#erik killmonger imagine

[cherienymphe]

Kingdom Come

Erik Killmonger x Reader

Warnings: DUB-CON (bordering Non-Con), mentions of toxic relationship, stalking, implied kidnapping

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies |

summary: You left Erik once, and he goes above and beyond to ensure that doesn't happen again.

𓇼

⠀

The sound of the ocean waves—something that took a lot of getting used to at first—were now the driving force behind your calm moods these days. Another nightmare had forced you to wake up drenched in sweat, and the only reason you’d been able to slow your breathing was because of the familiar whoosh of ocean water outside of your window.

You didn’t grow up by the water—wasn’t raised anywhere near it—and that sound quickly reminded you that you were far away from home, far away from anywhere familiar, and it filled you with relief. You now spent your days somewhere you would’ve once never considered living, and that was good because it meant no one from your former life would consider it a place for you to live either.

…and they wouldn’t come looking.

You watched the tea kettle heat up with your back pressed to the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Your satin robe stuck to your skin from the thin layer of sweat that still clung to it. Your heart had long stopped racing, but despite that, goosebumps still littered your arms, and you rubbed your hands up and down them. Despite how safe your mind assured you that you were, your body just refused to agree.

The low lighting in the kitchen was the only warm glow that filled the modest house, and you rubbed your head as you turned to get a mug. When you briefly closed your eyes, dark ones appeared in your mind, and you wondered when—after two years—you’d finally stop conjuring him up.

The face belonging to Erik Stevens was one you hadn’t seen in years, but that name was one you never not thought about. Not only had he been a part of your life for too long to just forget him, but the lasting impact he left made him impossible to ignore. You were literally hiding out in a foreign country under a different name surrounded by people you didn’t know because of that man.

There were days where you cursed yourself for ever getting involved with him—recalling your initial thoughts of him and how he looked like trouble—but Erik had a charm that was hard to resist. With a pretty face framed by locs and gold that winked at you whenever he smiled, he wasn’t the kind of man you’d ever be brave enough to bring home, and you had long reluctantly admitted the part that played in his appeal.

He was kind of dangerous…and you’d liked that.

Until it wasn’t random men on the street he was threatening…but you.

The whistle of the kettle pulled you from your thoughts, and you jumped at the sound. You ignored how your hands shook as you poured yourself a cup of tea, exhaling an uneven breath with thoughts of your ex boyfriend on the brain. You never thought that sleeping with the guy who was just way out of your league would change the trajectory of your life. You thought it’d make for a good story to tell to your friends and maybe even a niece or two one day.

You didn’t think that he’d keep coming back, knocking on your apartment door throughout all hours of the night, that plump bottom lip jutted out as you attempted to put your foot down—something something boundaries and respect and all that jazz. The brown-skinned man would slowly blink at you, silently telling you that he wasn’t hearing a word you were saying. The corner of his lips would quirk up into that haughty smirk—something only worn by a man who knew he was going to get what he wanted—and he’d push himself off of the wall, straightening to his full height.

“So you want me to leave?”

The question never sounded sincere, because it wasn’t, and Erik would look down his nose at you while you shuffled your feet, one hand still on the door as you fought with yourself over whether or not to close it in his face. It was useless though because you never not let him in.

You never not took a step back and watched him stride through your door like he owned the place and you with it. You never not watched him peel his jacket off, your own arms crossed over your chest as you committed to being angry for far longer than you actually were. It made you feel like less of a weak willed woman. That too was useless though because its not like you ever stopped him when he turned to you and pulled you closer.

It did no good pretending to be mad when the night always ended the same way.

Erik with his arms around your waist and you with your legs around his.

He was always gone in the morning, until the day he wasn’t, and you couldn’t find it in you to be upset about him sticking around. You actually kind of liked it, and that had scared you. He wasn’t supposed to be there in the mornings, and you weren’t supposed to be asking him if he wanted anything as you stood by the stove. Erik Stevens was not boyfriend material, and yet…

That’s what he became.

Even now, years later, you still weren’t quite sure how that even happened. You didn’t know how you ended up sharing an apartment and picking things up at the store for him and sinking into the warm scented bath water he’d draw for you. You didn’t know how you ended up obeying whenever he’d look at you with those dark eyes before softly demanding a kiss. You didn’t know how you’d started letting him circle his hand around your neck while he was fucking you, pulling words and promises out of you that you’d never say in any other circumstance.

It was something you still couldn’t make sense of, and you desperately needed to if you ever wanted to prevent it from happening again.

“Erik Stevens isn’t your average man off the street…”

That was what they told you when they sat you down in some room that was too bright only hours after showing up at your doorstep. All of it had been too much information to fully retain, but you’d processed the important parts. Erik was military—a SEAL to be more exact—and not just a SEAL but also the kind of man who occasionally dropped off the face of the earth to take out important people. It was a nice way of calling him an assassin, and you remembered how sick you’d felt sitting in that chair, recalling the feel of running your fingers over every raised abrasion along his skin whenever he had his hands on you.

“Is this some frat thing I just haven’t heard of?” you’d jokingly wondered one day.

Erik had simply turned to look at you, a hint of a smile on his lips and a hidden joke in his gaze.

“Nah,” he’d drawled. “They just represent something important to me. Milestones I guess you could say.”

Your determination to be open minded had you relaxing in the arms of a killer—a proud one who wore the name KIllmonger with no shame.

Even still, you hadn’t understood what any of that had to do with you. At that point, you and Erik had been broken up for months, something that hadn’t been easy for you to do. Not just because some part of you still wanted him at the end, but also because a huge part of you was terrified of him. You hadn’t realized that his anger and possessiveness were low on the list of reasons why you should be afraid of him.

“This man is dangerous…and the way you parted ways was…less than amicable to say the least…”

You still hadn’t put the pieces together.

“...and the U.S Government is unable to locate him.”

Winding up in something akin to witness protection because the U.S Government had lost one of their own best ‘assets’ had not been something you ever saw for yourself. To this day, you wondered why the one questionable guy you took a chance on turned out to be far more than just the average jealous asshole.

As you sipped your tea, you thought about the last time you were with him, the way your voice trembled as you stood up to him, telling him it was over. You rubbed your arm, recalling the tight grip he had on it, his voice cold and clipped as he asked you if you realized what you were saying.

“You wanna leave me?” he’d asked, head dipped and brows raised like he wanted to make sure you knew that was what you wanted to do.

You could see then that he’d wanted to fight you on it—probably wanted to do a whole lot more than that—but no one had been more shocked than you when he simply let you go with a soft “a’ight” before gesturing to the door. Everything you wanted to take had been removed while he was out, and you’d been surprised at how sad you weren’t to glance around at the apartment now empty of your stuff.

That was the last time you’d been face to face with Erik Stevens.

Until now.

When the cup that was once in your hands shattered against the floor, you paid no mind to the slight sting of hot tea and ceramic shards hitting your bare feet. Your attempt to turn and leave the kitchen had been thwarted, a tall and broad figure standing just before you in the entrance. The sight of the shadowy figure made your heart drop and your blood run cold. The only light from the kitchen wasn’t enough to reveal him completely, but you’d always been able to recognize him in the dark.

He enjoyed scaring you.

For the first time in your life, your mind went blank, finally understanding that phrase as your lips parted. No sound came out—from neither you or him—and you were sure that the sight of you two just standing in the dark and staring at each other would’ve been comical if you weren’t terrified out of your mind. The figure finally moved to tilt his head, his only movement as it leaned to the left just a tad, and the angle made the light glint off of his eyes in a way that made your stomach churn.

You were quick to search for the big light.

You sharply inhaled at the sight of him, confirming what you already knew. He looked the same and different all at once. He was still handsome and tall and wore that expression like you were just so silly to him. However, his hair was longer and the bands of muscle that were his arms were thicker, and he stood with an assuredness that you didn’t like, at all. The flashy gold tooth necklace resting on his collarbone caught the light, and your eyes were briefly drawn to it.

You traced it, a frown taking residence on your face as your gaze kept going. The casual clothes you were used to seeing him in were nowhere in sight, and you took note of the dark attire he was wearing and its patterns. He looked nice—regal one might say—and you swallowed, a very bad feeling festering deep in your stomach.

“What? You got nothing to say to me?”

Hearing his voice for the first time in years brought up a whole lot of emotions you’d tried and failed to bury. You were reminded of his voice in your ear as he woke you up in the mornings or even when he was whispering the filthiest of things against your skin as he kissed his way down it. But you also remembered the angry tone of it when he was interrogating you about some guy who’d waved at you or was questioning your feelings for him.

You remembered loving him and craving him…but you also remembered how terrified he made you feel.

At that, you took a step back—almost dazed—and the man before you kissed his teeth.

“You still on that bullshit, huh.”

Those words—filled with so much dismissal and arrogance—finally made you find your voice.

“What are you doing here?” you gasped, your question coming out choked. “How did…?”

When Erik finally moved, half of him was bathed in the shadows from the rest of the house, and the kitchen light hit his eye again in the way it did before. It glinted dangerously, almost like a feline if you didn’t know any better, and you took another step back. Erik followed your movements intensely, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“How…” he tested the word in his mouth, humming. “How is never as important as why.”

You weren’t amused by whatever he was playing at, and that crooked smile only grew.

“So serious,” he mocked, moving to fold his hands behind his back as he looked you up and down, and you hated the way he swiped his tongue between his lips as he did so. “You’re not glad to see me? Not even a little?”

When you said nothing, you watched him roll his eyes, shaking his head and his locs moved with the action. When his gaze met yours again, all humor had been wiped from his face. His dark eyes were intense as he stared at you, lips pressed together and chest heaving with the deep breath he took. You felt like an insolent child beneath his gaze.

“You know what I’m doing here.”

He was entirely serious, and you didn’t doubt him for a second.

“No…”

“You had to know I was never gone let you just walk away from me like that,” he continued, slowly pacing the kitchen and backing you further into a corner with every step he took.

His words brought tears to your eyes, and in this moment, you hated him. What was the point then? Why did he give you false hope that you were free from him? Was it just to fuck with you? Was it his idea of a sick joke? As if he could read your mind, he elaborated.

“I had some things to do,” he told you. “Some…business to take care of before I came back for you and …”

He shrugged like that explained everything you’d been put through because of him.

“...and now that I got my shit together…got everything I deserved, it’s only right that I come back and get you too.”

A noise of disgust left your throat before you could stop yourself, and Erik didn’t try to stop you as you hurried past him. You didn’t hear him behind you as you made your way to the door, too nervous and fearful to look over your shoulder. However, once you made it to the front door, you realized that you didn’t hear Erik after you because he wasn’t after you.

He felt no need to be…and with good reason.

The statuesque women on the other side of your door made you come up short, mouth falling open as you took them in. They were beautiful and straight-faced, heads smooth and wearing colorful attire that didn’t deviate all that much from what Erik was wearing. The long spears in their hands had you stumbling back, and so in shock, you didn’t even register that you’d stumbled right into Erik.

One of his arms snaked around you while the other gently closed the door, effectively trapping you once again.

The silence was loud, and finally, a few tears escaped.

“Earlier you started to ask how I found you…”

You felt Erik’s lips grazing your ear before moving down to brush along your neck. One hand was on your waist while the other had found a home on your arm, kneading the skin through the thin robe. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and you swore that you felt him shudder against you.

The breath you let out was shaky, more tears collecting in your eyes.

“You’d be amazed at what you can do when you’re the king of Wakanda.”

Those damning words had your knees buckling, and when you attempted to throw yourself away from him, Erik’s hold tightened. One hand had a vice grip on your wrist while the other hand snaked around your neck.

“I like to tell myself that I did this because I deserve it, because I was wronged…but that ain’t all…”

When Erik leaned in to press his lips to yours, your mind was finally at war with your heart once again. You’d forgotten what it felt like to kiss him, forgotten what he tasted like, and you couldn’t stop the sharp breath you took as he moved his mouth against yours. The hand on your neck tightened just a tad, like a chain keeping you to him, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

“I like being somebody that you can’t ever leave.”

Those words whispered into your mouth made your heart sink, and your protest was lost as he kissed you again.

You shook in his hold for varying reasons, fear above all else. Erik had his hands on you again, and he had no intention of taking them off. They pulled you and pushed you where he wanted you to be, and it seemed that he decided the couch would suffice. He wasn’t bothered by your lack of consent, and somehow that didn’t surprise you.

There’d been moments in the past when you expressed discomfort or you protested or you rejected him and for the briefest of moments, something had passed through his eyes that made you think he didn’t care. A glint in his gaze that made you think he was going to do what he wanted—take what he wanted—anyway. You’d always had a nagging feeling deep in your chest that Erik was just holding back, keeping himself in check with you because it was socially acceptable and not because he actually wanted to.

…but he was a king, now—something you believed without a doubt—and that title corrupted even the best of men…let alone a man who already wasn’t shit to begin with.

When his bare chest grazed against yours, a shudder traveled down your spine, and Erik reached under you to trace that path with his fingers. One hand was still carefully at home on your neck, and the gold fangs in his mouth winked at you in the nearly invisible lighting. When you felt those abrasions underneath your fingers—every one for a kill—it suddenly hit you that you were underneath him again and for good this time.

“You don’t know how much I missed this pussy,” he murmured into your skin, a hand tightening almost painfully on your waist just as he sank into you.

The feel of his cock stretching you out had your back arching, chest pushing up against his. It hadn’t been just years without sex with Erik but years without sex altogether. Part of it was because you still had some lingering loyalty to the man between your legs, telling yourself he’d somehow know and find you—despite the fact that you weren’t his anymore—and part of it was because he’d simply ruined you for any other man. Either way, it all came back to Erik.

You couldn’t stop the strained gasps that left your lips, the slight sting and dull ache from the stretch making you dig your nails into his skin. This was not what you wanted, but you swore that Erik was stronger now than he ever had been before. The feel of him thrusting himself into you reminded you of all the hours you’d spent wrapped up in each other when things were still good between you. Hell, even when they weren’t, it wasn’t uncommon for an argument to end in you bent over the kitchen counter with Erik’s pelvis pressing against you.

He had a way of controlling a situation, steering it in whatever direction he wanted it to go.

Like now.

How was it that you go into hiding to remain safe from this man only to wind up at his mercy yet again? It was unfair, and you couldn’t stop trembling as you pushed against his chest.

“Erik…”

Your words died on your lips when he shushed you, his locs brushing against your skin as he nipped at your neck and then your shoulder and finally your chest. The light moan you let out was involuntary, and you hated that smug chuckle that escaped his lips.

“You always try to act so tough and shit…but we both know once I get my hands on you…”

Anger bubbled up within you at his words, and you couldn’t resist slapping him. Before where that might’ve pissed him off, Erik only smiled in your face. Taking your hand, he held it tight before pinning it against your stomach, and he looked down, briefly distracted by the sight of his cock disappearing into you. He slowed his thrusts down, and the change in pace almost made you roll your eyes.

“You gone love Wakanda, baby,” he said to you, lips meeting your skin again. “The most beautiful sunsets…”

He nipped at your shoulder.

“...anything you could ever want…”

Another kiss to your lips.

“...and guards to watch your every move.”

His nose touched yours as he said that, and you felt him reach down to hook his arm under your leg. You hissed, feeling him even deeper into your gut as he bent your leg back. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of you as he fucked you, hips meeting yours and the wet sound of his cock dipping into you reaching your ears.

“I came back just for you,” he darkly told you, completely ignoring your hand pushing at his stomach. “...because what kind of king would I be with no queen at my side?”

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[writerbee-ffs]

SoftBoi Erik x Reader (Uriah)

Summary: Loosely based off on “Spend it” by Summer Walker.

Uriah is a soft girl but Erik pissed her off sooo she spends Erik’s ✨munyun✨. With all the Sinners fics I HIGHkey been missing Erik lil thotty ass.

Furious wasn’t even the word to describe Uriah’s mood. She was in a full-blown psychotic state. A part of her seriously considered having a full Angela Bassett Waiting to Exhale moment with his clothes. Erik had pissed her off one too many times, and she was done.

She stormed out of his house and returned to her condo in the sky—because seriously, who the fuck needed Erik?

They’d gotten into another heated argument—this time over his feelings for her. Or rather, his inability to express them. And of course, Erik brushed her off like always, claiming she was “tripping” and that she should already know how he felt. But she didn’t. Sure, he bought her things. Said “I love you” occasionally. But she needed more than that. She wanted to hear why he loved her. Why her. Was that really too much to ask?

Uriah was done. Or so she told herself. Meanwhile, Erik wouldn’t stop blowing up her phone with calls and texts. Honestly, she was shocked he hadn’t already shown up at her door, banging to be let in.

Ding.

Another text. Erik was relentless.

“You done acting like a brat?”

“Call me when you’re ready to talk like an adult.”

“You miss this?”

That last one came with a picture of his dick. Typical.

He was the childish one, not her. If he could just be honest about his damn feelings, all of this would blow over. But instead, she was thirty-something, ready to settle down, while Erik still wanted to play games.

Fine. She could play too.

She fired back a single text, ignoring the garbage above it:

“Give me the last four of your credit card. Buy back my love—you can keep your heart.”

The bubbles popped up instantly.

“0004.”

Got him, she thought, smirking as she closed the app.

She wasn’t usually the type to buy lavish things, but Erik was. And she couldn’t wait to piss him off with all the extra charges when the statement hit.

She spent the afternoon deciding: elevate her “earthy girl” aesthetic or redecorate the condo she’d practically abandoned after getting serious with Erik. She opted for both.

Givenchy, diamonds, and pearls—three months’ worth of rent spent in a single spree. She knew Erik would be livid when the notifications started rolling in. That was the point.

Every purchase? Overnighted. Or, at minimum, express shipping.

She didn’t want sweet nothings anymore. She wanted to be spoiled. Pleasured.

Uriah stretched from her spot on the couch, got up, and packed her small orange duffle for a solo dinner followed by a luxurious two day staycation—spa, massage, the works. One more purchase wouldn’t hurt, she thought as she stepped out.

⸻

“No, I still haven’t heard from him.” Uriah mumbled into the phone, balancing it between her shoulder and ear while turning the key into her front door.

It had been three days since Erik’s last call or text. At this point, she was convinced it was over. And she might just have to sell her ass—and toes—to pay off all the damage she did to his black card.

She dropped her duffle and turned on the foyer light.

“FUCK!” she yelped.

There he was. Erik. Sitting in the middle of a sea of her packages.

“Ma, I’ll call you back,” she muttered, placing the phone down, eyes never leaving his.

“Erik, what are you doing here?”

He sat wide-legged in her chair, arms stretched over the sides like a king on a throne. Silent. Watching.

She scanned the room—most boxes were ripped open, contents sprawled across the floor and couch. Her heart pounded.

She stood frozen, like a child caught doing something bad.

“Baby?” she whispered, tucking a loc behind her ear. “I missed you.”

When in doubt, butter him up.

She eased her way between his legs.

“Silk Chanel scarf, $550. Givenchy blouse, $1,650. Pearl studs, $170…” Erik read from his phone, tracking her approach.

He stood, towering over her.

“Spend it on me?” he quoted from her message. “How you feel, Princess?”

His smirk brushed her ear like a whisper.

“I—I…”

Words failed her. The spite had melted into something softer, more vulnerable.

“Speak, Princess,” he said.

He rustled through the chaos, finally pulling out a box. Savage X Fenty.

“I’m feeling generous,” he said. “I’ll let you pick.”

That grin again. Deadly.

She exhaled sharply—hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath.

No time to overthink. She chose something buttercream yellow, delicate. She smoothed vanilla-coconut cream over her cocoa skin and slipped the lingerie on. Her locs cascaded freely down her back, just above the swell of her ass.

“Sit.”

His voice carried from the doorway.

She obeyed, settling at the edge of the bed as he approached.

“Uriah went and spent Daddy’s money like the fucking brat she is,” he spoke, amused.

He opened a James Allen jewelry box and placed a single diamond necklace around her neck.

“You’ve got good taste, though.”

He kissed her neck. She shivered.

“Erik, I’m sor—”

“Nah, Princess.” He locked eyes with hers. “You’re not sorry. Stand on business.”

Her lips parted. Her body buzzed.

“Before, my love couldn’t be bought. But now… maybe that’s all I want.”

She crawled up the bed.

“Buy me more, Daddy.” She pinched a nipple, spread her legs. “You never talk. You just throw gifts at me. But never your love.”

Her fingers slid between her thighs. Roaming her wet opening.

“Do you love me, Daddy?” Uriah began to unravel without his help.

Erik grabbed her wrist, licking her slick from her fingers before replacing them with his own.

He knelt beside the bed, stretching her open. Her eyes rolled back. Her body trembled.

“Of course I fucking love you,” he whispered, kissing her temple.

When he pulled his fingers from her, she whimpered. He trailed kisses from her neck to her thighs before diving back in.

“I love you!” she moaned, legs shaking. He lapped her up like honey.

He hovered, pressing kisses all over her face, then aligned himself with her entrance. His thick length slid in slow, deliberate.

“I love you,” he moaned into her mouth. “I fucking love you, Uriah.”

His thrusts were unhurried.

He hadn’t cared about the money. He had plenty. What hurt was his own inability to say what he felt.

But this? This was how he showed it. Every soft stroke was a confession.

Uriah’s hips moved with his rhythm, tears slipping down her cheeks as he pushed her legs back for a deeper angle.

He had never touched her like this.

Her body gave in.

“Baaaaby—”

He stroked her through it.

“That’s Daddy’s princess,” he whispered. “I love how you take care of us. I love your mind. I love the way your nose wrinkles when you think. How passionate you are. The way you care for everyone without wanting anything in return. Your fire. The way you challenge me. Make me a better man. I’m in love with you, Uriah.”

She sobbed beneath him. “I love you so much, Erik.”

And with every word, every movement, his walls crumbled.

Later, as they lay tangled together, she teased, “Maybe I should spend all your money. You talk better when I do.”

Erik chuckled, fingers stroking her locs. “Princess, you can have whatever you want.”

His voice faded into sleep.

Fuck that black card, she thought, snuggling into him. He has my heart.

[melaninpov]

Michael B. Jordan

[calif0rnia-lovers]

send me a character/person and a song. I'll write a short story?

who I'm open to at the moment (I haven't watched much TV lately, but the list is of people and characters I've seen the past few months):

adonis creed.

athur pendragon.

bucky barnes.

lorenzo “cane” tejada jr.

carmy berzatto.

erik killmonger.

frank castle.

conrad fischer.

harald sigurdsson.

javy "coyote" machado.

jax teller.

joaquin torres.

joel miller.

josh cody.

pope heyward.

sam wilson.

sinqua walls.

steve harrington.

tangerine.

trevante rhodes.

zuko.

If you want someone not listed above...still send the name. I'm behind on movies and shows, so I'm sure others could be added. I've removed Mayans MC because I never finished the show beyond season 2 🙃

Stories will most likely be OC stories unless xreader is specified in the request. If you request a reader fic, I'll try my best.

[melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx]

Lowkey wanna do my own writing challenge 👀…

[hennyjwrites]

Hey guys! I wanted to know if you guys would be willing to donate even just a dollar for my work! I have new pieces coming out and just wanted to ask for a little compensation😌

[insidekatmind]

Mine-Erik Killmonger

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

The arena of Wakanda is a whirlwind of voices and tension. You’re in the front row, watching the fight that could change the fate of the nation. Erik Killmonger, with his powerful physique and the scars of his battles, stands tall like a titan against T’Challa, the Black Panther, a man you’ve always admired.

Your heart is pounding. The tension in the air is almost suffocating.

And then it happens. With a decisive move, Erik lifts T’Challa and hurls him off the waterfall. The king falls, his body swallowed by the waters below, and a chilling silence descends upon the arena.

Killmonger turns to face you, the people of Wakanda. His eyes burn with determination and defiance. He moves like a lion that has just claimed its territory. He points at the void left by T’Challa, the king’s body now out of sight.

“Is this your king? Huh? Is this your king?” he shouts, his voice echoing through the mountains. Every word strikes like a blow, every pause weighs heavily on your chest.

Your eyes fill with tears, but you don’t look away. You can’t. You’re frozen, your loyalty torn between the grief of loss and the fear of what’s to come.

“The Black Panther, who’s supposed to lead you into the future! He’s supposed to protect you!” he continues, his voice as sharp as a blade. You feel exposed under his gaze, as if he’s speaking directly to you.

Then he pounds his chest with his fist, his eyes locked onto each of you. “Nah, I’m your king.”

As the crowd remains divided between silence and murmurs, you clench your fists.

After the fight, Erik was sitting on the throne of the kingdom and you voices inside the room where he was. M'Baku tries to stop you but you ignore him. Erik looks at you with a smirk. He leans back on the throne, his smirk still in place, his eyes locking onto yours. M'Baku stands nearby, trying to hold you back.

“What’s this?” Eric says, amusement in his voice. “I have visitors already.”

M’Baku shoots you a warning look, but your eyes stay fixed on Erik as you approach.

“You killed T’Challa,” you blurt out angrily, moving closer to him. M'Baku's eyes widen and he tries to pull you back but you glare at him.Eric’s smirk deepens, almost as if your anger pleases him. He leans forward on the throne, his gaze intense.

“Killed T’Challa?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mockery. “That’s a strong way to put it. I defeated him. Fairly.”M’Baku clenches his jaw, but stays silent, his hand still on your arm, trying to keep you from getting too close.

You glare at Erik as you try to pull away from M'Baku. Eric watches you struggle against M'Baku’s grip, the smirk never leaving his face. He stands up from the throne and slowly approaches you, each step deliberate and filled with authority.

"Seems like you have something to say," he says, his voice taunting yet commanding. "Go on. Speak your mind."You glare at him and were about to speak but M'Baku interrupts you.

“I'm sorry my king, but Y/n is just upset, she doesn't know what she's talking about” he says putting his hand over your mouth warning you not to do anything stupid.You, M'Baku and T'Challa have always been great friends.

Erik smirks, his gaze flicking between you and M'Baku. He moves closer, towering over both of you.

“Upset, huh? I don’t blame her,” he says, his tone slightly mocking, but with a hint of understanding. He turns to M’Baku. “And you think you need to silence her? That’s not very friendly of you, M’Baku.”

M'Baku stiffens, his eyes narrowing at Eric. "I'm not trying to silence her, my king. I'm just trying to prevent her from doing something foolish." You squirm trying to get his hand away from your mouth.

Erik’s smirk broadens as he watches you struggle against M’Baku’s grip. He raises an eyebrow at M’Baku. "Looks like she’s quite feisty. I like my woman feisty."

You look at him in disgust. You were betrothed to T'Challa and since she is now dead and Erik is the king, you were betrothed to him. Erik chuckles at your look of disgust, clearly amused by your reaction. He knows full well the implications of being betrothed to a king.

"Ah, I see you've already realized the situation you're in," he says, his voice filled with a hint of mockery. "As a future queen, you should show me a bit more respect, don’t you think?"

You manage to lift M'baku's hand. "Respect? You are a murderer and I will not be your queen" you blurt out glaring at him. Erik's smirk vanishes. His eyes flash with annoyance as he steps closer to you, his presence suddenly menacing.

"Watch your tongue, princess." His voice is low and dangerous, a clear warning not to push his buttons. "I am your king now whether you like it or not. You would do well to show me some respect."

M'Baku's grip tightens on your arm as he tries to pull you back again, but you stand your ground, your defiance clear in your eyes. "I will never show you respect," you retort, a mix of anger and sadness in your voice. "You killed T'Challa. You betrayed Wakanda. I will never bow to you, you monster!"

Erik's face hardens at your words, his eyes narrowing. He takes a step closer, towering over you. "Monster?" he repeats, his voice laced with irritation. "You think you can lecture me on morality? You have no idea what I've been through. No idea what I've had to do in order to survive. To fight for my people." He takes another step, getting right in your face. "You've lived a privileged life in this golden city. I've lived a life of struggle and pain. Don’t judge me unless you know what I've endured."

You look at him without saying anything. Erik watches you the whole time. “Leave me alone with my future queen,” Erik says to M'Baku without stopping to look at you. M'Baku looks between you and Erik, hesitating for a moment, then he reluctantly lets go of you and leaves the throne room, closing the door behind him.

Now you're alone with Erik, the tension in the room palpable. He studies you intently. He circles you like a predator, his gaze locked onto yours. For a moment, he says nothing, his eyes roaming over your face, your body. Finally, he breaks the silence. "You have a lot of fire in you," he says, his voice low and quiet. "I find that... intriguing."

He stops directly in front of you, his presence overwhelming. "But you need to learn your place. You are mine now. My future queen, like it or not." He reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch surprising in its tenderness.

"You can fight it all you want, but it won’t change a damn thing," he continues, his hand now cupping your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You will be my queen. And you will bow to me. Whether you do it out of love or fear, it doesn’t matter. You will bow." He leans even closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. "And I have every intention of earning your submission," he purrs, his eyes flickering down to your lips. "One way or another."

As he leans even closer, his face mere inches from yours, your heart begins to race. You're both angry and flustered by his presence, his words, his touch. His face is so close that you can feel his warm breath on your skin. He’s so tall that you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

"You're a very beautiful woman, you know that?" he whispers, his thumb gently caressing your chin. "I can understand why T'Challa valued you so highly." He leans in even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. "But he's gone," he murmurs. "And I’m here. You’re mine now." His words send a strange shiver down your spine, a confusing mix of fear and something else, harder to define.

He pulls away slightly, his eyes searching yours. "You may hate me. You may despise me. But you will be my queen. And you will serve Wakanda as my partner."Erik runs his fingers down your arm, his touch sending another shiver coursing through your body. "And if you don’t... I have ways of making you cooperate."

His words hang in the air, a clear warning. His eyes soften for a brief moment, and a hint of vulnerability sneaks into his gaze. “You’re strong,” he says, his voice almost… sincere? “I respect that. But you can’t win this. You might as well accept it and make the best of it.”

You look at him vulnerable. Erik notices your softening expression, your vulnerability. It throws him off for a moment, he wasn't expecting that reaction. He studies you intently, his eyes searching yours, trying to decipher your thoughts. He can feel a change in you, a chink in your armor of anger and defiance. Erik steps closer, his hand moving to your cheek, his touch gentle.

"You're still angry," he says softly, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheekbone. "I can see it in your eyes. But there's something else. A hint of... resignation?" Erik watches you closely, waiting for a response, the room silent except for his heavy breathing.

You close your eyes for a moment holding back the tears of anger and losing T'Challa. “You killed T’challa,” you whisper weakly. Erik’s eyes soften even more, noticing the pain and weakness in your voice. He takes another step closer, his body now almost pressing against yours.

He places his other hand on your other cheek, gently cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. “Yes,” he whispers back, his voice almost tender. “I did. I had to.”

Tears fall from your eyes and Erik pulls you closer as you try to hit his chest and he lets you do it as he strokes your hair. He lets you push and shove against him, silently taking the blows without resisting. He just holds you closer, his hand soothingly caressing the back of your head as you hit his chest. A strange gentleness is in his eyes, a hint of empathy. He understands your pain and your anger, he sympathizes with you.

"Shh," he whispers quietly, holding you close, letting you cry. "I know it's hard. I understand your pain." Erik rests his chin on the top of your head, his hands rubbing your back in slow, gentle circles. He stays like that for a moment, holding you, letting you cry against his chest, the sound of your sobs filling the room. As your tears slowly subside, he pulls back slightly, tilting your face up to look at him again.

"I know you hate me," he says, his voice filled with more vulnerability than you've ever heard from him. "But I'm not the heartless monster you think I am. I do have a heart, though it's been buried deep for a long time." His eyes roam over your face, taking in your tear-streaked cheeks, your quivering lips. "I didn’t want to take T'Challa from you, but I had no choice. The throne belongs to me. And you..." he pauses, his hand gently tracing your chin. "... You belong to me now too."

He leans closer, his lips hovering just millimeters from yours, so close you can feel his warm breath on your skin. "And maybe, in time, you'll learn to accept that. Maybe even more..." His face is so close to yours that you can barely think straight. His body is almost pressed against yours, the heat of his skin radiating through his clothes.

He's waiting for a reaction, but you don't know what to do. You're still angry, you're still grieving, but there's something else there too, something he's awakening within you... His lips find yours in a surprisingly gentle, almost tentative kiss. It's a stark contrast to his usual rough demeanor. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer to him.The kiss deepens, his tongue demanding access to your mouth. He kisses you with a hunger and desperation, as if he's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

You kiss him back, holding on to him. He responds to your kiss enthusiastically, his hands roaming over your body, his tongue exploring your mouth with a primal lust. Erik backs you up against the nearest wall, pressing his body against yours, trapping you in his grasp. His hands move from your waist to your hips, pulling you even closer, his fingers digging into your skin. His mouth leaves yours, moving along your jawline, down to your neck, where he nips and kisses the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. He presses his body into you, his hard muscles rubbing against your soft curves, the heat between you building with every second.

Erik kisses you again and walks back up to his throne, sitting on it making you straddle him as the two of you continue kissing. He sits down on the throne, pulling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of him. He captures your lips in another intense kiss, his hands roaming up and down your body. Erik lifts you slightly, positioning you better on his lap, his body pressed closely against yours. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the desire coursing through his veins, matching your own.

Erik unbuttons your dress, taking it off you without ever taking his lips away from yours. He kisses your chin, your neck, your collarbone, his lips blazing a trail down your body, his fingers roaming across your skin as if he can't get enough of you. His mouth is hot and insistent, his hands desperate as they explore your body. He lifts you again, bringing your chest level with his face, his lips trailing down your neck to your chest, his breath hot on your skin.

You moan softly and cling to him as you move on his lap to be closer. You moan a little louder feeling his erection between your legs. He growls at the sound of your moans, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. As you grind against him, feeling the hardness between your legs, he grips your hips tightly, holding you in place. Erik looks into your eyes, a dangerous mixture of desire and possessiveness gleaming in his gaze. "You're mine now," he whispers, his voice deep and hoarse. "All mine."

He captures your lips again, silencing you with a deep, urgent kiss. His hands roam over your body, fingers digging into your flesh, leaving behind a trail of fire where they touch. He nips and kisses your neck, your collarbone, his hot breath sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Erik” you groan.

He responds to the sound of his name, his hands gripping you tighter. He leans forward, his mouth moving towards your ear. "I love the sound of you saying my name," he whispers huskily. "Say it again."

“Erik” you repeat. He growls again at the sound of his name on your lips, a low, primal sound. He pulls you closer, his body molding against yours, every inch of him pressed against you.

"Good girl," he purrs, his voice a deep rumble. "Moan my name again. Let me hear how much you want me." You moan as you move your hips making you grind on his erection.

He groans loudly at the feeling of your hips grinding against his erection. He tightens his grip on your hips, almost to the point of pain, trying to control himself. Erik lifts his head from your neck, his eyes dark with desire. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “You're driving me crazy."

You moan feeling Erik slap your ass and move your hips onto him. “Erik” you moan again resting your head in the crook of his neck as he continues to move your hips. He loves the way you moan his name, the way you surrender to the pleasure. Your head in the crook of his neck, your body willingly allowing him to control your move your hips, it’s more than he ever dreamed. Each time you say his name, it spurs him on, his desire burning hotter and hotter with each passing second.

With his left hand he plays with your little thong that you are still wearing while with his right hand he continues to move making you ride him. His left hand slides over you, his fingers slipping beneath the thin material of your thong, caressing your skin. It's so intimate, so possessive, it makes your head spin. Erik continues to control your movements with his hands, his body moving in perfect sync with yours, the friction and heat between you increasing with every motion.

With your head still on his shoulder, he moves his lips to your ear, his breath hot and uneven as he whispers. "You like that don't you? You like how I make you feel. You like being controlled by me."

“Yes,” you moan, moving your hips with the help of his hand. He grins darkly, loving the way you respond to his touch, his control. His hand on your hip tightens, guiding you in the motions.

Erik moves his lips from your ear, down to your neck, his tongue tracing a path across your skin, the heat between you building to almost unbearable heights. He bites down gently on your collarbone, his teeth leaving behind a mark on your skin. A mark that proclaims you as his. He pulls back to admire the mark, a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

“I'm going to come” you whisper as Erik moves his hips again. You had made his jeans wet with your arousal. He groans as you say you're close, the sound sending a shiver through him. He picks up the pace, moving with you, his breath ragged in your ear.

"I can feel you," he growls, his fingers digging into your hip. "You're so close. I can feel it." He adjusts his movements slightly, applying more pressure to your core, his own body clenching in anticipation.

“Erik” you moan feeling close. He smiled looking at you with lust as he slapped your ass. "Who is your king?" he whispers to you with authority. Your eyes meet his, the demand in his voice sending a shiver through you. You reply, your voice breathless. "Y-you are, my king."

His smile widens as you call him your king, a possessive gleam in his eyes. He pulls you closer, his chest against yours, his lips right next to your ear. "And who do you belong to?" He asks, his tone dark and commanding.

"You," you breathe, "I belong to you, my king." You surrender entirely, willingly giving yourself to him, body and soul. He growls again, the sound filled with approval and satisfaction. He kisses you fiercely, his tongue invading your mouth as the two of you continue to move against each other.

"Good girl," he murmurs between kisses, "You'll be a perfect queen."

You moan and come on his jeans. He feels you come on his jeans, the wetness seeping through the fabric and onto his skin. He groans, the primal sound reverberating through his chest. Erik slaps your ass, stopping your movements and then gently caresses your ass while he holds you against him as you bury your face in his neck, his hands now gentler, caressing your ass and soothing you. The moment is intense, intimate, and it solidifies your connection even further.

After a moment, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark with desire, but there's a hint of softness there too, a vulnerability that he usually hides. "You're mine now," he says, his voice firm, but also tender. "No one else will have you. You understand that, don't you?"

You nod, your gaze locked with his. You understand what he's demanding of you, the commitment he's asking for. It's not a small thing, but it's what he wants, and deep down, it's what you want too. "I understand," you whisper, your voice a soft admission. "I'm yours."

A satisfied smile plays on his lips as you speak the words he's wanted to hear. "Good," he murmurs, his hand still on your chin, keeping you close. "You're mine, and I'll do anything to protect what's mine."

[cherienymphe]

all of my writing explores dark themes such as non-consent, dubious-consent, and a/b/o subjects. if any of this offends you, this has been your warning!

➯ dividers by @firefly-graphics​ | @straywords​​

➯ banner by me

Kingdom Come

You left Erik once, and he goes above and beyond to ensure that doesn’t happen again.

[dreamivyisla]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➤ Killmonger (N’Jadaka)

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➤ after erik killmonger seizes the wakandan throne, a royal strategist loyal to t’challa is forced to remain in his inner circle.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➤ my sister wanted this, and this is my first Killmonger fic? LIKE HELLO??? definitely making more because why didn’t i think of this BEFORE? enjoy!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ➤ 6.3k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ➤ dirty talk, hate sex, emotional and psychological manipulation, impact play, mild breath play, throne sex, black!thick!reader (but anyone can imagine themselves), use of african language (xhosa/zulu inspired), mentions of political violence. 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈! 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!

✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡

the halls of the golden city no longer sounded like home. they echoed now. not with the ancient rhythms passed down by your foremothers. not with the low, ancestral chants that once settled over the palace like fog at dawn. no — they echoed with the weight of new boots on sacred stone. boots that did not belong to a king.

they belonged to a conqueror.

erik stevens — no, he called himself n’jadaka now — had taken the throne barely two weeks ago. the blood from the ritual combat had not yet fully dried in the sacred pool, and yet the council already bowed their heads to him, lips tight with fear. there had been no second trial. no challenge. the mountain tribe stood down. t’challa’s body had vanished with the river.

you’d known t’challa since you were children. you used to spar with him beneath the shade of the elder tree, both of you too proud to admit when you’d bruised. he trusted you to hold the long-view strategy for wakanda in your hands — one of the few civilians allowed in the high council chambers. strategist. advisor. loyalist. and now… traitor, by some mouths. prisoner, by others.

but erik hadn’t thrown you to the dungeons.

instead, he kept you close.

“a mind like yours shouldn’t rot in a cell,” he’d said, the day after the coronation. he’d spoken it low in your ear, like a secret only you were worthy of. “nah… i want you right where i can see you.”

and now here you were — standing in the war room, your thick frame wrapped in deep blue and gold robes, tension stiff across your shoulders. the rich fabric clung to the slope of your hips, accentuating the body that no uniform could hide. you could feel his gaze on you before you even turned around.

“what you think, strategist?” erik’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. deep, deliberate, heavy with that oakland-born bite. “we hit london first? or new york?”

you didn’t look at him right away. instead, you traced the holographic map glowing across the table with your fingers, watching the borders pulse with potential violence. cities were marked in red. colonizer capitals. your jaw tensed.

“wakanda does not conquer,” you said, carefully. not too soft. not too sharp. “that is not our way.”

“yeah,” he muttered, stepping closer. “and where that get y’all? watchin’ while your brothers and sisters got they necks stepped on. wakanda been hiding.”

he circled behind you like a panther. not quite touching. but close enough that your skin prickled where his heat brushed you. you refused to flinch. he wanted to see you rattle. it was the game, now. every day — the game.

“this ain’t about revenge,” he said, lowering his voice. “this about balance. and power.”

“power built on blood doesn’t last,” you replied, turning finally to face him. your eyes locked. his were molten — dark and unreadable, but sparking with something cruel and magnetic. “and what you’re building… it’s made of bones.”

he didn’t blink. just smiled slow, head tilting.

“so?” he asked, tongue dragging across the edge of his teeth. “that bother you?”

he was too close now. tall, broad, shirt open at the chest. gold fangs flashing beneath full lips. skin dusted in the faintest sheen of sweat and sun, each raised kill mark down his chest a monument to pain — and victory. you hated how magnetic he was. how his presence filled the air so fully it pushed everything else out. his scent was warm metal and cedar. his voice was gravity.

“you loyal to t’challa,” he said, voice dipped low again. “i know that. but you still here. still breathin’. still dressin’ like you got somewhere to be.”

his eyes dragged down your figure — from the tight fold of your waist wrap, across the swell of your hips, to where your thighs brushed under soft fabric. you shifted. not out of discomfort — but because you could feel how intently he watched you.

“you tryna prove somethin’?” he murmured. “or you just don’t know where else you fit now?”

you straightened, spine like steel.

“i serve wakanda,” you said. “not the man who sits on the throne.”

his laugh was soft, almost amused. but there was no kindness in it.

“sound like you tryna convince yourself.”

each day after that followed a pattern. you studied maps, advised on diplomatic approaches you didn’t believe in, and fed him half-truths through clenched teeth. still, he kept you near. always asking for your perspective, always testing your loyalty. his soldiers looked at you with suspicion, but they didn’t touch you. not without his permission.

he was possessive like that. even when he didn’t say it out loud.

and slowly — sickeningly — you started to understand him.

not agree. never that. but understand.

how anger had carved itself into him, root-deep. how power was the only language he’d ever been taught. he wielded it like a weapon, sharp and beautiful. and when he wasn’t using it to dominate a room, he used it on you — with whispers, glances, and challenges he knew you’d rise to.

he never tried to force you. he didn’t need to. erik killmonger was more dangerous than that — because he made you want to play his game.

he’d lean close during briefings, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured critiques. he’d stand at the top of the royal steps while you debated councilmen, watching your every word like a test. and when you succeeded — when your voice swayed the elders just enough — he’d nod, slow and proud, like he was claiming you for it.

“look at you,” he’d say, later, while passing you alone in the garden corridors. “still tryna save people who would’ve let you die with the old king.”

you hated how deep those words burrowed. hated how you still walked the halls after dark, pulse racing at the sound of his voice in the distance.

one night, weeks in, you found yourself summoned.

not by a guard. not by a formal scroll.

just a voice in the corridor. soft. direct. one word.

“come.”

when you stepped into the throne room, it was empty but for him. torchlight flickered along the walls, casting long shadows across the black stone floor. the panther statue loomed silent behind the throne.

erik sat on it like he was born there. legs spread. arms relaxed. gaze dark and direct.

you didn’t bow.

you didn’t speak.

he studied you in silence for a long moment, then motioned you forward with two fingers.

“you believe i don’t deserve this,” he said, voice level. “say it.”

your throat tightened. but you forced yourself steady.

“i believe your rule is built on a lie,” you said. “wakanda’s legacy is not yours to twist.”

he didn’t move. didn’t blink. but his voice dropped, slow and rough.

“and yet here you stand.”

your lips parted — to argue, maybe. or to defend yourself. but no words came.

“i ain’t stupid,” he said, rising from the throne. “i know what this is.”

he stepped toward you again, each stride deliberate.

“you hate me,” he said, stopping just inches away. “but you watch me. every time. you listen. you fight back.”

his hand didn’t touch you. but it hovered just near your jaw. his heat was a weight. your breath quickened.

“ain’t no loyalty in that,” he said, eyes burning into yours. “that’s desire.”

you said nothing.

but you didn’t step back.

he smiled. slow. teeth sharp.

“loyal little queen’s dog,” he said, voice dripping heat. “you ever wonder how it’d feel to break?”

your pulse thudded between your thighs.

but your voice stayed even.

“never,” you whispered.

his eyes dropped — from your lips, to your chest, to the curve of your hips.

“we’ll see.”

his fingers ghosted along your jawline, calloused and hot, but still not touching. erik didn’t rush. no — he never did. dominance for him was earned in slow, suffocating inches. he wanted to watch you squirm under your own restraint. test the shape of your resistance until it shattered on him.

“ain’t gotta say yes,” he murmured, voice low and thick like honey-drenched smoke. “but you ain’t leavin’ either. so what that tell me, hm?”

his thumb dragged — barely — across the curve of your lower lip. your breath hitched. he felt it.

you hated him.

but you wanted him more.

you turned your head just enough to break the spell, stepping back one pace. but that inch was his permission — and he followed, advancing like he owned the ground beneath your feet. your back met the edge of the throne before you realized he’d corralled you there. trapped between carved stone and muscle-thick heat, your body buzzed like war drums. your thighs clenched without command.

“mm,” he laughed, low in his chest. “there she go. wakanda’s finest. thick as the land itself, still actin’ like she ain’t dyin’ to break for me.”

you didn’t respond.

not with words.

you reached for him instead — finally, with fingers curling into the front of his open vest. not a surrender. not exactly. just… the beginning of something too old for language.

his mouth met yours like fire. brutal, claiming. teeth clashing, lips hot. it wasn’t gentle. it wasn’t sweet. it was a fight dressed in heat, breath on breath, until you moaned into his mouth and he groaned against your teeth. the taste of him was sweat, blood, and something darker — control.

his hand came down on your ass with a sharp, open slap.

you gasped, clinging harder.

“yeah,” he growled, sliding one thick thigh between yours, forcing them open. “you like that, huh? all that royal pride, but this fat lil pussy tryna talk to me different.”

you rocked against his leg before you even realized it — heat pooling deep between your thighs, clit desperate for friction. the throne room was silent but for your breath and the echo of his voice wrapping around your moans.

“what would t’challa say, huh?” he teased, hand curling around your hip as he pulled you harder against his leg. “his loyal strategist grindin’ on a nigga she swore to kill.”

you bit your lip, tried to turn your face — but he caught your chin in one hand and held you there.

“nah,” he said, low. “you look at me.”

his eyes pinned you in place, molten and unmoving. you couldn’t look away if you tried. not now. not when his fingers slipped beneath your wrap and found your bare skin, dragging slow up the inside of your thigh.

“this what you been hidin’ under all them robes?” he whispered, voice almost reverent. “this fat-ass pussy been waitin’ on me, huh?”

you whined — not in surrender, but need.

he chuckled deep.

“bend over.”

you hesitated.

his gaze sharpened. darkened.

“ngenze njalo.”

the words hit your core like a flame. do as i say.

you obeyed.

hands braced against the throne, you bent for him — thick ass high, legs wide. you heard the hitch in his breath as he stepped back to take in the sight.

then—

smack.

his palm cracked across your cheek again. not too hard. but enough.

“keep that arch,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your folds from behind. “mm… this shit wet as fuck. and i ain’t even fucked you yet.”

you moaned, low and shivering.

he knelt behind you, breathing hot over your inner thigh. his mouth pressed to your pussy — not kissing, tasting. tongue flat and deliberate, slapping your clit before sucking it with slow precision.

“fuck—!” you gasped, knuckles white on stone.

he didn’t rush. took his time. tongue moving like he owned the rhythm of your body. your thighs trembled, fat and soft against his jaw. he moaned into you like the taste alone was divine.

“you ridin’ me tonight,” he said, rising behind you again, voice thick with hunger. “on my throne. i want them pretty titties bouncin’ while i watch you fall apart.”

you turned as he shed the rest of his vest — then his pants.

his dick hung heavy, thick, the kind of size that made you pause. covered in veins, head dark and already leaking. he stroked it slow while he stared you down.

“come on, queen,” he murmured. “show me what loyalty look like now.”

you climbed onto the throne — his throne — hands braced on his chest, thick thighs spreading over him as you straddled his lap. his hands found your hips, pulling you down so the head of his cock teased your entrance. you both breathed ragged.

then — you sank down.

inch by inch.

his mouth dropped open, teeth grit.

“god damn,” he hissed. “this pussy heavy as fuck.”

you rode him slow at first — adjusting to his size, your walls clenching tight. his eyes never left your face. not once. his hands guided you, rhythm building with every bounce of your thick ass. you bounced harder. louder.

smack.

his palm slapped your ass again. then again. red prints bloomed.

“take that dick,” he growled. “look at you — thick lil loyalist, takin’ a real king’s cock.”

you whimpered, rolling your hips faster, sweat sliding down your throat. your tits bounced, full and heavy, catching his eyes with every thrust.

“say who this pussy belong to,” he demanded.

you moaned, too far gone to think, riding him like salvation. like war. like you hated him — and loved the way he destroyed you.

he grabbed your throat.

“say it.”

you whispered it.

“…you.”

his eyes lit with fire.

he flipped you in one swift motion — your back now against the cold stone of the throne, legs spread as he pounded into you, harder, deeper, cock hitting every spot like he knew you already.

you were nothing now. just gasps. heat. slick. sweat.

he grunted, one hand pressing on your lower belly as he fucked you deeper.

“you feel that?” he rasped. “i’m in there. ain’t no goin’ back now, mama.”

you clawed at him, body coiling tight.

your climax ripped through you like thunder — back arching, mouth open in a silent cry.

he followed seconds later, spilling deep inside you with a growl, hands fisting in your waist like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.

you laid there afterward — still on the throne, legs sprawled, his breath heavy on your neck.

he kissed your shoulder once.

then again.

not gentle. not soft.

just… his.

✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐕𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀.

(not my best work, but i promise the next killmonger one will have better smut)

[melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx]

So basically AI is making fanfiction…uh huh 🤔😒

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Lost drafts…

Erik Killmonger HARDCORE SMUT.

Within the year they were married, Erik attempted to get his wife to deep throat him. She did on occasion give very wonderful slurping sessions, but she’d always been afraid to take him all the way in. Erik’s ten inch dick was a lot to handle. She’d just gotten used to it in her pussy, now she needed to get her throat and ass acquainted. During their play sessions, she would let him gag her with his fingers. But, Erik had a big fetish for keeping his women gaged and having her deep throat his dick. He kept a hidden file on his laptop in his home office of vids of women deepthroating and wearing gags.

After a long day in the office, Erik entered his home to find it ignited by candlelight. Inching in further, loosening his tie and cuffing his sleeves, he found his way into their dining room to find Tyra, his wife, dressed in deep-purple lingerie. A plate of what looked like brown stewed chicken with rice and peas awaited him. She stood from her seat with those generous curves to greet him. They French kissed and she broke the kiss to take off his jacket.

“Baby, what’s all this about?” Erik questioned with excitement laced in his voice.

“I want to cater to you…here, daddy, have a seat.”

Erik waited for her to pull his chair out and when he sat down, Tyra got down on her knees and started removing his loafers. He watched her with a penetrating stare and his thick lips turned up into a smile. The stress on his face when he’d initially walked in was replaced with admiration.

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik said.

“I want you to relax. You work so hard, daddy. You spoil me…love me…respect me…how can I not return the favor?”

Erik arched a brow at her, “Hmm…I do…but you must want something. Whatchu want, wifey?”

She giggled. Erik could see right through her. He ain’t mad at it, he just knows his woman. That’s why he works so hard. He thoroughly enjoys spoiling his wife and giving her the life she deserves.

"…I found your hidden vids. I’m not mad, but I will bet you the new car I want that I can learn to deep throat you in a week and you can gag me with a six-inch penis gag whenever you want," Tyra said giving Erik a devilish smile.

His eyes became saucers as he stared down at her. She’d went snooping in his office and found his XXX files on his laptop. Hardcore throat-fucking vids. That’s what Erik wanted to do to her. Fuck her throat with his fingers tangled in her hair. Watch the way her tears streamed from her eyes. Cover her with spit. Pound her throat out with nowhere to run.

She pushed his chair back and started to unbuckle his belt. Erik didn’t hesitate to raised up so she could slip his slacks down to free his suddenly rock-hard dick. Erik watched her pretty face while she took in the sight of his big daddy dick. Looking up into his eyes, Tyra wrapped her hand around his rigid girth and popped that fat tip between her glossy lips. Erik hissed, his low, wanton eyes watching Tyra bob her head up and down, bumping the head of his dick against the entrance to her throat. She gagged each time slightly.

“Tyra, you sure you can get all this dick down your throat in just a week? You had a whole year to master this shit.” Erik teased.

She popped her lips off of his dick to speak, “I want that car.”

“Hm, I can see that,” Erik replied with a lick of his lips.

He tilted his head while sipping his wine, watching her do her thing. His mocha eyes would trail up and down, tracking the movement of her snug lips wrapped around his veiny girth. She twisted her lips and tightened them even more, causing Erik’s nut sack to pulse.

“Fuck, Tyra…come on,” Erik palmed the back of her head, “Still got some more dick to go, ma. Open that fuckin’ throat up.”

She gagged and Erik held her there, testing her to see how long she could take it. He would chuckle to himself whenever she came up gasping for air. Each time that fat dick returned to her mouth, Erik would anchor his hips upward to reach her throat. She pushed at his thighs as a jerk reaction. Erik tapped her cheek with a glint in his eyes.

“Don’t piss me off or ima spank that ass real good…Tyra, don’t pop your lips off my dick, I’m not gon’ say it again…”

Erik’s upper teeth dragged across his bottom lip from the sensation of Tyra constantly gagging on his dick. Her warm, wet mouth tugging over and over made his balls pulsate and his dick throb. He couldn’t control it now. Erik sat up and tightened his grip on the back of her head, using her throat for his own pleasure now. He anchored his hips and thrust into her mouth, balls to chin.

Guck guck guck guck guck guck

“I’m cumming…”

Erik came all too soon, flooding her mouth with cum. Trya swallowed him down and then kissed his tip.

"So, do we have a deal?” She asked after making a show of swallowing his cum, sticking her tongue far out.

"Maybe. What car are we talking about?” Erik inquired with a little smile on his face.

"A pretty pink Bentley Continental of course."

"…So, the deal is if you can learn to deep throat this dick in less a week, then I buy you the Bentley and I get deep throat sessions as often as I want and you will let me gag you as often as I want also?"

"Yes, no limits." Tyra replied.

"That's a lot of car for deep throating and you wearing a gag. I could hire a high priced escort for twenty years for less than that," Erik teased.

Tyra pouted. She was still jacking Erik’s dick with her small hand. He couldn’t believe how hard he was.

"Daddy, please? I can start tonight. I ordered the gag already. I can start wearing it tonight with a soft dildo to practice with. Next Saturday you tie me up and face fuck me as often as you can get it up."

She was begging him. Erik loved to watch her beg.

"Ok, deal," He told her.

His dick was at full attention again, and Tyra took it back in her mouth following her hand with her mouth. Using her tongue on the head, she managed to get Erik to cum again and harder this time. Erik felt her swallow each shot of cum as it erupted from his fat dick. Tyra made a production of cleaning his softened dick before letting it pop out of her mouth.

Over the next few days, Tyra sucked Erik off twice every night. They had a routine where she waited on the floor outside of the shower for his clean dick to enter her mouth, and then a final time before bed with her head hanging over the edge. During the day while Erik was at the office, Tyra sent him short vids of her practicing deep throating the silicone dildo. She was doing so well. Erik couldn’t believe her progress.

For the next few days, Tyra wore the short dildo gag the rest of the time. Each night when Erik arrived home from work, she would slowly remove the gag she was wearing and give him slow, sensual head, taking his dick deep for a few seconds at a time. Soon, it was Friday morning and Tyra had breakfast ready since Erik got home from the gym. He showered and she knew to be right there to service him like a good slut.

“You know it’s time to go up a size, Princess…”

Erik revealed a larger dildo gag for Tyra. It was two inches smaller than Erik.

“You had enough practice with that little shit. Time to really open that throat up.”

Erik didn't give her a chance to speak before he forced the silicone dildo down her throat just far enough that she could still breathe through her nose. She didn't turn away and let Erik push the dildo into her throat as far as it could go.

"Don't push it out. Follow me into the kitchen and kneel on the floor while I eat." Erik said.

Damn, what a kinky sight. The silicone dildo dangled out of her mouth with her body mostly naked and arms trapped in the armbinder. Erik ate his breakfast while his dick bounced and twitched between his toned thighs. While eating, Erik multitasked, taking the silicone dildo and fucking her mouth and throat with it. He watched her throat bulge around it as he forced it in and out. Tyra fought her gag reflex, coughing and drooling.

"Take a deep breath, I’m timing how long you can keep it down your throat." Erik said.

Tyra sucked a breath in, and Erik pushed the dildo in watching her throat bulge. Just moving it in and out a small amount. She started to gag after about 20 seconds, saliva coming out her nose. Erik pulled it out, grabbing a towel to clean her up. He soothed her and kissed her while giving her sips of water.

"You have to stay calm and not panic if you want that Bentley, baby,” Erik spoke softly.

Erik gave Tyra a break for the remainder of the day until nightfall. Erik’s lust eventually overcame his reason and he fucked her face fast and hard, long dick style until he pumped his whole load deep into her spasming throat. Cum and saliva shot out her mouth, her gagging music to his ears. He didn’t want to but he knew he needed to pull out and tend to her. Tyra sucked in a deep breath, leaning against the wall panting and trying to catch her breath. Erik wiped her face and the bathroom floor with a towel.

Suck, suck, suck. Tyra was determined. She showed Erik her mouth full of cum before swallowing it each time, making sure to lick him clean. Erik felt she was more than ready now, but he would wait. Even if it meant that he would be tossing and turning in bed to the thought of using her throat however he pleased. They went to sleep and soon, it was Saturday. Throughout the day they did things around the house but the sight of her walking around in just a thong and titties bouncing was driving Erik crazy.

“Tyra! Come up here! You know what I want!”

Erik shouted for her from the top steps, naked with his third leg pointed straight out. Tyra was in the middle of cleaning the living room. She walked over to the steps and peered up at Erik.

“Let’s go, time to fit that ring gag around your mouth.”

She climbed the stairs, Erik turning to walk away. They entered the room and Erik faced her fully now.

“Suck this dick like a nasty bitch, Tyra. Down. On your knees…”

Tyra hit the floor eagerly, waiting for Erik to gag her. In the closet, Erik returned with the ring gag and an arm-binder. Tyra’s eyes lit up like Christmas. She placed her arms behind her back and allowed Erik to secure her arms since she had no use for them at the moment. Deep throating with no hands was the only way.

"You still game with this?"

“Yes, daddy. I want that pretty pink Bentley. Punish my throat with that big, daddy dick,” Tyra croaked out in between gasps.

She opened her mouth to accept it. Erik worked the gag in and out of her gaping mouth a few times, getting it coated in saliva. He slowly forced it down her throat. It was a bit bigger in diameter than her silicone dildo, so Eirk had to push a bit before it slipped into her throat. It had a hole through it so she could breathe and plug if Erik wanted to cut off her breathing. He could see her throat contracting as she fought her gag reflex. Tyra squeezed her eyes shut, her face registering her discomfort as he worked each inch into her throat. Finally, the base rested against her chin.

"You ok do I need to take it out?"

She shook her head NO. Erik could see her gagging, drool dripping from her chin. Tears are streaming from her eyes, her nose running drool dripping off her chin. Erik pulled it out part way and fucked her throat with it a few times, watching it move in her throat.

She gave him her doe eyes and fought down the panic of not being able to breathe, controlling her gag reflex. She would not have a gag reflex after today. Tyra’s eyes started to water at 25 seconds. Erik let her have a breath at 30 seconds. He waved his finger over the hole. Tyra sucked in a breath and nodded her head, and Erik blocked the hole. He pushed her head back and traced the bulge the gag was making in her throat with his fingers. She had a small mouth, her lips stretched tight around the gag. The bulge it was making in her throat felt larger than it looked.

"Such a beautiful sight that bulge in your throat. Is it uncomfortable?"

She nodded that is was.

"And your still game," Erik asked, a brow arched in amazement at her determination.

Sam nodded ‘yes’.

Erik had enough. She was ready. More than ready. He popped that ring gag out of her mouth slowly. He allowed Tyra to catch her breath for a while, giving her water and throat massages.

“You deserve that car, mama. You’ve been such a good girl for daddy. Now, it’s my turn to have my way with you…”

Erik helped Tyra onto her feet and he picked her up, carrying her to the bed. He placed her on her back and then dangled her head over the edge of the bed. Erik straddled her head and his fat dick hung over her face, his tip leaking pre cum onto her lips. She opened wide and Erik crouched down, a hand on her chest for leverage. His dick disappeared down her throat inch by agonizingly slow inch. Erik set a leisurely pace, watching his dick move in her throat.

“Mmmm, such a good girl. You’re doing so well. I’m finally all the way in your throat now…”

Tyra could only close her eyes and take it.

Ahhh….uhhhh…mmmm….hmmmm…fuuuckkkk…

Erik circled his hips to feed her throat more hefty dick. His balls smushed against her forehead when he leaned over her to face fuck her. Slowly, he increased the tempo of his movements. Erik stared down at her barely covered, fat puss while ramming her throat with big ass dick. He couldn’t help but to slip her panties to the side and give her pussy some attention. He slipped two thick fingers inside of her while sucking her clit. He withdrew his hips from her mouth to allow her to breath. She gasped, and then a series of moans followed.

“Erik, yes, just like that! Mm!”

Erik lifted her hips from the bed and sucked on her pussy. Tyra went back to eating his dick up. Erik’s thick lips would pop off her clit and his fingers worked her hole up to a creamy mess.

“Daddy, make your pussy cum! Make your pussy cum!” Tyra cried out with a hoarse voice.

Erik frantically flipped over, brought Tyra’s knees to her ears, and slurped away. She forced his face further between her plump lower lips, rubbing his nose in it. Erik loved it when she did that. He gave her clit some serious tongue action that had her toes curling and eyes twitching. With her release, she threw that pussy in his face and Erik watched her with a smirk.

“Fuck! I’m cumming!” She shouted.

Fist full of his locs, Tyra trapped his face with her thighs. Erik came up for air and his wet dick still long and thick bounced with excitement. Erik pushed her legs back again with her ankles in his firm grip. His dick pushed past her opening and he tilted her body upwards so she had no where to run while he dug that pussy out.

“Deep in your shit, baby? Hm?” Erik spoke with a hushed tone.

Tyra’s mouth is agape.

“Daddy all the way in there? Huh?”

She could only nod her head.

He picked up the pace and his hips snapped into hers harder. Her mouth unhinged and her eyes crossed.

“There you go…gimme that pussy…gimme that pussy…”

Tyra closed her eyes and her entire body convulsed beneath Erik. He didn’t stop. She could do all that moving around, Erik simply threw her legs over his shoulders and pounded her into the mattress. The sound of wet pussy and ball-slapping filled the room. Tyra sat up on her elbows to kiss Erik and their tongues thrashed while he drove his dick deeper. They stared each other down, occasionally looking between them at the sight of Erik’s dick filling her wet, slutty hole.

“You’re such a nasty bitch, Princess,” Erik sucked her lower lip into his mouth before nibbling on it, “I’m about to put you on your stomach.”

“Unh,” Tyra pouted her lip, “Right there…”

She came again. Erik kissed her neck before slowly slipping out. He didn’t wait for her to get into position because he was doing it himself. Tyra arched her back and Erik popped her on the ass before he was sinking inside of her sweet walls again. 

“Stay on that dick, Tyra…”

Erik bounced Tyra’s pussy off his dick repeatedly. sharp, gut-stimulating, strokes. Tyra looked back at Erik with those sultry eyes. He locked eyes with her and grabbed her by her hair.

“Fuck my slutty, pussy…it’s your hole to fuck…I’m your nasty bitch!”

“Yeah? This my wet, fuckin’ hole?”

“Yes! Oh, yes!”

“Nasty, fuckin’ bitch…”

“Keep putting that dick right there…I’m cumming again…oooh!”

Tyra’s body seized up. Erik pushed all the way in so he could feel the way her walls gripped with her release. They both sigh in unison. He wasn’t through with her. He fixed her arch and picked up like he never stopped. With no hands, Erik tilted his hips and fed her pussy some more dick. Tyra gripped the sheets and moaned.

“Fuck me with that big dick! Unh! Cum in my pussy!”

Back and forth Erik popped her ass with his hand. He could feel himself getting ready to explode. He’s definitely cumming in that pussy. Giving her a baby in her womb and that Bentley. Two gifts for being such a good girl.

“You want a baby in you?! Huh?!”

“Fuck a baby in me, daddy!”

Erik went harder.

“Mhm…mhm…keep that puss right there! Ima bust this shit wide open and nut deep in this pussy, Princess!”

With two wild thrusts, Erik shot off into her pussy, hips pistoning. All Tyra could do is moan. His dick slowly slipped out to the tip. Tyra looked back at him with furrowed brows and a bit of her lip. Erik stared down at his dick pulsating with his release. The tip of his dick was still inside of her.

“‘Mmm, get all that thick nut in me, Hubby…”

Erik looked down at her with a sexy, dimpled smirk.

[erikftglitter]

Sorry [e.k] [two]

Erik is truly sorry. 2/3. [part one]

You felt your entire body shudder as Erik pulled up to the familiar black gate. You felt a small tingling inside of your stomach on the entire way here. You and Erik rarely argued so you were a bit anxious about what he had planned for tonight.

Erik is a natural dominant man. Prior to Erik, sure you had guys who could choke you, or make you feel good sometimes, but they were not the dominant that Erik was. Come to think of it that is probably why you two rarely argued. The last argument ended up with you crying on your knees as Erik fucked your face.

You felt the tip of his dick repeatedly slam to the back of your throat. Fresh tears were running down your cheeks but his movements did not halt. He knew your limit and this was not it. Maybe, just maybe, if you had not called him a “B.A.N” under your breath then you wouldn’t be in this predicament.

You were used to your previous unhealthy relationship and Erik stopped that shit once and for all. In the beginning he knew the small stuff that was clearly coming from a place of prior mistreatment. He was patient and that’s how you two ended up being together. However, what you said to him was not warranted and he wasn’t going to be sweet about it.

You didn’t know that he heard you until you heard his game console power off. Not pause but completely power off. You felt like a piece of tuna cornered by a shark. But you attempted to play it cool and simply ask, “what’s up?”

Erik shook his head and finally approached you and grabbed your hand tightly, leading you back to the living room area. You understood his urging and slowly got to your knees. Of course you’ve sucked his dick in this position many times before, but this was different. There wasn’t going to be any encouragement. He sat his arms up on the back of the couch and pulled his pants down.

“I’m a what sweetheart? Let me hear you say it on this dick since you so bold. And take that shirt off too.”

So here you were shirtless, titties bouncing, as Erik pushed your head further and further down his dick. Spit, tears, and slobber gathered all around his dick and you began to use your hands to stroke him as you sucked. No other man in the world would’ve had the upper hand to do this to you, but then there was Erik.

The tears this time were from embarrassment. You knew he didn’t play that so you had nobody else to blame. Almost as if he read your thoughts he spoke quick after. He fisted a good chunk of your hair to pull you off of him.

“We don’t do that shit. Okay?”

You nodded your head and even though you were a nasty mess, Erik still looked at you with those alluring eyes. This time you were the one to start it back up. You wanted to apologize for the error and the low moans coming from his mouth encouraged you to go on. He came soon afterwards with long ropes of cum lubricating the back of your throat and you swallowed it all.

“Get upstairs.”

The sound of the car doors unlocking stopped your flashback. You didn’t do anything wrong but your natural submission to Erik conflicted your feelings. Still, you didn’t open the door, as there’s a whole other story about what happened when you did that.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence to the his front door. He had to let your hand go in order to unlock the door and you frowned at the lack of warmth. That’s when it hit you. You loved Erik. Yeah you two were together for a little while and were committed to each other, but the sudden realization that you haven’t seen or felt his warmth for days troubled you.

“Come on.”

Erik’s voice stopped your thoughts and you reattached your hand to his. You glanced down your hands and back to your eyes. You couldn’t read his expression but you know that he read yours. Erik always knew what you wanted and how you felt, so this entire argument was his fault for being too stubborn to admit his wrongdoing. However, he was confident that after tonight you would forget all about it.

You walked to his bedroom and gasped at the rose pedals and flowers laid out. Heart shaped chocolate, wine, fresh fruit, and candy covered the bed. You felt your bottom lip begin to poke out and you knew the tears would soon follow. Erik watched you closely, stepping out of his shoes in the process.

You practically jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around him. Your man. Your man. Your man.

“Don’t do that again. I was so worried about you!” You scolded in the midst of your tears. You patted your face in attempt not to drag your makeup down.

“I won’t baby and I’m sorry. There’s no excuse to make you sit up and worry about me. Not talking and seeing you for days hurt a nigga’s soul. We can’t be doing that shit.” His arms wrapped around you tightly. He’s just happy that he got his baby back. You had no clue the lengths he was going through just to make sure he was forgiven.

He softly placed you down in the one corner of the bed that wasn’t completely decorated. He bent down to give you a quick kiss before taking your heels and panties off. You felt the sudden cool breeze on your heat and began to squirm. He lifted the dress up and grunted once he finally seen what rightfully belonged to him.

This time Erik fell to his knees.

You could already feel the electrifying feeling in your spine as you waited on him to get closer. Erik did not fall restless so you knew that if he was going to apologize that you were gonna be here for a while.

In one motion you felt his thick lips place a kiss on your lips. You couldn’t help the moan that followed. Erik’s lips curled into a smile when he felt your body shudder. He used his hands to expose the skin of your clit and began to lick and suck on it. In a couple of minutes you were already a withering, squirting mess.

He was far from finished. “That’s one.” You heard him growl. Realization hit you that he was not leaving your legs until you got nine more out. By your second orgasm you began to cream. Erik’s tongue was lapping your clit over and over again and when you tried to push him away he tightened his grip on you.

Instead of allowing you to rest he pushed in two fingers and watched as your pussy opened up to them. He thrusted them upwards in the motion that he learned made your back arch and kissed your pussy lips as he did so. You were melting underneath him. Yelling out all types of obscenities. By orgasm four you squirted again, thanks to his fingers curling up repeatedly. He wasn’t satisfied even though he heard the screams leaving your mouth.

Again, this was your fault. You told him that you never came from oral sex once you two began dating and having open conversations. By the next day Erik had made you squirt all over his backseat. His detailer never asked any questions, but your face still flushed when Erik made you ride with him to pick the car up. “Look at how much he scrubbing. You soaked them seats mama.”

So every time that Erik ate you out he took it to the extreme. You were not allowed one or two orgasms. He praised you and that meant that you needed to cum on his tongue at least five times. But if he was counting then you can expect that number to double.

You looked down to see Erik’s eyes closed as he pushed you to your limit. His tongue darting in and out of your folds, arms keeping you still, and your clit was damn near swollen from the attention. You were never ignoring this man again. Your body jerked when you felt an unknown feeling at your entrance. That wasn’t daddy.

In a swift second the object began to vibrate and your body thrashed.

“E-Erik! I can’t!” You yell at him and he just smiles. Your body arching up to the vibrator thrusting in and out of you got his dick rock hard. He was enjoying the view.

“I’m just trying to say I’m sorry baby.” He said smugly. He knew that you were putty in his hands and he loved every second of it.

“Just cum one more time for me.” And you did just that. With two more thrusts from the white toy you were a mess. Nipples protruded, tears freshly falling down your face, and pussy completely drenched. You knew that Erik loved to eat your pussy but tonight had your thoughts so slurred that you weren’t making any sense.

“Now arch that back.”

[part three]

[nysrage]

killmonger, that’d eat you like you were his last meal and he was always so messy with it. your knees to your chest as he’s spitting down on your pussy just to slurp it all back up into those soft plump lips of his. peppering kisses from your clit down to your folds right before he reaches that forbidden hole. watching it clench and pucker for him, so he’d start off by giving it a small kiss. catching you off gaurd for a moment, “erik what are yo—” cutting you off with another wet stimulating kiss that had you clenching for more. “keep them legs up and stay open for me mama..” spitting on it before giving it a flat wet lick, sucking on it softly. “ouuu, pa you so nastyyy.” thumbing at it slowly, while his tongue fucked into your gushing pussy. erik watching your face contort in pleasure with a smirk when his thumb finally seeps into that puckering hole. “mhm, justtt like that.. open up for me.” curling that finger into your g-spot just as he closes his mouth around your clit. your moans bouncing off the walls as your legs shake uncontrollably. “f-fuckkkkk”

killmonger, who’d fuck you vocally in your shared suite in Cape Town, Africa reminding him of his true home. Wakanda and his many unsettled feelings towards it. the sun rising in the distance as morning rays gleaming against your soft brown skin, with his mind filled with the possibilities that he’d do this to what he’d heard were the most beautiful sunrises. your body wrapped in the sheets as he stroked you from the side. hands gripping at the side of the bed as your ass bounced off his pelvis, “pussy so good.. fuck.” stretching you out perfectly as your walls sucked him back in for more. hole clenching down on him at the sound of his voice. “yess, keep talking baby!” yours all whiney and needy for him to get you to your peak. “m’gonna make love t’you in front of the most beautiful sunset in the world.” his hips pistoling in and out of you faster, watching that ass ripple at the contact. “let all of wakanda here you scream out f’r me baby.. i promise, ima get us there” accentuating it with a hard thrust that left you with nothing on your mind but him.

killmonger that’d only be like this when his mind was full and clouded with festering thoughts and emotions. coming home drunk and scratched up from a mission, a fresh new incision on his skin reminding why he’d been doing all this in the first place. leading to your lower half hanging off the edge of the bed, while he dug you out ruthlessly. one of his hands wrapped around your throat while the other kept your leg open and spread for him. “mmm—erikkkkk!” your moans, whines, and the stirring of your walls from previous orgasms were the only thing that could be heard. the loud squelching only turning him on more as you fidget around for something to ground you, pushing at his chest briefly but remembering the lesson you’d learn if you didn’t remove it. which you did just a quickly as you placed it. erik loving every second of this cause you never ran from all the dick he gave you, regardless of how rough he’d get “mhm, keep taking that dick like a good girl.” wrapping both hands around your throat and speeding up his deep pace. “shitshitshittt” your eyes rolling back into your head, arousal gushing out of you and leaving a warm creamy mess between the two of you. erik grabbing you by the jaw and opening your mouth to dribble his spit in it, which you did with a smile. “you a nasty ass lil bitch i love that shit” his pace starting to grow sloppy “love how you let me slut this pussy out baby.” rolling the pad of his thumb along your clit, walls swelling up tight just before your squirt hard, hot tears rolling down your face and as he fills you up full.

killmonger who i want to ruin me..

[writerbee-ffs]

Just Michael…

A/N: it’s been a while BUT this is a part two of a One Shot I did way back when called “He was Erik”. Reader and (Killmonger. Smoke. Stack.) Michael are trying to move on from the past and present roles of their relationship.

✨Be gentle. I haven’t wrote in so long but have missed it. I decided to dip my toe back in before I fully continued to write MBJ ffs✨ anyways enjoy!

My ✨Tag List✨ is also non-existent lol so if you want to be tagged in any future work please let me know 🙏🏾

Rubbing the lotion onto your brown skin, you continued to watch him closely. You cursed yourself under your breath as his voice carried on the delightful conversation.

“When he calls you; do you not even read the script?” The host questioned through small chuckles with the cast. You’d trailed off by then reminding yourself that this wasn’t going to play out like last time. He’d played in other roles but none of them had come between you like that one.

‘You were supposed to be past this’ you thought to yourself scratching your scalp before placing your kinky coils into a low bun just like he liked. ‘You weren’t past this….past him.’

‘Who isn’t watching this movie take the world by storm?’ You thought again to yourself. You were trying to convince yourself that this dirty secret of watching his interviews weren’t crazy but justified. ‘You were showing support’

‘All done. Hope you’re ready for lunch’ - BABE

You read the message he sent. It was 7 years ago. You were an idiot. He had been in a public relationship during the “off again” point of this relationship but always found a way to contact you or did little things in his interviews because he knew you were watching.

You hadn’t responded to him since he was probably minutes away. You continued getting dressed for lunch date. You’d wanted to match his black and white ensemble from his cast interview. Sliding the black skirt up your waist before placing the white collar button up crop top on your top half.

“Babe?” you heard him step more into the hotel suite as you placed your feet into you heeled sandals. Right on time. “(Y/N)?” His voice was slightly louder meeting you at the bedroom opening.

“Hi” you smiled pulling the collar of his white shirt close to you. You melted into his soft pillowy lips with your own. This was your man. You had always fought the urge to compare him to his roles. Making sure he didn’t revert back to his depressive ways like last time…..

*

5 Years and 3 Months ago

“She just doesn’t fucking understand!” The thunder like sound of his voice made the hairs on your neck stand up. You were shaking internally as you sat on the other end of the sofa.

“What do you mean, Michael?” Mrs. Jones, the therapist, questioned. Her voice was light and free from judgement as she peered over her glasses going between us both.

His breath shallowed. He was thinking. He burned a hole into the floor before picking up his head piercing the side of your face. “She acts like I’m still him. Still in the fucking role of Killmonger. We filmed over a year ago. I just rapped up with press touring. I’m good.”

You had been slowing your breath down the whole time he spoke. You didn’t know why you’d came to therapy with him. He texted you a few months after you packed up and that public bull shit of a relationship had ended with the details of the appointment and somehow you responded with an ‘ok’. You desperately wanted to see the change in him. You wanted to support him so you came. This was your first time seeing him. He looked like Michael but he still carried the boulder of Killmonger on his shoulder.

“(Y/N)?” You were knocked out of your thoughts. You heard the slight irritated chuckle leave his lips.

“She’s not even taking this shit seriously” he muttered. “I should’ve did this shit myself.”

That fueled you to release the truth. You were tired of dealing with his shit. You had been released from him when you walked out and you had vowed to not come back. He’d moved on and so did you. You were dating, having fun and just-just thinking of him through it all. Your legs were shaking and you couldn’t sit anymore. Your skin felt as if it was burning through the leather of the sofa. You felt your feet moving. You were pacing. The type of pacing that had people around you nervously watching for your next move.

“YOU are the one that needs this! NOT ME!” Your voice was shaky but you continued to stand your ground. “Killmonger is a darkness that consumed my boyfriend. You hurting yourself is hurting me.” ‘Great the tears were forming’ “Watching interviews to feel closer to you. Wearing your clothes while crying myself to sleep. You think I wanted this?” You wiped the salty rivers flowing from your eyes. “You made me leave you.” Your movements came to stop in front of him. His brown orbs staring past you because he couldn’t bare looking at you . “I love you, Michael.” I wanted to be there but I was going insane. I can’t love you more than I love myself….” You voice was low and your finger raked through you now straighten kinky hair. “Even tried to rub that Lori bitch in my face as if you were happier dating someone of status!” You scoffed. “Bitch couldn’t do half the shit I did for you! But you always made sure I was in arms reach.” You rolled your eyes. “Tell me something…” You paused looking at him with a small venomous grin “was that Michael or Killmonger?”

“(Y/N).” Mrs. Jones voice carried over towards you heavier than before. “I understand your frustration but let’s not take jabs at each other.” She turned her attention towards Michael. His eyes were closed as his chest moved up and down slightly slower than normal. “Michael?” The therapist mumbled. “I know this is a lot. (Y/N) spoke her truth. How does this make you feel?”

The silence was killing you. Maybe you had went overboard. You had a tendency to let things build up then explode. Call in the (Y/N Horoscope) in you. You had agreed to this meet up after everything you had been through with him in this past year. You rested your head back against the wall. You were too nervous to look at him again.

He lifted his finger to his glossy eyes. Wiping a stray tear from his right one. That got your attention. You wanted so badly to slide over and wipe those slow forming drops from his eyes but you couldn’t. You were here for closure. For a new beginning. For something.

“I-I” Michael was only speechless when he wanted to be truthful without hurting anyone. You figured he probably wanted to dig deep and release every hurtful statement possible on you. His breath became heavier as you waited for him to continue. “I’m sorry. I need help.” You heard the tremble in his voice as he choked out those words towards the floor. He was hurt and embarrassed. Again you wanted nothing more than to embrace him in your arms and hold him. “I need you.” He’d finally looked at you. His once dark lifeless orbs were soften and brown. Familiar.

*

“How are you feeling?” You asked as you sat across from him in between sips of the sweet drinker laced with champagne. “All of you looked so good on Sherri’s show.” You smiled warmly. “I can’t wait to meet them in the next few weeks.”

“I think it went well” He smiled. “Just wish you would’ve took my invite to watch it live and meet them today.”

“I’ll be there the whole time when your overseas press tour starts.” You reassured him. “Remember what the therapist said.” You place your hand over his giving it a light squeeze. “We have to respect each other’s boundaries so we don’t go backwards.”

“Yeah I know.” He nodded pursing his lips slightly. “Just want this experience to show you how much I’ve changed.” He kissed your hand smiling. “I feel good about this.”

You weren’t quite sure if he was talking about the relationship or the movie but either way you could see a change in him during and after the movie. There were no hints of Smoke nor Stack just Michael.

[sugarysweetdreamz]

Cherie, this was perfect. I didn’t think Erik could get sexier but oh my god. You captured him perfectly but made him more, from his charm to his entitlement and determination. There was never a moment where he wasn’t in control. Erik and Readers relationship started on his terms. He kept coming back knowing she wouldn’t turn him away. Then when he was ready for more than sex, he invaded her life before she could even comprehend it. He only allowed reader to end things because he enjoys watching her have a false sense of control before snatching it away. Years later he’s back with more power than reader could’ve ever imagined, making it impossible to leave him.

Reader was trapped from the beginning. Erik knew she was gonna be his queen. He already felt like he owned her but after taking over Wakanda and becoming king, he proved to everyone that he can take whatever or whoever he wants. She’s already close to her breaking point and I don’t know if a palace and jewels are gonna be enough to deal with his toxic ass forever. Erik might go too far one day and reader might start beheading people.

Kingdom Come

Erik Killmonger x Reader

Warnings: DUB-CON (bordering Non-Con), mentions of toxic relationship, stalking, implied kidnapping

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies |

summary: You left Erik once, and he goes above and beyond to ensure that doesn't happen again.

𓇼

⠀

The sound of the ocean waves—something that took a lot of getting used to at first—were now the driving force behind your calm moods these days. Another nightmare had forced you to wake up drenched in sweat, and the only reason you’d been able to slow your breathing was because of the familiar whoosh of ocean water outside of your window.

You didn’t grow up by the water—wasn’t raised anywhere near it—and that sound quickly reminded you that you were far away from home, far away from anywhere familiar, and it filled you with relief. You now spent your days somewhere you would’ve once never considered living, and that was good because it meant no one from your former life would consider it a place for you to live either.

…and they wouldn’t come looking.

You watched the tea kettle heat up with your back pressed to the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Your satin robe stuck to your skin from the thin layer of sweat that still clung to it. Your heart had long stopped racing, but despite that, goosebumps still littered your arms, and you rubbed your hands up and down them. Despite how safe your mind assured you that you were, your body just refused to agree.

The low lighting in the kitchen was the only warm glow that filled the modest house, and you rubbed your head as you turned to get a mug. When you briefly closed your eyes, dark ones appeared in your mind, and you wondered when—after two years—you’d finally stop conjuring him up.

The face belonging to Erik Stevens was one you hadn’t seen in years, but that name was one you never not thought about. Not only had he been a part of your life for too long to just forget him, but the lasting impact he left made him impossible to ignore. You were literally hiding out in a foreign country under a different name surrounded by people you didn’t know because of that man.

There were days where you cursed yourself for ever getting involved with him—recalling your initial thoughts of him and how he looked like trouble—but Erik had a charm that was hard to resist. With a pretty face framed by locs and gold that winked at you whenever he smiled, he wasn’t the kind of man you’d ever be brave enough to bring home, and you had long reluctantly admitted the part that played in his appeal.

He was kind of dangerous…and you’d liked that.

Until it wasn’t random men on the street he was threatening…but you.

The whistle of the kettle pulled you from your thoughts, and you jumped at the sound. You ignored how your hands shook as you poured yourself a cup of tea, exhaling an uneven breath with thoughts of your ex boyfriend on the brain. You never thought that sleeping with the guy who was just way out of your league would change the trajectory of your life. You thought it’d make for a good story to tell to your friends and maybe even a niece or two one day.

You didn’t think that he’d keep coming back, knocking on your apartment door throughout all hours of the night, that plump bottom lip jutted out as you attempted to put your foot down—something something boundaries and respect and all that jazz. The brown-skinned man would slowly blink at you, silently telling you that he wasn’t hearing a word you were saying. The corner of his lips would quirk up into that haughty smirk—something only worn by a man who knew he was going to get what he wanted—and he’d push himself off of the wall, straightening to his full height.

“So you want me to leave?”

The question never sounded sincere, because it wasn’t, and Erik would look down his nose at you while you shuffled your feet, one hand still on the door as you fought with yourself over whether or not to close it in his face. It was useless though because you never not let him in.

You never not took a step back and watched him stride through your door like he owned the place and you with it. You never not watched him peel his jacket off, your own arms crossed over your chest as you committed to being angry for far longer than you actually were. It made you feel like less of a weak willed woman. That too was useless though because its not like you ever stopped him when he turned to you and pulled you closer.

It did no good pretending to be mad when the night always ended the same way.

Erik with his arms around your waist and you with your legs around his.

He was always gone in the morning, until the day he wasn’t, and you couldn’t find it in you to be upset about him sticking around. You actually kind of liked it, and that had scared you. He wasn’t supposed to be there in the mornings, and you weren’t supposed to be asking him if he wanted anything as you stood by the stove. Erik Stevens was not boyfriend material, and yet…

That’s what he became.

Even now, years later, you still weren’t quite sure how that even happened. You didn’t know how you ended up sharing an apartment and picking things up at the store for him and sinking into the warm scented bath water he’d draw for you. You didn’t know how you ended up obeying whenever he’d look at you with those dark eyes before softly demanding a kiss. You didn’t know how you’d started letting him circle his hand around your neck while he was fucking you, pulling words and promises out of you that you’d never say in any other circumstance.

It was something you still couldn’t make sense of, and you desperately needed to if you ever wanted to prevent it from happening again.

“Erik Stevens isn’t your average man off the street…”

That was what they told you when they sat you down in some room that was too bright only hours after showing up at your doorstep. All of it had been too much information to fully retain, but you’d processed the important parts. Erik was military—a SEAL to be more exact—and not just a SEAL but also the kind of man who occasionally dropped off the face of the earth to take out important people. It was a nice way of calling him an assassin, and you remembered how sick you’d felt sitting in that chair, recalling the feel of running your fingers over every raised abrasion along his skin whenever he had his hands on you.

“Is this some frat thing I just haven’t heard of?” you’d jokingly wondered one day.

Erik had simply turned to look at you, a hint of a smile on his lips and a hidden joke in his gaze.

“Nah,” he’d drawled. “They just represent something important to me. Milestones I guess you could say.”

Your determination to be open minded had you relaxing in the arms of a killer—a proud one who wore the name KIllmonger with no shame.

Even still, you hadn’t understood what any of that had to do with you. At that point, you and Erik had been broken up for months, something that hadn’t been easy for you to do. Not just because some part of you still wanted him at the end, but also because a huge part of you was terrified of him. You hadn’t realized that his anger and possessiveness were low on the list of reasons why you should be afraid of him.

“This man is dangerous…and the way you parted ways was…less than amicable to say the least…”

You still hadn’t put the pieces together.

“...and the U.S Government is unable to locate him.”

Winding up in something akin to witness protection because the U.S Government had lost one of their own best ‘assets’ had not been something you ever saw for yourself. To this day, you wondered why the one questionable guy you took a chance on turned out to be far more than just the average jealous asshole.

As you sipped your tea, you thought about the last time you were with him, the way your voice trembled as you stood up to him, telling him it was over. You rubbed your arm, recalling the tight grip he had on it, his voice cold and clipped as he asked you if you realized what you were saying.

“You wanna leave me?” he’d asked, head dipped and brows raised like he wanted to make sure you knew that was what you wanted to do.

You could see then that he’d wanted to fight you on it—probably wanted to do a whole lot more than that—but no one had been more shocked than you when he simply let you go with a soft “a’ight” before gesturing to the door. Everything you wanted to take had been removed while he was out, and you’d been surprised at how sad you weren’t to glance around at the apartment now empty of your stuff.

That was the last time you’d been face to face with Erik Stevens.

Until now.

When the cup that was once in your hands shattered against the floor, you paid no mind to the slight sting of hot tea and ceramic shards hitting your bare feet. Your attempt to turn and leave the kitchen had been thwarted, a tall and broad figure standing just before you in the entrance. The sight of the shadowy figure made your heart drop and your blood run cold. The only light from the kitchen wasn’t enough to reveal him completely, but you’d always been able to recognize him in the dark.

He enjoyed scaring you.

For the first time in your life, your mind went blank, finally understanding that phrase as your lips parted. No sound came out—from neither you or him—and you were sure that the sight of you two just standing in the dark and staring at each other would’ve been comical if you weren’t terrified out of your mind. The figure finally moved to tilt his head, his only movement as it leaned to the left just a tad, and the angle made the light glint off of his eyes in a way that made your stomach churn.

You were quick to search for the big light.

You sharply inhaled at the sight of him, confirming what you already knew. He looked the same and different all at once. He was still handsome and tall and wore that expression like you were just so silly to him. However, his hair was longer and the bands of muscle that were his arms were thicker, and he stood with an assuredness that you didn’t like, at all. The flashy gold tooth necklace resting on his collarbone caught the light, and your eyes were briefly drawn to it.

You traced it, a frown taking residence on your face as your gaze kept going. The casual clothes you were used to seeing him in were nowhere in sight, and you took note of the dark attire he was wearing and its patterns. He looked nice—regal one might say—and you swallowed, a very bad feeling festering deep in your stomach.

“What? You got nothing to say to me?”

Hearing his voice for the first time in years brought up a whole lot of emotions you’d tried and failed to bury. You were reminded of his voice in your ear as he woke you up in the mornings or even when he was whispering the filthiest of things against your skin as he kissed his way down it. But you also remembered the angry tone of it when he was interrogating you about some guy who’d waved at you or was questioning your feelings for him.

You remembered loving him and craving him…but you also remembered how terrified he made you feel.

At that, you took a step back—almost dazed—and the man before you kissed his teeth.

“You still on that bullshit, huh.”

Those words—filled with so much dismissal and arrogance—finally made you find your voice.

“What are you doing here?” you gasped, your question coming out choked. “How did…?”

When Erik finally moved, half of him was bathed in the shadows from the rest of the house, and the kitchen light hit his eye again in the way it did before. It glinted dangerously, almost like a feline if you didn’t know any better, and you took another step back. Erik followed your movements intensely, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“How…” he tested the word in his mouth, humming. “How is never as important as why.”

You weren’t amused by whatever he was playing at, and that crooked smile only grew.

“So serious,” he mocked, moving to fold his hands behind his back as he looked you up and down, and you hated the way he swiped his tongue between his lips as he did so. “You’re not glad to see me? Not even a little?”

When you said nothing, you watched him roll his eyes, shaking his head and his locs moved with the action. When his gaze met yours again, all humor had been wiped from his face. His dark eyes were intense as he stared at you, lips pressed together and chest heaving with the deep breath he took. You felt like an insolent child beneath his gaze.

“You know what I’m doing here.”

He was entirely serious, and you didn’t doubt him for a second.

“No…”

“You had to know I was never gone let you just walk away from me like that,” he continued, slowly pacing the kitchen and backing you further into a corner with every step he took.

His words brought tears to your eyes, and in this moment, you hated him. What was the point then? Why did he give you false hope that you were free from him? Was it just to fuck with you? Was it his idea of a sick joke? As if he could read your mind, he elaborated.

“I had some things to do,” he told you. “Some…business to take care of before I came back for you and …”

He shrugged like that explained everything you’d been put through because of him.

“...and now that I got my shit together…got everything I deserved, it’s only right that I come back and get you too.”

A noise of disgust left your throat before you could stop yourself, and Erik didn’t try to stop you as you hurried past him. You didn’t hear him behind you as you made your way to the door, too nervous and fearful to look over your shoulder. However, once you made it to the front door, you realized that you didn’t hear Erik after you because he wasn’t after you.

He felt no need to be…and with good reason.

The statuesque women on the other side of your door made you come up short, mouth falling open as you took them in. They were beautiful and straight-faced, heads smooth and wearing colorful attire that didn’t deviate all that much from what Erik was wearing. The long spears in their hands had you stumbling back, and so in shock, you didn’t even register that you’d stumbled right into Erik.

One of his arms snaked around you while the other gently closed the door, effectively trapping you once again.

The silence was loud, and finally, a few tears escaped.

“Earlier you started to ask how I found you…”

You felt Erik’s lips grazing your ear before moving down to brush along your neck. One hand was on your waist while the other had found a home on your arm, kneading the skin through the thin robe. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and you swore that you felt him shudder against you.

The breath you let out was shaky, more tears collecting in your eyes.

“You’d be amazed at what you can do when you’re the king of Wakanda.”

Those damning words had your knees buckling, and when you attempted to throw yourself away from him, Erik’s hold tightened. One hand had a vice grip on your wrist while the other hand snaked around your neck.

“I like to tell myself that I did this because I deserve it, because I was wronged…but that ain’t all…”

When Erik leaned in to press his lips to yours, your mind was finally at war with your heart once again. You’d forgotten what it felt like to kiss him, forgotten what he tasted like, and you couldn’t stop the sharp breath you took as he moved his mouth against yours. The hand on your neck tightened just a tad, like a chain keeping you to him, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

“I like being somebody that you can’t ever leave.”

Those words whispered into your mouth made your heart sink, and your protest was lost as he kissed you again.

You shook in his hold for varying reasons, fear above all else. Erik had his hands on you again, and he had no intention of taking them off. They pulled you and pushed you where he wanted you to be, and it seemed that he decided the couch would suffice. He wasn’t bothered by your lack of consent, and somehow that didn’t surprise you.

There’d been moments in the past when you expressed discomfort or you protested or you rejected him and for the briefest of moments, something had passed through his eyes that made you think he didn’t care. A glint in his gaze that made you think he was going to do what he wanted—take what he wanted—anyway. You’d always had a nagging feeling deep in your chest that Erik was just holding back, keeping himself in check with you because it was socially acceptable and not because he actually wanted to.

…but he was a king, now—something you believed without a doubt—and that title corrupted even the best of men…let alone a man who already wasn’t shit to begin with.

When his bare chest grazed against yours, a shudder traveled down your spine, and Erik reached under you to trace that path with his fingers. One hand was still carefully at home on your neck, and the gold fangs in his mouth winked at you in the nearly invisible lighting. When you felt those abrasions underneath your fingers—every one for a kill—it suddenly hit you that you were underneath him again and for good this time.

“You don’t know how much I missed this pussy,” he murmured into your skin, a hand tightening almost painfully on your waist just as he sank into you.

The feel of his cock stretching you out had your back arching, chest pushing up against his. It hadn’t been just years without sex with Erik but years without sex altogether. Part of it was because you still had some lingering loyalty to the man between your legs, telling yourself he’d somehow know and find you—despite the fact that you weren’t his anymore—and part of it was because he’d simply ruined you for any other man. Either way, it all came back to Erik.

You couldn’t stop the strained gasps that left your lips, the slight sting and dull ache from the stretch making you dig your nails into his skin. This was not what you wanted, but you swore that Erik was stronger now than he ever had been before. The feel of him thrusting himself into you reminded you of all the hours you’d spent wrapped up in each other when things were still good between you. Hell, even when they weren’t, it wasn’t uncommon for an argument to end in you bent over the kitchen counter with Erik’s pelvis pressing against you.

He had a way of controlling a situation, steering it in whatever direction he wanted it to go.

Like now.

How was it that you go into hiding to remain safe from this man only to wind up at his mercy yet again? It was unfair, and you couldn’t stop trembling as you pushed against his chest.

“Erik…”

Your words died on your lips when he shushed you, his locs brushing against your skin as he nipped at your neck and then your shoulder and finally your chest. The light moan you let out was involuntary, and you hated that smug chuckle that escaped his lips.

“You always try to act so tough and shit…but we both know once I get my hands on you…”

Anger bubbled up within you at his words, and you couldn’t resist slapping him. Before where that might’ve pissed him off, Erik only smiled in your face. Taking your hand, he held it tight before pinning it against your stomach, and he looked down, briefly distracted by the sight of his cock disappearing into you. He slowed his thrusts down, and the change in pace almost made you roll your eyes.

“You gone love Wakanda, baby,” he said to you, lips meeting your skin again. “The most beautiful sunsets…”

He nipped at your shoulder.

“...anything you could ever want…”

Another kiss to your lips.

“...and guards to watch your every move.”

His nose touched yours as he said that, and you felt him reach down to hook his arm under your leg. You hissed, feeling him even deeper into your gut as he bent your leg back. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of you as he fucked you, hips meeting yours and the wet sound of his cock dipping into you reaching your ears.

“I came back just for you,” he darkly told you, completely ignoring your hand pushing at his stomach. “...because what kind of king would I be with no queen at my side?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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