before heading to the kitchen, was his lust filled gaze. He followed you shortly, smiling to himself, his eyes never leaving you.

“It’ll be my pleasure.” He sure had missed you. Maybe even more than he thought he would.

“Are you injured?”

“Nah honey. I’m good. Just dying to eat your curry and get some sleep.” You laughed. No matter for how long he was gone, he always came back as the same man. Some scratches, maybe bruises but he was still his cheeky, flirtatious, always hungry self. For him, in that moment, with you he finally felt that he came back. He was at home.

~~~

You woke up feeling dizzy from all the booze you two drunk together, celebrating Erik’s comeback. It was early in the morning but you decided not to waste anymore time. You sat up, stretched a little and took a large sip of the water from the glass on your nightstand. As you were putting it back down trying to avoid making any noise, you looked at your peacefully sleeping lover. His dreadlocks, now freed from the braids, covered his face like a curtain. Nevertheless you still could see tiny scars on his body you did not notice yesterday in the light of the lamps. Morning sun yet again uncovered his sensitive side, his invisible to ones eye beauty, that you loved so much. He always acted to cocky, bulky even, when around other people. But it was the moments like that, which made him so special to you. His sensitivity, that very few people knew about.

You slowly dropped your gaze down his neck and naked chest. You smirked realizing that he most likely slept naked, as he often did.

Suddenly your eyes were pierced by something that made you feel worried. Something that you knew more than well, but you had hoped that they’d never spread.

The scars.

You knew what they meant. You knew what they were made of. And they were made of pain and blood. But not his own.

The last time you saw him, there was far less of them. Unintentionally you started to count, your fingers being mere inches from his skin, but stopped after your brain started to add numbers.

It was too much. Too much for you to take. Your hand moved away in fear.

“Good morning baby.” You didn’t even realize when he woke up, you were far too lost in your thoughts. And he was the reason.

“Erik... why?”

“Why what? Hun I just woke up, you gotta explain things slowly-“

“The scars.” His careless smile fainted in a matter of seconds. So you noticed. He was hoping that he’ll be able to explain himself first, before you would uncover the truth. He knew it was coming, and then his plan went all to dust. He sat up on the bed, hands found their way to his face, rubbing all over it nervously. Then his hands dropped almost helplessly.

“I know what you’re thinking...”

“Then tell me, please.” You crossed your arms on your chest, he only sighed deeply and continued.

“But you know me, and you know I wouldn’t kill, if I didn’t have to. They were all criminals, they stole, they fought on the wrong side, they had sold their souls.”

“And you were the one to judge whether they deserved to die or not?”

“It’s not like this.”

“It’s never like this!” You shouted trembling. Words weren’t enough to express what was going through your mind. Was it really so hard for him to understand why you cared do much? You could only wish your words could describe the way you felt, maybe then he’d get it.

“Listen...” you gripped his hands as you spoke. “I only care about you. You’re the one I’m worried about when you’re away. I’m trying to understand your actions, I really do, but you’re on your way to make yourself a criminal. Just like them. A murderer. Assassin who forgets his own soul once he goes on a mission. I don’t want you to be like that.” You cupped his face contently and looked into his eyes. This small gesture made him realize that you truly meant your words. He was in love with you since the day one, but never like this. It was obvious that you cared for him, otherwise you wouldn’t have stayed with him for so long, he thought. But he didn’t think that anyone could love him so much, so genuinely. He had been feeling so lonely for such a long time. He had to take care of himself so early, and then you came into his troubled life, giving him everything that he had been denied in his life. Most importantly - unconditional love. You loved and respected him like no one else did.

Just as much as he loved you.

“I mean it.” You moved dreadlocks away from his face to look into his eyes directly, to get his full attention. No more hiding, no more secrets. “You’re destroying your soul... for what? For money? For revenge? For justice?”

“For you.” You gaped in shock. You sat down as if the whole energy vanished from your body. He reached for your hands. „For your safety. I always felt like.. if I’m gonna miss the opportunity, I may loose you. That if I ain’t kill, they may come to our home and take you from me. I had it once in my life. Never again.”

“Erik...” you stared at him agitated. A small tear formed in the corner of his eye, as he spoke. Your fingertips gently stroked his cheeks, as your thumb brushed away the teardrop. Confident, cheeky Erik was gone. In front of you kneeled Erik you thought you’ve lost long time ago, before he got so engaged in inflicting justice. You wrapped your arms around his head and held him close to your chest. His own arms held you tightly against him. In a way, he expressed his feelings through his touch - affectionate yet possessive. He cared for you so much, he just couldn’t let you go. You let your fingers slip through his hair as he caressed your back. It was a warm embrace that you both had missed.

“I love you.” You whispered.

“And I love you too _____.” You pulled back, freeing his form so both of you could come back to your previous positions, while still holding his hands.

“Please promise me that there will be no more scars.” He sighed looking down.

“I can’t.”

“Then release me from this load. I’m not you Erik. It’s not my burden, it’s not my cause.”

“I can’t!” He almost shouted but his voice was broken. “I can’t loose you.”

“You just did.”

His eyes were closed until he felt the emptiness in his hands, and the shifting of the mattress beneath him. You were close to the door when you heard

“Okay, you’re right! If that’s what you want, then there’ll be no more scars. I promise. Just please come back... don’t go _____, I’m sorry... for all of this.” You turned around in the direction of the bed where he was sitting on the edge. His eyes locked with yours, waiting for you to speak.

It felt like hours, communicating without any word, a silent apology and a promise laying in his pupils. He was a grown, large man but in the moment he was as vulnerable as a child.

He suddenly stood up, wearing just his boxers and held his hand out for you to take it. You walked up to him slowly, carefully to grip his shaking hand without breaking both the silence and connection between your eyes.

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

And you kissed him, sealing the promise he swore to keep. The passion within you awakened, increasing the fire that never stopped burning since the day you met. None of you could see the future, but that moment, that day, has changed a lot for both of you. You had hope. Finally, after so many sleepless nights. Your hope was alive.

And it was hope for the better.

~~~~~

[Comments, ideas and words of notice are always appreciated 💜]

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tallulahneale · 5 months ago

Text

Title: Brown Sugar

Pairing: Vince staples x fem!reader

Summary: Vince and his bestie go for their monthly grocery shop, with the addition of usual antics.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Sexual content

It has been three weeks since Vince came back from his music tour and boy was he tired! Finally back to his humble abode with visits from neighbors, family and close friends. They came to congratulate and express their happiness, for his ongoing representation of the community. But none thought he might need more than words of affirmation. As of right now, he needs groceries.

“I miss when folks stopped by with gift cards” He mutters as he waves the last guest goodbye, watching them drive off.

With the preparation of season 2 of his show, his schedule has become much busier and takeouts were no longer feasible. He strolls through the hallway to the kitchen with plans to meal prep, opening empty cupboards and a single jar of grape jelly, the silence mocks him like the chirping of a field cricket.

But guess who loves to shop, is playful and never says no to him? He thinks knowing the perfect person to call.

“Lula!” He snickers.

It’s been a full month since she and Vince had gone grocery shopping together so this is perfect timing. Times like this, having a best friend who is the queen of nutrition and meal plans is a big deal. She is his go to shopping buddy, mainly for her keen eye for fresh produce and general laughs. He nods to himself swiping through his phone to the contacts list, the least he could do is check in and ask if she was free. The time reads 1:47 pm as Vince dials her number waiting for her to pick.

“Finally!” Lula exclaims “I’ve been putting my grocery shop off because of your touring ass.”

“You really don’t say hello, do you?” Vince grumbles

“Again with this?” Lula tuts “Hello my love, need to go shopping?”

“Is that why you think I called?” Vince questions back.

‘Either she is telepathic or her spiritual readings are super in line with mine’ he thinks to himself.

“Bestie!” She whines

“Lula” He mocks

“So, you are tired of takeouts?” She smirks, munching on oven baked kale chips.

“And your lazy ass hasn’t been grocery since I left, huh?” He wits back.

She huffs, a chip falling from between her fingers and onto her lap.

“I did! The Uber driver was extra helpful” She beams, whispering the last few words already knowing what will come next.

“Why didn’t you just drive?” Vince asks, shaking his head. “…” She rolls her eyes, ignoring his question. “Lula” He starts “You have a car, yes?” “Yes” “You have a license, yes?” “Yes” “Then answer the question” “...I like when you drive me around” She looks away, feeling his presence in her room, “Plus you know I don’t like driving, quit sweating me.”

“So that’s why you like doing your shops with me” He grins.

“Okay Dr do-gooder, let me hang up-”

“I dare you” He utters with conviction.

Knowing Vince, he will cut the call and not call back, But will be nice enough to text and keep the conversation going. ‘Petty ass’ she thinks to herself, he did it once before and that was enough to put Lula in her place.

“Damn son, I’ll stay on the line” She replies sarcastically.

“Yeah, that’s how I like you. Obedient.”

Lula rolls her eyes and laughs.

“Vince… We don’t play that anymore.”

“...” He keeps quiet as his mind wanders off, slowly flashing back to the time when they-

“Vincent!” Lula calls out, cutting his train of thought and bringing him back to the present.

“Yeah yeah, anyway we need to go asap”

“Yay! When are you coming to pick me up?”

“Now”

“Oh lawd! I need to tidy the kitchen, fix my hair, find a cute dress-”

“Lula, relax we are just going to a store. Like we usually do” He interrupts. “I mean, it is never just shopping with you… incase your booked and busy self forgot” Lula replies, hinting at the time Vince took her on a merry go round. From grocery shopping to the hardware store and then to his mums for a catchup dinner before finally taking her home.

“That was once” Vince sighs

“A really long once” She mumbles

“I’m 7 blocks away so go get dressed but not too cute this time, can’t be mean mugging for you anymore”

“Boyyyy” She exaggerates “I am always cute especially with the way the girls stay sitting pretty.”

Lula immediately FaceTimes Vince wearing her Lululemon tank top and her 2-week blowout in a bun. She smirks as he appears on her screen, adorn in his signature blue yankee hat. She gawks at the broadness of his shoulders and the expanse of his chest as he inhales deeply. She rests her phone on the table, angling to show the curve of her cleavage and rounded point of her nipples.

“See?” She beams while staring at her screen.

Vince takes a glance at his phone, peering at the suckable smooth skin hidden under her clothing. He tries to do a double take without her knowing and fails miserably. ‘Some things will never changes’ he thinks to himself at her playful antics. “Put on some clothes, I’m 5 blocks away” He tells her. “No compliments for your babygirl?” Lula tease.

*click*

Lula laughs to herself turning off her laptop and heads to the closet for an outfit. With the weather being perfect in LA, she opts for a blue dress and sandals. She brushes her hair into a neater bun, applies her Fenty Beauty 450 foundation and grabs her keys just as she hears the phone ring again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She purrs in a sultry tone.

“Playful ass” Vince smirks shaking his head “I’m outside.”

She heads to her front door and waves at him before ending the call. Locking up and opening the gate, Lula saunters over to the parked car. With each step she took her hips swayed and her girls took with her too, Vince can’t help but stare while unlocking the passenger door for her.

“Hey Mr. Staples” She giggles.

Vince gives her a quick once-over, taking in her outfit as she slides into her seat. He pulls out of the driveway, as Lula makes light conversation to easy the lingering tension.

“So I made a list of stuff we both need” she states adding x3 to some of the items.

“I’m making macadamia nut white chocolate cookies!” Lula announces gleefully “Ooo Lula is about to show out!” “You know that’s right” she agrees smiling.

_________

Vince pulls in the parking lot driving closer to the entrance because Lula doesn’t like to be too far from the doors, he parks and switches of the engine. As she steps outs, Vince notices her outfit clinging to the cleft of her rear, with her curves flowing against the sides like silk. He quickly looks up hoping she didn’t catch him staring too hard, lucky her back is still turned away from him so he’s in the clear.

“I can feel your eyes on me, Vince” Lula giggles as she peeks over her shoulder at him “Aren’t you meant to be mean mugging those men?”

He looks over to where her hand gestures and of course, there were two men sneaking glances. He walks around taking a close position to where she stood, stepping close while resting a hand on her lower back, facing the nosey looky-loos. To his surprise one turns away while the other stood his ground.

Watching…

Waiting…

Taunting him.

Vince smirks at the audacity of this random, as he slides his hands from around her lower back, across her tummy and up to her ample protruding chest. Lula yelps as he adds a little pressure to his hold, looking at the man across the lot. The stranger immediately looks away with huff following in the direction of his friend. Vince walks side by side with her, keeping his hand rested on the expose square-cut of her top. “You can move your hand now.” She nudges. “Nah, I’ll keep it right where it is” Vince says in a hushed tone, gently patting them “Plus you seem to enjoy it.”

Lula kisses her teeth, walking away from him muttering curses under her breath. “You wish!” Lula deflects. “Go get a cart, there’s a lot to do.”

Lula makes her way to produce section with Vince following closely behind with their shopping cart. She places all the fresh items on the list in the cart, sorting the fruits and the veggies. Her craving for sweet potato pie is at an all-time high. Vince can already see the thought bubble rising above her head; peeling the potatoes for the pie and whisking the batter for dessert. He watches her intensely as she makes her way through the list, slowly filling up the cart with fruits, yams, legumes and a two plants. With a confused expression plastered on his face, he turns to look at her. “Why the plant?” He inquires “Because it is springtime and that’s the best time for keeping a house plants!” She smiles.

“Noted. But there’s 2…”

“Yep! You need more green in your house and I’m not talking about money” Vince chuckles at her silly joke and shrugs in response. “Unless its a Fiddle Leaf Fig, I don’t want it” “Well they don’t have that here so I’m getting you this mint shrub, you can use the leaves in your teas” She adds gleefully. Vince reluctantly agreed as he watches her place them at the foot of the cart, away from the fresh produce. The simple action seemed harmless from where he stood, her cleavage was on full display, giving him an eyeful.

“What’s next on the list sugar tits?” Vince points to the paper in her hands.

“Pastries!” She cheers excitedly, pointing to the section with freshly baked tarts, pies and sweetened bread. Lula is in awe at the variety, her sweet tooth is in overdrive totally oblivious to her surroundings and the calls of her name from Vince.

“So your name is Lula?” Stranger says “What an alluring name.”

She abruptly looks to her right at the sound of her name being spoken by an unrecognizable voice. Staring at the customer, wondering who he is, the tall hefty man takes her lack of response as a go ahead to introduce himself.

“My name is Jamal” He indicates with his hand reached out to lift-up her own, placing a soft lingering kiss at her knuckles. Lula nods back in amusement, while looking at the pastries stored behind the glass windows.

“I recommend the pecan and maple pastries.” He encourages. “Put them in the air fry for 35 seconds, it will blow your mind Lula.” Rolling her name off his tongue like a prayer,

“That sounds so yummy, I love nuts in a dessert” Lula teases loudly, making sure both men hear her intended innuendo. The stranger howls at her joke while winking at her. As he reaches over to point at more nut filled pastries, his bicep rubs across the peak of her chest and a wanton breath escape from Lula, she quickly looks to the pastries for help.

Vince who stood watching the whole display, had finally enough. He makes his way towards them stepping closer to Lula with disapproval written on his face. Her eyes meet his in a gentle plea not to act a fool at this very moment. He cocks up an eyebrow in a questioned expression to which she doesn’t seem to register. She looks away from him, back to Jamal then back to the pies.

“Unbelievable.” Vince comments, ignoring her plea and disregards the stranger. He places him arm around the hook of her shoulder with his fingertips caressing her neck before plunging a hand down the front of her dress. He feels thin mesh lace material of her bra and the perkiness of her nipples. Lula squeaks, but makes no attempt to stop his firm grasp.

“I-I’m sorry about him” Lula stutters “He just likes…to keep his hands warm.”

Jamal waves off her apology, accepting the flimsy excuse and looks up at Vince seeing no issue with what is going on.

“Have you tried almond croissants?” He continues “They are amazing in the air fryer, but mind the temperature so you don’t burn the outer layer.”

From the corner of his eye, he glances to her chest as a second movement is made. Vince is a man of very few words, but many actions. He shifts his hand right past the thin lace and onto the skin of her full chest, gripping and pulling her closer as he tugs at the harden bud. “You want me to suck them right here?” He teases, feeling and tugging at them “You want your new little friend to watch too, huh?” He takes his fingers away to suck on them, leaving a wet trail before situating them back on tight smooth orbs inciting a puppy like mewl from her lips.

Lula yelps in lust and embarrassment, pushing Vince and the cart into the nearest aisle. She untangles his hands away from her pebbled nipples as a shiver passes down her spine from the friction of his fingertips dancing along her skin. Shifting her bra into place, she turns to look up at him with a frown.

Vince stares at her with his usual nonchalant, deadpan expression.

“Listen and listen clearly” He warns, “If you don’t want to flash your little friend over there and make a puddle right here, turn the fuck around.”

Lula stands her ground, switching from a frown to a scowl.

“Now Lula.”

She remains defiant, hoping to call his bluff.

He looks up from her, smirking as he meets the eyes of her intruding friend, still standing idly at the pastry section, then back down into her lustrous eyes. He smirks, gripping the curve of her hips with one hand while his fingers trace the line of her panties through the dress.

“You wore panties today?” Vince mutters.

He leans her body closer to his chest as he flips up back of the dress exposing her rear end. She whimpers quietly pushing out her lower half for his attention, closer to the palm of his hand and delicate touches of his fingers. Vince groans into her ears, giving her a sharp swat on both cheeks while inching further to the wet spot forming at the middle of her cotton briefs. He cups her centre, feeling it pulse against his fingers. He slowly pushes into the hollow of her aching wetness through the fabric. Lula is slowly melting like the chocolate ice cream in their cart. He feels her arms shake as she clings to the back of his shirt. The steady breaths on his chest and flutter of her lashes as he nibbles on her ear, whispering praises and sweet words to her. He returns back to her cleft, pulling her panties across to expose her cheeks to the open. He grinds his growing bulge against her thighs as he ventures to her sensitive nub. She salivates at the firmness and intensity of his length, but as she feels the friction of her panties and his thick fingers against her clit, an electric shock brings her back to reality and she realizes where they are. Swiftly, she pulls away from his hold and the fabric of her dress returns to its place. On turning around, the pastry guy was stood watching the whole ordeal. He takes in her flushed look and trembling legs. Jamal freezes as their eyes meet while Vince is smiling smugly, proud of his performance.

Lula rushes away from the aisle, the pastry section, Jamal, Vince and everything. Little did they know… she wasn’t embarrassed. No, she wanted more. On her exit she finds a hidden corner where she hastily removes her soiled panties, putting it in her purse.

Vince finds her in the drinks and beverages section and rolls their cart towards her.

“Tryna get me ban from our nearest Costco” She mutters. She is still grumbling while looking for the last few groceries on the list. He tiptoes behind her and leans to her ear.

“I wasn’t going to stick my fingers into your pretty pussy. Or did you want me to?” He says.

“Yes please” She whines barely above a whisper “I’m not wearing panties anymore.” Vince stills in disbelief, looking at her, waiting for the punchline of the joke. There was none. Lula nods her head as she bends over their cart, giving him a glimpse of her puffy slick lips. He drools at his mouth and drips from the tip of his lower head. He reaches to spank her right on her awaiting pussy, but the pastry guy passes through the aisle avoiding eye contact with them.

“Fix up babygirl, it’s neither the time nor place”

“Bite me” She snarls at him.

With her hair in a bun and her neck fully exposed, he sucks along the pulse of her neck. Placing kisses from the top down to her clavicle. He bites at the warm smooth surface “Tastes like brown sugar” He mutters.

“You’re corny!” Lula giggle as she moves away from him “The list is all done, lets go.”

When they reach the checkout, a short lady with thick curls sitting behind the register, leers at Lula. Vince is not too bothered, everyone is fond of Lula her aura is super infectious and rubs you the right way. Lula winks back at the lady and waves her fingers in greeting. He watches the interaction with interest while placing items of the conveyor belt. The cashier glances at Lula then Vince then back again at Lula, questioning of the status of their friendship. Vince reads her expression and shares a little secret.

“You should’ve been at the pastry section” He looks down at Lula grinning, before looking at the lady. Lula shakes her and the cashier laugh.

“Jamal told me the whole thing” The lady replies with a wink.

Lula blushes while Vince smirks.

“Your friend is very cute” She adds, while scanning their items “I’d have my hands full with her”

“Girl! If only you knew!” Lula sings in her best Patti LaBelle impression. “All these months and he still can’t handle my juicy fruit”

The lady giggles in delight at Lula singing and her outlandish outburst.

“Lula, you sure you want to play this game?” He asks as he packs their items into grocery bags. “No more aisle to run to babygirl.”

“Ooo big daddy is putting you in your place!” The lady shrieks.

Lula looks up at Vince with her best puppy dog expression, as she thanks the cashier before walking towards the exit.

Vince rolls the cart to his car and loads the bags in the trunk and back seat while Lula sits pretty in the passenger seat.

“Guess who wrote on the back of the receipt?” Vince shares. “Really?” She cheers as she snatches it from his hand to add the number to her contacts “I could see us playing together sometime.”

Vince smirks at her honestly as he rolls the cart back, before driving off.

“You good baby girl?” He asks

“Yes” she replies with a nods

“Are we good?” He checks again

“Not until you finish what you started” She teases “Now take me home Mr. Staples.” Vince chuckles as he drives off.

———

“You’re lucky I’m taking you home this time” He indicates as they pull in to her driveway “Next time we’re wandering again.”

He unpacks her grocery bags into her kitchen, embracing her as he moves to get back in the car.

“I’ll see you next month.”

“Nope, I will be seeing you in 2 weeks, need some work clothes and that means changing rooms” She winks, dashing inside before he can reply.

-fini-

#vince staples #fanfic #original character #vince staples x reader #tnblog #fem!reader #fluff #x reader #spotify #music #fanfiction #aaron pierre #erik killmonger smut #Vince staples fanfiction

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tl0715 · 7 years ago

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James Joint

Erik Killmonger X artsy black reader. Chapter 2

It’s been 2 weeks, since you’re trip from the UK. You had amazing trip, you network with so many fellow black artists. And you had some great content to work with on your blog. You were chilling, in your living room. Listening to Erykah Badu "Other side of the game," with sage burning.

You had no inspiration at the moment, to paint or draw. I mean you could take inspiration from your trip. But that wouldn’t be as fulfilling, so you looked through your photos on your iPhone X. Nothing, that’s worth a huge canvas because that’s the only size you had at the moment. You swipe some more, the photos you took at that art museum. "THE GUY," you thought out loud.

You looked through your contacts, Erik. His name is Erik. You decided to text him, you didn’t know how to start the message.

Hey Erik. You probably don’t remember me, but I’m the girl. You met at the Museum in London, and I wanted to know if u would still be up for me painting you?

Sent. You put your phone face down. Now all you do is wait, for a response..Your phone vibrated. You grabbed your phone,

I remember you. where you at though?

You read the message. 3 times, you were surprised that he asked you that. Yet catious because you don’t know this guy.

As in location..I live in L.A. That’s all I can say.

You responded. He might be beautiful but he could be a crazy person. You’re crazy yourself, but he might be a different kind of crazy.

...

Ah. We can meet up, so you get a better picture. I stay in L.A. also,

How about a Starbucks? If that’s cool?

. . .

Nah. I’ll send you a location.

You placed your phone face down. You’re kind of nervous about this meet up because, you’re meeting a "technically" stranger. You decided to get up from the couch, and hop in the shower, before you did that. You had to put on your playlist.

He sent you the location of the a coffee spot.

That was a essential, when you shower. You washed up, and co-wash your hair. With "Leaned out” by IAMDDB playing in the background of your hot shower. When the song ended, you got out the shower and dried off.

Which was different from, your usual routine. You prefer to air dried your hair and body, but since you had to be some where you used a towel only on your body though. You moisturize your brown skin with your "DIY" lotion. It was made out of fresh Aloe and unrefined coconut oil with your favorite essential oil lavender. You walked in your bedroom, and randomly picked something out your shirt drawer. Which was a green lace bralette and you paired it with some mom jeans.

Just when you were about to go, he sent you directions to a random coffee spot with the shrugging emoji. "Welp at least I haven’t started driving yet," you sighed. You slipped on your slides,

You arrived, at the place. You walked in, you seen the man sitting at a table isolated. You took a deep breath. Honestly you were kind of nervous. You’re coming in contact with this beautiful stranger again. You walked up to the table. "Is this seat taken?" You asked, with a awkward chuckle. He looked up,

"Nah,” He respond. You say across from him, "It’s nice seeing you again Erik." You smiled.

"Yeah."

"Oh shit. I forgot to introduce myself, that’s the first thing we need to get established. My name is Mazaa. But you can call me May." You said

"Mhm." You can pick up on his vibe, this is probably not something he usually does. It wasn’t for you either but it was different. "Sooo.. Erik I want to paint you and everything.

But I feel like it’s not as authentic, and dull if I don’t know anything about you. I feel like every piece tells a story, and I want to be able to capture that with my art." You looked at him, he was looking directly at you. Which made you a little uncomfortable. "I was wondering if you can tell me some things about you. Like where are you from? Your story."

He raised a eyebrow, "Erik. I know this might be weird but I’m really passionate about my art. I just want to tal-

"Ight." You were about to say something, but you closed your mouth. "Oakland. I’m from Oakland. I went to MIT, and did some quote on quote military shit."

You know he was being vague purposely. You can tell this man has a hard shell to crack. "I know that can’t be it?" You raised a eyebrow in confusion.

"Nah. It ain’t." He shrugged

Ok. He’s purposely being a dick, this is going to take longer than you expected.

"Ok. Erik, how about this? How about I tell you about me to make it easier and we can be on a level of acquaintance."

"Ight."

"Mazaa, is my name as I stated before. I’m 23. I went to Howard university and dropped out. I’m a artist. I own a blog that specifically gives a platform to black female artists. Uh, my mom was a Black American and my dad is from Ethiopia. I grew up in a one-parent aka my dad household." You explained. "See now you kn-

"What happened to your mom?" He asked.

"Well, she left my dad and I when I was two..My dad told me she couldn’t deal with the pressure of being a mother, so she left." You trailed off, quickly snapped out of your thoughts before they can drift off to the thoughts of your mom. "Well this isn’t about me. It’s about you Erik,"

"How about this? I take you out and then we discussed things we need to discuss." He smugly responded. You were taken back by the offer,

"Like a date?" I raised my eyebrow.

"Yeah something like that." He responded

"Alright. That’s fine,"

"Ok"

****

#erik killmonger #black panther fanfiction #erik killmonger fluff #soft boi erik #artsy

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killmongerskeepermain · 2 years ago

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Welcome To The Vibranium Vault

ღ Navigation ღ

Masterlist

Requests: Closed

FAQ

ღ About the Keeper ღ

Hey boos and baes. I'm the keeper but yall can call me Zae. I'm a 27 years old black writer and I enjoy writing fics when I don't have major writers block. My current fixation is Ghostface!Shuriri. That is all lol. I write fluff, smut and angst. Any further questions about what exactly I write can be found in my FAQ which it linked above. I am a bit shy when it comes to talking to others but I'd love to chat with anyone!

#poc reader #princess shuri #shuri black panther #shuri #queen shuri #shuri fanfiction #shuri fluff #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #shuri imagine #riri fluff #shuri x riri #riri williams #riri x reader #riri wiliams x reader #mcu shuri #black panther #erik killmonger #namor x black reader

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milescrypt · 26 days ago

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Monthly Recommendations

june 2025 s-series, o-oneshot

SINNERS

Remmick

The Man in the Woods : Remmick x Reader, peace and sultry love. o @fleurbly

Baked In Blood : Remmick x Reader, blood and pies. o @fleurbly

Forever, ever : Remmick x Reader, stop waiting for sorrow. o @fleurbly

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes

Thinking of You : Bucky Barnes x Reader, sobbing and bawling my eyes out. o @raven-dor

Same Changes : Xu Shang-Chi x Reader, it took us so long. o @thereoncewasagirlnamedjane

Kingdom Come : Erik Killmonger x Reader, you should’ve never left him. o @cherienymphe

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON / GOT

Aegon Targaryen

Stay away, or dont : Aegon Targaryen x Reader, what newton said. s @helaenaxyf

Protect me : Aegon Targaryen x Reader, let me leave please. o @helaenaxyf

Survival is Victory : Aegon Targaryen x Reader, what a pleasure. o @sylasthegrim

HARRY POTTER

Severus Snape

Used to love you : Severus Snape x Reader, we finally got a shot, lets make the most of it. o @loving-daisy

James Potter

Let Things Go : James Potter x Reader, figure put yourself and realise your true love. s @g1rld1ary

HUNGER GAMES

Haymitch Abernaty

The Winner Takes It All : Haymitch Abernaty x Reader, he wants you. s @nebulablakemurphy

A Change of Plans : Haymitch Abernaty x Reader, your relationship must work through it, will it though? s @onlybeeewrites

Bittersweet Symphony : Haymitch Abernaty x Reader, mentor to friend, or foe? s @maysileeewrites

Coriolanus Snow

Silver Roses and Fallen Snow : Coriolanus Snow x Reader, you must choose: love or life? or are they synonymous? s @lqveharrington

Finnick Odair

Of Your own : Finnick Odair x Reader, you guys finally have time for each other. o @slfglow

THE BEAR

Michael Berzatto

Can’t fix me : Michael Berzatto x Reader, you’re trying so hard. o @sweetsbelcva

Carmen Berzatto

Ramen : Carmen Berzatto x Reader, fluffy. o @catboymoonknight

FINAL DESTINATION

Erik Campbell (FD6)

You Better Run : Erik Campbell x Reader, he left you when you wanted a companion the most. s @deadbydemand

Breaking the Rules of Attraction : Erik Campbell x Reader, he came back. s @lucydixon

Bobby Campbell (FD6)

Night Shift : Bobby Campbell x Reader, what a dork. s @euqsia

STRANGER THINGS

Eddie Munson

Happy Together : Eddie Munson x Reader, he’ll do anything. o @oneforthemunny

MISC.

My Girl : Dean Winchester x Reader, jealousy and jealousy. o @dollilacs

Holy Ground : Tangerine x Reader, cute marriage fluff. o @pretty-little-mind33

Dirty Laundry : Jake Seresin x Reader, he needs you like he needs serotonin. s @geminiwritten

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madameaug · 8 months ago

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Updated Masterlist

Hello everyone! I guess you could say I am back. It feels good to write again! Just a little about me is that I am a nursing student. Nursing school is not for the weak, but I have completed another semester. Two done, two more to go! Anywayssss here's to the updated writing, lol.

Last Update: 5/19

BTS

Jeon Jungkook; fatherhood, fluff, girl dad, boxerkook, friends-lovers

Meet the Mod- Streamer Jungkook is curious about what his female modder looks like

Meet the Streamer- Streamer Jungkook and Mod Jennette meet face-to-face and hang out.

Leak?!- Jungkook and Jennette's sex tape gets leaked. Uh oh...

Mockingbird- Peanut is fussy and wants to be in her dad's arms.

40 weeks- Follow Jungkook and Jennette on their pregnancy journey and the birth of their daughter 'Peanut.'

To Our Daughter- Peanut's birth story

Teaser- The uncomfortable question arises, and the answer may hurt more than it heals.

Teaser Con- Jennette and Jungkook break up for good

3D- Jungkook is filming for his latest single with rapper Jack Harlow. When Jack Harlow takes a flirtatious approach to Jungkook's girl

My Mommy Said No- Peanut says no to a lollipop.

Piercings- Story of Peanut getting her ears pierced.

Work Wife- Jungkook's self-appointed "work-wife" oversteps boundaries.

What is it the Braids?- Jennette starts feeling herself with her new summer hairdo.

Request #1- Jungkook has an obsession with his girl's butt.

MARVEL

Erik "Killmonger" Stevens; fame, drama, protective, secrets, music

Good Kisser - Lola gives a performance to remember.

First Verse- Continuation of 'Good Kisser'

Scott Summers; mutant-rights, angst, love triangle, forbidden romance

Remember the Dream- It's been 10 years since the death of Charles Xavier. Where are the X-Men?

Uncanny- Continuation of 'Remember the Dream'

James "Bucky" Barnes; divorce/established relationship, angst, Captain America civil war, mental health

Promise Me- This occurs maybe about a year after the events of Captain America: Civil War. Reader and Bucky are getting a divorce.

Moments He Realized He Fell For You- As the title suggests

Johnny Storm; superhero, coming of age, university, opposites-attract

Finals Week, Or My Final Week- Johnny helps reader study for her organic chemistry final.

Office Hours- Johnny is getting tutoring and runs into you.

ONE-SHOTS/SPIN OFFS

BTS With Short Reader

Scandal- Their chemistry on screen is just undeniable

One of Your Girls- Reader is delusional, she needs to stand up

Turkey Turkey- Insight into Jungkook and Jennette's Thanksgiving

Woman Crush Wednesday- A time in which Jennette was jealous and does not hide it well

Matcha Tea- Jimin is on a matcha date with Althea (OC)

Jimin x Althea- Headcannons

Reunion- Hobi x Nala (black plus size fem)

Constant Bullshit- Yoongi x Music artists (OC)

Daycare Moments- Jungkook and Jennette dropping Peanut off at daycare

Wash Day- Jimin experiences reader's wash day routine

BTS Imagine- inspired off a TikTok

Creep- A Peter Parker drabble to 'Creep' by Radiohead

Knocked Out- Adonis Creed x Black Stallion Reader

#madameaug #black writers #black oc #jungkook x jennette #bts #jungkook x black oc #erik killmonger #erik stevens x black oc #killmonger x black oc #bucky x black!reader #bucky x black fem reader #marvel x black!reader

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galatially · 20 days ago

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𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 july 18-july 22

so i didn't pay attention but i have 500 followers now! the past four years of being fandom have been memorable (at times, very eye opening lol) and it's truly pushed me as a writer so i just wanted to thank everybody that's been on this ride with me (and anyone that wants to join) with a little celly! below the cut are guidelines and events! i love y'all so much!

𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝐬!

𝐄𝑽𝑬𝑹𝒀𝑶𝑵𝑬:

➻ send me a 🎵 and we can talk about music! artists you like right now, artists i'm listening to, you name it!

➻ send me a 📖 and i'll recommend a fic i'm obsessed with!

➻ send me a 🖋️ and i'll send you some of my favorite lines i've written!

➻ send me a 📝 + 🧸 for a fluff drabble for a character of your choosing!

➻ send me a 📝 + 🥵 for a smutty drabble for a character of your choosing!

➻ send me a 📝 + 😈 for a dark, smutty drabble of your choosing!

➻ send me a 💜 and i'll cast you as my favorite song + why. if you're a nonnie, tell me what songs i remind you of!

𝐌𝑼𝑻𝑼𝑨𝑳𝑺:

➻ send me a 💌 and i'll write you a love letter!

➻ send me a 🎤 and i'll make you a playlist of songs that remind me of you!

➻ send me a 🌸 and i'll tell you about my first impression of you!

➻ send me a 🌟 and i'll tell you all of my favorite things about you!

𝐂𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑰'𝑴 𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑭𝑶𝑹: 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋* (BUCKY BARNES, JOAQUÍN TORRES, SAM WILSON, STEVE ROGERS, ERIK STEVENS, GAMBIT, PETER PARKER), 𝐃𝐂* (JASON TODD, DICK GRAYSON, BATMAN, SUPERMAN, WALLY WEST, LUKE FOX), 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 (UZUI TENGEN, HIMEJIMA GYOMEI, TOMIOKA GIYUU, HAGANEZUKA HOTARU, RENGOKU KYOJURO), 𝐉𝐉𝐊 (FUSHIGURO TOJI, SATORU GOJO, KENTO NANAMI, SUGURU GETO, KAMO CHOSO, HIGURUMA HIROMI, RYOMEN SUKUNA), 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐍 (VASH THE STAMPEDE, NICHOLAS D. WOLFWOOD, MILLION KNIVES), 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 (SMOKESTACK TWINS), 𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 (AIZAWA SHŌTA, TAISHIRO TOYOMITSU, CHISAKI KAI), 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐓 (DR. MICHAEL "ROBBY" ROBINAVITCH, DR. JACK ABBOTT, DR. PARKER ELLIS, DR. DENNIS WHITAKER), 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐘𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 (SESSHOMARU, KOGA, BANKOTSU), 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐘 (GREGORY, MANNY, O'SHON), 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑 (MICHAEL BERZATTO, CARMEN BERZATTO, MARCUS BROOKS, LUCA), 𝐂𝐎𝐃 (GAZ, KÖNIG, SOAP, PRICE, GHOST), 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂 (RHETT ABBOTT, RAFE CAMERON, BEN MEARS, TYLER OWENS, SCOTT MILLER, ARI LEVINSON)

NO PRESSURE TAGS: @cocoamoonmalfoy @cherrybear712 @targaryenvampireslayer @superhoeva @stargirlfics @navybrat817 @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @cutebbyprincess @emjayewrites @a-lumos-in-the-nox @xoxoviva @violetmuses @cosmicamor

*ALL COMIC BOOKS CHARACTERS WILL BE COMIC-CANON SPECIFIC EXCEPT FOR KILLMONGER

#𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𝟓𝟎𝟎 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒚 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 #follower celebration

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queen-of-the-avengers · 1 year ago

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Taking A Chance

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You go and get a tattoo done by the grumpiest of tattoo artists.

Squares Filled: tattoo shop au (2021) for @lokibingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Why am I being such a pussy? Just go in and ask for it. I’ve wanted this for a year. God, if my mother could see me now, she’d be disappointed.

You look up at the tattoo shop’s sign and see the last letter flickering on and off. You have the money. You can get this tattoo done. All you have to do is go in and ask for it. This is the second time you’ve been outside this tattoo shop because you couldn’t go in the first time. It’s not a fear of pain; you can handle pain pretty well. It’s the fear of something being permanent on your body.

You won’t be able to take this off. Anyone who says lasering it off works is wrong. There will always be a scar to remind you of the mistake you made. Stop being such a baby. This is for Mom. This place has been highly rated as one of the best tattoo shops in your town. If you’re going to get a tattoo, may as well go to the best.

You push the door open and walk inside only to be greeted with a hint of smoke and a lot of Axe body spray. Four very attractive men stand behind the counter just chatting amongst themselves. You’ve seen them in town before. They often frequent the local bar so you know exactly who they are.

Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Erik Killmonger (pretty sure that’s not his legal last name), and Clint Barton. As soon as they hear the small bell above the door go off, they stop talking and look at you.

“Can I help you?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, I’d like to get a tattoo today, if possible.”

“Did you have anything in mind?”

You hand Steve the paper you’ve been saving since your mom died. She drew a delicate vine of her favorite flowers, orchids. She was always a good artist so she drew this as a reminder of her before she died. It’s very precise and delicate line work, and the only person who can do this kind of style is Loki Laufeyson.

“The only person who can do this kind of work is Loki. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” Speaking of, Loki walks out with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and a lighter in his hand. “Loki, care to help this pretty lady out?”

He shows Loki the picture but the artist barely gives it to two seconds of his attention.

“No. I’m going for a smoke.”

He has a thick British accent that’s hard not to blush at.

“Sorry, kid,” Steve says and hands back the picture to you.

“No, it’s okay,” you glare at Loki who has yet to leave the room. “I get it. His lungs are as bad as his tattoo skills.”

All four men snicker from your jab while Loki finally locks eyes with you. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, pockets it and the lighter, and opens the back door with a slight smirk.

“Fine. Right this way, Darling.” He takes you to his section of the shop which is pristine and very clean. He douses a few squirts of hand sanitizer on his hands before getting out the necessary equipment. “Where do you want it?”

“My ribs.”

“Is this your first?”

“Yes.”

“You want your first tattoo to be on your ribs? That’s gonna hurt.”

“I can take pain,” you glare.

His mouth twitches as he looks you up and down. After a beat, he nods and sits down on his wheelie chair.

“Shirt off,” he demands.

You do but keep your bra on. You made sure to wear something loose like a bralette that still keeps everything covered but won't be a hindrance to the place where you want the tattoo. You get onto the table and lay on your back, putting the side you want it on closer to Loki.

Loki gets set up and prints a stencil of the drawing you have. After putting it in the place you want it and confirming you like it there, he starts the tattooing process. The pain is sharp like a thousand needles being placed into your body at once, but it’s a dull pain compared to some of the other things you had to endure in life.

Loki has his left gloved hand on your body to keep you still while his right moves the needles right where he wants it. You don’t know where else to stare but at him, observing the way his eyes rake over your body to his hands which are delicate against your skin.

You had a full meal before you got here but this is making your head spin. It’s not because of the needles, it’s Loki. You’ve never met anyone like him. You basically insulted him to get what you want. Loki doesn’t have many clients because they always say the same thing: he’s rude, arrogant, and only accepts what he wants to do, not the other way around.

However, when you challenged him earlier, he knew you were someone he wanted to tattoo. Not only that, but he wants to get to know you. He's not a big talker so he doesn’t know what to say to you, and you’re not going to pry into his personal life like that. You squirm a bit from the pain, and he places his large hand over your stomach to keep you from moving.

“Be a good girl and stop moving unless you want me to fuck up,” he says and looks at you.

You quickly look away in hopes he didn’t see you checking him out, and you nod.

“Sorry.”

You peek at him to see a smirk on his face indicating that he did, in fact, catch you. You don’t want any color so the process doesn’t take long. He’s done with the tattoo in less than three hours since it’s only line work, and he rubs off the excess moisture so he can apply a patch of SecondSkin. Before he does it, you admire his work in the mirror.

See that, Mom? I’ll always have a piece of you with me wherever I go. I miss you. I love you.

“How do you like it?”

“It’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” he scoffs.

“Better than your lungs, I assume,” you smirk.

There you go again, making him want you more. He chuckles as he grabs the SecondSkin and cuts a piece off. He applies it directly over your tattoo and smooths it out.

“Come back in tomorrow where I’ll clean it and replace it with another patch of SecondSkin. Then, come back in a week and I’ll remove it for good. It should be healed then.”

“Okay,” you whisper and put your shirt back on.

“If you ever want more, call me,” he smirks.

He hands you his business card with his personal phone number on it.

“If you’re lucky,” you smirk and leave his office to pay in the front with Steve.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time,” Bucky says from the doorway.

“Shut up,” Loki grumbles but smiles when he hears your laughter come from the front of the shop.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#loki #loki x reader #loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki fiction #loki fan fiction #loki fan fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel fan fiction #marvel #mcu fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel fiction

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faestunna · 2 months ago

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ᯓ˚⊹ requests & rules

under the cut are the rules to my writing and requests. this is an 18+ blog that has sexual and dark content. minors are not permitted to send requests.

requests are: temporarily closed

rules

this is an 18+ blog (mdni)

i use a fem!reader insert unless specified otherwise

i will not write non-con; message or reach out to me about dub-con or other dark content.

while i am a woc, i will not write a specified race for reader inserts unless upon further discussion.

i do not write every day. requests will take some time to complete. see my request timeline for more info!

i have the right to refuse a request if i’m not comfortable with it.

requests must follow these guidelines. if i receive a request that does not, i will not reply to it.

⭑ send a request here ⭑

what i write

type: one shots, two shots, blurbs, headcanons, series

genre: smut, fluff, angst

check out my request timeline where i explain how long a request will take!

who is write for

don’t be afraid to ask for someone i haven’t mentioned!

jack o’connell & characters

remmick, oliver mellors, lion kaminski, roy goode, james cook, patrick sumner

michael b jordan & characters

elijah (smoke) moore, elias (stack) moore, adonis creed, erik killmonger

david corenswet & characters

superman/clark kent

chris evans & characters

steve rogers, andy barber, ransom drysdale

sebastian stan & characters

bucky barnes

pedro pascal & characters

oberyn martell, agent whiskey, din djarin, joel miller

#account rules #fanfic requests #minors dni #mdni blog #blog rules #request rules #pinned post #rules and guidelines #account guidelines

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themculibrary · 1 year ago

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What If...? (TV Show) Masterlist 2

part one

All For Rhodey (ao3) - lapsedpacifist T, 1k

Summary: Rhodey’s death tore Tony’s heart apart better than any explosion ever could. Erik’s betrayal and subsequent murder attempt was just the cherry on top.

Good thing Tony had been experimenting with a neat little virus called Extremis, something he got his hands on in a rather… unethical manner. Not anything worth mentioning to Erik at the time.

An Endless War (ao3) - Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye) loki/natasha T, 23k

Summary: The Watcher dropped Natasha Romanoff into a world where she had died. It is very similar to the world she lost, with very significant differences. She's not about to let this world go down the same path that hers did, and will do whatever it takes to save it. Including dealing with a war criminal.

Animals (ao3) - fruitlicense T, 3k

Summary: The zombie apocalypse has arrived. The Avengers have fallen. How is Bucky Barnes processing all of this?

When it first starts, Bucky is numb.

Between the Acres of the Rye (ao3) - doctorhelena steve/peggy T, 5k

Summary: “Hey, Barnes stole a jeep! Come on, Steve, let's go! You, too, Carter.”

don't leave me here (ao3) -buries wanda/vision M, 11k

Summary: "I want to stay with you," Wanda said, cupping the nape of his neck. "Please. Just for a moment."

"You can stay with me for as long as you like, darling," Vision smiled. "Anything you want, anything you desire—I will give it to you."

She smiled and lowered her head toward his. "Good," she murmured against his lips. "You’re not allowed to leave me."

"Then I suppose I shan't," he chuckled.

—

Wanda refuses to accept Vision is dead.

Earth's New Defenders (ao3) - kittyhazelnut T, 5k

Summary: The Earth just lost its mightiest heroes.

Worse than that, though; they lost Thor Odinson, and Loki can’t help but feel like it’s all his fault.

fault line (ao3) - BabaTunji T, 1k

Summary: Erik gets an idea and against all odds, it works.

Have I Told You Lately I'm Grateful You're Mine (ao3) - Spacecadet72 steve/peggy T, 1k

Summary: “Do you ever think about what it would have been like if you had gotten the serum instead of me?”

his crown lit up the way (ao3) - meidui steve/thor T, 1k

Summary: At the soft, bewildered age of eighteen, Steve's mouth is the first thing Thor feels a stirring desire to conquer.

The king-to-be was never meant to fall for a thief, but there, with only wildflowers and the beaming sun to bear witness, he became helplessly and forever enamoured.

Out of Luck and Losing Touch (ao3) - CuteAsAMuntin stephen/christine G, 1k

Summary: The Sorceror Supreme has responsibilities. Stephen Strange doesn’t care anymore.

Realignment (ao3) - terribletressym T, 2k

Summary: Natasha finds that acclimating to an entirely new reality takes some doing.

savage (ao3) - graveltotempo erik/tony T, 23k

Summary: What if... Killmonger rescued Tony Stark?

And what if... it did not go exactly as he expected it to go?

Survivor (ao3) - Melime T, 1k

Summary: The whole universe died, and Natasha remained. She couldn't save anyone, but she could avenge them. The only thing she didn't expect was that she would get to fight Ultron and survive.

taste of the sky (ao3) - brainyisalwayssexy nebula/t'challa T, 1k

Summary: T'Challa and Nebula have a quick catch-up on his first day back on Earth. Oneshot. Fluff.

That World, That Time (ao3) - includewomeninthesequel steve/peggy T, 9k

Summary: After discovering the Hydra Stomper on the Lumerian Star, Peggy searches for answers while trying to figure out who to trust.

The Bite and the Snap (ao3) - Marcus_S_Lazarus T, 8k

Summary: When the last living people on Earth arrive in Wakanda, everything seems lost… until the last of the original Avengers returns to vanquish another foe.

The Morning After (ao3) - Emerald_Seidr (emeraldseidr) darcy/loki, one-sided darcy/howard the duck T, 976

Summary: Darcy's been known to make some really stupid choices in her life. But this? This takes the cake.

Aka, what happened the morning after Darcy married a goddamn duck.

Weaker than Ever (ao3) - brodiew steve/peggy N/R, 1k

Summary: Steve Rogers is frustrated after losing the chance to be a hero. The fledgling romance with Peggy that was sure to flourish as a super soldier now seemed in ruins. Peggy was bigger, faster, and stronger. Steve felt smaller, more sickly, weaker, and damn jealous.

you know me (better than I know myself) (ao3) - svgurl410 T, 2k

Summary: Steve's not sure who he is. But he knows her. Peggy.

You Know They're Bragging About Your Sugar (ao3) - tinkertoysdamn gamora/peter T, 2k

Summary: After freeing Sakaar, Tony sticks around for one last mission to help Gamora then he almost wishes he hadn't.

#themculibrary #masterlists #marvel #mcu #what if...?#what if...? masterlist

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pantherandtheseagod · 1 year ago

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#fanfiction #namor x shuri #shuri x namor #mcu namor #princess shuri #seaprincess

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tallulahneale · 6 months ago

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Title: Intimate Friends

Pairing: Vince staples x fem!reader (Lula)

Summary: Lula and Vince get high, a heavy topic comes up that leads them being closer than close. (Shoutout to @bendoverboo for the inspo)

NB: I made some changes; Vince has asthma so he doesn’t smoke.

Warnings: Sexual content, 18+

Word count: 3k

Part 2

Part 1 Working from home was the best decision Lula made today, it’s Friday! Washday was done last week, fridge fully stocked and brownies are in the oven baking. She had not seen Vince since he moved out of his condo in Long beach to a place in Anahiem Hills. His IG was so lowkey that he didn't even post a room tour, but from their facetime calls the house looked huge!

She was going to be the best houseguest ever, with a cute little aloe plant and a tray of brownies. Reminiscing, she felt a little nervous as her last experience with edibles left her flustered and throbbing for 7 hours straight. I will pace myself this time, she thinks to herself.

Wearing her purple mitts, she carefully removes the hot baking tray from the oven and places it on the counter to cool down while she gets dressed.

She hops in the shower, using her dove vanilla body wash and tahitian bean body scrub. The scent travels through the bathroom and sits lightly on her skin. Air drying and unwrapping her silk press she moisturises with cocoa bean bodybutter, Who needs underwear? she giggles to herself as she slips into a knitted dress and everyday flats.

Once dressed she moves back to the kitchen, only to be stopped by her phone ringing.

“New nails, who this?”

“Hilarious” Vince deadpans “Lula Tallulah, you still coming over?”

“Of course! With a surprise too!” She beams.

“Unless it’s a gift card, I don’t want it.”

“Ewww, you still collecting gift cards? Oldie.” she snickers.

“I am a practical man” he says shrugging his shoulders, “Anyway, call me when you get here, don’t want my neighbors getting blind from your uncuteness.”

“Boy you know that’s a bold face lie, I’ll see you in 20!”

She hangs up, packs her LV mini pochette with lipgloss, phone, house keys and heads to the kitchen. The brownie tray is much cooler now allowing her to make square slices and sorting them in plastic containers. After she cleans up, Lula looks around to make sure she has everything. With the aloe plant in hand and the container in a bag she heads out.

She follows the waze map and pulls into his driveway. As she steps out, she looks around in awe at the neighborhood.

“Oooo he got moneyyy!” she giggles, the Quinta Bronson vine runs through her mind.

“Quit playing and come inside” Vince shakes his head standing at the open doorway. She jumps not expecting him to hear her, but laughs even harder as she steps through the door. The house has a distinct warm and homely feel with the signature scent of Vince; honey, sandalwood and a subtle peppermint undertone. 'The scent of a man' she nods to herself. He gives her a mini tour of his house, from the entrance to the garden and his creative workspace.

“Your place is so homely and comfortable Vince. I like it much more than your old apartment”, she adds handing him the gift of a house plant and the container of brownies.

“It’s not a gift card, but I’ll take” He collects them and leads her to the kitchen.

“Thank you Lula” expressing his gratitude, he hugs Lula and her scent engulfs his senses. “Mhmm, you smell really good.”

Lula looks up at him shyly, as she reluctantly pulls away from the embrace, already missing his body heat somehow. She walks around the kitchen trying to distant herself from the building tension and checks the fridge for a distraction.

“Ooo you got peach iced tea and pure pressed apple juice, my favourite!”

“Yeah you put me on that and I’m forever grateful” Vince admits with a nod “none of that piss-colored GMO slop.”

Just as Lula reaches for the bottle, Vince steps behind her to grab two glasses. She subtly leans back into him as she feels his presence, Vince purposefully leans forward to steal the attention of her scent once more.

“Hey, I’m down here Vince!” she fake shouts, feeling a tingly sensational in her lower tummy and feather-like tickles on her toes.

“My bad babygirl, you sure you’re 5’8?” He snickers as he glances down at her before moving to grab a plate for the brownies. Lula shivers and follows him to the counter, she brushes her ample chest against his upper arms as she saunters to where he is stood.

“You pressing up on me makes me feel things Vince” Lula whispers as she tip-toes to breathe onto the curve of his ear “Hope you know you got the right one…”

Vince blinks twice as he takes in what she said, watching her leisurely stroll away in the temptingly far-from-innocent dress. ‘Wait, is she wearing panties?’ He thinks to himself staring extra hard with each step taken.

“Fuck me” he mutters to himself.

“Did you say something?” Lula asks as she sits on the loveseat, flicking through Spotify for a neo-soul playlist.

Vince doesn’t respond and stays composed taking two slices of the brownies and a jug for the apple juice to the centre table. He places the treats down and lounges on the armrest, right beside Lula.

“Since you're being brave today” Vince says, taking a deep breath to enjoy her scent and watch the dilation of her pupils “I said, Fuck. Me.” He stares at Lula with a smouldering gaze as he smirks.

———————

There was a shift in the room, Vince and Lula could feel the thickness of the air as the tension built, raising goosebumps on their skin as the soothing melody of Ari Lennox plays in the background.

No one says a word.

Lula takes a shallow breath in, as she snacks on her brownie slice already feeling the mellow vibe. Vince has an arm spread across the headrest of the couch, his hand just a few inches from caressing her clavicle and the other on his phone mindlessly scrolling. She can feel her centre pulsating with thoughts of the two words he had spoken, her mind runs wild and she clenches her thighs together feeling the telltale signs of wetness.

‘Is he going to touch me?’ She thinks to herself as she glances at his hand perched on the headrest. Lula watches his fingers play with the fabric, ‘manly hands’ she thinks to herself, quickly looking away.

From the corner of his eyes, Vince catches her watching his subtle movements as she squirms on the couch and plays with the hem of her dress as it rests across her mid thigh.

“These brownies are really good Lula, you change the recipe or something?” He tries to get her to look at him, hoping she can feel the passion radiating from his fixed gaze.

“Thank you” she says softly as she quickly meets his eyes then looks away “Yeah I used a little less cannabutter this time… maybe that’s why.”

“Yeah, might be it. I’m feeling real good babygirl. Real good.” he repeats nodding at her.

She stays quiet.

“Vinc-”

“Lu-”

She looks up at him as there sharing a comfortable smile and Vince nods for her to speak.

“Go on Lula”

“… I-I want to ask you a question” she stutters nervously.

“If it’s about the wall art, please do not” he jokes, easing her nerves. She relaxes and rolls her eyes,

“Now that you mentioned it, who would pay you to paint.”

“That was not a question babygirl”

“You’re distracting me” she mutters but continues “I want to ask you about platonic cuddling”

“What do you mean?”

“Imagine holding a stuffed bear, but instead of a bear…”

“It’s a person” he finishes her sentence, wondering where she is going with this.

“Have you ever thought about” she takes a quiet breath in, “… you know… cuddling with a friend?”

He smirks, as he runs the back of his fingers across her shoulder and up the side of her neck. Lula trembles as she feels her nipples tighten, leaning into his gentle touch.

“Do you mean cuddling with you?” Vince asks, he has never been the type to beat around the bush. Lula plays with the hem of her dress and whispers a small “Yes”, as she turns to curl her legs up on the couch. This innocent action hikes up her dress even more, enough to keep her pussy covered but the scent of her wet musk melts into the air as she faces him.

“Lula if we were to just cuddle, would you like that?” He asks moving his fingertips over her pulse, tracing lines around the back of her neck.

“Y-Yeah, you’re cool and we kno-“

“Listen to the question babygirl, just cuddling?” He emphasises as he stops his gentle caress and places his hand back on the headrest “A hug while laying down.”

Lula feels unspoken words catch in her throat and as he moves his hand back to the couch, a soft whimper desperately make its way out. Vince shifts closer to her, not touching or reaching out but making sure she feels his presence. From his scent to his aura to the feel from the cannabutter, she whines.

“You don’t want a platonic cuddle do you?”

“No” she replies softly

“Do you want me to reach across and caress you?”

“Yes” she nods feverishly

“Okay then” Vince whispers as he leans closer to her “when you're ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.”

From her position he can see the intersection of her thighs meeting her centre. As he takes a deep breath in, he welcomes the hint of her vanilla scent and the taste of her musk as it drifts up into the air, teasing his senses once more. Lula freezes feeling hot bothered and frustrated,

“Don’t play with me like that, I’m ready to talk Vince”

“You sure?”

“Yes yes I’m sure” she replies hurriedly. Vince has a look of satisfaction in his eyes as he beckons her to continue.

“I want us to cuddle” she pleads “and I want you to touch me more”

“Where baby, you need to talk”, he replies, coaxing her to share her hidden secrets. Lula hesitates before making up her mind.

“Can I show you instead?” She whispers. Vince feels his dick stiffen at her tone, not knowing what she has in mind but excited to see what she will do.

Lula gently reaches for his hand, as she widens her legs, creating an opening for him. She positions it between her thighs and up to her wetness.

“I want you to touch me here” she says breathlessly, his hand is tucked close to her sweet spot as his fingertips press against her wet slit.

Vince breathes heavily. His mind is racing, his stiffening bulge grows and with what his fingers are feeling, makes him want to suck her dry.

“Why you ain’t wearing any panties babygirl?” Vince leans forward, running his fingers up to her clit and back down to the pool of wetness. Teasingly brushing at her lower lips, he sucks on her neck and grazes her pulse with his teeth.

“Answer me or this ends here and I will leave you soaking wet with nothingness.”

“I don’t know” She moans, basking in the feel of his voice against her ear and fingers soothing her ache. She desperately grinds against his hand, building more friction not wanting it to end.

“You have one chance to answer me, don’t get yourself in trouble” Vince warns, ghosting his thumb across her sensitive nub.

She whimpers at this, his lips sucking at the juncture of her neck as his tongue dampens the skin. Her eyes flutter and squeeze as she indulges in the teasing of his fingers at her dripping centre.

“Please Vince” Lula begs, too shy to confess that she didn’t wear panties because she wanted to see how far she could push him. She could not let him know this, but begin left untouched was far worse. Without warning, Vince pulls his lips away from her neck and she quivers. As he begins to slither his hand from between her thighs, she squeezes them to keep it trapped.

“Wait!” she whines “I just wondered if anything could happen between us.”

With his hand secured at her centre, he firmly rubs up her slit and pushes past her folds. Dipping into the source of her waterfall, she clenches her teeth and her eyes drifts to his fierce gaze.

“So you come to my house, with no panties” his fingers glide against the tight walls of her pussy “with no bra” he cups her breast while sucking at a the nipple through the fabric “and expect to platonically cuddle?”

Vince smirks up at her as he sees a look of submission in Lula that is unlike anything. He is intrigued. He lounges back against the armrest of the couch, his fingers teasingly move away from her sweet spot. She whimpers as he stares into her soul sucking them clean.

“Lula”

“Yeah” her voice is barely a whisper.

“This is not how platonic cuddling starts” Vince stated as he gathers the composure to stand up from the couch, turning towards the direction of his room.

“Vince wait-“

“Why you still sitting down? Come with me Tallulah” Vince beckons as he holds out his hand towards her.

“You came here for something, right babygirl?” she nods “Good. I’m going to give you much more.”

On shaken legs like a new born calf, she follows Vince down the hallway to his room.

———-

Next chapter is a home run!

Hope y'all enjoyed part 1 shoutout to @bendoverboo18!

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