#erik killmonger x black reader

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Princess"

Ice Princess by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens x Black Female OC

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

Summary:

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

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

Word count: 22.5K

"I'm so cold I'm dripping icicles

I go and take your man that nigga might miss you

Spent his whole commission on my neck and ear

To stand around me need to have ya winter gear

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

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

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

You broke honey, and they call me

Banks, cause I can loan money

Colder than December, my diamonds on

Anna WintourSo that's fly ice in my life"

Azealia Banks – "Ice Princess"

Erik Killmonger nearly turned down the job.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How many people onboard?"

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

"Just three men?"

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

"I need at least three more men."

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

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

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

Killmonger knocked back the rest of his liquor.

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

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

Portia Keith.

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

He stared at a few pictures.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Quinton appeared on a Forbes magazine cover.

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

She glanced over at Quinton.

He bored her now.

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

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

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

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

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

Quinton grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Killmonger, correct?" Quinton said.

"Correct," Killmonger said.

"Just Killmonger?" Portia asked.

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

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

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

"Hold up," Killmonger said.

Everyone stopped chatting and froze with their refreshing drinks.

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

Quinton glanced at his watch.

"Now? Can it wait until after lunch?"

"No," Killmonger said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do it," he said.

Portia blinked fast several times.

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

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

"Portia?"

Her friend Chelsea called for her.

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

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

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

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

And why was she getting aroused by it?

She was a piece of work.

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh… so you can look normal."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your other friends seem intrigued by it."

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

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

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

Tiana looked heavily inebriated.

"I can hold my liquor," Tiana said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bitch," he grumbled.

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

They docked in Crete at the crack of dawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My man is. His money is my money—"

"You sure about him being your man?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She waved her hand above her head.

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

Portia guffawed and pointed to Killmonger's face.

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

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

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

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

The next few days were dull and humid.

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

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

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

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

Quinton walked over, clapping his hands together.

"All good?" Quinton asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A server approached Killmonger with a tray of champagne.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You been hit?" Killmonger asked.

"No!"

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

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

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

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

"Fuck that dog!" Killmonger yelled.

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

"Wait here," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Portia shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hungry?" he asked.

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

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

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

"But they are coming?" she asked.

"Yes."

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

"I want to eat now," she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She'll bark," she said.

Killmonger rolled his eyes.

"Then carry her," he said.

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

Dire?

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

"Ow!"

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

"Watch it," he barked.

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

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

"It's too hot."

"No, it's not—"

"Yes, it is—"

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

"See anything?"

"No."

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

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

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

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

"What's that?"

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

He glanced over at her.

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

"She's a Pomeranian."

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

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

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

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

He held his hand outstretched.

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

Portia pouted.

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" she said

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Penny for your thoughts," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded.

"Night," she called.

"Night," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

Mimi only sat and stared at him.

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

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

"No!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was so scared," she said.

"I know."

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

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

"Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

"That was my job."

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

"Don't go," she said.

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

"Try to sleep," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lemme play in this pussy," he begged.

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

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

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

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

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

"Suck this dick," he commanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pulled his dick out and glared at her.

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

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

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

"I can do better," she pleaded.

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

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

"Sorry, Daddy—"

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

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

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

"Daddy, I'm sorry…" she whined.

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

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

"Damn, Portia… oh… baby… shit!"

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

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

She licked her fingers and then stared at him.

"You were playing with me?" she asked.

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

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

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

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

"Ooh," she moaned, scissoring her clit.

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

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

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

Killmonger held Portia carefully in his arms as they kissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how the tables had turned!

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

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

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

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

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

God!

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

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

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

She touched his scars like they were precious to her.

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

"Without a condom?" he said.

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

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

Shit.

Killmonger regarded her face to make sure she was serious.

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

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

"Are you sure?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like what?"

"Unguarded. Open. Friendly."

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

"Sad life."

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

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

"Have you ever lost an entire team before?"

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

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

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

No more civilian gigs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A spider dropped down on me!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

She nodded against his chest.

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

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

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

"I sit still. Like this."

"Where?"

"That's classified information."

"Really."

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

"Is Killmonger even your real name?"

"No."

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

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

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

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

"You're not too bad yourself."

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

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

"Turn around," he gasped.

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

She showed out.

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

"Killmonger… Killmonger… Killmonger…" she panted.

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

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

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

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

"You wanna cum in my pretty pussy?"

The wantonness in her voice urged him on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, fuck!"

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

"Nobody fuck you like this?" he grunted.

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

"Fuck my pussy," she said.

She looked at him with sweet, innocent eyes.

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

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

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

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

"Ohmigod… Killmonger!" she shouted.

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

Portia curled against his chest.

Sleep came fast.

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

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

"Went for a walk," she said.

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

Wait…

There!

A ship.

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

"It's them?" Portia squealed.

"Yep."

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

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

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

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

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

Something was wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"More soup?" The captain asked.

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

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

"Would you like to rest, Miss Keith?"

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

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

His name badge said Makris.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The back," Killmonger called down.

The man held up his hands.

"Hold on," Killmonger said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Killmonger shrugged it off.

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

Vlachos waved them away.

"Bullet passed right through," Vlachos said.

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

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

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

Killmonger had disappeared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Swiss Alps looked like he imagined.

Cold, white, and jagged.

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

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

He waited.

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

Portia.

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

"Killmonger," she said.

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

"Hey rat dog," he teased.

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

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

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

Two years.

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

He got word of her searching for him.

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

He sensed her unhappiness.

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

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

The duffle moved.

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

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

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

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

She dropped to one knee and peered at her prey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A.N.:

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

[hoetachi]

PASSENGER PRINCESS — E. KILLMONGER

➠ erik killmonger x reader

➠ mulan’s input - i miss mbj in the mcu :( tumblr was a TIME with the killmonger fics happy belated valentine’s day

➠ c/w - black-coded reader (its bhm duh), pet names [mamas & baby], just eric getting roasted for his crocs

make a hood nigga put some jibbitz in his crocs.

ERIK STOOD by the front door, slipping on his black hoodie while checking his pockets for his keys— securing he had everything he needed before his departure. he wasn’t big on valentine’s day, but he did like spoiling the people he cared about, and he figured it wouldn’t kill him to pick up something nice for shuri and his auntie.

“where you goin’?” you asked from the couch, lazily stretching after indulging in your 3rd nap of day.

“‘bout to hit the stores, get some valentine’s stuff for auntie and lil’ cuz,” he said causally, pulling his hood up. he crouched down to tighten the laces on his timbs.

immediately your eyes lit up. “ohhh, I’m coming.”

he huffed, shaking his head with a smirk. “ you aint got nothin’ better to do?” he questioned because he knew damn well his quick trip to the mall was going to be 3 hours if you came with him

“nope!” you hopped up, already heading to grab your bag and your crocs. he sighed, knowing damn well he couldn’t say no to you and even if he did, you’ll be a crybaby for the rest of the day and he rather be off track for a couple of hours than deal with damage control with your feelings. “aight, let’s go.” he bounced up, opening the front door of your apartment for you to go through first. as you past him, he couldn’t help himself smacking your butt “2 hours, y/n. nothing more than” he warned, leaving behind you.

by the time you got in the car, you had already made yourself very comfortable. wrapped up in your pink fluffy blanket like royalty, you had one leg tucked under you while you touched up your makeup in the passenger mirror. erik was always in disbelief with your audacity to take over his car, but he knew deep down inside he found it cute to make it your personal vanity.

“oh, we playing this game again,” erik muttered as he pulled out of the driveway, shaking his head as you casually took over the music like it was your birth-given right.

“of course, baby” you sweetly said, swiping some more of your clear gloss over your lips. “this is my luxury experience.”

erik glanced at you, biting back a smile. “you do know i’m the one driving, right? and it’s my car?”

“and I’m the one making sure the vibes are right. you’re welcome.” you said sassily rolling your neck. the bass from your favorite playlist kicked through the speakers, and erik just shook his head again, chuckling as he switched lanes.

a couple of hours later, he was quite surprised that the both of you were doing well for time with this mall trip, you two were just about done shopping. you had picked out an elegant, diamond-custom necklace for queen ramonda and erik bought a switch for shuri that she was guaranteed to geek out over since he knows how much she wants to start playing animal crossing with you. erik was feeling pretty good about it—until you suddenly gasped and grabbed his arm harshly.

“BABY!”

his body tensed immediately, instincts kicking in. “what?! what happened, mamas?” his eyes immediately darted around to see if he could spot any threats he didn’t pick up on before

you dramatically pointed across the walkway. “the crocs store.”

he blinked, taking in what you just said. then he squinted at you with nothing but irritation. “man, i know you not about to—”

“please,” you cut him off, clutching his arm with both hands. “as a valentine’s gift to me, can we go in there?” you whined, tugging his arm towards the store but he didn’t budge a bit

he massaged his temple, letting out the longest sigh out of the many he expelled out today. “you want me to buy you crocs?”

“no, you some crocs,” you corrected. “I got a vision. I can make you look fly.” you grinned brightly; he was really thinking to himself that you might actually be the end of him. he stared at you for a long moment. “you serious?”

“deadass.”

his jaw clenched and unclenched— he looked at the store, then back at you again. the way your eyes were sparkling up at him, lips slightly pouted in that way you knew he couldn’t resist—

“tch,” he sucked his teeth, already knowing he’d lost this battle financially. “you lucky I like you.”

“correction: you love me.” you grinned, pecking him quickly on his lips before pulling him towards the store.

inside, you were on a mission. you walked around, thoughtfully analyzing the different crocs like you were styling an a-list celebrity. erik stood with his arms crossed, clearly feeling like a hostage, but you ignored his usual grumbling.

“okay,” you announced, holding up a pair in his size. “these black ones go crazy. you can rock ‘em with anything.” you hyped.

he gave you a skeptical look. “ain’t no way i’m walking out of here with crocs.”

“trust the process, baby.” you smirked, handing them to him. then, with a mischievous glint in your eye, you grabbed a tray of jibbitz. “now, let’s customize these bad boys.”

that’s when erik’s interest really piqued. his arms uncrossed as he peered at the selection, rubbing his chin.

“baby look at the wittle ears?!” you cooed

“yo… when did we get a collab with crocs?!” he murmured, observing the black panther jibbit you held

“see? It’s meant to be!”

a few minutes later, he wore proudly the finished product—sleek all black crocs adorned with a mix of jibbitz: the black panther logo, a jordan sneaker, a tiny gold crown, and a wakandan flag.

“okay,” erik admitted, nodding. “these kinda tough.”

you gasped. “so you like them?” you awed. usually when he gave you the opportunity to dress him, he’ll find something to nitpick about and always take it off.

he clicked his tongue, trying to play it cool. “i ain’t say all that…”

but you caught the tiny smirk playing at his lips. he was proud of them.

arriving at the palace, erik helped you out the car. you held shuri’s gift he got her while he held queen ramondas as well as the secret gift you bought for t’challa when erik was using the bathroom. you noticed his silence as you two got closer to the steps

“mamas, you sure we gotta go to the palace today?” erik exasperated, dragging his feet as you two made your way up the golden-lit steps. you knew why he was having doubt all of a sudden. “you can’t avoid your cousins forever, plus we promise to be here for valentine’s day.” you rolled your eyes, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. it’s been 2 months since erik had bought an apartment for you both bear the palace— you had no issue sharing the same bed with your beloved and getting into your morning side quests, but you knew how much shuri and the queen missed his present.

“i’m not avoiding shuri, actually. me and lil’ cuz got a great relationship. same with auntie.” he shrugged. he looked to shuri as a little sister despite what happened a couple years back; she really helped him understand the culture here in wakanda and was quite forgiving, same with queen ramonda

“you’re leaving out one person,” you sing-songed, casting him a knowing look.

there was a pause.

“you’re not over t’challa stabbin’ you—” you started.

erik scoffed at how plainly you were putting it. “it wasn’t just a stab, it was a betrayal.”

“you tried to overthrow the throne, erik.” you deadpanned at his antics

“details.”

you shook your head, sighing dramatically. “so what? you gonna mean-mug him all day?” you quipped

“I always mean-mug him. it’s nothin’ new.”

before you could argue back, the palace doors opened, and shuri practically launched herself at both you and erik. “cousins!” she grinned, throwing her arms around you both. for how petite she was, she had an iron grip on you both causing a chuckle to leave your slightly closing throat

erik, despite all his brooding, melted just a little. “wassup, lil’ cuz?”

she pulled back, smirking. “i thought you were too busy being a menace for y/n to visit.”

you snorted. “that’s what I said!”

“I do visit and i don’t be a menace towards my future wife!” erik defended.

shuri crossed her arms. “facetiming me to talk shit about t’challa does not count.”

as if on cue, t’challa himself appeared, regal as ever, a small smirk on his face as he approached. “dearest y/n, it’s always a pleasure to see you” he greeted, giving you an warm embrace knowing the man beside y’all was glaring daggers into his skull. he stepped back beside shuri and turned towards erik

“t’challa.” erik said curtly

you swore you could feel the tension thickening between them.

“welcome home, cousin,” t’challa added smoothly.

erik narrowed his eyes. “I live here.”

“ah, but you never visit the palace ever since you got y/n that adorable apartment of the east of wakanda.” t’challa tilted his head, his smirk widening.

you subtly elbowed erik before he could say something smart. he inhaled sharply, visibly restraining himself, then exhaled through his nose. “i’m here now, ain’t i?” he forced a smile, which looked like stuff from nightmares

t’challa placed a hand on his chest. “my heart is full.”

you choked back a laugh as erik glared.

before things could escalate, queen ramonda stepped into the room, a warm smile on her face. “ahh, my sons and my daughters,” she greeted, placing a hand on erik’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you both” she kissed both you and erik’s cheeks

erik’s demeanor softened immediately. “good to see you too, auntie.”

shuri clapped her hands. “since erik and y/n are finally here, let’s eat! I want to hear all about what foolishness he’s been up to, y/n”

“foolishness?” erik echoed.

shuri smirked. “you are foolish.”

t’challa hummed in agreement. “very.”

erik looked at you. “you just gonna let them gang up on me?”wondering where was the mama bear y/n who don’t play about her man. you shrugged, linking your arm through his. “see, my days are cold without you..” you sung ‘foolish’ by ashanti, causing him to kiss his teeth, “imma leave yo’ ass here” he threatened making you laugh at your grumpy man

erik groaned as you all made your way to dinner, his family—his people—surrounding him with laughter and light teasing.

the dining hall was alive with warmth and chatter, but erik was already over this family dinner. not even five minutes in, and he was already being attacked.

t’challa, ever observant, casually glanced under the table mid-conversation. His sharp eyes zeroed in on erik’s feet. silence followed.

then—

“are you… wearing crocs?” t’challa asked, his tone mixed with disgust and disbelief.

shuri, curious, immediately leaned over the table. the moment she saw them, she howled with laughter. “noooo, cousin! and—oh my bast, are those jibbitz?!”

you bit your lip, knowing exactly where this was going.

erik, completely unfazed, stuck his leg out like he was showing off the latest in designer fashion. “hell yeah, they got jibbitz. look at that—got the black panther logo right there, for the culture.” He pointed proudly at the charm. “and my baby got me the little jordan one. peep the detail.”

all eyes turned to you.

you just sipped your drink innocently. “what? I thought they were cute.”

t’challa blinked towards your direction now. “you’re enabling him.”

shuri nearly fell out of her seat. “not the jordan jibbitz! erik, you are finished!”

erik smirked, wiggling his toes. “y’all just mad ‘cause I got flavor.” he popped his imaginary collar and you jumped in, brushing dust off his shoulders with a stifled laugh.

t’challa stared at him like he wanted to call for security. “you are in the wakandan royal palace, dressed like an american tourist at disney world.”

“first off, crocs are universal,” erik stated, ready to defend his case to the grave. “second, i gotta stay comfortable in case i gotta throw hands at you.”

t’challa took a sip of wine, unimpressed. “you would throw hands in those?”

“absolutely.”

shuri wiped a tear from her eye. “i need a picture of this.” already working her hand over her kimoyo bead, which you had to hold erik back. “you send that to anybody, and I swear—” erik started.

“what? gonna run after me in your crocs?” she cackled. “i’ll hear you squeakin’ a mile away!” at this point, you had fully given up on trying to hold in your laughter. you reached for your drink, shaking your head. “baby, you do realize you’re only proving them right by getting worked up, right?”

erik scowled, leaning away from you slightly. “you supposed to be on my side.”

“i am.” you patted his thigh reassuring him. “but also… the jordan jibbitz is sending me.”

t’challa sighed dramatically, like the weight of being the responsible one in the room was too much to bear. “and to think, i once considered you a threat to the throne.”

erik pointed his fork, mashed potatoes dripping bit by bit on to his plate. “don’t get it twisted, I can still run this country better if I wanted to.”

“in crocs?”

“i swear to bast—”

“alright, enough,” ramonda interrupted with the practiced patience of a mother who had been listening to nonsense for far too long. “we are all gathered here for a peaceful family dinner.” she gave t’challa a pointed look.

the king, as ever, composed himself. “of course, mother.” shuri on the other end? not so much. she was still giggling.

you knew this was probably you’re last time for the next couple of months that you would accompany erik on a mall trip again. but, oh bast, was it worth it in the end

[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..

[erikftglitter]

Sorry. [e.k] [final]

Maybe you should be sorry too. 3/3. [part two]

“Now arch that back.”

"Yes daddy." You respond instinctively. Although your legs were shaky and debilitated, you knew better to not listen even if you were delirious. When you turned around you made sure to arch your back as far as you could. You were secure in your relationship with Erik but you found yourself feeling inexperienced compared to his mastery. This was something that you kept to yourself, as no one wants a woman who is constantly trying to prove herself. You just simply got better. Erik never complained about you and didn't play about you regardless. Nonetheless you remember when you two first started having sex and his small adjustments to your arch had you determined to fix it. He didn't fix it tonight and that gave you all the satisfaction you needed.

"Just how I need you baby." You hummed at the praise of approval. Any kind of doubt that you felt previously was now replaced with ease. You began to wiggle your ass in anticipation when you didn't feel Erik's presence. What was taking him so long?

"Babyyy." You whine out. A quick strike to your left cheek caused you to jolt forward.

“You think you can just ignore daddy and wear what the fuck you want to?" He continued and chuckled to himself. "Not today and not ever in this lifetime sweetheart." You pondered if you should reason with him but knowing Erik, he planned every single second of this night and there is nothing you could do to avoid the incoming punishment.

"Now I am sorry baby. But don't think that you're off the hook." Your heart sank. That arrogance that was present not even a minute ago was replaced with sheer humility. This man was not playing with you.

When the second strike came down you stayed in place. Erik grinned at the response. "Good girl. Keep it like that and I just might change my mind." You knew he was just talking shit and that he would continue as planned, but you were determined to not fold, well not as quickly as you always do.

Erik was pleased with you. With only a few unavoidable jolts you kept your arch at the same position. The groans of both pain and pleasure only encourage Erik more. Honestly he lost count of how many you were supposed to have and you weren't complaining. There wasn't much of a warning when Erik lined himself up to you. He rubbed the tip of his shaft on your swollen clit and you drowned further in bed in pleasure. This was a game to him. He loved how much your legs trembled when he teased your swollen bud.

"Hmmm. Your shit so wet, ma. Fuck." He pushed in slowly until he completely bottomed out. His hands gathered on each side of your hips. He paced himself to the sounds of your breathless moans. "Mhmm yesss baby. Wet this dick up babygirl." He rolled his and you gave up trying to prove yourself. If he wasn't holding your hips you would've fell into the sheets a long time ago. Your orgasm was building up by the second and as if Erik was reading your mind, he reached one of his hands down to rub your clit.

"F-fuck!" You started to launch your body forward to escape the overwhelming feeling, but he was not having it. In an instant you were grabbed by the throat and pushed so that your back was collided with his chest. There were no gaps and nowhere for you to run. Once you were skin to skin you had no choice but to cum with a tumultuous moan.

Erik dropped his hand from your throat and you silently thanked him for the gesture so that could breathe normally again. That lasted all of thirty seconds before he completely collapsed on top of you and drilled into you.

“I’m sorrryyyyyy”

This man had you hysterical. If he wanted you to admit to anything he knew that this position was the way to go. Collapsed doggystyle had you seeing stars and soon you would be fast asleep counting sheep.

“Yea. For what??” He growled into your ear, fisting a chunk of your hair to lift your head from its place in the pillow.

“For wearing that little ass dress. Huh?” His thrusts were so strong that you were certain that he was pissed all over again.

“Or for letting ya little friends talk you into going to a fucking club.” He definitely was pissed. “Do you fucking see them living like you. Huh?” You were too weak to even think straight, let alone muster up a response good enough to justify ignoring your boyfriend for days.

“You mine princess and I didn’t like that shit one bit.” You were cumming again. Once you realized that he wasn’t slowing his thrusts down anytime soon, you needed to apologize and fast if you wanted to walk in this lifetime.

“I’m sorrrryyy daddy!” You screamed out, your hands reached back to slow down his hips, but he grabbed them and held them together.

The echoes of skin slapping was the only other thing that rang throughout the house other than the incoherent sounds of your half babbling and half apologizing.

"Shit here it comes baby." With a final thrust he pulled out and nutted on your back. You knew that he could've went longer and stalled the time of his orgasm, but thankfully he knew that you needed a break. Between the breathlessness and tears he knew that you could use the rest. Especially because this entire night was unexpected for you. He, on the other hand, was very intentional about it.

You felt the bed lighten as Erik disappeared into another room. You were temporarily trapped by weakness that your back to back orgasms provided that you didn’t bother to move.

When Erik returned he wiped your face then down your back. You were thankful for the aftercare gesture and Erik was always sure to take extraordinary care of you.

He discarded the towel and joined you in the bed. He pulled you closer and drew gentle small shapes on your body as you fell asleep.

“Good night baby.”

[part one] [part two]

[theunsweetenedtruth]

Another Again: Erik 'Killmonger' Stevens x Black!Reader

AN: I can't believe I didn't post this when I redid my master list. This man is toxic af af, I can't believe I wrote this. My records have this as being written Dec 2019 but who knows. Please don't steal my work. Enjoy!

Warnings: Again, this man is toxic and he puts it downnn

“Ah fuck,” Eric’s voice rang out in the room as he eased his way into you. Your nails scraped against the leather couch cushions before turning into fists, your knuckles going almost white at the feeling of him in you. A smack came down on your backside and you lost a bit of your arch as he pushed deeper. You shakily lifted a hand to press against his chest. It was too much. 

“Nah,” Erik said, twisting your arm into your back and beginning to dig you out the only way he could. “You can take it.” Your eyes closed in defeat, both at him and at finding yourself in this situation again. 

It was bad enough that you and Erik had no established title, that he came and went from your life as quickly as the weather changed. But you weren’t even his only conquest, just one of an unstated amount, an amount that you weren’t allowed to ask about. There was a lot that you weren’t allowed to ask about: his job, where he lived, who he spent his free time with. Tonight when he refused to answer your question about his plans for the night—asked out of genuine curiosity, not trying to keep track of him—you got upset and asked him to leave. 

And yet. Here you were.

It started when he wouldn’t leave and instead proceeded to make himself comfortable on your couch. “I’m serious, Erik. Get out.” He turned the game up in response. Your hands were on your hips and you knew you looked crazy with your hair up in a bonnet but you were perfectly content in your aloneness until he popped up. He came disturbing your peace and he wasn’t even going to stay. You were just a pit stop to another move! You felt yourself get even more mad thinking about where he could possibly be going. Out with his boys? Another woman’s house?? You picked up a pillow from the arm chair. 

“Get. Out!” You said between hitting him. You swung up for another hit that didn’t land. Erik grabbed the pillow and yanked, sending you sprawling over the arm of the couch and into his lap. His left arm clamped down across your back while his right hand delivered a swift blow. “OW!” You regretted the short shorts you’d pulled on when you saw him standing at your door. “What the fuck is your—“ Another hard slap came you clamped your mouth shut. You’d played this game before with Erik whatever the fuck his last name was.

“I’m getting real tired of your mouth,” he said rubbing your cheeks. His left hand snatched the bonnet off your head and dug into the freshly straightened hair underneath. You gave a noise of indignation and he slapped you again for it. “You think you run shit but you don’t.” He pulled your hair while giving three quick slaps to your ass. “What’s my name since you wanna act like you forgot who I am?” 

“Daddy,” you whispered. He spanked you again and you arched into the sensation that was feeling so good to you. 

“Nah you wanna tell me to get out with your whole chest. Say that shit like you mean it.” Three more quick slaps had you yelling. 

“Daddy, oh…oh..daddeee,” you moaned while Erik pounded into you. He still held your arm for leverage and your face was planted into the cool leather, your skin on fire everywhere you touched him. Which was everywhere. He was all over you, inside you, his grunts rang in your ears, his words rattled around in your brain. 

“That’s it. That’s it. Gimme that shit, gimme that—fuck.” You were cumming before you knew what was happening, gasping at the feeling or bursting outwards and then slowly coming back into your body. You felt Erik pull out before cumming on your back and cheeks. The both of you were out of breath, panting with the game still going on in the background and the sounds of the street outside filtering in. He reached over to grab something—your bonnet— and you felt him clean his mess up. You collapsed onto your front exhausted and Erik chuckled as his phone rang. 

“Wassup man.” You rolled over onto your back to look at him. Fully dressed. No this nigga did not just fuck you all his clothes on. “Nah, I’m not busy, just at my favorites’.” His favorites? You fought the warm, fuzzy feelings that threatened to arise. That just confirmed there were others. You watched him stick his feet in his shoes. “Yeah I can be there in five minutes.” He walked out the door. 

Well damn. He didn’t even say goodbye this time. 

————————

It was a couple of nights later and Erik had invited you out with his friends. You were so excited because 1) you guys had never hung out outside of your house, and 2) you had never met any of his friends. You took this as a sign that maybe things were moving forward with Erik. 

You walked in the club on his arm feeling like the baddest bitch. You saw the eyes on both of you—especially Erik—and you preened under the attention. You could feel the heat from the glares of other women who didn’t think you were good enough to be with him. It didn’t matter what they thought; they just wanted to take your place. 

You followed Erik up the stairs to VIP, teetering in your skinny heels. Your legs still felt wobbly from your earlier session with him but he insisted that he liked the way the shoes made your legs look. A cloud of hookah and other questionable substances was thick in the section, giving everything a hazy vibe. You’d pre-gammed while you did your makeup and you fought to breathe through your nose so as not to pass out. 

“Wassup Kill!” A tall man strode over to where you were standing, still holding onto Erik. His dark skin gleamed under florescent lights as he dapped Erik up and his grin was wide, showing off perfect, straight teeth. “You made it! We got all the bitches up in here! And you know your friend is looking for you” Erik’s eyes glanced at you and his friend followed his gaze. “Oh my fault. Who’s this?”

You looked at Erik expectantly but he just introduced you by your name. No title, no information as to your place in his life. At this rate, you would’ve taken that Favorite title if it meant something. You tried not to be too upset; at least he brought you. 

Ray held his hand out and you put yours in his. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said holding your hand in both of his. “Erik talks about you all the time.”

You giggled. “Good things I hope,” looking at the man in question. He was scanning the room and tapping his foot to the bass. 

“Let me get you a drink.” Ray put his arm around your waist, steering you away from Erik, towards the table where there were bottles strewn about. You looked over your shoulder for Erik but lost sight of him amongst all the people who were in the section. You sighed inwardly. If this was how the night was gonna be, then you could’ve just stayed at home. 

Two and a half hours in, you wish you would’ve just stayed in. Erik spent the entire night ignoring you. He sat on top of a different couch, a gaggle of women sitting on the seats below, while you were still situated in the corner armchair Ray had left you in earlier. He rapped along with the lyrics, his golds glinting in the spinning lights, sometimes standing and jigging to a chorus of “aye”. He kept a drink in his hand and took the offered blunts, blowing smoke in the air. But he spent a majority of the night flirting. With the bottle girls, with the women crowded around him and his crew. There was one girl in particular who seemed extremely comfortable around him, gorgeous and holding a confidence you always seemed to lose around Erik. When she danced with her girlfriends, a drink in her hand, she kept her eyes on Erik, performing sexy moves that belonged more in a strip club than the current establishment.  Your blood boiled at Erik’s blatant appreciation of her and insecurity flared. This must be the girl who Erik went to see when he left you and, based on her comfort with all his friends, the one who he liked to bring out and show off. You poured another drink  in your corner. You didn’t want to be that girl who made a scene but it was getting more difficult to watch and you could feel yourself becoming drunk. 

When the girl sat down after the song changed, she settled herself between Erik’s knees. Your heart sank as you watched him settle his hand loosely around her neck. She tilted her head back in his lap and—

No this nigga did not just kiss her in front of everyone as if he didn’t walk in with you. Before you could realize, you’d crossed the room and threw your drink on the both of them. Everyone in the section “ooh’d” and looked at you crazy. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The girl screeched. She was completely soaked and a part of you felt guilty. She wasn’t the person who owed you anything. You glanced at Erik. His eyes were filled with storm clouds, ready to unleash his fury. All that did was cement your anger. 

“How fucking dare you?! You brought me here but you over here kissing another bitch?” 

“Bitch who the fuck are you calling a bitch?” the girl retorted. 

“I’m not talking to you so stay in your lane before I have to put you there!” She stood up as if she was gonna do something and you started kicking off your shoes ready to fight this bitch and all her friends if need be. 

Erik stood up in the couch and hopped down, stepping in front of her and gripping your arm up. “Get the fuck off of me you hoe ass nigga!” He dragged you out the section, waving off security. His hold was tight and you knew you would have a bruise. You had no choice but to let him pull you out. “How my pussy taste you stupid, ashy knuckled bitch?!” you yelled over your shoulder. 

Erik burst through the front doors and slammed you against the brick wall. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growled out. You stopped short at the look on his face. You’d seen him upset with you but this was straight anger. “I bring you around my friends and you act a complete ass, throwing drinks, and kicking your shoes off ready to fight my friends.” 

“Your friends?? You kiss your friends like that?!” 

Erik chucked and rubbed his jaw. “Look. You knew what this was. Let’s stop pretending this is more than what it is.” Tears began to well in your eyes and he reached for your hands that hung limply by your sides. “I like you. I like the time we spend together. Why try to switch things up? I think we were good how we were.” 

“So why did you bring me here?” There was a whine in your voice you hated but the heaviness in your breastbone wouldn’t stop you from asking. 

He shrugged. “I thought you could handle it.” As if you were a child. He used light fingers to brush away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. “Maybe we should do this another time.” You nodded looking at your bare feet, with nothing else to do. “Let me call you an Uber.” 

Your eyes snapped up to his. “You’re not going to take me home?” 

“No? It’s my boy’s birthday. I’m not going to leave because you got emotional over something that wasn’t a big deal.” You looked at him and felt dead inside. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. 

But you didn’t say anything. When the Uber showed up a few minutes later, you let Erik kiss you before tucking you into the backseat. You watch the streetlights go by, confused once again how you found yourself in this situation. 

————————

And yet, here you were again. This time you were in an Uber on the way to Erik’s place. It was the first time he’d invited you over and after two weeks of radio silence, you were just happy to hear from him. He texted you wanting to apologize for the situation at the club, a move that shocked you. It was another first, Erik apologizing and you were curious as to his plans, as well as excited to finally see his place. 

You pulled up to an industrial styled building with large windows . After thanking the driver and exiting the vehicle, you looked at your phone to double check that you had his apartment number. Walking up to the box, you rang for his place and a click and buzz let you in the building. The lobby screamed an opulence that you had only ever seen on TV and not for the first time, you wondered what Erik did for a living. Riding the elevator to the top floor, you checked yourself in the mirrors inside. You twirled a few loose curls around your finger to ensure they stayed in place and smoothed down your dress. You would have to do. 

When the doors opened, it was directly into his apartment, where you could smell savory scents that promised a good meal. Erik stuck his head around the corner. 

“Hey baby,” he greeted you, coming at you with a kiss, but you turned your head quickly so he would catch your cheek. You looked him up and down. He was dressed in gray joggers and a white t-shirt stretched across his chest. A kitchen towel was slug across one shoulder. Did he make the food you were smelling? 

“Did you cook or something?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I feel bad about how we left things last time and I wanted to make it up to you.” He grabbed your hand and led you around the corner to the kitchen. It was a chef’s wet dream and there were several pots on the stove with low fires underneath. “I wanted to show my appreciation for you and show you how much I care.” You felt your heart melting without your permission. You leaned up on tip toes to press a kiss to his lips that Erik deepened with a hand to the back of your neck. You smiled when you broke off the kiss, rubbing a hand down his cheek and over the hair there. 

“Baby sit here,” he led you to a dining room table, “and I’ll get the wine and start serving dinner.” When you sat, he pressed another kiss to your lips before moving to the fridge and pulling out glasses. You felt content; this night could be the start of a new side to Erik. 

After a delicious dinner of rice and some kind of stew with meat, Erik gave you a tour of his home. You marveled at all the African statues and paintings, as well as his knowledge about all of them. You had no idea that he was so well traveled. 

You both paused in front of a closed door. “This is my bedroom” he said as he pushed the door open. You walked passed him, admiring the softness of the carpet, the fireplace in the sitting area, and the giant bed that dominated the space. You felt Erik come up behind you and move your curls to the side. “What do you think?” he asked. He pressed a kiss to the base of your neck and you shivered. It wasn’t you intention to sleep with him when you came over. But you did wear a purple matching set in case that was the direction the night took. 

When he pressed you into the mattress, you wrapped your arms around him and closed your eyes. You prayed that things would be different this time, that Erik would realize that your love for him was beyond even what you could control, that he owned you. You hoped that with every stroke he would give himself back to you. 

When you woke up, you could feel that Erik wasn’t in the bed with you. You waited a few minutes, thinking he went to pee. You rolled onto your back spreading your arms out and making bed angels. This was officially the nicest bed you’d ever slept in and you wondered if you could convince Erik for you to spend more time in his place than yours. But when he didn’t return after a few minutes, you sat up and rose from the bed. Grabbing his shirt off the floor, you pulled it over your head and exited the room. 

“…nah it was good as usual….” You overheard Erik on the phone and peeked around the corner. You watched him blow smoke in the air, his sweatpants low on his hips while he relaxed in the armchair. "Hell no I ain't bringing her around no more! She don’t know how to act.”  Your chest hurt; you knew he was talking about you. “I’m just tryna get shorty back under me…yeah that Dana situation had her a lil’ bent but we good now…..nah….I’m just tryna get shit back to the way it was before all that shit happened…see now, I don’t really see her as wifey material…well then shit. Not my wifey.” He laughed. “…nah nah. She sleep.”

You felt as if he had punched you in the chest and your vision became cloudy. There was no moving forward with Erik. Only remaining stagnant, caught up in a loop that felt as if there was progression towards a goal but there was only the cycle of the situation, just another again with him that had no ending. 

You went back the bedroom, gathering and pulling on your clothes, the speed of your movements coinciding with the racing of your heart. I can’t believe I fell for this shit, you berated yourself. You were worth so much more than being manipulated by this asshole. You grabbed your phone and jacket before exited the bedroom and running straight into the asshole at the root of your frustration. 

“Woah, baby where you off to?” He grasped at your shoulders but you shrugged him off. 

“Fuck you,” you seethed. “I’m not your gotdamn baby. I’m not wifey material remember? I don’t know how to act.” Erik’s face slipped into a mask of indifference. 

“So you listening on my phone calls now?”

You were baffled at the audacity of this nigga. You stepped around him, heading towards the door. “Fuck you Erik. Fuck you.” You slammed the door behind you. 

————————

A few months later and you were in a better place then you were during your time with Erik. Two weeks after you left his place, you were still a wreck, crying on and off during the day and night. But the Vice President of your department of came to you with a job offer you couldn’t refuse. You would be making fifteen thousand dollars more per year, there was more autonomy and you spent more of your time working from home. The added responsibilities kept you so busy, you barely had time to think, much less agonize over what and who Erik could possibly be doing. 

With the new job came a new exercise regimen, including yoga, kickboxing, and even pole and arial classes. You were slowly regaining your confidence and and the male species definitely noticed, if the amount of men who approached you was any indication. 

You were out with your girlfriends to celebrate your new found accomplishments when you finally saw him again. The walls of the restaurant seemed to close in on you, the chatter from your friends and other patrons faded away, and your body froze as tunnel vision kept your focus on Erik. 

He looked good. But that was pretty standard for Erik. His locs were braided back from his face and his black button down strained against his muscles. He had a smirk on his face as he’d heard something amusing but not quite worth his laughter and you looked to his companion. She was pretty; at least you had that in common. Actually, you could say that you had a lot of similarities with his new flavor. You were built similarly and shared similar facial features.

Did he do it on purpose? you wondered. You felt sorry for this woman who you were sure was just a poor replacement for originality. 

All of a sudden, cognac eyes met your own and you were held in place. There was an emotion in them that you couldn’t place—you didn’t know Erik as much as you’d liked to think—and you felt his eyes sweep over your form like a loving caress and you shivered. When your eyes met again, you arched an eyebrow. He smirked. 

It took your friends paying the bill to get you out of your staring contest. Rather than give Erik the satisfaction of knowing he’d—once again—gotten you hot under the collar, you ignored him, standing with your purse and following your friends out the restaurant. His eyes felt warm on your back and if you put an extra oomph in your walk that was no one’s business. 

Later that night, you were pulled away from Grey’s Anatomy by a knock on your front door. Pausing the DVR, you went to the door and looked in the peephole. Erik stood there a brown paper bag under his arm, his smirk from earlier seemingly glued on his face. Confused, you opened the door. He said nothing, just pulled a bottle of Hennessy out of the bag. It was your drink and you couldn’t help but remember all the nights that started just like this one and ended with you limp and satiated. 

You pursed your lips but gestured for him to come in. He swaggered confidently across the threshold and you closed the door behind him, restarting the cycle of agains all over again. 

[darkmemesworld]

Why when im scrolling through a tag i flashed by cho0chie 😦?

All jokes aside i had posted a meme and not even 3 minutes later it got flagged.. and im starting to see a lot of prn bots is it just me???

But why did my stuff get flagged but bots thats are showing naked people still up 🤔

[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?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[chromehoney]

criminal/stickyfingers!smoke x bimbo!black!fem!reader.

The first thing you smell is cash. Not cologne, not motor oil, not even the cigarette he’s always pinching between his fingers—but cash. Raw, bitter leather and metallic ink. Money. And it trails in behind him like smoke itself, slinking through the wide halls of the home he bought you, echoing off marble and soft light.

You’re bent over the marble kitchen counter, syrupy hips poking out from a pink satin robe, the one he got monogrammed with Mrs. Moore stitched over the heart. Bare legs glisten. Anklets jingling. Lipgloss always fresh.

His voice glides in slow. “Why you always bakin’ somethin’ with ya ass out like that, baby?”

You don’t answer at first. Just stir the sugar into the sweet tea with two fingers, lazy, wet swirls. You feel his eyes all over you—thick and hot like honey down your spine. So you tilt your head and smile, glossy lips parting just enough.

“Because you like it, Pa.”

Smoke chuckles low in his throat. Gravel. The kind of sound that makes your thighs brush together. He drops the duffel bag on the floor with a thud—money, of course—and strolls toward you, slow and greedy.

He wears all black, shirt halfway unbuttoned, gold chains dancing on his chest. You know he didn’t come home through the front. You know the duffel’s not from any bank that would shake hands with a man like him. His knuckles are still red. His ring’s still bloody.

But he pays all the bills.

You ain’t even know what a light bill looked like since you met him. His hand finds your ass before his mouth finds your cheek. A kiss, soft, reverent. Fingers sinking into the dough of you, making you gasp.

“You make my whole fuckin’ house smell like sugar,” he murmurs, brushing his nose down your jaw. “My sweet girl.”

You giggle like it’s innocent, though your knees are going soft and your robe’s slipping open. Your lashes flutter, thick and heavy. “M’just makin’ cake,” you hum, eyes glossy, dumb, pink. “Thought you’d be hungry.”

“i am hungry.”

You feel him growing against the back of your thigh. You let out a little coo, one of those bimboish gasps he lives for. His big hand wraps around your middle, just under your tits, pulling you close like he owns you. (He does.)

“Cake can wait,” he murmurs in your ear. “But I can’t.” And neither can you.

@cursed-carmine for the dividers .

[migosis]

morning dew. (Erik killmonger x OC) AU

summary: Ryka ( pronounced rye-kuh) is shook out of her sleep by a steamy dream, only for Erik to make her dream come true in real life.

warnings: it's smut baby, light D/s, spit play, anal, AAVE, and xxx twitter link included.

authors note: I know everyone is writing for Sinners right now, but for some reason, those characters & story are too close to my heart right now to begin to shift their story. however I was still inspired to write, so you filthy heathens get killmonger. enjoy but be gentle. 🥰

masterlist

Ryka’s tired eyes snapped open, her vision hazy as she adjusted to reality. Her skin stuck to the sheets, damp with perspiration. The thumping in her chest and rapid pulse made her want to crawl out of her own skin. She sat up in bed, slowly so that she wouldn’t wake the gentle giant sleeping next to her. She sighed in frustration as she began to recall the scenes that played in her mind just before she awakened. The throbbing between her legs had her attention immediately. 

On the nightstand she double tapped her screen to check the time. It was 5:16am, hours earlier than the typical time she’d wake on a Saturday morning. Too damn early. She laid back down and rolled over into a cool spot in the sheets. She tossed when she couldn't escape the salacious thoughts that invaded her mind as she tried to go back to sleep. The throbbing was just as intense as it had been moments before. Her mind wanted to sleep so deeply, but her own body worked against her, compelling her to satisfy the flesh. The sticky heat that collected between her thighs at this point could not just be chalked up to perspiration. As much as she tried to ignore the need, all she could do was lay there and surrender her body to sleep, hoping maybe, just maybe her dream could pick up right where it left off.

Shivers radiated down her spine at the snapshots in her head. She could practically feel Erik’s breath on her skin and his distant voice in her head whispering devious innuendos. To her dismay, he was still fast asleep. After twenty minutes of attempting counting sheep she stifled a deep groan. She laid there, inadvertently piecing together the missing plot of her dream. In one flash there was a head full of locs between her legs. The thought of Erik slurping and sucking on her caused jolts of energy to course through her body. She could feel her nipples getting firm underneath the oversized t-shirt she wore. Her imagination recreated the happenings in her dream so elaborately that she could nearly feel him doing all of these things to her that she envisioned. She was disappointed when her mind's eye fell short. Trying to imagine his tongue on her felt like using a touchscreen with gloves on. 

Although it was difficult to see in the shadows of dawn, she knew Erik was asleep because of his deep, slow breaths. She decided against waking him. He needed his sleep, because he was an absolute terror to deal with if not. Feeling his warmth and his subtle pheromones around her wasn’t making this any easier so she left the bed, flinching a bit when the cool air hit her body. She sulked into the bathroom, the misery of unfulfilled desire heavily clouding her. 

After brushing her teeth and washing her face she decided to lay on the couch so as not to disturb Erik in the bedroom. Even as she laid in the darkness, her mind conjured him, making the same sensations arise as earlier only this time, more intense. Between her legs she saw his tongue swimming in her sea of wetness and then drowning in more forbidden places. The sight made her squirm. She could feel his caress on her skin, where nothing but the fabric of her shirt touched her. She thought she could distract herself with a scroll down her timeline, a podcast, music, something. But impulsively she put in an airpod, and changed the orientation on her phone to horizontal before navigating to her favorite adult videos. She believed that watching them would relieve her. That her itch would be scratched, like listening to a song that's stuck in your head. But the suggestive sounds and passion filled faces the actors made only amplified the fluttering she felt in her clit. She envied the woman on her screen. A muscular man pounded the plus sized stallion from the back while she throated the thick, heavy dick of a tattooed light skinned man in front of her. Ryka marveled at how both disappeared inside of her with ease. Ryka began to get lost in the sensation of what it felt like to be sandwiched between two bodies and filled to the brim. The woman hummed when one of the men slid in her pussy from under her and cried out in ecstasy once the other man behind her massaged her ass before she begged him to push inside of her second hole. Her moan’s made Ryka’s pussy clench involuntarily. She rolled her nipples between her fingers as she watched. Her wet folds drew her finger tips to her clit like a magnet. Just as her hand encroached upon her waistband, the sound of Erik’s raspy voice broke her out of the moment. 

"Ry? Come back to bed." She froze but realized he was already turning on his heels headed back down the hallway before he finished his sentence. He hadn't looked at her too close nor did he see the screen. She closed the incognito window on her phone and laid the throw blanket to the side. In the room again, she faced him laying on her side. He laid on his back, eyes closed, hands folded and resting on his torso.

"You been to sleep yet baby girl?” She was a night owl, while he was always the first to fall asleep. 

"Yeah, I had something like a night sweat a little bit ago. Then I couldn't go back to sleep."

"Bad dream?"

"Not really." He turned his head and looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"You feelin’ aight? Does something hurt?" Since the pandemic, any time she so much as sneezed a few times in a row, Erik suggested she was sick and went into caregiver mode. 

He held his hand on her forehead, and then nestled his hand under her chin so he could “see if you runnin’ a fever.”

She smiled at his concern, but let him know she wasn't sick. Not in that fashion anyway, although there was something she was fiendin’ for. Her eyes wandered over his bare chest and abdomen, then back up to his lips just as he licked them. Silence hung between them while she played in his beard, fantasizing about her juices dripping from it, like in her dream. She thought about telling him what was on her mind, but telling him about her devious thoughts made her want to hide under a rock. She’d never been good at initiating. She shrank internally at the thought of recalling all of the details. Guilt swelled inside of her, because somewhere in her psychology her needs felt like entitlement. Revealing herself required her to be too brave at the moment. A battle occurred inside her, each part fighting selfishly to stake their claim. The woman who wished to be desired and the woman that shrieked at being seen. She just wanted him to know she needed him. 

"Give me your hand again?" He laid his hand in hers without any hesitation, they felt softer than they looked. Even in the dim morning light, he could see that her gaze never left his as she guided his hand under the cover. She pulled her shirt up while his hand rested on her tummy. She placed quick pecks on his lips and before she knew it, his hand was already gripping her soft skin. The heat generated between them made her heart beat quicken. She grabbed his wrist and placed his hand between her legs.

"I'm hurting here." For a split second, he considered that Ryka was experiencing genuine pain, but her smoldering gaze told him otherwise. He pushed her leg aside further to give himself more room to work. She smiled nervously, but Erik’s face was unchanged, sensing a challenge rather than a playful game. He was serious about her pleasure, treating it like a puzzle he was dedicated to solving.

"Right here?" He pressed his fingers against her so firmly that she could feel her clit pulsing against her public bone. She tensed and nodded.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“So you can act like a damn grinch all day? Hell nah.” She chuckled to herself. 

“Hmm.”

She felt him shift on his side and his breath near her ear made her shiver. “Grinches do this?” He finally crept inside of her underwear. She let out several jagged breaths that turned to whines when his fingers began to play at her entrance. He teased her, nearly penetrating but instead he just collected her juices on his fingers and rubbed all over her folds.

“She so fat and juicy.” 

“Mmmm.” She licked her lips, and rolled her hips toward him, begging for his fingers to explore deeper. “That feels so good.” Her thighs began to close as she got closer and closer to release, but he was steadfast with his mission even as she writhed under him and tried to push him away. The feeling snuck up on her, that friction that made her body tense and her head floaty. She yearned for his fingers inside of her, but he was already on her way to making her pussy cream just by working her clit. She pushed against his chest weakly, but when he didn’t lay off she gladly accepted her fate. His tongue parted her lips just as she came off of her high. The hand that was damp with her juices was now wrapped snugly around her neck. He kissed her intently and she followed his lead, savoring each other's lips as her breathing slowed to its normal pace.

He rolled the oversized t-shirt up her body, exposing her breasts and collarbone that was always adorned with a few gold chains. Her breasts weren't ample, but he always worshiped the bit of flesh she had there. He stared up at her while placing gentle kisses on them, that turned to hungry suckling of her nipples. The groans that vibrated from his throat sent tingles straight down her spine to her clit. She looked down at him, longing in her eyes, only to find his low, intense gaze staring right back at her. When she looked away, he sucked her nipple between his teeth in protest.

“Look at me while I eat this pussy out.” She nodded and lifted her hips so Erik could pull her panties down her thighs. Without thinking, she opened her mouth when his fingers came near, first sucking then swirling her tongue around them. When they were wet to her satisfaction, she placed his hand at her center letting him know what she wanted.

“Again, please.” She so deeply wanted another release.

His fingers plunged into her with ease. He stared at her body, and saw how her stomach caved and her breath caught in her throat when he hit her spot. 

“Breathe baby.” When she tried to, a series of small moans escaped her lips. 

“Good girl, let all that out. I love hearing you.” For the most part she was a quiet lover, but when her head rolled back and her eyes crossed Erik knew that was her spot. He circled her cavern with his fingers, making room to slip a third one in. 

“Eriiiik?” She kept her eyes on him as he requested. Her clit was suctioned between his lips, his eyes pierced hers, the same way they had in her dream and just with that one look from him her body flooded with pleasure. All of the sexual frustration and anticipation began to erupt. 

“You feel me stretching that pussy?”

“Yes!” She was in heaven. It was better than what she dreamed of.

“You gonna cum for me that quick?” He felt the ridges inside of her tighten and as if on command her body tensed and then shook as he continued his movements pressing against that spot. Her vision became blurry, but she could hear the sloshing noise his fingers made moving within her tightness. Her mouth hung ajar, but she came silently. Erik noticed her bottom lip catching between her teeth like she was trying to get something out but couldn’t.

He moved up her body, snake like. “You can do it.” His voice rumbled in her ear. “Listen to me baby, just say it.” His warm breath on her neck paired with his fingers stroking her walls through an orgasm overwhelmed her. He was everywhere all at once. She tried to push his hand away, but his strength overcame hers. “I’m not gonna stop ‘til I hear you.” A few moments passed as she continued to quake and when she was ready she cried out. “Fuuuck. Oh, fuck. Fuuuck! Fuck, Erik.”

He pulled out of her, allowing her to immediately sample his fingers. He lifted her chin to face him, each of their lips instantly finding their own messy rhythm. Every movement was deliberate. His firm grip on her chin, how expertly his tongue moved around hers. The way his other hand gripped her thigh, demanding her stillness. His touch tormented her. She was both relieved and disappointed when he disconnected from her and lifted from the bed. While he went to the bathroom, she laid there basking in bliss. Her fingers delicately brushed across her nipples and eventually she found relief in gently circling her aching pussy. She hoped Erik came back, dick swinging and ready to christen her mouth with his precum, but instead Erik returned with a warm cloth to wipe her down. As he walked towards her, all of her neediness on display, she became shy. The sun had just risen, so he could now see her moisture wicked brown skin against the rumpled sheets in the bed. It didn’t look like she’d just woken up an hour ago. She looked bright and alert, like his tongue on her pussy was the only cup of sunshine she needed.

“Good morning.” She spoke coyly. 

“Good morning to you.” He spoke amorously. 

Goofily, they smiled at one another, basking in the moment of intimacy they’d shared. She sat against the headboard, propped up by pillows. Even though she knew he was about to clean her up, she still needed a gentle tap on the ankle to persuade her to open her legs again. 

“I know you not tryna hide from me, after all that?” She opened her legs in response, folds soaking and clit swollen. She looked away from him, feeling exposed.

“That tickles.” The cloth brushed against her sensitive crevices. 

He places small kisses on her inner thigh. “That tickle too?” She covered her mouth, attempting to stifle her laughter.

“How about this?” His tongue flicked against her clit before he caught it between his lips and suctioned it passionately. He thought the two of them were through, but the sight of her body in the light of day, and her playing with that creamy, glistening pussy made him salivate. He wanted to reward her for just being her. He couldn't just have a taste, he required the whole meal plus dessert. “No, I think I like that.” He chuckled as she adjusted the pillows to lay back further.

He laid his tongue flat, and moved his head side to side creating the heat that made her so needy for him. Erik pulled her waist towards him roughly, causing her to yelp when he pushed her knees back towards her ears. She held them there, open and willing to receive all delight he bestowed upon her. At his mercy, his mouth made her feel like she would do anything he’d ask her to. When his tongue darted in and out of her, she could feel moisture trickling down her ass. When he pulled away, she saw droplets in his beard. He marveled at the mess the two of them made. Her pussy clenched and pulsated, drawing his attention to her puckered ass that was already slick with evidence of their appetite for one another. Since she was watching him feast on her, she noticed a glint of curiosity in his eyes which immediately made her want to relinquish everything to him. He could have her any way he wanted; this she knew, but there were not words to express it. His lips attached her clit again, his hand gripped her ass cheek before landing a hearty slap on it. It was guaranteed to make Ryka scream and he reveled in anything that broke the illusion of her meekness.

She placed a hand on the back of his neck, urging him deeper into her folds. He ravished her pussy, but she felt a need for him everywhere. Her hand guided him lower to her ass. She was immediately gratified when Erik acted like he knew exactly what to do. He began performing like he wrote the damn script. He looked up to find her eyes on him, steady and focused. When he let out a slight groan, she for sure knew his freak ass enjoyed stepping into this new territory just as much as she did. He gripped her ass with both hands this time, spreading her apart to make room. He slapped her again, then rubbed the same spot, but this time she felt his thumb creep closer to her asshole. When he massaged her there, Ryka’s head rolled back, her eyes closing as she adapted to the new sensation. He withdrew his mouth and watched her grind against his thumb. 

"You want more?"

"Mhmm." She whined and nodded, biting her bottom lip. Erik pressed and heard an audible gasp once he slipped past her opening. 

"Damn baby, you opened right up for me." He inched in until his thumb disappeared, massaging her insides. She couldn’t help but to touch herself. Everything felt so good, it was becoming difficult to contain herself. When he pulled out of her, she was left feeling more needy than she ever had so she placed her hand on the back of his neck and urged him towards her ass again. 

"Eat it some more, Daddy."

When she chose to use her words, she didn’t mince them. He took a deep breath, tempering his unfettered desire. His chest fluttered, the endearment tugged at his heart and his dick. She gently spread her flesh to give him access. He kneaded the outside of her thighs while he worked. The noises she made when his tongue swirled around her fueled Erik. She relaxed against him, letting the circular motions of his tongue lull her. He bit and smacked her ass because he admittedly loved to see her agonize. He loved to see her toil in conflicted arousal, unable to decide whether to pull away or keep him close.

She squirmed when his lubed index finger inched its way inside of her. "Who knew playing with your ass could make your pussy so much wetter?" 

Ryka was almost embarrassed, but she couldn’t help her pussy leaking cream down the crevice of her ass, and all over his mouth. His index finger was knuckle deep and coated in juices. His rebellious hands were touching forbidden parts of her and her clit was engorged, needing to release yet again. Both holes pulsated, inviting him deeper into her depths. She didn't know what had come over her, only that she wanted more. Erik knew it too, by the way she began to pant. She gasped and held her breath when another finger eased its way in. He slid in and out of her, eyes flickering between his fingers and her face to see how she reacted to him stretching her out.

“Oh my God, mhmm. You're in my ass baby.” She whined, in complete awe of her reality.

Her body began to jerk, and moans began to flow with ease from between her lips. She couldn’t remember a time where her clit had been so stiff and swollen. While one hand played in her mess and rubbed her clit, the other moved to her mouth to keep the sounds at bay.

"Move your damn hand, didn't I say I want to hear you?" His tone had been the perfect combination of gentle and strict. Enough to make her comply and just shy of belittling. While he hung on every sound that came from her, she was embarrassed by her needy gibberish. 

"Don't be shy, dig in that pussy."

Erik could watch her fuck herself all damn day. Something about her chasing her own pleasure made his mouth water. She rocked her hips to her own rhythm, knew exactly what needed to be stroked and how much pressure to apply. He loved watching her immerse herself in her own sensations, all while crying out for him. 

He fingered her tight ass, but kept his eyes on her face, watching it twist. Her mouth fell open, but she held her breath, releasing only when she moaned lowly. She strained against the mattress, her head rolling back elongating her neck exposing a single pronounced vein.

She couldn’t even tell where the burst came from that had her spasming as it rocked her core. Each sensation just played off of each other so well. It was everything, everywhere, all at once.

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah right there. Erik, please baby." She cried. He stared down at her, pulling her strings like a puppet master. Like he knew exactly what he was doing when his fingers curled and surveyed a spot that made her go cross-eyed.

"Erik, I'm cumming." Was all she spoke before her body began to seize in place, the only part of her body it seemed like she was in control of was the hand that was still pumping her pussy. 

"Get that nut."

She fucked herself desperately, hoping the waves of pleasure never end. Against her walls, she felt Eriks fingers moving along hers.

"Ouuuh, shit.” She hummed.

If she was cumming as hard as it looked, this was the hardest he’d ever seen her cum and he was with it. He pulls his fingers out of her, and slaps her ass in gratitude as he watches it jiggle as she continues to spasm. She only stopped when her pussy gripped her fingers so right, it prevented her movements. Erik was already thinking of how pretty her backside would be with a jeweled plug filling her up. He could only imagine how her sloppy pussy would grip him then.

He moved up her body, hovering above her. His face was close to hers, and his gaze made her want to hide because he looked as if he could devour her. He wanted her lips, but he could see she was hesitant because of where his mouth had been moments ago. She was so bashful looking at him, filled with conflict between her will to give into the passion of the moment or her self consciousness. That conflict had no place there, between them. He decidedly would be breaking that shit down, inch by inch. 

“Show me your tongue, princess.” She did as requested, and when his spit dripped into her tongue all of her inhibitions went out of the window. All she needed was someone to lead her to the water, the well of desire and she’d drink. His care and protection was the reason why he could give her forbidden fruit and she'd eat it alongside him.

He took the back of her neck in his hand, pulling her lips to his. His tongue plunged in, within moments she was returning his fervor. She sucked his bottom lip when he pulled away from her and stuck her tongue out in anticipation of him. Erik hissed when she slightly dug her nails into his back. She liked getting a reaction out of him just as much as he did with her. With that in mind, her hand slipped in his shorts. He was already rock solid. She purposely avoided the tip of his dick and let her delicate fingers wander further to cup his sack in her hands. His gaze softened and his eyelids lowered. 

"You so fucking sexy." He said in his drunkenness. 

The corner of her lip raised slightly, masking her inability to think clearly or form a sentence. He raised her chin and tasted her again, this time licking the dribbles of saliva from her chin, and depositing it back in her wet mouth where it belonged. She couldn’t help but swoon when he did shit like that. Being subject to his carnal ways satiated the deepest parts of her. She hadn't yet harnessed these lewd proclivities that played in her dreams because she was afraid they’d consume her. Afraid she’d become insatiable. Erik saw her though, and made the repressed come alive. If this is what insatiable felt like, she wanted it.

“I love it when you get nasty for me, you hear me?” Again he had to tilt her chin up so she’d look at him, but this time her eyes were alluring. Her bottom lip between her teeth seductively, she nodded. No shame lived in her at this moment.

"I got something for you, turn over."

Just as quickly as she could get on all fours, her mind filled with all of the possibilities of what would happen next. He moved her knees further under her and pushed the small of her back down gently, so they aligned perfectly and both of her pretty holes were on display.

"Let me see that arch." She leaned down on her elbows and relaxed her upper body into the bed. She wiggled her ass from side to side in anticipation. She yearned for him to touch her anywhere. She flipped her hair and tried to sneak glances behind her. He eyed her while he applied lube onto his stiff flesh, stroking it. She made her pussy wink at him. Cool lubricant was being squirted onto her puckered hole. He  kneaded her lower back and her fleshy backside, allowing her muscles to loosen into the mattress. He leaned over her, placing her arms out to the side, gently massaging them.

Goosebumps prickled her skin when she sensed his warmth only centimeters away. 

"You feel my dick baby girl?" He spoke into her ear tenderly. He was sliding his length up and down her slick folds, transferring the wetness along her backside.

"Yes, put it in." She hissed in desperation. 

"Here?" He sank into her pussy deep, which made her eyelids flutter. She’d felt that in her stomach. "Uhn uhn." He pulled out when she whined.

"Or here?" He let his heavy dick rest right on her asshole.

"Mhmm." She nodded. He kissed along her spine, still caressing her back. “Tell me where you want it. Tell me you want this dick in your ass.” His tone was gruff and hypnotizing. 

“I want it, I want it in my ass.”

"Are you sure?" She was certain although she spoke in a hushed tone.

She nodded eagerly. She braced her upper body on the bed while she lightly gripped the bedding in anticipation.

“You have to relax. Push out, it’ll make it easier.”

“What if I-”

“I'll handle it. Relax.”

She nodded rapidly, and took in a deep breath. He focused on her breathing and pressed into her firmly on the next exhale. Her ass was so perfectly tight that he had to use his thumb just to push the head of his dick in.

“Fuck!" Erik groaned, his head tilted back in ecstasy. He was frozen in time, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer to why she felt so heavenly was written there. At the same time, her breath hitched, eyes widened, and her body stiffened underneath him. Her silence was loud.

"It's okay, I'm right here. Ima go slow, okay?" Again, she nodded.

He applied more pressure ever so slightly, giving her time to adjust.

"It wont go in all the way."

"You can take it baby, I know you can take it.” He soothed, sensing her confidence fading. She just needed reassurance, and he’d be the one to shower her in it. “You not scared, are you?”

She shook her head no.

"Good. You doing perfect already."

"This your dick?"

“Yes daddy.”

"Then you gotta breathe so I can give it to you."

"Okay. Keep talking to me, please."

“Remember you in control. Daddy just giving you what you wanted, right?” He took his sweet time, moving in and out of her repeatedly teasing the head of his dick. 

“You tell me to stop, I will.”

His slow rhythm and his hands massaging her lower back kept her grounded in the moment instead of getting lost in her head.

She melted into a comfort that could only be found in his hands, in his bed. She found herself breathing in sync with his strokes. He'd been right. The more she trusted herself to relax, the further he slipped into her depths.

“Mmmmm.” She purred, subconsiously plummeting into her own personal rapture.

“But you not gonna need to tell me to stop, are you?” Her body hadn't felt tense under him anymore. She moved with him, not against him. Her body was waking up, in more ways than one.

“Uh uh.”

Erik groaned, which was the encouragement she needed. When he was half way in, he told her, "Goddamn, you feel so good." He wasn’t trying to hurt her, but he stretched her out in the best way and she was eager to take more. Cautiously, she began to roll her waist towards him. His hands on her waist was incentive to fuck him back. When he finally bottomed out inside of her, she dared to look back at him with sultry eyes, her mouth wide open allowing a moan to escape.

His abdomen tightened each time he stroked her and the raised marks on his chest glistened with sweat. The longer he was inside her, his thrusts became uninhibited. Their bodies became fluent in this new movement. Each time his hips snapped against her, her clit ached for stimulation. In between her legs was like a slow gushing spring and when Erik's balls smacked her pussy it drove her crazy. 

"You okay, princess?"

"Yes babe, don't stop."

"Good. Fucking. Girl.” He enunciated with each roll of his hips, thrusting into her. “Is this how you needed to get fucked?"

“Yeah, just like that.”

“This tight ass yankin’ me baby, I knew you could take it.”

Erik leaned further over her, so he could fuck her deeper while he circled her clit. She was so full, she felt like she could burst. The build up was agonizing, with each pump the pressure only increased. She was a whimpering mess, the side of her face pressed into the mattress. She had to remind herself to breathe because the only thing her body needed more than air was to cum. The pressure, his grunts as he slid in and out of her, and his fingers rubbing her clit was all she could focus on. Underneath him, her body stiffened and her flesh began to shake. Her orgasm silently overtook her body. He knew he had her exactly where he wanted by the blissfully distressed look painted on her face, and her pulsating ass squeezing around him. He slid out of her, filling the room with curses while silently thanking the gods she came when she did because he was about to bust.

She was weak and spaced out so he lifted her towards him, her back curving to his chest. His hand wrapped around her neck. 

“You almost had me, baby. Daddy was about to cum so deep in your ass.”

“Noooo, I-I mean, not yet.” She begged, her appetite for pleasure was fierce and hadn't been satiated yet. Her whining left him with a prideful smirk on his face. If only she could've seen him.

“When did you get so greedy? Huh?” He teased, “Was it when you came in my mouth or when my thumb was in your ass?” His hands pinched her nipples, making her back arch. Her arm rested atop of his forearm that hugged her waist for support. He teased her hole with the head of his dick. 

“C’mon baby, let Daddy in.” She relaxed into him and shivered when he found home in her again. He moved slowly and meticulously this time. She aimed to please and wanted to take him harder, faster, deeper, but he knew better and didn’t want to take her to heights she might regret later on her first time.

"I've wanted this for so long." The salacious admission caught him by surprise, making his strokes stutter. Ryka didn’t want this to end, but at the same time she needed him to know how she was feeling before she lost courage. He placed his arm on top of hers now, clutching her fingers between his and pulling her closer at the waist. He kissed her shoulder in gratitude, and for once he was the one that couldn’t find the right words. 

“I’m sorry baby, it took me too damn long to notice didn’t it?” He wrapped his hand around the front of her body, grazing her clit ever so slightly. “It took too damn long for me to see that you got such a pretty, tight ass to match this pretty pink pussy.”

Her hand roamed her body, not leaving any place untouched. She groped her nipples, rested her hand on top of Eriks between her legs, and ran her hands over hair because she didn’t know what to do with them. He was unraveling her. 

“This dick is so g-good. I don't know who I am right now.” She’d began meeting his thrusts, but again he stuttered when she spoke. 

"I know who you are, baby. You're my filthy princess and you don't have to hide it okay?" She nodded. "I'm going to give you what you need every single time."

“Thank you baby, fuck me. Please don't stop fucking me.” 

“Don’t move.” He ordered. She knew how he got when she begged. Every swivel of his hips was deliberate. He groaned into her ear, and bit into her shoulder to buffer when they became moans. He lazily kissed the space his teeth pierced. His dick spasmed against her walls as he delivered deep strokes that made her face twist up in pleasure. 

“Touch yourself. And come when I tell you.” 

“I can't.” She stated before thinking. Erik felt it funny how she'd tell him what was impossible, but proved her wrong every time. 

“You will.” 

She couldn't compute how her pussy was so wet. She played in it, rubbing her clit in circles. Her mouth hung open when Erik begin pumping as deep into her as possible. If it wasn't for his grip around her waist, she'd surely have collapsed into the mattress. 

“Oh, shit! Erik!” 

“What is it? It's too much?”

“No I love it, I love feeling that dick deep inside me.” She was saying outlandish things that at one time she felt were just reserved for the girls in porn, but her and Erik reached a level of slutting each other out that allowed her to be completely unfiltered.

Her admission made him weak. He needed to cum ten minutes ago, but it was his utmost priority to give her his all before he drained himself. 

He filled her to the very hilt, and spoke calmly. “You want me to cum right here?”

“Yes!”

“Cum, pretty girl.” His words triggered an immediate rush of commotion her body couldn't contain. Her moans were a continuous tide that echoed with each wave of arousal. Even as her legs shook, her voice echoed in his head. Please don't stop fucking me. She could feel him pulsing inside of her. He growled, ignoring his own sensory overload just so he could keep burying his cum inside her. She tightened around him, siphoning cum from his dick until he was moaning into her back. She collapsed forward onto the bed, and even then he couldn’t let her leave his grip. It wasn't until moments later when the swelling and sensitivity subsided that he slowly resigned. 

He gently positioned her on her knees with her ass up. She could tell Erik was amused by the sight, by the way he held her still, watching her leak.

“Push it out baby.”

She arched her back and kept her legs apart so he could admire what she knew had to have been a glorious sight: her ass slightly gaping and oozing his seed. 

“I wanna see too.” He was proud of her speaking her desires aloud, it was something he could get used to. He grabbed her phone from the night stand to take a video for later.

He brushed curls from her face as they laid there breathlessly. Ryka rolled over, only able to stare at him in awe of what they just experienced together. 

Later that morning. 

Erik was already on his second cup of coffee as he cooked breakfast for himself and Ryka. Erik showered immediately after their session, but Ryka was damn near asleep when he cleaned her off. She rested for a while before taking her own shower. As she was getting dressed she could smell the coffee and breakfast meat in the air. Despite her mouth watering, she really took her time oiling herself, choosing her jewelry, and her outfit. She kept checking herself in the mirror before she finally realized she was stalling. She couldn't understand why she felt nervous walking into her own kitchen. 

Erik was just placing the meat on a tray to drain the grease as she rounded the corner.

“Hey.” She spoke to his back, hoping she didn't scare him. But it was Erik for goodness sake, he didn't scare easily. 

“Morning. I'm making waffles. You look rested.” His eyes trailed her body. She was dressed in a tube stop and jeans. Her skin looked supple, her blunt cut silk press was pulled into a half up half down style with wispy baby hair. Necklaces accentuated her collar bone. 

“Yeah, I am.” Ryka moves around the kitchen, somewhat avoiding Eriks vicinity. He notices that she's more quiet than usual as she waits for her tea and steeps it.  

He tries to make eye contact, but she seems to be very focused on her tea bag. He clears his throat, making her attention snap towards him. 

“Foods ready.” He nodded his head towards the table where he carried their plates. Finally face to face, each of them go to speak at the same time, accidentally talking over one another. 

“You first.” 

She placed her fork down, but she still glanced down at her plate. “Well first I wanna say, um, last night.. Well this morning technically… was great.” 

Erik nodded and smiled while he chewed the turkey bacon. “Fasho’. Unexpected.”

“Yeah, exactly. I think that I-, um maybe that-”

“Ry?”

“Hmm?”

“We don't have to do this thing we're doing right now.” He motioned between them.

“What thing?”

“This… awkward conversation. We did it, we liked it. We're good, right?”

“Yeah. Okay.” She nodded. She picked up her fork again, striking the scrambled eggs on her plate. The moment of relief she felt disseminated just as quickly as it came. Things she didn't know she needed to say just came pouring out. 

She took a deep breath. “I've never done that before. And couldn't imagine it being anyone else… but you. It was transcendent and I'd love to do it again sometime.”

She immediately covered her face. 

“Oh God, that was so awkward.” She said aloud, but to herself. All Erik could really do was laugh.

He moved her hands from her face, only revealing a truly distressed look. “C’mon now, it's alright. I'm not laughing at you, I swear.” He chuckles again.

She smacks her teeth and swats his hands away from her playfully.

“Look, that was my first time too…”

She looked at him in sincere disbelief. “Really? You were so… it seemed like you knew what you were doing.”

He shook his head. “Nah, it's just- I know you. Remember what I told you last night? Ima give you what you need, I meant that shit.” She caught a chill at how his words came out so casually, but held so much weight.

“You really sat the bar high this morning though. I'll have to hold you to it.”

“You do that.” He spoke, sure of himself. “Eat your food before it's cold.”  

“Okay, but wait. I told you how I'm feelin’. I wanna know how you feelin’ too.”

He tugged on his beard while he was in thought. Ryka chewed, swallowed and took a sip from her mug while she waited for his insight. It had to be good since he was taking his sweet time. 

“I wanna fuck you again too Ry.”

“Erik!” She smacked her teeth, briefly irritated.

“What?” He asked with a completely unamused look on his face. He took a sip of coffee. “You want me to be more poetic? Come here.” 

When she didn't move, he pulled her plate away from her demanding her full attention.

“Come on.” He backed his chair away from the table making space for her to sit on his lap. She listened to him this time. He uncrossed her arms and placed them around his neck. 

“I want every time to feel like that. We were free, you were free. I like you free.”

She nodded, “Me too.” She glanced down at her feet dangling a few inches from the ground.

He lifted her chin up. “You know you mine now?”

“I wasn't already?”

“Yeah, but you said it yourself. Last night only could've happened between me and you, right?”

She nodded, looking at both of his eyes, his lips and back up again. The possessiveness in his eyes and broad shoulders intimidated her. She sensed an intoxicating mix of danger and safety. His hand had a subtle grasp around her throat. Part of her wanted to run, but finding refuge in her fear would mean abandoning him, abandoning the freedom she found in their love.

“I can only have you, Ry, you understand?” Her uneasy feeling melted away when his words sank in. He spoke tenderly, eyes softening. She felt his thumb rubbing circles on her skin. 

“I understand, baby. Thank you for telling me.” Erik could be very stoic and difficult to read at times. She appreciated this moment of clarity in which she didn't have to guess what he was feeling or make any assumptions. She leaned in to kiss him, and each time she was finished he pulled her closer again.

“You stay making a nigga communicate, damn.” He gripped her thigh.

“Now that goes both ways. You was making me say all types of freaky things.”

“I didn't have to try that hard.” One shared glance and they started cracking up. 

“I'll clear the table.” She lifted from his lap. He followed her into the kitchen, tidying up behind his mess from cooking. Unlike earlier, the rest of the conversation flowed with ease. 

In the following weeks, Ryka and Erik felt more connected with one another than they ever had. Living, laughing, and fucking. He envisioned them evolving together throughout the ups and downs of life. In certitude, Erik purchased an engagement ring that he would share with her in due time as his spirit guides continued to enlighten him.

---

Pls reblog! I haven't posted in a while and would love for this to circulate.

comment to be added to taglist.

taglist: @hearteyes-for-killmonger @loveeeeandaffection @iamrheaspeaks @adasosweet @goddessofthundathighs @thiccdaddy-mbaku@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @eye-raq @madamslayyy @sweeter-thejuice @wawakanda-btch @theunsweetenedtruth @wokeblock @smutty-smut-smuty @wakandamaybe @stainontheground @killmongerkink @soufcakmistress @mysticbear21 @nickidub718 @blackpinup22 @killmonger-fics @goddessofthundathighs

[ceceslibrary]

CECE'S FIC RECS

BTS

Updated: April 24th, 2024

Fic Rec list 2

Namjoon

TRY AGAIN | jiminscockr1ng

Tonight We're Dancing | unique-high

"Cry for me" | prettyprincejk

Cleaning Day | gojosnympho

About Love | jjkeverlast

Closer | joon4eva

Between the pages | hwanghyunjinenthusiast

Cross Your Mind | dearlyjoonie

Lifeline | downbad4yoongi

Late Night Texting | hobistyles

My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold | daechwitatamic

Sundress | cheolhub

Doom boy | soft4gguk

Sexy Feeling | btsrunmylife

My Goddess | purpleyoonn

Quid Pro Quo | sopejinsunflower

Dream Girl | nmjoon-n

Rival Academia | aseaofyoongi

Cat and Mouse | aaagustd

Too sweet | teenytinyjimin

Jin

Payment Plan | trivia-yandere

Oh Baby | k00sblogger

Yoongi

Angel | sailoryooons

So it Goes | prodagustd

A New Rhythm | sluttywoozi

Three tangerines | kithtaehyung

Wife | mggsv

Jhope

"Missed you." | dilfhoseokie

Daisies | jeonaachu

Jimin

Disease | piedinthepiper

Camping | swanlakebaby

Missing You | swanlakebaby

My girl | k00sblogger

Daddy's Home | lovecoree

Taehyung

His Special Secret | kooktrash

Craving You | hoseokhasmyheartxx

The End is You and I | yonkimink

Distraction | lovecoree

Jungkook

Malibu | joonberriess

Seven | joonberriess

All mine | tanniefm

Side B!tch...? | bubbbii

Sunkissin' | peachyjeonss

Wild Thoughts | sxtaep

On and Off | gashinabts

The Broken Vow | lleldey

Blackout | jjungxkook

Long Way Home | sparklingchim

Over The Odds | jungk0oksthighs

Between Roommates | kooktrash

Shut Up and Kiss Me | ahgasegotarmy116

I miss you, I'm sorry | teenytinyjimin

Let me take care of you | ahgasegotarmy116

Nothing Serious | kooqitas

OT7/Multiple Members

Boyfriend for Hire | remedyx

All Bite, No Bark | spiderlilyserendipity

3 strikes | mapofthesea

Wolves in Sheep's Clothing | peachypinkgloss

Agains The Odds | jungk0oksthighs

WWE

Jey Uso

White Lies | tribalhoochie

We Ain't Going to Bed Angry | rays-hunter01

She My Bestfriend, Yeah We Ain't a Couple | kyleoreillylover

Mr. Right Now | femdisa

Massage. | miyuhpapayuh

Chasin' | southerngirl41

Warm | msbigredmachine

This is Cinema | romanreignseater

Baecation | tribalhoochie

Jimmy Uso

I Hate You Too | femdisa

Dressing Room. | miyuhpapayuh

Beauty Calls | aintnorainbows

Pull Up | harmshake

It's A Scream, Baby | theninthwonder

Stay By My Side | aalyssah

Tension | visionarymode

Permission | theninthwonder

Can you focus on me? | pr0wlerpunk

Roman Reigns

Lingerie Fun | strawberry-milku

Can't Handle It | visionarymode

Under His Spell | southerngirl41

Forgotten Kisses | uceyreiignss

Michael B. Jordan/Erik Killmonger

I get high, high, high | cocoa-puffs

Just Friends | cocoa-puffs

Freshout | cocoa-puffs

Domesticity | cocoa-puffs

In the Morning | nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Office Bae Series pt. 1, pt. 2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6 | nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Neighbors to Lovers pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4| nahimjustfeelingit-writes

[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)

[erikftglitter]

Ch13| The Piteous Life of Dr. Stevens' New Wife

Killmonger AU

Created By: Erikftglitter

“Kari?”

Blinking rapidly in hopes of successfully concealing the fact that she lost focus on the task at hand, Kari smiles at Erik. The chatter of the gala had become white noise. She can’t even remember what was being discussed. She wishes that she could have more fun but her mind was swirling and they had just arrived.

He raised a brow. “He died.”

“What?”

“Stuart,” Erik said, his voice low and annoyed. “The hamster. From base. You weren’t listening.”

“Oh… God.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. My nerves are shot tonight.”

Erik took in the girl’s appearance. While appearing stunningly gorgeous on the surface, he could see the uneasiness in her eyes. His expression softened.

“My nerves are just a bit bad.” Kari admitted. She thought that she could ignore her rapid thoughts but she couldn’t.

“I feel a little misplaced.” Kari admitted. She’s not one to compare herself to others, but she was a middle school teacher in a room full of people that’d be entertained by her career choice.

“And why’s that?” Erik asked, gently adding more distance between the two of them and the growing guests.

“You’re an educator. You have helped curate each person in this room. You are the person who creates every other profession. You’re a damn good teacher, Kari” Erik watched Kari’s posture straighten a bit and her eyes appear softer.

“You have taught me so much about patience, navigation, and resilience. You have a place anywhere that I am.” Erik kissed her forehead and rubbed the back of her head.

Kari allowed the moment linger for a minute. She was speechless at his words and the sincerity in his voice.

“Thank you for being you.” Kari smiled, leaning up to plant a kiss to his lips.

“Thank you for allowing me to be.” Erik returned.

The truth of the matter was that Kari had accepted that Erik was not a conventional man in the slightest sense. Erik valued her though. Erik made the impossible possible. He altered any and everything to fit Kari’s expectations. Erik Stevens was not usual in the eyes of Kari but he was so much more than that.

“Let’s head to our table. The Governor will be speaking shortly.” Erik led her through the room of exuberantly decorated couples and to a small table where she couldn’t help but notice the place card read, “Stevens.”

She glanced over at the other tables and looked at their cards. All appeared to be couples and a place card that emphasized their names. Did that mean that Erik would consider changing her name? Kari breathed out and stifled a laugh, her mind would wander out of her head if it could.

Kari and Erik sat side by side and listened to the speakers as they came and went. Some of them a bit political, some depending on humor, and others just had too much to drink.

“Who’s that?” Kari whispered as an unknown man smiled in their direction. He was walking towards them and Kari felt the sudden tightness of Erik’s grip on her thigh.

“A tool.” Erik gritted. He straightened his face and looked around to find a waiter to refill his drink.

“Ah! Erik Stevens in the flesh. You know I wasn’t expecting you to show.” The man smiled. Kari controlled the look of disgust that dared to creep onto her face. There was a woman fixing his collar and sleeves as he spoke and he failed to even deliver a thank you or acknowledgment.

“You know me.” Erik responded casually, really not caring for the man in front of him. He nodded in approval once a staff member approached the table to refill their drinks. He made a silent note to tip him before they left.

“Yeah I suppose that I do.” The man trailed off, the smile looking a little less confident than before. He looked defeated until he glanced down at Kari making sure to take his time to at her midsection before he found her eyes.

It was now physically painful for Kari to not frown, but she’d rather do this right. It was a better choice than being placed across Erik’s lap in front of all of these people. They’d been focusing on Kari’s stoicism. She had told Erik that she hated how accessible her feelings were on the surface and he’d been helping her find her anchor and her breathing. This had to one of the moments that she had to utilize her trainings.

“Aw forgive me mon cher amour.” He grabbed Kari’s hand and placed a small kiss on it. Kari’s heart raced as she turned to face Erik, who looked unbothered but had a grip that was definitely tighter than before.

“You didn’t introduce the supermodel next to you Stevens. How come? Scared of a little competition.” He smirked.

“I see no competition.” Erik responded. “Have a seat you and uh- Victoria? Or Madeline is it? I’m sorry what was your name miss?” Erik questioned to the growingly embarrassed woman, whose name was still a mystery.

“That’s alright.” He chuckled. “We’re having dinner with my father.” And with that the couple walked away.

“B-babe I’m sorry! I didn’t that he was going to-“ Erik kissed her. His grasp on her thighs loosened and the answer subsided.

“I know. He’s just arrogance in a human body. The governor’s son and the source of every controversial thing in the state of New Hampshire.” He finished the rest of his drink and returned another kiss to Kari’s lips.

“New Hampshire? Didn’t you serve there too?” Kari asked, ignoring the kisses that he kept on attempting to land. This was his way of shutting her up but it wasn’t going to work. She had many questions.

“Yes. I served with the asshole briefly Kari.” He rolled his eyes at Kari’s smile.

“That’s all I wanted to know.” She laughed. “Gosh does the Navy make you all so arrogant?” She playfully asked as she reached for her own glass.

“I’m arrogant?” He asked. His eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You’re not exactly the most timid guy that I’ve met.” Kari admitted. It wasn’t a bad thing at all. She loved his certainty.

“Yeah? Riddle me this Kari, how many could make you cum in a room full of people?” He whispered before a roar of applause filled the room, leaving Kari stunned and turned on.

Kari jumped in her seat as she felt the slight vibrations on her clit. Her eyes widened when she seen the satisfactory look on Erik’s face. The arm around her body pulled her closer.

“Make one sound and I’ll give everyone here a show kitten.” He whispered in her ear. Kari bit her lip at the thought but knew she couldn’t bear to experience the reality of that.

“I t-take it back baby. Y-you’re n-not arroganttt.” She stuttered breathlessly as he increased the intensity.

“Oh I am. It just seems like you’re not sure why I ought to be.” Erik smiled.

This is a fucking psychopath, Kari thought. There was no way he was doing this without touching her and there was no way that she should be enjoying this.

“And a moment of silence for the late Andrea Miller. Beloved wife, extraordinary mother, and community activist.”

Kari sighed in relief once the vibrations halted. All of three seconds later it was cranked to half speed and she would certainly cry at the bundle of nerves being assaulted at this rate. She couldn’t silence herself any longer and darted out of her seat and to the nearest restroom. She would deal with the consequences later.

The vibrations increased as she walked and she silently cursed him. Luckily she stumbled across a single use bathroom. She still looked good for someone who is being publicly edged.

The vibrations stopped and she assumed that Erik was out of range. She was scared of what would happen later but at least she wouldn’t embarrass herself at such a nice event.

Kari exited the bathroom and glanced over to their empty table. The entire room was entranced by their own conversations and laughter so it was hard to find Erik. Surely he’ll be the one to find her. Kari wouldn’t be surprised if he was already watching her.

“Supermodel, we meet again. I’m Andre. Such a shame that we didn’t meet earlier.” He smiled. This was bad, horrible actually. This man was gorgeous and Kari was both tipsy and in desperate need to find Erik.

She understood why Erik had trouble remembering his girlfriend of the week’s name. A man like that could rarely be kept when girls swooned to his every move. Not unless he desired to be kept.

“Nice.” Kari smiled. She scanned the crowd again but was starting to feel a little anxious. She felt the slight vibrations start and her legs buckled, making Andre reach out for her.

“You alright?” He questioned, his hand not leaving their place on Kari’s waist.

The vibrations increased and Kari knew that her orgasm was vastly approaching. She needed to get the fuck out of his arms even though he smelt wonderful.

“You know Erik is like a brother to me. We had to share everything back in the day. Toiletries, snacks,” he trailed off and waited for Kari to meet his eyes. “Women.”

The thought of both of them was inspiring a lustful haze that she hadn’t ever considered. Between Erik’s antagonizing strokes and the way that he talked her through each orgasm, the thought of two former seals would be too much. What was she thinking? Erik would kill both of them.

“I have to go.” Kari quickly left Andre stunned and walked through the crowd of people. She felt someone touching her and she yanked it back, thinking that it’d be Andre, but the sound of his voice made the thought of Andre vanish.

“It’s me kitten.” He spoke lowly into her ear and in the same moment Kari leaned back in his grasp and came.

“Good job.” He praised. “You ready to go?” She nodded quickly, too overwhelmed and sensitive to muster up a response.

She hadn’t noticed the stare of Andre but Erik surely did and nodded in his direction. Andre wanted everything that Erik’s ever had and has reached some of the same milestones, but a wife? Finding someone like Kari who cared less for fame and jewels? That was rare. Erik had won.

Andre was fucked in the head too, but instead of silencing his voices, he used women to fill his void - running through every woman in every city and now he’s stuck. What woman worthwhile would want someone so notable? So he took what he could get. Andre nodded back and went looking for the nameless woman.

The drive back home was quiet. Kari couldn’t read Erik’s mind and it was nerve wracking. Had he seen her with Andre? Was he upset with her for cumming without permission? Did he even have a good time?

Entering the condo didn’t make much of a difference. Kari carefully walked behind him and watched for a sign.

“You were gonna cum in his arms.” Erik spoke after a while.

Kari immediately jumped at the sound of his voice and the way it was darker than usual.

“No! Of course not!” Kari argued. Although the man was attractive and the panties clouded her judgment, she would never want anyone like she wanted Erik. Like she needed Erik.

“Prove it.” Erik demanded. He opened the drawer next to their bed and walked towards the closet. He pulled out a tripod and placed the camera into the correct spot.

“Prove that you’re only mine.” Erik repeated. He pulled his pants down and sat on the bed.

Kari found the zipper of her dress and let it hit the floor. She removed the soiled panties from her body and Erik bit his lip at the sight of the trail that she created. Her wetness present on her thighs and the flowing down her leg.

“I’m only yours daddy.” Kari admitted. She looked over at the camera and smiled. “I’m only his.” She repeated. She dropped to her knees and crawled to the older man.

Kissing up his thighs then kissing his balls, sure to softly massage them with her other hand. She kisses the tip, which earned a breath from Erik, and repeated the action a couple more times. She opened her mouth to take in his growing member and took in as much as she could.

What Erik didn’t know is that Kari had been practicing on the toys that she weren’t supposed to have. The restless nights without him were filled endless practice sessions. She took his entire length down her throat and encouraged him to move. For once, Erik was now the speechless one. A glance to the camera showed Kari’s perfect, naked body being stuffed by Erik and he loved it.

“Yea just like that.” He moaned. “Eat it up baby. Just like you wanted to eat that nigga’s dick.” He added with a more brutal pace. If Kari thought that forgiveness would come easy then she was mistaken.

Erik pulled out of Kari’s mouth and yanked her up. “Tell me that you wouldn’t have!” He demanded.

“I wouldn’t have I promise!” Kari screamed, tears filling her eyes. Erik believed her but he wasn’t any less angry.

“You let him hold you while you were being stimulated. Fuck is he touching you for?” He gritted.

He sat back down on the bed and laid her over his lap. “Don’t count I’m gone keep going until I don’t feel like it.” He admitted.

Kari’s back arched from his lap when he began rubbing her bottom. He aggressively massaged her and she cried out in pure desperation.

“I-I’m sorry daddy.” She choked on her own sobs at his consistent strikes. She was turned on beyond belief and she could feel herself slipping into a noncompliant state.

“Mhmm.” He grumbled and brought his hand down once more. He took his thumb and began to rub the button that controlled Kari’s entire body and waited for the angelic noise. He drank in the moans falling from Kari’s mouth and smiled.

“Good girl. Daddy’s good little sub.” He praised. Kari’s breast ached at the lack of attention. Her nipples were far too protruded to be ignored but Erik refused to flip her over.

He stopped being upset a while ago and the sight of Kari’s face would make him double down. She was capable of breaking him and he couldn’t admit that tonight.

“Ten more.” He kept his promise and halted his spankings after ten more blows. She sat Kari on her back and drank in her appearance. He loved the way she looked when she was teary eyed. Her eyes all round and her lips bitten up. He loved it.

He lowered his head to Kari’s heat and began to lick up the slickness that she’d created. Kari moaned straight into the camera’s view.

“Daddy!” She screamed, reaching down for his head to stop his actions, but he ignored her cries and continued.

“Open your fucking legs.” He added after Kari’s thighs began buckling at the feeling of an orgasm approaching.

“Daddy…. Erik! Fuck!” She screamed. “Pleasee pleasee daddy I NEED to!” She cried, her legs thrashing around. Erik ignored her and increased the speed of his tongue.

“Cum.”

Kari soaked his face as well as their bed. She was a hysterical mess as Erik kept licking up her slit. He didn’t care about any of the crying that she was doing. She was so desperate to cum so he’d be sure to give her an unforgettable one.

“Turn around.” He ordered once her breaths began to regulate. Kari did so as fast as she could and prepared for the worst. She was pleasantly shocked when he entered gently. His pace was strong but softer than usual.

Kari’s mouth stayed open with an abundance of loose moans at his forgiving pace.

“Daddy… just…. gets,” each word presenting a deeper stroke. “a little…. jealous.” Erik admitted as his pace sped up. He was on the verge of getting his nut and Kari would be sure to make it easy with the mindless nonsense coming from her mouth.

“I- I love you…. D-don’t be jealous. Ahhhhh!” Kari admitted as she came around his dick for the third time. He spilled almost as soon he heard her words.

Kari loved him?

///

Before we slutshame my girl Kari just know Andre is Keith Powers… 🫦

Taglist

@theesmartblonde @ms-mosely-ifunastyyy

@ziayamikaelson @yourstruly711

@ladymac82 , @harleycativy

@brigolightly @idyllicbarb @bendoverboo18 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @heyyimmisunderstood

If I forgot your tag, please let me know. Some of yours are not popping up 🥲

[theunsweetenedtruth]

The Unsweet Masterlist

Welcome to "The Unsweetened Truth," a haven for those who crave raw and authentic romance narratives featuring Black protagonists. As the author behind these narratives, I invite you to join me on a journey where the stories reflect my real life with a giant sprinkle of delusion. But be warned: the content found within these pages is intended for mature audiences only, with themes and imagery that reflect the complexities of adult relationships. So, take a seat, immerse yourself in the stories, and discover the unfiltered beauty of romance through the eyes of Black protagonists. And remember, all content is exclusive to this platform, protected under #unsweetimagines—because some truths are meant to be savored, not shared.

* indicates smut

The Adored One (Complete)*

Nereyda is a member of the Doras—a marginalized class whose purpose is solely for pleasure. But Nereyda is no ordinary Dora; she holds a special place as the chosen companion of Prince T'Challa.

The Adored One* | Giving You the Best | Warmth* | What You Won't Do* | On Your Mind | All This Love | Yours*

Who Hurt You (One Shot)*

T'Challa, the esteemed leader of Wakanda, ventures into the dimly lit confines of a hidden establishment, not as a king, but as a man driven by his own desires. There he finds you.

Come Sit On My Lap (One Shot)*

T'Challa isn't paying enough attention to you so you decide to go out without him. You're not ready for the repercussions.

Promises (Complete)*

Erik left more than just his girl behind. It was time to keep some of his promises.

1* | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8* | 9 | 10 | Erik's Packing List

Voyeurism (One Shot)*

Discipline (One Shot)*

Another Again (One Shot)*

Kinksize

Happy

The Marriage Pact (In Progress)

Honey and Erik make a pact.

Dec 2020 |

[kawaiigirly21]

Just some guys I'm delusional about 🥰🥰🥰

I'm totally normal about them. 100% Might write about them? Lemme know if y'all want a story about any of them. Gonna focus on my marvel mens rn

[fictioninmyblood]

I Meant That Shit

Summary: N’Jadaka gets tired of waiting for Y/N to forgive him and come home, so he decides to let Killmonger bring her back, kicking and screaming if necessary.

Warnings: 18+, noncon/con, smut, D/s themes, Entitled and pissed Erik being devious. Shouldthere be a warning for angst?

A/N: This was supposed to be short, but here we are. Enjoy my sexually starved thoughts.

A/N: Also, idk if this needs to be said, but I write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.

A/N: My work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

After his reluctant rehabilitation, there weren't many things that brought out his killer instinct anymore. However, it seemed that lately, despite all the sparring, therapy, and meditation sessions, Erik couldn’t shake the urge to knock some sense into his girl Y/N. 

A few weeks prior when she told him she needed space and couldn’t stay in Wakanda and ignore her life anymore, he said some things. She took it the wrong way and told him they were over, as if.

When she first left, Erik was sure she’d break down and FaceTime him or use the kimoyo beads he taught her to use. She was always more vocal about missing him, so he just assumed she’d break down and restart their communication. Imagine his surprise when a whole two weeks rolled by without so much as a text, call, or video chat. He was desperate for anything from her, even a verbal lashing, but by the time a month came and went, he felt like a fiend going through withdrawal.

During week six, his excitement to finally lay his eyes on Y/N was quickly cut short when he realized she was still talking to his family even though he had been getting the silent treatment. That displeasing information lit him like a powder keg when he saw another man in Y/N’s background, getting dressed no less. T’Challa dragged him from Shuri’s lab ready to bust a gasket when his babygirl asked Shuri to go into a different room and his little cousin actually listened! His whole family was against him again it would seem.

When T’Challa got him back to his room, all he did was pace. It was ten full minutes of the king warily watching his cousin stew when M’Baku walked right into the line of fire as Erik turned to beat the shit out of his cousin. T’Challa easily dodged the current threat on his life as the giant grabbed Erik’s hands in one of his, quickly disarming him and making the pouting man even more enraged. 

“You all have been talking to her this whole time?” N’Jadaka roared.

“Just Shuri and I. She made us promise to let you figure it out for yourself, but you’ve been failing miserably cousin! Absolutely clueless!” T’Challa replied.

Erik struggled against M’Baku’s vice grip to no avail.

“No shit Sherlock. I’m gonna whoop yawls asses. M’Baku let me go.”

“Not until you promise to have a conversation with your mouth instead of your hands. I am not prepared to get involved in another war between you two.”

Erik took a few deep breaths. “Fine, I’m good.”

Once M’Baku was sure there would be no immediate violence he let go.

“You better start explaining real fucking soon T,” Erik spat, pointing an accusatory finger at T’Challa.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N is struggling to accept that you actually want her around long term!” T’Challa word-vomited.

If the prince wasn’t already enraged, the king and tribal chief would’ve laid out in hysterics at how N’Jadaka’s face screwed up. “How sway! How?!”

“From what Shuri has explained and I’ve gathered in my eavesdropping is that she thinks you only want to claim her without actually growing with her. Everything is on your terms, your way, in  your time. She’s been far more  patient than most would be with you so I can’t say she’s wrong.”

Erik jumped at T’Challa, scaring him and the big gorilla chief. “I oughta beat you up for keeping your mouth shut.”

“She and Shuri threatened me within an inch of my life and they scare me more than you. Besides, according to them, you can’t keep relying on us to figure out what’s going on in your relationship and I couldn’t find a valid disagreement.”

Erik nearly did slap T’Challa at the last sentiment.

“Aye aye!” M’Baku shouted, getting between the two yet again, “He is being truthful now. That counts eh? And if I may interject, I think you’re aiming your anger at the wrong person.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Erik said, deflating under the weight of that truth, “but his ass still bout to pay me back and I know just how.”

————-

A few hours later…

“You know, when I told you that you could pay me back with The Royal Talon Fighter, I didn’t expect you to tag along.”

“Who else was going to keep an eye on our Wakandan technology or keep you from murdering anyone in the vicinity of Y/N, especially any man?”

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed. “I guess.”

“Or Y/N from killing you for just showing up jealous despite being radio silent since long before she left Wakanda.”

“Alright alright! You made your point. Damn! Just drive the fancy metal.”

—

Erik was all confidence until the second they landed in Atlanta. Yeah, Killmonger was out for blood and was ready to bring their girl back kicking and screaming if necessary, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens? He was a nervous fucking wreck.

T’Challa and M’Baku’s words really struck a nerve and he had nothing but time to stew over them on the ride to your family’s hometown ranch. Before he met you, Killmonger made all the decisions, kept him alive and ahead of the game, whatever game he was surviving at the moment. He lived like that for well over a decade when he met you, but you didn’t bat an eyelash at his swift mood swings, his bloodthirst, or his possessiveness, often putting him in place. You handled him with love and care, showing him how to become the softer version of himself without sacrificing your boundaries too much. He was quickly realizing that he sometimes pushed too hard, took too much, neglected your requirements. It was your stern patience, however, that was enough to allow you to become the first person to get him the person instead of him the killer to come out and communicate, interact, and live rather than survive. 

You did it for him a second time around when he came out of cryo too. He hadn’t told you anything about how he would go about his goals, opting just to disappear and execute so it was a surprise of a lifetime to wake up to your beautiful Y/E/C. After getting over his initial anger over you seeing the worst of him, you were the first person he responded to or let touch him during his recovery. Even going so far as not allowing the medical staff to redress his wounds if he was awake.

Only your touch soothed him, only your voice gave him peace. You made him less of a killing machine and more human again, made him want to address the tsunami of emotions and trauma that he lugged around. He didn’t want to jeopardize your willingness to be that for him but he recognized how you were always giving all you had just to receive an inch of progress from him. If that.

Unfortunately, all of his introspection and nervousness flew right out of the truck T’Challa had them in when he saw you walking up to your personal guesthouse with a man in tow. Killmonger immediately took the reins pushing him and his feelings down into the abyss, and leaping out of the car before T’Challa could come to a complete stop with his cousin calling after him.

“Y/N!” Killmonger shouted from the end of the long-ass driveway, rage evident in his voice.

Y/N was haphazardly trying to get her drunk cousin up the stairs while nervously dropping her keys when she heard Killmonger. She’s only encountered him a few times since meeting Erik, after the first time she brought him back to himself, he did his best to keep that part from her. It didn’t always work since any repressed feeling or issue the man had was poured into his alter ego, feeding his desire to be wild and untamed in his decision-making. So she knew he was out for blood with just the sound of her name.

She got the key in just as Killmonger got to the beginning of her walkway up to the house. As quickly as she could, she pulled her cousin in, slamming and locking the door in her partner’s face, leaving the beast to bang on her door and demand entrance.

“I’m not dealing with your bulldozing tactics Kill! You can come back when Erik is ready to face his fucking feelings and have an adult conversation!”

“If you know what’s good for you and that nigga in there, you better open this ghatdamn door Y/N!” He roared in response.

Y/N’s cousin couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how much she waved him off. Getting trashed 3 nights in a row after a bad breakup and crashing with his favorite cousin after hearing how she was hiding from both the world and the love of her life as well didn’t prepare him for seeing her so out of character. One second she was fleeing from the man, the next she was big and bad from behind a locked door in all her 5’5” glory. It was comical as hell to him.

“You know you look constipated when you cuss? Like that stick in your ass is fighting every syllable.” He said, immediately dying in another fit of laughter at his analogy.

“Who the fuck is that in there with you, Y/N, and don’t fucking lie!”

“The next man. Nice to meet you. You must be the ex.” her cousin shouted out in a drunken slur to Y/N’s horror.

Yeah, she knew she wasn’t in the wrong, and there was no reason to defend herself against this man, but she knew not to press certain buttons once Kill made an appearance. Her cousin, unfortunately, had no discernment to see that he had just pressed the biggest red button Kill had when it came to her.

Y/N watched the myriad of emotions that crossed Erik’s face through the peephole, praying to every ancestor and display of the creator she could think of that this man wasn’t going to go full psycho-killer on them both. The last thing she needed was him taking several steps back in his healing just to unnecessarily add another scar, maybe 2 with how pissed he looked. 

Y/N turned back to her cousin, ready to kill him for putting her in even hotter water, only to find that nigga was sleep, leaving Y/N to deal with the consequences on her own. 

As soon as she had that thought her ears piqued, taking in how silent it had gotten. All she could hear was the crunch of gravel as T’Challa finally pulled in and got out. When she peeked outside the peephole again, she was met with a confused T’Challa looking for Erik.

A chill ran up her spine and her blood ran cold as she slowly turned to her current worst fear; Killmonger pissed as hell, staring her down with a knife to her cousin’s throat.

“Give me one good reason not to paint your brand new carpet with this nigga’s blood Y/F/N then fuck you on the new color.”

Putting her hands up in a placating manner, Y/N slowly inched towards Kill, stopping when he dug the knife just slightly deeper, exposing a thin line of blood, as her cousin slept unawares.

Donning a submissive voice as if she was talking to a wild animal, “Erik, baby calm down.”

“Don’t baby calm down me! You out here giving other niggas what’s mine? Mine Y/N!”

“That’s not–”

“Don’t tell me that’s not what’s going on when you’ve been M.I.Fucking.A. for weeks! And the first thing I see both on video chat and in person is you with some random?! I’ll murder every nigga to ever touch you, keep tryna play me.”

“Nobody’s playing you Daka, look closer, you know him. I promise I haven’t been stepping out on you.” Y/N continued on, internally rolling her eyes at the toddler temper tantrum she had to placate this nigga out of. “My stupidly in love, trying to escape his own heartache, and loves drama when drunk cousin that you have met several times was just egging you on.”

Kill looked closer to the man’s face and released the filter of rage clouding his judgment, upon closer inspection he realized they’d met at several of the many family gatherings he’d attended with Y/N/N. Slowly easing the knife from her cousin’s throat, Erik struggled to fight back tears at his behavior. He was proving he wasn’t good enough for her, he hadn’t actually changed all that much. Kill took the reins once again, unwilling to let him process his feelings of abandonment and betrayal just yet. Rushing towards Y/N, he laid the knife flat on the side of her face, taking up residence on the other side.

Biting a huge hickey along her jawline, before grasping her earlobe in between his teeth, Killmonger growled, “So if you ain’t been fucking him, who you been fucking?”

Although Y/N knew she logically had nothing to feel guilty about, how he was questioning her made her want to lie down and worship him as an apology regardless. She took a deep breath to center herself, understanding that any sign of nervousness would be taken as an omission of guilt.

Y/N ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulder blades to hold his face in her palms. He reluctantly released her earlobe to allow her to face him, naturally allowing the blade to rest against her neck ever so gently.

“N’Jadaka. Erik, baby? Look at me, I have been trying to live without you miserably for the last few weeks. I’ve only been going out since Y/C/N got here and I have to beg for breaks because I’m basically his chaperone. You believe me don’t you?”

Erik looked at her with suspicion clouding his eyes. He dropped the knife and held her throat in his hands, squeezing just tight enough to hint to either pleasure or pain, pushing her against the front door.

“Ion know. Why should I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N took a chance and palmed his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. “Cause you know that no matter how much you stress me out, isolate yourself from me, or threaten anyone who seems to have more access to me than you, that I love your crazy ass.”

Erik squeezed a little tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to reassert his dominance. Y/N put a hand over his, doing her best to ground herself in the feeling of his hands rather than how much she wanted to cum from the pressure of them.”

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked out, “I love every version of you, no matter how threatening any of them may be and I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you?”

“Nah, princess, the other part.”

“No matter how threatening-” she started, but was cut off by the growl emanating from Erik’s chest and the pulsing release and pressure of him allowing her small gasps of air. “You know what I mean Y/N, don’t test me lil mama.”

Erik held his squeeze on her neck, tilting it ever so slightly to lick the side of her face and hold her earlobe between his teeth, tugging.

Y/N couldn’t hold back the guttural moan if she tried. Just barely keeping her eyes from rolling back and donning her sweetest sub voice, she said, “I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me big daddy. It literally makes me nauseous.”

Erik released her ear with a wet snap against her face, “It does?”

Y/N hummed and nodded her head as best she could in her current predicament.

Killmonger covered the forgiving face Erik started to make, replacing it with one of his stern, unyielding looks. “Then why you leave me and give me the silent treatment for weeks?”

Y/N whined at the tightening of his hands, closing her eyes to savor the pleasure only he could illicit lighting her body on fire.

Erik bit her bottom lip roughly, nearly drawing blood. “That’s not an answer.”

Losing the battle against her libido and subspace, Y/N whined again.

In a faux sweet voice Erik said, “Awww, is little mama already too far gone in her head thinking about all the ways imma mark you.”

Y/N nodded again, lost in the many images she’d acquired from her sexual experiences with Erik and Kill over the years.

“Good.” And with those words, Y/N was suddenly looking at Erik’s ass and the floor as he stomped upstairs to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He tossed her on the bed and roughly stripped her of her clothes, halter top first, bottoms and panties all in one fell swoop last, leaving her heels on.

He positioned her over his knee and popped her cheeks until her bottom was flushed with his favorite shade of reddish purple and warmed his hands with the heat she emanated.

By the time he was done, Y/N wanted to be a ball of tears, but could only sniffle, her voice too shy to make an appearance when Kill took the reins of their scenes like this for fear of upsetting him further.

Erik used his knee to spread her legs open far enough to see her flower drenching her thighs in her nectar for him. He took two fingers to swipe some of it onto them for him to put in his mouth and savor, groaning at how much sweeter she seemed to have gotten since last he held her.

He laid her onto the bed and got up to undress himself, slapping her already sore ass when she didn’t move a muscle.

“You know what’s up. Face down, ass up lil mama.”

Y/N groaned but slowly inched her way into position. Already feeling like jello, she barely put an arch in her back, struggling not to lay back down and pass out.

Killmonger was not happy with that. After he’d removed everything except his grills and chain he let both his palms come down on her cheeks simultaneously.

Sounding more animal than human, “If you don’t assume the position like you got some sense, I swear to the gods Y/N.”

She was still lethargic, but was eager to experience less of his painful assaults and more of the pleasurable ones that she knew were around the corner. It took all of her strength but she was able to inch herself into position, deepening her arch just the way he demanded with her arms by her side and her cheek resting against the comforter.

“Good girl.”

With how pliant she was to his commands and the evidence of how much she trusted and wanted him dripping down her thighs, it took all of his restraint not to plunge himself into her until he felt her cervix try to push him back out.

Y/N smiled faintly at the praise, humming and wiggling her ass in response.

Killmonger grasped her wrists as he knelt to get up close and personal with his pussy. He spread her lips so he could get an eyeful of her throbbing clit and blew on it, eliciting a guttural moan from Y/N, before replacing his hand back on her wrist.

“Just you wait mamas, you gonna be screaming and crying by the time I’m done with you.”

He licked her juices on both thighs, leaving hickies all over them both before he finally put his whole face in her pussy and ate. If it wasn’t for the grasp he had on her wrists, she would have collapsed immediately.

Erik was a good kisser in general, but Killmonger was a master at french kissing, especially her pussy, until she was questioning whether or not she still wanted the pleasure. Those deep soul sucking kisses always made her question her sanity.

He slurped up and suctioned her clit into his mouth like that’s where it belonged, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until she came with a silent scream, without ever releasing her tiny bud. Then he released it with a pop only to hold her lips open and spit directly onto her hole, watching his saliva drip down onto her clit. He flattened his tongue and licked like the dog he could be until she was a whining, moaning mess, tears streaming down her face just as promised. 

Once the first sound hit his ears, she couldn’t stop the noises he was pulling from her if she was mute, let alone at the mercy of his insatiable thirst for her most animalistic responses.

Kill continued his assault with his tongue, moving through her folds in a rhythm only he knew. After he’d gotten two more orgasms from her that way, Y/N alternating between screaming and crying, he latched his plush lips back around her clit, assaulting the sensitive bundle of nerves, and plunged his two most trustworthy fingers into her, immediately finding her gspot and caressing it with an incessant ‘come hither’ motion until she was squirting and creaming uncontrollably. Not willing to let go just yet he dragged it out for what seemed like forever since she briefly lost consciousness and came to, lips still parted in the O of her silent screams, with his mouth still eagerly slurping up the waterfall his fingers were responsible for. All Y/N could do was turn her head the other way to watch what she could see of him, whining and moaning.

When she could barely release any more spurts he released her, licking his hand, fingers, and forearm clean as he slowly stroked his hard as steel member. 

In the great deep of her sex haze, Y/N mumbled, “He brought dick too? How are we gonna survive dick too when he almost killed us with just his mouth and fingers.”

Erik chuckled at her ramblings, proud that he was, as usual, responsible for her senseless words.

When his precum made an appearance, he swiped it up with his thumb and rubbed it into her pussy, almost immediately replacing his thumb with the tip of his dick. Wanting to savor this moment of finally being able to reconnect with his pussy, he played with her, just like that. Rubbing the tip of his dick in both of their juices, up and down her pussy lips, circling her clit, and coming to apply just enough pressure to her desperately clenching hole, only to rinse and repeat. On and on he went, teasing them both until his quietly whimpering babygirl was back to guttural whines.

He knew she was right where he wanted her mentally when she started begging.

“Please big daddy, I’m so sorry. Please baba E, please baba, please. Please please please please please pleaaaaaasssssseeeeee.”

When he was good and ready, he pulled her up by her throat until she was flush against him, licked her tears from her cheek, and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t do that disappearing and silent treatment shit ever again Y/N. You hear me?”

Y/N nodded and blinked at him with a puppy eyed look that damn near melted the ice caps of his attitude, but he was quick to remind her who’s big daddy in their relationship.

“When I told you, you were mine, I meant that shit mama.”

“Yes, baba,” Y/N squeaked out.

He tongued her down with one of his sloppy french kisses and as soon as he felt her body relax in his hold, he did exactly what his body had been begging for since the second he saw her. He pushed himself into her until he felt the tip of her cervix try to push him all the way back out, savoring the fucked out look she wore as her body spasmed with the unexpected orgasm, he held them there letting her ride it out. 

In this moment he was grateful for the years of curated discipline since the way her pussy clamped onto him almost triggered his own mind numbing orgasm. Although he successfully staved off his nut, he couldn’t stop the way all of his fight was knocked right out of him.  Finally rid of the aggression that his Killmonger personality oozed, Erik was able to finally take in his queen, his Y/N, in all her sex hazed glory.

When she finally came down from her high he started moving, giving her slow and deep strokes as he showered her face and neck with kisses, hoping his attempt at lovemaking showed her just how priceless she was to him, how desperate he’d been without her.

Kiss, “I’m sorry too mamas,” kiss “I know how much you love me and I don't understand why,” kiss, “you,” kiss, “insist,” kiss, “on pouring all of the best parts of yourself into me.” He couldn’t help but shed a tear at the relief he felt, having her in his arms again. “I promise to do better,” kiss, “to listen and pay attention more,” kiss, “to treat you like the empress you are,” kiss, “just say you’ll come home with me,” kiss, “promise you’ll take your rightful place by my side mamas,” kiss, “claim your right as my queen.”

Y/N was a moaning, whining mess, barely holding onto consciousness and shedding her favorite kind of tears, just as promised.

Erik tucked his face into her neck, struggling to keep himself from cumming too soon since her pussy was gripping him like a boa constrictor, indicating that yet another orgasm wasn’t too far.

He held himself in the deepest parts of her and put a little whine in his hips. “Please mama, come home with me.”

Just when he thought he could hold out no longer she arched into him and screamed yes over and over, overwhelmed with her orgasm, and squirted all over them both. Erik came in her almost at the exact same time, his orgasm nearly knocking him out with how it overcame him from head to toe. Both of them slumped into the bed.

—

By the time he finally started to get up, her screams had quieted back to whimpers.

Erik slowly and gently removed her heels from her feet, massaging the soles with just the right amount of pressure.

He cleaned both of them with a warm washcloth and ran the tub, placing some bubble bath soap, epsom salt, essential oils, and dried rose petals in the water. Wanting to balance out the intrusive way he barged back into her life, he lit some candles and incense as well, and placed his favorite body oil of hers on the counter.

When he came back to get her in the tub, she was silently staring into space in the same place and position he left her. After he got her to turn over and sit up, he scooped her into his arms bridal and brought her to the tub, gently placing her into the suds.

Once he saw her relax he went back to the bedroom to strip and change the sheets, wanting their transition back into the room to be seamless. When he came back into the bathroom her head was leaned against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, and tears were streaming down her face, alarming him to the fact that although he’d won the battle, he was still losing the war with treating his girl with the care she really was looking for from him.

Choking up himself, he kneeled next the tub and leaned over her face, kissing the droplets left behind.

“I’m so sorry mamas. You know that right?” His voice cracked at the end.

Although she started nodding yes, she ended up shaking her head no.

“Can you open your eyes for me please?”

Y/N shook her head no again.

“Pretty please?”

Again she shook her head no. She was too scared to look him in his eyes, anytime he touched her or they made eye contact she folded to his desires and needs, abandoning her own.

A little defeated, but determined to win all of her back, not just her body, Erik switched tactics.

“May I get into the tub with you and hold you?”

Y/N hesitated a few moments before she nodded yes. As soon as she heard the rustle of him standing back up she scooted forward allowing him to sit behind her.

Once he was seated, Erik gently pulled her into him, urging her body to use him as she did the edge of the tub. The moment she relaxed in his embrace, head lolling slightly to the left, he started kissing up and down her neck from where her ear met her face to her collarbone.

When he felt enough time had passed, he tried to get her to open up to him again.

“Lil mama?”

Y/N hummed.

“Tell me what’s on your mind please, I promise to listen.”

Y/N held up her pinky and asked, “Pinky promise?”

Erik locked his pinky with hers and brought her hand to his lips, softly talking against it, “Pinky Promise.”

She pulled her hand away, putting it back in her lap to join the other one, under the water.

Taking a deep breath she started.

“Am I a toy to be played with Daka?” Erik was ready to answer but kept silent, knowing she needed to get all of her thoughts out before he interrupted her. “To be taken out of storage to be used and then tossed aside when you’re not getting the desired result anymore?”

Rubbing the sides of her thighs and suddenly very scared, he said, “ no mamas.”

“Then why do you get to demand time and attention and energy from me, but when I ask for a sliver of honest communication, the smallest amount of all three resources you have to offer me, you shut me out? Why is it only okay for you to communicate what’s going on with you and us when you feel like it, when it's convenient? Why do I always have to beg for you to lean on me, to use me softly? Why do I have to beg you to let me hold you. Why don’t you ever just ask? Why do I have to grovel at your feet to be held by you? Why is the only time you make love to me when you’re trying to win me back? Why?” 

By the end of her list, Y/N was sobbing. Erik wrapped his arms around her body and tucked his chin in the curve of her neck and let a few tears drop himself before he answered.

“I don’t know mamas. I guess…,” he wiped the tears from his face and gulped down the rising tsunami of emotion that she so easily created with just a few sentences before he wrapped his arm back around her, “...I guess I’m just terrified.”

“Of what baby? Haven’t I been here? Haven’t I done the best to support you with all that I am, to remain honest with you and show you that I am loyal to our future?”

He kissed her shoulder and said, “you have. I just-”

Y/N pulled out of his arms to finally look him in the eye, “You just what? Aren’t my efforts to build a life with you enough?”

Erik palmed her face and gave her a deep kiss, hoping to transfer all of his emotion into it.

He put his forehead against hers and said, “I’m just so fucking terrified of losing you. To have the warmth of your love snatched away at a moment's notice. I’m terrified in a way I haven’t been in so fucking long that I just convince myself that its better to pull away and show you how unworthy I am of the full magnitude of your love.”

He pulled away and kissed her forehead, grateful she was finally looking him in the eyes again. “But this time of separation showed me I am nothing without you, just a hollow shell, no love to warm my soul and bones. Even the care and concern of my family isn’t enough to fill the abyss that’s created in your absence.”

Y/N swiped away the stray tears from his face, “that’s-”

“I know. Super intense.”

“Yes. But I was gonna say a relief to hear. You never really give me any verbal confirmation that you feel as deeply for me as I do for you unless I say I love you first.”

“I know mamas, but I promise to do better, be better, for you.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “No Baba. For you. You need to talk your feelings out loud so you can hear it too. You need to know that the only reason you’re able to love me so deeply is because you love yourself that deep, if not deeper, first. Understand?”

Erik smirked, yet again grateful that he had such a wise and loving partner who always held up the pieces of mirror he’d sworn he’d broken to pieces.

“Yea lil mama, I understand.”

“Good…,” Y/N kissed him again, deepening the kiss but teasing him slightly with how lightly she moved her lips against his. When she pulled away, she almost regretted bursting his bubble. “...cause I’m not going back with you until I’m ready.”

Erik’s face instantly fixed itself into a scowl. “But-”

Y/N held a finger to his lips. “I said when I’m ready, not never. I came home to get back to taking care of me, love me, and understanding what my needs are.”

His pout deepened.

“And I learned that I need to stop jumping when you say jump. So I go back when I feel that I’m ready, not because you showed up and demanded it of me. Okay?”

He was a little deflated, but still holding onto the hope of her eventually coming back with him.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until you’re ready.”

“But-.” 

It was Erik’s turn to hush her with a finger. “I already know what you’re going to say and my duties will be waiting for me when we go back together. Now that you’re back in my arms I’m in no hurry to lose the privilege again.”

“You’re not!”

“You’re right, cause I’m staying.”

All Y/N could do was chuckle, understanding that she’d lost this battle and relishing in the fact that she won the war. It seemed he was finally starting to understand what she needed because although she was indeed going to complain about him having responsibilities to return to, she really did need him to stay. That abyss he had was mirrored in her heart and only time with him would close it back up.

Both satisfied that they worked through the root issue, they went back to enjoying the bath, Y/N comfortably resting her head against Erik.

When they were all pruney and the water was verging on cold, Erik stood them up to drain the tub and turned on the shower to rinse them both. After he dried them both, he quickly lotioned his body with shea butter, grabbed the body oil and guided Y/N hand in hand, back into the bedroom.

He laid her on her back first to moisturize and massage her front, kneading out all of the tension she held. When he was working his way back up from her feet, he couldn’t help but get stuck between her thighs, using his thumbs to massage circles up them until he reached her pussy again.

Y/N slightly parted her legs, letting one bend and fall open for easy access. He immediately used one hand to part her lips so he could see her clit clearly.

Erik leaned down to softly kiss her clit a few times before he pulled away and used the thumb on his other hand to rub slow circles. He admired her form as he brought her to orgasm leisurely. 

He went back to massaging her thighs until she returned from the heights of her pleasure.

His voice was more gruff than he wanted when he told her, “turn over.”

She easily compiled and continued his massage, paying extra attention to her sore ass.

When Y/N was 2 more seconds away from sleep and he was satisfied with his work he urged her under the covers and joined her. She tried to grab his hardened member to return the favor but he grabbed up her hands, kissing them to soften the blow.

“No, I needed to show you how softly I can treat you, I don’t need to cum right now. Sleep.”

Y/N pouted and whined, wanting to feel him connected to her again.

She lifted her leg over his as they faced each other and inched as close as she could with her hands in his, feeling his dick graze her pussy lips.

Putting a little more base in his voice, “Ay! What I just say lil mama?”

She whined out, “I don’t care, I just need to feel you in me Baba.”

Erik grunted. 

Y/N donned her best puppy dog pout and begged with her words and body, wiggling in his hold and being able to feel the lightest brush of his hot skin. “Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeee?”

“Fine, but careful what you asked for…” he said, sheathing himself in one stroke and stilled her hips before she could start moving. “...you just might get it.”

He released her hands and tongued her down, palming her face.

“Sleep Y/N.”

“But,” she said, her face scrunching in confusion.

“You can keep me warm, but that’s it for now, okay?”

She started to whine again but was cut short when he wrapped the hand palming her face around her throat.

“Sleep mamas. You’re going to need all of your energy in the morning.”

She wasn’t necessarily happy, but she also wasn’t necessarily dissatisfied. She did get her wish after all.

“Ok.”

Y/N tucked her head under his chin and started to drift before she sleepily said, “thank you for showing me how much you care Baba E. I’m really happy you’re here.”

Erik kissed her forehead and squeezed his arms a little tighter around her.

“Thank you for letting me.”

He was answered with her cute snores and let the sound lull him into the best sleep he’d had in too long of a while.