#erik killmonger x reader

[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)

[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 .

[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 🤔

[insidekatmind]

Mine-Erik Killmonger

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Erik” you groan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cherienymphe]

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?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[blackynsupremacy]

“HI, MS. PARKER!”

pairing: female!reader x female!bff x oldermale!character

inspo: friday (1995)

18+ vibes, so minors dni! contains: age gap, flirting, teasing, mention of a threesome, arousal, implied smut, swearing.

the neighbor: clark kent, steve rogers, thor odinson, logan howlett, derek morgan, dean winchester, erik killmonger, john winchester, bucky barnes or any character the reader has in mind!

taglist: @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @afrowrites @rosiestalez @zombiehe4rt @sabrinasopposite @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu

the sun adores the illuminated skin of you and your best friend. it’s friday, ya’ll ain’t got work nor classes, so you decided it was a beautiful day to take a bike ride through the neighborhood. it’s a blazing temperature of eighty-seven, so of course you’re both scantily clad in black halters and denim cut offs with slides before you hit the block. as you peddle around the corner, you spot him. it was one of your neighbors that had a decade on your twenty-five year old selves, but who gave a damn when he’s this—fine and recently divorced. your eyes gawk at how each of his muscles flexes in that tight-ass white tank top while performing the most mundane tasks such as mowing the lawn or fixing his car. the stains of perspiration leave a glistening mess on areas of his skin such as his arms, chest, and neck. you and your friend give each other a smirk, a glint of mischief within your eyes. you simultaneously wave at the man and greet him in the “friendliest” tone as you have done in prior occasions.

“heeeey!” you both squeal and let a few giggles escape as if you were back in your high school days.

he stops what he’s doing and lifts his head up at the harmony of your voices. he wipes the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand as an amicable grin curves on his lips. he raises a bulging arm in the air, a baritone voice resonating to reciprocate the greeting.

“hey, ladies! how ya doin’?”

“we’re good!”

you turn your heads to secretly converse with each other as the raunchiest of thoughts run circles through your minds. your friend mutters under her breath on your behalves.

“we’d be better if you’d let us fuck.”

he peered at you both with a tantalizing gaze, an arched brow and a piqued smirk that thankfully, both of you couldn’t see. this was a weekly routine of this teasing and he played right along with ya’ll. he hadn’t really got any play since the divorce finalized because he was just trying to focus on himself, but how could he focus with these two pyt’s basically eye fucking him each time they pass by as their bodies bounced on their bikes? the aching sensation of his dick hardens as he couldn’t deny the fact that he was just as intrigued as you and your friend. he often battled with himself as to which one he would take first, but then again—why not both at the same time?

“i’m sorry, what’d you say, honey?” he feignedly inquired.

to say ya’ll were gagged was an understatement because there’s no way that man heard what your friend said. albeit it was true that both of you held a strong attraction to the older male, ya’ll weren’t gonna let him know that too quick.

you stammered to save your asses.

“uh—nothing! have a good one, sir!”

the heat of embarrassment rushed on your faces as you waved again and peddled off a few more blocks before retiring back to your home. after that encounter, you both needed a cold shower to cool off the area that needed it the most.

later that evening as you both were binging your favorite reality show, your phones pinged at the same time. you both picked them up to see you got a new message from an unknown number and they put you in a group chat: you, your friend, and the unknown person.

the message read:

you know i’ve heard you loud and clear earlier.

baffled, you read the message and you took it upon yourself to respond:

i’m sorry. who’s this and how’d you get our numbers?

don’t act so coy. you girls like to tease me every week on those bikes.

•••

it’s driving me fucking crazy.

it dawns on you both that this unknown person was…your neighbor.

“oh…” you started.

“…shit.” your friend finished your thought and she responds in the chat.

we didn’t mean to tease! we just wanted to say hi real quick because you looked so busy.

“and so damn fine.” you mutter, eyes not pulling from the screen awaiting the next response.

•••

let’s cut to the chase. it’s obvious you want to—have your way with me. i feel the same way, so if you stunning young ladies wanna know how a real man does it, swing by my place in the next 10 minutes. ;)

•••

you said you want to fuck, so let’s fuck.

you both stare at your phones then at each other not knowing that as you were reading each word your thighs instinctively clenched together to hold in the arousal that was erupting between your legs. as if you were speaking telepathically, you both deserved to relieve some tension with one of the finest men on your street. you kept your end of the bargain because within ten minutes you’re both standing in anticipation at his front door. you were getting a taste of your own medicine as his sculpted figure leaned against the frame. one of his forearms supporting his body while his other hand “tries” to grasp onto the cotton towel that was lowering at his navel. he skips the formalities by using his large, two fingers to beckon you both into the house and you both simply follow his command.

a ménage a toi—who knew that this was a way to spend a friday evening?

[milescrypt]

Monthly Recommendations

june 2025 s-series, o-oneshot

SINNERS

Remmick

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

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

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

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes

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

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

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

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON / GOT

Aegon Targaryen

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

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

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

HARRY POTTER

Severus Snape

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

James Potter

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

HUNGER GAMES

Haymitch Abernaty

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

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

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

Coriolanus Snow

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

Finnick Odair

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

THE BEAR

Michael Berzatto

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

Carmen Berzatto

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

FINAL DESTINATION

Erik Campbell (FD6)

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

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

Bobby Campbell (FD6)

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

STRANGER THINGS

Eddie Munson

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

MISC.

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

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

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

[artisticestheticreads]

Are y'all over Black Panther fanfics or can I continue to bless y'all with some one shots that I have in my safe?

[writerbee-ffs]

SoftBoi Erik x Reader (Uriah)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ding.

Another text. Erik was relentless.

“You done acting like a brat?”

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

“You miss this?”

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

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

Fine. She could play too.

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

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

The bubbles popped up instantly.

“0004.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⸻

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

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

She dropped her duffle and turned on the foyer light.

“FUCK!” she yelped.

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

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

“Erik, what are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

When in doubt, butter him up.

She eased her way between his legs.

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

He stood, towering over her.

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

His smirk brushed her ear like a whisper.

“I—I…”

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

“Speak, Princess,” he said.

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

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

That grin again. Deadly.

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

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

“Sit.”

His voice carried from the doorway.

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

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

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

“You’ve got good taste, though.”

He kissed her neck. She shivered.

“Erik, I’m sor—”

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

Her lips parted. Her body buzzed.

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

She crawled up the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His thrusts were unhurried.

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

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

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

He had never touched her like this.

Her body gave in.

“Baaaaby—”

He stroked her through it.

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

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

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

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

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

His voice faded into sleep.

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

[chromehoney]

“MS. DOLLY’S GARDEN OF LILIES.”

ELIJAH “SMOKE” MOORE.

• “plug!smoke x nerdy!black!fem!reader.”

• “smoke x reader x stack!” , part two, part three, part four.

• “yearning!bestfriend!smoke x spoiled!black!fem!reader.”

• “playground rules - smoke x reader x stack.”

• “criminal!smoke x black!fem!bimbo!dumb-ish!reader.”

• “olderman!smoke x black!fem!stubborn!sassy!reader.”

ELIAS “STACK” MOORE.

• “smoke x reader x stack!”

• “playground rules - smoke x reader x stack.”

“TERRY RICHMOND.”

• “crazy!terryrichmond.”

@k1ssyoursister for the dividers.

“all i wanna, ain’t not other, we together i remember sweet love all long. they say true loves the greatest weapon. to win the war caused by pain. but every diamond has imperfections but my love was too pure to watch it chip away. boy nothing real can be threatened, true love brings salvation back into. me. with every tear came redemption, and my torturer ‘came my remedy. so many people i know just tryna touch ya, kiss up and feel up on ya. kiss up and feel up on ya. all night long.”

-beyoncé.

[insidekatmind]

Masterlist

Other series/movie

Bucky Barnes

Mission

Erik Killmonger

Mine

Brock Rumlow

HYDRA

Distraction

[cherienymphe]

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

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

➯ banner by me

Kingdom Come

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

[taterfics]

Oracle Chaper 2

Okay, so I've actually had this chapter written up for a good minute but I was waiting for a couple feedbaks that didn't fall through, so fuck it, no beta, we die like women. MINORS DNI

“Janella, you must eat, my love. Come on, eat for Auntie.” The days that followed what was now fondly referred to as “The Incident” were filled with whispered conversations in the dead of night, secretive deals, and near excommunication. Nella’s exposure of the secrets of the tribe had been met with harsh words, the elders giving her their best dressing down that left her hanging her head, self loathing filling her gut. Auntie Funke spoke up for her as best as she could, but the woman’s pleas for understanding and compassion were met with scathing remarks. 

“She is a grown woman, she does not need you fluttering over her every time she makes a mistake.”

“This is the result of bad mothering. Had she been my daughter, the moment she looked to our king with such contempt, I would have given her a slap to clear her senses.”

“How can one with the blood of Mother Ifetayo be so careless? So reckless as to expose the lot of us to that wretched boy king?”

“Sister Funke, are you not embarrassed?”

She hadn’t been able to take their criticisms anymore, losing her temper to the words spoken to her auntie. Yes she was upset with the woman, but where did these women get off thinking that they could speak to her like that? Who gave them the right?!

The tribe. The tribe gave them the right to say whatever she wanted. For a little while, she had reveled in the presence catty old witches who held such prestigious positions in her community, but as she grew older, she saw them for what they wore. Mean busybodies who would rather focus on the faults and flaws of everyone but themselves. They were so quick to call her out for what she did, but it was they who had destroyed what protected them. It was they who did what the so called wretched boy king said without so much as a bat of the eye. At least Auntie Funke had tried to say something, but she was no match for such a beast as Killmonger, she refused to refer to him as King N’Jadaka, he was not worthy of such a name. 

“Auntie, how I’m gon’ eat at a time like this? King T’Challa is dead! That bumpy bodied bitch y’all call a king threw him over a fuckin’ cliff like he was Scar from the Lion King or some shit,” she said, pushing away the bowl of food from her face, the normally enticing scent of meat and spices turning her stomach. 

“Mind your tongue, girl,” her auntie whispered harshly, smacking her niece upside the head. “You will soon learn that in times such as this, the walls grow ears.” She glared at her aunt, a frown on her face as she rubbed her head.

“Well let his ass hear, auntie, he ain’t no real king! He threw T’Challa off that waterfall like he was fuckin’ trash. That man body ain’t never gon’ be laid to rest. That was his own flesh and blood, and you think he deservin’ of any of my respect? If T’Challa ain’t mean shit to him, fuck you think he gon’ do to us?!” Her chest rose and fell heavily as she looked at her auntie, who had a far off look in her eyes. She was angry, she needed to vent, to express herself.

“You remind me so much of her,” Funke said, a forlorn look in her eyes. Nella didn’t even have to ask who she meant, she knew. She always knew. Her mother. She watched as her aunt crossed the room, the vibrant purple fabric of her dress barely touching the ground as she went to feed the fire in the fireplace. 

“My little Abeni,” she said wistfully, stacking logs in the scorching flames with a practiced ease.”I was there when she was born, she was so beautiful, so full of life, magical in every way but what counted,” she said. “I was there, when she took her first breath, when she wailed at the atrocities of a life that she did not ask for.” She saw her aunt’s lips tremble slightly before she pursed them together, turning away. “I cleaned her and held her in my arms when my sister was too heartless to do so. I fed her from my own breast, raised her as my own when my womb had failed to sustain life,” she said, lacing her hands in her lap as she stared into the flames. “Yet when the time came, it was King T’Chaka who stole her from me , who allowed my sister to send her away,” she said, silent tears glistening on her face as the flames flickered in front of him. 

“When the news arrived that the White Wolf had murdered the old king, I took my biggest dish and made the largest batch of Bobotie that I have ever made in my life.” Auntie Funke’s bobotie was nearly legendary amongst her tribe, only made for special occasions. “I told everyone that it was to lift their spirits for such a tragedy, to give them a pick-me-up in a time of great sorrow, but really, I was rejoicing. When it was discovered that it was all a lie, and he had been framed, I thought back on my actions with shame. Here I was, rejoicing the murder of a father, a son, a husband, all because I was truly mad at my sister for taking away something precious from me like she always did.” The woman turned to her niece, who stared at her with a great intensity.

“I say that to say this, Janella. That man you refer to with so much contempt has demons in him that are too powerful to overcome alone, and the Udakus will spill the blood of one another until they kneel before Bast and repent for the precious blood that they had spilled on and off of Wakandan soil. Until they come together in a unified front, they will continue to suffer kinslaying after kinslaying. T’Chaka murdered his own brother in cold blood and left N’Jadaka to fend for himself. And now T’Challa has lost his life because of misplaced anger and undue suffering.” 

Janella found it hard to listen to her aunt’s words, but she still did. The woman did her best to never lead her wrong, so she wanted to take her words into consideration, but it felt wrong. To hear such things about their fallen King T’Chaka, painting him as a murderer. If what her aunt was saying, then T’Chaka was partially at fault for his own son’s murder. She shook her head almost as if she were trying to physically throw the thoughts from her mind. 

Clearing her throat, she spoke up. “As sad as all that is, Auntie, He a grown ass man, over thirty. He can’t keep blaming his fucked up attitude on everybody else.” She was going to continue talking when a sharp knock came in the doorsill, followed by a voice she didn’t expect to hear.

“Damn, Lil Bit, tell me how you really feel then.” She felt like ice cold water had been dumped on her head, her mind going back to days before, when such a thing had actually happened.

—- —- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —-- —--  —-- —-- —-- —--

“Aye wake yo’ ass up!” 

Nella felt as if she had been dunked in a pool of ice water, desperately gasping for air as he waved her arms wildly, as if she were swimming. Her heart raced desperately as she found purchase on the floor beneath her. Opening her eyes, she looked around herself, her chest rising and falling as she realized that she was no longer in the garden room, but somewhere else entirely.

Coughing loudly, she pushed herself off of the ground, seeing an equally soaking wet Killmonger glaring over at her. They were both sprawled out, the chunks of ice in the puddle that surrounded them showing that someone had had the bright idea to soak them, and judging by their audience, it was a member of the Dora.

Before she could truly catch her breath, he’d grabbed her by the front of her robes, pulling her close to his face. 

“What the fuck you just do to me, hmm? What the fuck was that?!” Her mind was reeling at his words, but she didn’t have an answer. She’s seen so much in so little time, it was hatred to pick apart everything. But she remembered one thing very clearly, very vividly.

Jakari.

It was a common practice of the women in her tribe, when they had their first menstruation, that they held a ceremony to provoke visions of the future, of what their womb had to offer, and how they could help the tribe. It was typically only done for the first born, but since Zakiyah didn’t arrive in Wakanda until much later, she had to wait until her first menstruation after confirming her Wakandan citizenship, which took a little over a year. 

When she’d partaken in the ritual, she had seen her first born at eighteen. Many people saw many things, like an animal, a representation of their child’s character. A family member, who would give them advice, and sometimes, people saw the child themselves, sometimes on a photograph, sometimes from a far distance. Nella saw her child, full in body and in form. It was a little girl, she looked to be no older than eight or nine, tall amongst a field of flowers. Indigo, if she remembered correctly. She’d watched the child spread her arms, the flowers suddenly began to burn, indigo turning to black, carefree laughter coming from her as she spun in circles, smiling despite the blazing fields around her. Her features were distorted, and Janella was unable to make them out. 

That was, until she touched him. When her palm came in contact with his face, she could see her child clear as day, and she was the most beautiful creature Nella had ever laid eyes on. She could see herself in the child, in her tall, lanky figure,, her high cheekbones, but everything else was different. Her skin tone, her nose, her lips, all very unfamiliar, yet familiar. She hadn’t wanted to dwell, hadn’t wanted to hyperfocus on a notion so ridiculous.

“My king, please see reason,” Auntie Funke said, her eyes wide as she stared between the two of them. “Please, allow me to explain,” her aunt’s voice trailed off but Janella was no longer listening, feeling the larger man release her robes, her body falling back to the floor, her mind reeling as she replayed the visions in her head.

—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--—--

“So you quiet now, huh?” Nella was brought back to the conversation at the feel of Killmonger in her personal space, her eyes narrowing as she watched him circle her predatorily, like a cat stalking a wounded bird. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, her eyes moving to the two Dora Milaje guards at the door, both standing at attention, spears in hand as if they were daring anyone to make a move. 

She heard the sound of him kissing his teeth, turning to look at Auntie Funke, who seemed to be watching the two with a sort of guarded curiosity, as if she were waiting for something to happen between them.

“So, I got demons, huh?” She watched as her aunt cowered away from the man, anger coursing through her as she stood straight, hurriedly putting herself in between her aunt and Killmonger, meeting his gaze squarely. Now that she was in a better state of mind, she could see that they met nearly eye to eye, him being at most, three or four inches taller than she was. She watched as he cocked an eyebrow, a smirk coming to his face. 

“So you protect your own? You know, I can respect that.” He stepped back from the two of them, looking around to Funke, who seemed to be nervously looking between the two of them, almost as if she were hiding something. Now, exactly like she was hiding something. 

“I guess you and your auntie been sittin’ in here gossiping about everything but what matter,” he sneered, his lip curling as he looked her up and down. “So since your auntie can’t seem to get shit right, I might as well gone on tell you-”

“NO!” Nella turned at her aunt’s shout, looking between the two people in the room. 

“Somebody better tell me something in the next thirty fuckin’ seconds or I’m finna ac’ up real bad,” she said, glaring at the bothe if them. Auntie Funke took a deep breath looking over at her niece.

“I was looking for the right moment to tell you, but since I have no choice,” the woman said, casting a glare at the man across the room. “The elders have decided that as an offering of peace, and to protect the sanctity of the secrets of the tribe, you will marry into the Udaku Clan by way of King N’Jadaka.” The house was quiet for all of thirty seconds before he spoke up. 

“You seem awfully quiet over there, Wifey. What, no lil smart ass comments in that Geechie ass–” Before anyone could stop her, she had grabbed him by that ugly ass coat he seemed to be hell bent on wearing everywhere, shaking him as she screamed and cursed, her words nearly unintelligible as the Dora finally leaped to action, a familiar sensation of her arms locking to her sides and her legs looking together overcoming her as she continued to scream and curse on the ground.

“Well,” Auntie Funke said over the noise. “That went much better than it could have gone.”

[darkmemesworld]

I know i haven't been feeding yall like i should have (please dont call cps) SO imma let yall pick the next meme💕pick moon knight for big money♥️♥️

[leelahsrose]

HONEY. | LIL MEECH

chapter seven.

"𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨."

-Young Dolph, Circa 2018

"Good morning, boys." Khaleesi walks out of the hotel room, her hair a mess on top of her head: she waves to the guards and begins to walk down the hall. The men say a faint greeting and continue conversing with one another, Khaleesi comes to the middle of the corridor where the ice machine rests. She holds the shiny chrome bucket underneath the dispenser and presses a black button.

Her legs weak from last night, Khaleesi's fingers brush against her neck—a little gasp slipping from her lips. Love bites clouded her skin, her head still buzzing. She holds up the bucket and grabs a slippery ice chip—throwing it into her mouth. She goes back into the room, closing the door softly behind her. Khaleesi pushes her hair to the side annoyingly then takes another piece of ice in her hand.

The way Kamari made love to her last night, it's all she can think about. The guards outside had no choice but to hear. Her orbs still hold a glimpse of passion, her dark brown eyes full and empty. Khaleesi places the bucket down on the small table next to the door, she walks her way through the spacious suite: the spikes of sunshine warming up her skin.

"Leesi." Kamari comes around the corner with a towel around his waist, his muscles and tattoos more defined with beads of water on his skin. Her head switches toward him as she is suddenly pushed out of her thoughts—it was crazy to her how he could just act normal after having his way with her body last night.

Khaleesi hums quietly, answering back to the call of her name: she didn't even think she could look in Kamari's eyes— she practically rushed out of the room this morning to avoid him. Leesi looks away once again, directing her gaze in a different part of the room. All she could picture was his stare pinned on her and his intense words slipping through her ear— calling her a 'good girl' every once in a while for taking him so well.

A sensational feeling grows between her thighs like a rose in a dark room, she bites the corner of her bottom lip. "You good?" She feels his warm and heavy presence right behind her, Khaleesi looks up and jumps slightly. "Baby." She turns around after hearing his stern voice, her hands placed on his chest.

"I'm good, I got the ice— it's over there." She points in the direction of the table, her eyes staying on his neck. She felt soft in his presence before but now she feels like a marshmallow. "Mari, stop looking at me like that." She pushes his chest and he smiles, her laugh filling the room.

"I can't look at my girl?" He meets her stare and she grins looking away, Kamari leaves a kiss on her cheek then her neck and down on her shoulder. "Hm?" The sound of his voice made the feeling between her legs increase, she squeezes them subtly—she wants him again but is too afraid to ask? "Let me see your face." His thumb grabbing gently onto her chin, turning her head slowly towards him.

"Kamari." She whines softly, tilting her head toward the ground and sighing. He pulls her close once again, the muscle in his arm flexing as he did so. 

"You pushing me away all ready? Too bad, I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want you too."

"Why you acting like that then?"

"I'm sorry, you're just—you're making me nervous."

"Khaleesi, be for real with me."

"I wanna fuck again." She covers her mouth then closes her eyes—clearing her throat out of embarrassment. He arches his eyebrow, a smile sneaking upon his lips. "It felt really good and now every-time I see you I get hot and bothered and it's frustrating." She rambles on, her voice raising slightly at the end.

"You was afraid to ask me for sex?" She nods her head quietly, her eyes now looking in his. "Im ya man, I'm suppose to please you when you want it." He looks down at her, his eyes low and his face full of playfulness. "We can fuck whenever you want to, I'mma always be down. Matter fact, take these fucking panties off." He read her mind, his fingers pulling several times at the waistband of her underwear.

"Please?" He tilts his head then arches his eyebrow, Kamari leans down to plant a kiss on her lips—Khaleesi smiles, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Her eyebrows crease as their lips move smoothly over one another, the back of her legs hit the front of the bed causing her to fall down on the feathery mattress. "Kamari." Khaleesi's voice low and breathless, they couldn't keep their eyes off one another—her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

The pad of her fingers pinching at his curly black hair, the corner of his lips lifting up into a closed smile. "What?" Khaleesi squeezes her leg against his side gently, the air around them warm and comforting.

"Let me eat it."

"Why you asking?" She opens her legs, his hands pulling her forward as he stands up looking down at Khaleesi. His lips dancing down her smooth legs, she moans as his tongue hits her clit hungrily, the way it moves and circulated around her sensitive core causes her to arch her back off the bed. Her eyes rolling into the back of her head, she needed this so badly. She wants him.

Her juices being licked up almost instantly, her thighs squeeze his neck. "Nigga." She tries her best to sit up, her lower body weak and squirming under his hold. She gasps out of shock, her hips swaying with his movements. "Ooo fuck, Mari." Her voice high-pitched at the end of her sentence, Khaleesi's eyebrows furrowing as she grips his chain. She wanted to feel him more, her voice saying his name softly—his eyes fell on her face.

"Yes baby?" He smiles gently, looking at her pleasure-stricken face. "Where you want me?" She sits up, pressing a kiss against his lips—her hands pulling on his towel. Kamari pulls away, he lays on the bed right beside her. "Bring that ass here, shit." Khaleesi grins then crawls over—sitting right on his face, his lips connecting to her clit. Her body shivers under his touch, the feeling causing her eyes to roll once again. His hands found their way on her ass, gripping her bottom in his hands.

His tongue finds it way inside of her and Khaleesi has a sharp gasp come from her lips. Her breath shaky as she moans up a storm, falling apart on top of him. "Kamari, I want you now." She whimpers, guiding his hands up her body slowly—he squeezes her breast then kisses her core tenderly. She was being vocal and he loves every second of it. Khaleesi turns around and takes a hold of him, his member already popped up. His eyes never leaving hers as she puts him inside of her, Kamari sits up gripping her waist.

A moan coming out of his mouth as she sits completely down on his lap. "Shit, you feel so fucking good." Khaleesi whimpers then begins to bounce up and down on his hard member, the feelings exploding in her body was euphoric. "Yes, yes." She says quietly to herself, her teeth biting into her bottom lip—her eyes rolling again as the feeling below builds up.

"Fuck." He grabs her jawline roughly, she whimpers as he kisses her lips several times. "You finna cum on that dick?" His hips bucking up as he thrusts inside of her. "My fucking pussy." Khaleesi moans against his lips, her breathing shaky. "Answer me when I'm talking to you." He hisses into her ear, a sharp smack coming down on her ass. She gasps loudly, her mind quickly fixing to say something.

"Y-yes." Khaleesi kisses him gingerly, he pulls her in closer if that was even possible. The way she rides him now, her hips swaying in a motion that's driving him crazy.

"You betta not stop fucking me like that, the fuck." His deep voice is raspy as he looks down at them connecting repeatedly, she places her hands on his face—her lips pressing a kiss against his.

•••

Khaleesi squeezes Kamari's hand as they walk through the outside corridor of the mall, her weight was slightly leaning on him because of the heeled-boots she wears. "Baby, pictures please!" The men behind them stopping when Khaleesi steps in front of him, Kamari smiles at her enjoying herself—she was relaxing and happy. He takes the phone, snapping a couple shots for her—Khaleesi posing as best as she could.

"Yea, period." Kofi, Kamari's friend, walks up beside him with a styrofoam cup in his hand, he was recovering well from his gunshot wound. "Here, nigga, you not getting them angles." Khaleesi laughs loudly, she rolls her eyes and walks over grabbing her phone.

"You play too much, move."

"You heard my girl, bitch ahh nigga."

"Mannn, I would've did better than you." Khaleesi tunes the two of them arguing out as she looks over in the display windows. The pretty clothing and variety of items catching her eye, she spots a gorgeous gold necklace—a medium-sized 'K' pendant attached to it.

"What you see?" Kamari comes from behind her, she relaxes against his body—taking in his warm embrace.

"That necklace, it's pretty. I didn't bring any money with me though, it's okay I can come back and get it." He creases his eyebrows and digs in his pocket. "Baby, no." Khaleesi attempts to stop him from pulling the bills out of his pocket.

"You want it?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Let's go get it then."

They went around the mall, Khaleesi was getting all types of clothes and accessories because of Kamari. The truth is he loves spoiling her, she really didn't have anything growing up and he wanted her to understand she didn't have to want for anything. She kisses him on the lips quickly while going into a Sephora, Khaleesi shrieks as one of Kamari's friends take ahold of her shopping bags.

"Man." Kofi comes up to him, his arms cross as he stares straight ahead at the entrance of the store. "What's up?"

"Somebody tried invading our territory again, what we gon' do about that?" Kamari laughs, he sighs—his eyes never leaving Khaleesi's figure.

"Who was it?"

"One of Q's men, got him locked up at the warehouse back home."

"Fuck ass nigga always tryna fuck with somebody, I guess we gotta end this shit early?" Kofi nods his head, he motions a hand gesture at one of the men—they turn around going into the store to get Khaleesi. They both hear talking on the other side of the corridor, Kamari and Kofi's eyes glance over at the two men walking.

He recognizes them, one was the perpetrator behind Kofi's wound. Kamari's eyes switch over to his friend, he tilts his head over to the two of them. "Khaleesi, come here." Kamari grabs her hand and pulls her close to his body, she looks at him confused as to what's going on.

"Is everything okay, baby?"

"Yea, you hungry?" He kisses her lips and wraps his arm around her shoulders.

"Yesss, I want some Chinese food." Kamari looks back at Kofi.

"Handle that." He smiles and walks toward the two men almost instantly, Kamari's friends following behind.

"Where they going?" Khaleesi watches as Kofi punches one guy in the jaw, the impact so harsh he slams to the ground. She gasps and Kamari kisses her temple, he walks them around the corner to get her eyes away from the scene. Maybe Khaleesi underestimated Kamari's power.

•••

"What happened back there?" Khaleesi stuffs a few fries in her mouth, she swallows then picks up her pink lemonade on the side of the table. Kamari stares at her, taking in the flavors of her food and thoroughly picking out what to try next. "Mari, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, my love. It's nothing you have to worry about. Alright? Finish eating your food, I wanna take some more pictures of you." Khaleesi grins and laughs softly.

"For your personal collection? You're obsessed, it's disgusting." Kamari holds up his middle finger and she laughs swatting at his hand.

"You heard what I said though."

"I got you."

"Can I please have a fry?" Khaleesi leans forward placing one in between his teeth.

"I'm thinking about getting a job." Kamari tilts his head and leans back, she knew he wouldn't like the idea of that but—Khaleesi wants to earn her own money. She wants to get things on her own and Kamari buying her stuff today only motivated her to do so. "I found this ad for a small role at the diner, it's not much but great for a start."

"Leesi, you don't need no job."

"Kamari, be for real. I want to get money on my own, I love when you take care of me and I appreciate it greatly. I need to do this for myself, I wanna move out you know?" Khaleesi runs her fingers through the ends of her hair and sighs, he wasn't taking it well.

"Why you don't want me taking care of you? I don't have no problem doing it." His hoodie low on his head as he talks to her, the glistening diamonds around his neck.

"I know baby, it's okay, I wanna do this." Kamari exhales deeply, his nostrils flaring as he sits back all the way in his chair. "You can come visit me sometimes."

"With a piece of pie waiting for me, every time?"

"Yes, you still like pecan?"

"You know ya nigga so well." Khaleesi laughs then grabs his hand intertwining their fingers. "As soon as you get tired of it, you leave and I'll step in."

"I promise." She was so bless, that's all that could circulate through her mind. Having someone that wants to take care and provide for her, she wants to please him in every way possible. Khaleesi's heart thumping against her chest as blood rushes up to her cheeks.

"Kamari, I love you."

"I love you too."

"No like, I love you so much." Kamari leans forward kissing her lips multiple times.

"I love you so so much. You not going nowhere." She pulls away, cheesing, taking a couple more of her fries.

•••

ONE WEEK LATER

ACE's INTRO

11:00 PM

•••

Khaleesi wipes down the diner counter for the third time, she leans over causing her skirt to come up slightly—she rolls her eyes and sighs out of irritation. The pinned-skirt the manager gave her was awfully short and raised up with just any movement. She swings her hair to the side and groans, Leesi heard the door open and the bell singing loudly.

"I'll be with you in a second."

"Yes mam." A deep southern accent filling her ears, she could hear a group of men laughing and talking up a storm—not another entourage of loud people. She turns around facing the group of boys, there's one in particular that stood out amongst them. He has a yellow hat on his head, his little fro sticking out in the front. A thick cloud of smoke slipping from his lips and dispersing into the air. The royal blue sign outside—it's light flickering against the wet pavement, Khaleesi places her hand on her hip.

"You can't smoke in here." Her mink lashes hit her cheeks, she walks up to the individual and bugs her eyes out at him when he takes longer than expected to put it out. He laughs and smashes the wood against the glass ashtray on the counter.

"My bad, love. I apologize."

"It's alright, what can I get you?"

"What you recommend?"

"Boy, you know you've been here before."

"Aye, you funny." He grins while laughing once again, Khaleesi couldn't find anything amusing. "I have, I like that steak dinner." She leans over writing down his order on a note pad. "Leesi?" She sighs taking her name tag off and laying it flat on the counter.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"You really don't like me? I can make that change for real." He leans closer causing Khaleesi to arch her eyebrow.

"I have a man but thank for you for the offer. I'll have to politely decline." She rips his order off the notepad and takes it to the window, this has got to be the hundredth time she's reject men's advances towards her.

"Whose ya man?" Khaleesi looks back at him and tilts her head laughing, the look in his eyes told her he was showing intense conviction. She swings her hair to the side then turns around fully.

"She ain't the one." The cook yells from the back, Khaleesi leans on the counter crossing her arms over her chest.

"Ah, he must be important. He a killa?"

"If you keep talking to me, he is."

"You dangerous, huh?"

"Listen, does your homeboys want anything? If not, stop talking to me." She didn't really want to be responsible for anything or anybody. He licks his lips and leans back in his seat, his eyes falling on Khaleesi one more time.

"You happy?"

"I just want you beside me just like my cup is girl." There's music that plays quietly in the back, the soothing tune was her favorite by Lial. When the management wasn't here she played songs, it was calming and it gave her something to do during late night hours.

"Joyful, nigga." Her alarm sounds on the right corner behind the counter, it was 11:30. Khaleesi feels her heart skip a beat, she was excited to see Kamari. Khaleesi runs over to turn the Bluetooth off and then unties her apron—a jet black Cadillac pulling up in the parking lot. He was always on time.

"That your man?" Khaleesi eyes him then rolls her eyes, he smiles playfully. "Shawty, giving me the silent treatment now. Damn." She ignores him and grabs her coat and a small white box that sat under it. Kamari walks in, the smile on his face already visible. The group of men still speaking in the back, Khaleesi walks up to him—planting a kiss on his lips.

"You good? Let's go." He feels a set of eyes on him, Kamari turns his head and sees the man staring. Khaleesi feels a ping of fear strike through her heart, she comes from behind the counter and pulls on his arm.

"Baby, come on I'm hungry."

"Man, what the fuck is you looking at?" The diner falls silent, the man's friends talking coming to a stop. He stands up and Kamari begins to walk toward him, his eyebrows creasing—the cook shuts a metal window down over the opening. Khaleesi rushes over to the both of them getting in between.

"Just hold on, let's just go. Not tonight." The man's height exceeding Khaleesi's, his sweet yet musky cologne filling her nostrils. It smelled amazing.

"Listen to your girl." He laughs, a straight look coming on his face right after.

"My girl ain't none of ya fucking business, bruh get the fuck out of here for I get tight." He scowls, an array of tingles from the bell sounding through the room—Kamari's friends filing in the restaurant one by one. Kofi gently grabs Khaleesi's hand and leads her over to the door.

"Mari, baby please, let's just go."

"Leesi." He turns toward her and she immediately regrets it, his eyes were dark and he looked furious. She allows one of the guys to open the door for her, Khaleesi didn't even dare look in the other individual's direction. The man's people had came up beside him as well, he grips his backpack's straps tightly.

"Y'all wanna get down? We with all that."

"What you talking about then, nigga?" Kamari spat, Khaleesi walks out—her eyes continuing to peek over his friends shoulder. She makes contact with the man and then all hell broke loose. Hits being thrown in all directions, she couldn't keep up. She's rushed into the car, the driver pulls off quickly—Khaleesi's mind racing she couldn't believe what was happening.