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spicypiscesssss · 1 month ago

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Don’t Talk To Me 😤

“And when we get back to this house,” he shouted, voice sharp enough to cut through bone, “don’t ask me to do a damn thing.”

Your hand flew up in a sharp dismissive wave as you twisted away from him in the passenger seat, the car jerking slightly as Smoke’s grip tightened around the wheel. “That’s fine! I don’t need you for a fucking thing ANYWAYS!”

The words sliced through the thick tension that had been hanging over the two of you like a thundercloud for the past two damn days. A silent war with no winners and a whole lot of heat. It all started because the barista down at Morning Bloom Coffee smiled a little too long when handing you your oat milk vanilla latte. The barista gave you a simple smile trying to be polite. Maybe he did it a second too long. Maybe not. But either way, Smoke saw red like he always did when it came to you and anyone who wasn’t him.

Without hesitation, he’d socked the man in the mouth so damn fast your drink hit the floor before you could blink. And now two full days later you both were still in a petty, fiery, jealous bender.

Day one of your argument you stayed strong and moved through the house like a queen in a castle that had been overrun by a jealous beast.

Your skincare routine? Luxurious.

Your work calls? On point.

Your outfit? A soft two-piece lounge set that hugged every curve like it missed you.

When dinner came, you threw yourself into it like you were being judged on Top Chef. You marinated lamb chops for hours. Cooked up homemade honey butter biscuits with a dash of cayenne in the butter… just the way… he… liked it. But you made it very clear: that plate was yours and yours alone.

As you cooked, Smoke lingered around the kitchen and his massive frame leaned against the fridge while watching you plate your meal like a hawk. His nostrils flared as his eyes burned holes into your skin. He couldn’t believe his woman wasn’t offering him a plate of food, but he also wasn’t a man who would beg.

While completely ignoring his existence, you sat at the dining table with your legs crossed, lips glistening with lamb jus and smirking between each bite like you were daring him to say something. He didn’t. But oh, the look he gave you… Girl run

When Saturday rolled in the silence started to feel dangerous. This was the one day out of the week when Smoke would usually hit the gym with Stack, run errands he couldn’t get to during the week and any other ‘man shit’ that you didn’t care to know about. But not today. Today, that man made it a point to stay his ass at home. All. Damn. Day. And worse? He did it wearing only grey sweatpants and no shirt.

Every inch of Smoke was carved out of marble by God. Smooth brown skin stretched over thick muscle and broad shoulders. His gold chains swung low, catching the light every time he reached for something. And those damn sweatpants? They hung low. Way too damn low while leaving nothing to the imagination.

You were sitting on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, but your eyes kept sliding up catching every stretch, every shift, and every flex Smoke would make.

When he purposefully reached his arm up to stretch, that’s when he caught you. “Fuck you staring at?” His voice was deep and sharp. His lips curled into a smirk even as his eyes narrowed, knowing exactly what you were doing.

Your mouth went dry but you sucked your teeth and rolled your eyes before firing back just as sharp. “Ain’t nobody looking at you, nigga.” You turned your head fast, placed a nearby throw blanket onto your lap, and squeezed your thighs shut like you weren’t damn near vibrating with need.

Smoke let out a scoff and dropped onto the armchair across from you, legs spread wide, one hand rubbing the scruff along his jaw, the other dragging down his thigh like he didn’t know what that did to you. But he knew. Of course he knew. Because he’s a SLUT. Smoke was a man born with sin in his bloodstream and you were his favorite outlet.

“You real bold when your pussy hungry,” he goaded without looking at you, just low enough to make your stomach flip. “Real fuckin’ bold.”

You didn’t respond. Your throat tightened and your fingers curled into the blanket as heat spread between your thighs like wildfire. You hated how your body betrayed you. How your nipples perked beneath your tank top just from hearing his voice like that. How your lower belly tightened at the memory of his mouth, his hands, his— Stop. You weren’t going to fold. Not this time. No. This time you had a point to prove… So you stayed quiet.

Smoke leaned forward then, his forearms braced on his knees, honey brown eyes finally locking with yours. He was so beautiful it made your chest hurt. That hard jaw. That slow burn in his stare. The way his gold tooth caught the light when he smirked.

“You gon’ act like you don’t hear me? I said…” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rougher, “… you real bold when your pussy hungry.”

You tossed the blanket off your lap like a challenge and stood up, storming past him toward the kitchen. But before you could make it, his hand snatched your wrist. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped.

“I ain’t touchin’ you,” he said coolly, pulling you gently, slow and patient, until you were standing right between his legs. “I’m remindin’ you. That mouth? That attitude? That little fake-ass silent treatment you think you givin’? That shit don’t work on me, pretty girl.”

He looked up at you like you were the last good thing in a ruined world. And then his eyes dropped trailing slowly down your body, soaking in every soft curve, every part of you he knew like scripture. “Go on. Keep walkin’ away,” he muttered, voice like hardened steel. “But I know damn well you miss how it feel when I grab the back of that neck and tell you to hush while I—”

“Don’t.” You said it too fast. Too breathless.

He grinned. That arrogant grin that made your knees weak and your pride falter. “You really mad?” he asked quietly, now wrapping a hand around your thigh and easing you a fraction closer. “Or you just don’t wanna admit that I had a reason to knock that pretty boy barista out his damn shoes?”

You sarcastically laughed at Smoke’s audacity. “That man smiled. That’s it. You almost went to jail over a smile.”

“Don’t care.” He leaned forward, nose brushing against your lower belly, breath warm through the cotton of your tank. “Anyone smile at you like that again, I’ll put him in the dirt.”

You stared down at him, your fingers twitching by your sides. “You’re a damn lunatic.”

“Yup.” His eyes lifted, black and unrepentant. “Your lunatic.”

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream and bite and ride and cry and maybe all at once. But instead, you turned your head, stared at the wall, and whispered, “Don’t talk to me.”

Smoke scoffed and his grip tightened before he kissed the inside of your thigh, right on that special spot that always makes you forget how to think straight. The kiss was gentle… dangerous… knowing “Aight, baby,” his voice muffled against your skin. “I won’t say a word.” But the fire in those orbs told a different story.

When you finally pulled away, storming back into the kitchen to cool down, you could feel his stare trailing behind you like a shadow with claws. You stood next to the kitchen island hoping for a moment of peace but instead your heart rattled like a stray bullet in your chest. The room felt too hot, too still… way too still, like the moment right before a thunderstorm when all the air gets sucked out of the sky and the ground doesn’t know whether to shake or stay still.

You ran your hands through your hair and let out a frustrated sigh. After 24 hours of being strong, you couldn’t let yourself fold from a little thigh kiss. You weren’t even hungry, but your hands moved on autopilot, opening the fridge, grabbing things, pretending like your body wasn’t still humming from the feel of his mouth on your thigh.

Smoke wasn’t slick and you weren’t safe. Not from him and not from the heat building up under your skin like it was trying to boil you alive. Behind you, the sound of the armchair creaking and his footsteps thumping across the hardwood made you hold your breath. You didn’t bother turning, you already knew the look on his face was smug and cocky like he was just biding time until your pride finally tapped out.

“You heavy-footed on purpose?” you muttered without looking at him. “Or you tryna make sure I know you comin’ so I don’t swing a skillet at your head?”

Smoke didn’t say a word but you heard the slow grind of his teeth and a slight click when his tongue hit the back of them. Then, the fridge door beside you opened. His arm brushed yours with intent and his skin was as hot as a stovetop. He reached in and grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and took a long, long drink like he had been parched since war-time.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Instead you stopped fiddling with the random assortment of ingredients and crossed your arms under your chest so tightly your hands started going numb. But none of that mattered. Smoke was standing so close now with his presence wrapping around you like a weighted blanket made of lustful desire, silently daring you to keep dismissing him.

“You really don’t want me talkin’ to you?” he asked finally with his tone full of challenge. “Even though your thighs damn near gave up and invited me in just now?”

You turned your head and squinted your eyes at him. “You punched an innocent man for smiling at me!”

“And I said a barista don’t need to be starin’ at what’s mine like he got a fuckin’ chance!”

“You don’t own me, Elijah,” you mumbled.

That was the first time you’d said his real name in days. And you had the nerve to use it while telling him that he doesn’t own you.

Smoke’s jaw ticked. His nostrils flared. And then he laughed like he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with you right now. “I don’t own you?” he repeated, stepping in now, cornering you against the counter. “You right… You right, you grown, huh? Real grown. Is that why you been sittin’ in this house clenching your lil thighs every time I so much as stretch?”

“Back up,” you whispered. It didn’t sound as strong as you wanted it to. Not when your back hit the cold of the cabinet and your front was all warm-blooded temptation and hard muscle.

Smoke leaned in like a snake slithering across grass before striking its prey. His lips brushed your ear, and his voice dropped to a place that made your belly twist. “Tell me to back up one more time, baby,” he taunted, “and mean it.”

You swallowed thickly, chest rising fast beneath your thin top.

His hand settled on the counter beside your hip, the other drifting ever so gently down the side of your arm, brushing like a warning. “Say it,” he taunted again. “Or let me remind you why you don’t ever sleep right unless I’m wrapped around you.”

Now it was your turn to clench your jaw but your breath betrayed you. Your thighs pressed together again, heat rushing back like a tidal wave. “Why you always gotta be like this?” you breathed, voice barely holding on.

He chuckled darkly. “Because I know what’s mine.” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers brushing the dip of your waist. “And I know when she lyin’… putting on a front.” He kissed your neck just once to test the waters. It was soft but full of possession.

And when you didn’t stop him, when you didn’t shove him away, he nipped your collarbone and muttered, “You gon’ keep fightin’ me or you gon’ let Daddy fix this?”

“I’m still mad at you,” you said, even as your fingers gripped his sweatpants.

“Stay mad then,” he growled, lifting you up onto the counter like you weighed nothing. “But don’t pretend you don’t need me.”

It took all your might to not whimper when his hand slid between your thighs, the heat of his palm making your eyes roll back. “I told… you not… to talk to me,” you gasped.

Smoke smirked against your throat. “Then put that pretty lil pussy in my face and shut me up.”

Your eyes squinted into a glare and heat rushed up your neck as your lips parted in disbelief. Your body wanted him. Badly. But your mind… that damn stubborn, bratty, prideful-ass mind was not about to let him win this round so easily.

And so… you did what any unhinged woman dating Elijah Moore would do and shoved a hand into his perfect face… and mushed him. What color roses do you want at your funeral? You pushed his cocky expression away like you were slapping a mosquito. The suddenness made him take a step back, just long enough for you to hop down from the counter in one quick motion and scurry away like a rabbit setting itself free from a snare.

“I said don’t talk to me, nigga!” you yelled, snatching your composure back like a silk robe off the floor.

You stormed out the kitchen, and tossed a middle finger over your shoulder. “And put some damn clothes on! Walkin’ ‘round this house like I could buy you for the night with two dollars and a half-stick of gum!”

Smoke stood still like a statue and for a second he didn't know if he was dreaming or if his woman was truly out of her damn mind. Then that low, dangerous laugh rolled from his chest like thunder over wet concrete. It was a sound that did nothing but pour gasoline on the flames already licking between your thighs. He loved when you got like this, wild-eyed, stubborn-lipped, and sass pouring from your throat like it was made of honey and broken glass.

He knew you’d fold. And when you did… he’d be the one to catch you.

The rest of the day you avoided Smoke like the floor was lava and he was the devil waiting at the bottom. You locked yourself in your shared bedroom and buried yourself in the sheets like they could protect you from the walking sin on the other side of the door. You distracted yourself for hours. Scrolled through your phone. Scrolled again. Played lo-fi beats. Switched to gospel. Thought about cooking. Decided not to because that would involve you leaving your sanctuary. Thought about apologizing. Decided not to because it would be a cold day in hell before you apologize to him. Thought about touching yourself… Absolutely did not… yet.

Eventually, your body gave in to exhaustion. The softness of the pillows, the hum of the AC in the background and the scent of Smoke lingering on the sheets rocked you into a tense, twitchy sleep. And then your mind betrayed you.

Of course your unconscious mind decided to betray you as you went off into dreamland. Dream-Smoke had his mouth everywhere on your body. On your neck. Down your chest. Between your thighs. This version of Smoke was utterly ruthless. He said your name like it was a threat and a prayer. His hands gripped your legs like he was holding onto the only thing that made sense in this godforsaken world.

“Open up, baby. Yeah, just like that…”

Your body arched in your sleep, your mouth parted, a soft moan fluttering against the dark. And right when you were about to reach that shimmering edge, Dream-Smoke pulled back and taunted in your ear, “Shouldn’t’ve told me not to talk, huh?”

You gasped yourself awake and the bedroom was cloaked in darkness, only a soft sliver of moonlight slipped between the curtains. Your chest heaved and your pajama shorts were damn near soaked through. The cotton stuck to your core like it had a vendetta. A frown pulled at your lips and a tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it.

You turned your head to look at the blinking alarm clock through wet eyes and frowned again. It was currently 2:03 AM and you couldn’t believe you somehow slept the entire the day away.

Peaking over your shoulder you let out a disgruntled sigh. Smoke was laid out like he didn’t have a care in the world. One arm slung behind his head, chest rising and falling with calm, heavy breaths. That same damn pair of grey sweatpants still clung to his hips. He looked peaceful. Angelic even. You wanted to punch him and make him suffer for what Dream-Smoke started but didn’t finish. But since you already got away with mushing him in the face you didn’t want to test your luck and simply whined.

A shaky, bratty, needy whimper left your throat as you wiped your still falling tears and leaned over, gently nudging Smoke's shoulder. He grunted and cracked one eye open. “What, baby?” His voice was sleep-worn and you tried not to focus on what hearing it was doing to your already wounded up body.

You pouted in the dark, nose wrinkled, lips trembling. “This is ALL your fault.”

Raising your voice early in the morning got Smoke’s full attention and he blinked slowly, as the remnants of sleep cleared from his face like a curtain lifting. His eyes found you in the moonlit darkness. You looked so adorable to him, pouty-lipped, flushed cheeks, and thighs pressed tightly together under the covers.

“The fuck you yellin’ at me for and cryin’ this early in the morning?” he asked, now fully awake, his tone clipped with concern and confusion.

You sniffled. “I… I need… I want… I want… to touch myself,” you admitted, lip quivering dramatically. “And since I’m still mad at you… I need you to leave the bed.”

Smoke blinked once at you and then again into the darkness like he was on an episode of The Office. He didn’t expect to be so entertained by your antics today and he started to chuckle to himself. This wasn’t a typical ‘I love how bratty my girl is acting’ type of laugh. No, this was a dark, ‘this girl done lost her fuckin’ mind’ laugh.

“You woke me up,” he said slowly, to make sure he got all the details correct, “to tell me that you’re horny… and I need to leave our bed… so you can touch what belongs to me?”

Your throat tightened. When Smoke repeated everything out loud it did sound kind of insane but that was besides the point. “You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin and pointing it to the door. “Now go.”

Smoke let out a final chuckle and didn’t move. He leaned back on one elbow, eyes gleaming in the dark like he could see the mess you’d become under those covers. “You really out here throwin’ tantrums at two in the morning ‘cause you can’t handle how badly you want me to fuck that attitude out of you?” he teased.

“I am handling it,” you bit back. “I’m asking you to leave. Like a grown woman.”

His tongue slid along the inside of his cheek. Then he reached down, adjusted himself in those sweats just slightly, and let out a hum that made your thighs twitch. “You sure?” he asked gently, like he was talking to a skittish wild animal about to bolt. “You sure you want me to leave, baby?”

“Yes,” you whispered, even as your legs squirmed beneath the blanket. “I don’t need you. I can do it myself.”

“Mhm… is that right...”

Smoke sat up slowly before swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He stood to his full height and then without saying another word he discarded his sweatpants, letting the moonlight shine on his intimidating half-hard manhood. You sat in complete shock, unsure what to say or what to do. Your mouth stayed agape and you could’ve sworn you didn’t breathe for 2 minutes, Your whole body burned with need and you hated this feeling.

And he spoke again in a cruel velvet-slick tone, “Go on then.” He climbed back in bed and laid on his back with his hands behind his head like he didn’t just take his pants off. “Show me how you don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was so thick it felt like smoke itself. It crackled with the weight of what you wanted to do and what your pride wouldn’t allow. Your fingers trembled under the blanket. You hated him, yet you wanted him. And you hated how badly you wanted him. All of this only made the leaking faucet between your thighs turn into a full blown fire hose.

He bit his bottom lip before antagonizing you. “Might help if you stop cryin’, baby. You can’t see your lil fingers down there with all them tears foggin’ up your eyesight.”

Your fists balled with annoyance but your thighs began to slightly part. Smoke didn’t move or touch you. He didn’t even acknowledge the way he could smell your sweet aroma in the room. He just gave you a look that said, ‘You can play this game all night, pretty girl… I’ll be here when you break.’

And you were so, so close to shattering. You stared at him like he’d summoned a demon into the room and dared you to dance with it.

Smoke stretched his long body across the bed like he was on display. Like he wasn’t a man who just dropped his pants in the middle of a silent standoff and dared you to stay proud. With his arms folded beneath his head, the swell of his chest rose and fell as if he weren’t aware of the war going on inside your body. The tension. The hunger. The absolute need that clawed at your insides like a caged animal. His dick sat heavy between his thighs, thick and idle, like it had time to wait. Like it knew it would be fed eventually.

“You got five seconds before I close my eyes and go back to sleep,” he grumbled without looking at you. “So go ahead. Get to rubbin’. Let me hear how good you make yourself feel without my help.”

Your lip trembled. You weren’t crying anymore, not from frustration anyway. But your thighs were sticky, your panties were soaked through, and every nerve ending in your body was throbbing like you’d been edgewalking through purgatory. Still… you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of begging. So you huffed in a loud and obnoxious manner before wiping your cheeks like a toddler who just got scolded. You then yanked the covers off your body and laid flat on your back beside him, arms stiff at your sides.

Smoke turned his head slightly, one brow arched. “Thought you said you didn’t need me,” he said, tone sharp and mocking.

“I don’t,” you snapped. “I just need space.”

He smirked. “You sound stupid.”

You glared at the ceiling. “You look stupid.”

Another beat of silence. Then your hand slowly dragged beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, and your breath hitched. You weren’t even doing anything yet, and your whole body tensed like you were about to commit a crime.

Smoke didn’t move but he watched from the corner of his eye. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, heavy and loaded. Like if he blinked, he might miss the exact moment you broke. Your fingers brushed against your panties and found them soaked, the cotton clinging to your folds like it was trying to apologize for being in the way. You let out a shaky breath and your fingers twitched as you slid them beneath the fabric and gently grazed your clit.

The behemoth of a man next to you exhaled through his nose but he didn’t say a word as he continued to observe. You rubbed slow circles, small and hesitant, still stubborn as hell and still trying to prove a point you were seconds from losing as a soft and breathy moan slipped out.

Smoke turned his head toward you fully now, his gaze dark and unreadable. “You always make yourself sound so pretty,” he said, voice lower now, rough and molten. “But it don’t hit the same, do it?”

You didn’t answer him but your hips rolled in response to his question. Your hand moved faster. Your breath stuttered. Your back arched. Still—not a word. You didn’t plead or cry for help. To prove your point you used your own hand and held back the silent scream in your throat. Then you finally felt it… that build. It climbed your spine and tingled through your limbs, coiling low and tight in your belly like lightning trapped behind your navel. But just as your toes curled and your moans grew louder… Smoke’s hand slammed down on your wrist and you yelped.

He was above you now, face inches from yours, his chest heaving, lips parted. “That’s enough,” he growled. “This little show? Over.”

“Wha—? I didn’t even��” you started, but he cut you.

“You really gon’ make yourself cum when I’m layin’ right here?” he snapped, pressing your wrist into the mattress with one hand while the other dragged your shorts down in one brutal yank. “Tryna act like you in control of somethin’ when this pussy don’t even belong to you no more?”

You whimpered as his mouth crashed into yours, all heat and dominance, devouring your lips like he was punishing you for breathing without permission. His tongue pushed into your mouth while his hips settled between your thighs, and you could feel all of him, heavy and hot, grinding against your bare heat.

“You should’ve just asked,” he murmured against your mouth, voice trembling with restraint.

You blinked up at him, dazed and breathless. “Asked… what?”

“If I was done bein’ mad,” he answered, dragging his tip along your soaked entrance, teasing but never pushing in. “Cause I wasn’t. Not yet.” And with that he slid in excruciatingly slow. So slow you nearly blacked out.

“Now,” he growled, gripping your throat just enough to make your heart flutter, “you don’t talk to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he filled you inch by inch, until all nine inches of his rock hard flesh stretched you out causing your back arch off the bed. Once he was completely sheathed inside of your warm gummy walls Smoke didn’t move. Not yet. He held himself still with his hand still resting on your throat—not choking, just a firm reminder of who was in control. Of whose name was stitched into the folds of your body like ownership. Like scripture.

Your lashes fluttered as a soft, broken whimper escaped your lips.

“Yeah,” he hummed, watching your face intently. “That’s what I thought.”

The weight of him, the heat, the way his body caged yours like a storm rolling over weak land, every bit of it made your spine tremble. He didn’t have to say it, didn’t need to ask… he already knew. This wasn’t about sex anymore. This was about submission. About surrender. About you thinking you could ignore him, silence him, deny him, and still sleep soundly next to him every night.

His hips rolled meticulously and grinded so deep you swore you saw stars behind your eyes. His pace was punishing in its patience. Purposeful and steady. Like he wanted you to feel the agony he felt every second you ignored him. Every breath you wasted pretending you didn’t need him.

“You really thought you was gon’ touch yourself in this bed?” he grunted, lips ghosting over your jaw as he rocked into you again. “While I laid next to you? Like I ain’t the one that got this pussy cryin’ in the first place?”

You couldn’t even respond. Your mouth opened but no sound came out, just a sharp inhale, a choked moan, and the clenching of your legs around his hips.

He groaned low like he felt your apology in the way your walls pulled him in tighter.

“This one… if for every time you rolled your eyes at me,” THRUST.

“This one… is for every time you walked away from me,” THRUST.

“Fuck… and THIS one is for every time you told me not to talk to you,” SLAM.

You whimpered beneath him, nails digging into his arms as your pride cracked wide open and your body begged to be ruined. You couldn’t handle this torturous unhurried fuck session. You needed your walls plowed to smithereens and you needed it to happen right now. “I hate you,” you gasped.

“Shut up. You love me,” he corrected with a smirk, snapping his hips against yours harder now. “You love me when I got you stuffed full and dumb off my name.”

Your moans turned shameless… so soft, high, and desperate. Each slow thrust had you melting further, your bratty resolve unraveling like a ribbon. And Smoke? He watched the transformation like it was art. “There she go…” he whispered. “There’s my girl. Ain’t no talkin’ now, huh? Just that lil mouth open like you got somethin’ to say… but still don’t know how to say sorry.”

You finally met his gaze, eyes wide and glassy with need. “I’m—” you tried.

He pressed his fingers against your lips. “Nope.” Another thrust. Brutal. Deep. You cried out. “Don’t say shit else to me... Just take it.”

He dipped his head, kissed the corner of your mouth with an intimacy that contrasted the way he was owning you from the inside out. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, hips rising to meet him while chasing the edge of pleasure like you’d die if you didn’t reach it soon.

“I got you,” he whispered, his breath warm and ragged against your ear. “Go on, baby. Let go. Let me take it.”

Your orgasm crept up your spine like a threat, your whole body tightening under him. “Smoke—” you breathed, one hand tangling in the bedsheets beneath you, the other clutching his shoulder like a lifeline.

“I know, I know. Shhh, baby,” he cooed. “Come on. I got you.” And when you finally shattered—mouth open, legs shaking, eyes rolling—he never let up. He kept fucking you through it, hips grinding, mouth pressing kisses to your throat and chest, whispering your name like prayer and punishment all at once.

You went limp beneath him and he pulled back just enough to look you in the face, brushing a lone tear from your cheek. “You still mad?”

You blinked up at him, dazed and ruined. He smirked again. That same crooked, devilish thing that started it all. “Yeah… you look like you still got a fuckin’ attitude.”

Your chest rose and fell in shallow waves with your skin covered in sweat as you lay there boneless and ruined beneath him.

Smoke hovered above you like a storm cloud that refused to pass. His body didn’t press down; he just hovered, solid and still, like a hunter watching his prey breathe after the first strike. His arms caged you on either side, head tilted slightly as his gold chain swung gently from his neck and tapped your collarbone. Your legs still trembled from the aftershock and your thighs involuntarily locked around his waist, trying to pull him closer.

But Smoke didn’t move, he was so deep inside of you that you could barely think. And instead of chasing his own pleasure like any other man might, he just stared and studied you like you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. You felt the subtle twitch of him inside you, ready, but not rushing. Not desperate. Because Smoke wasn’t a man ruled by impulse. He was ruled by control. And he wielded it like a blade.

“You done squeezing my dick?” he asked quietly, voice low and relaxed, like he had nowhere else to be but right here. “Or you need a minute to remember where you at?”

You blinked slowly, lips still tingling from where he kissed you, still too blissed out to string a proper sentence together. But he waited—patient, immovable—as your brows knit together, that ache you just got rid of was already building again and you finally realized… he wasn’t finished. He still hadn’t moved. And now, you were too aware of it. Too aware of the way he filled you like he’d been carved just for you. Too aware of the steady rise and fall of his chest. Of how warm and thick and ready he still felt inside you.

“Smoke,” you whined, voice hoarse and fragile.

He cocked a brow, his gold tooth glinting in the dark. “Yeah, baby?”

Your thighs flexed around him again, a needy little roll of your hips that made you whimper even as you tried to hold your pride in place. His hand slid slowly up the side of your throat, fingers curling around the hinge of your jaw to tilt your face up toward his.

“You feel that?” he murmured.

You nodded weakly, lips parting.

“I been sittin’ still. Holdin’ back,” he whispered, each word slipping into your mouth like honey and heat. “You been cryin’, whinin’, beggin’ me to leave. But I ain’t goin’ nowhere, baby.”

He leaned down, forehead nearly touching yours. “I stay when you bratty. Stay when you act like you don’t want me. Stay when you try to punish me with silence.”

A soft, broken sound spilled from your lips.

“I stay… ‘cause you mine.” Then finally… he moved again. Just a slow roll of his hips. Barely there. Just enough to make you feel the stretch again. Just enough to remind your body that your first orgasm was nothing but the beginning. Your nails found his back again, dragging lightly over the skin of his shoulders as your breath caught.

“You thought I was gon’ break first,” he said, dragging himself out slowly before sinking back into you. “Didn’t you?”

You moaned, head tipping back, throat arching beneath his palm.

“You thought that lil attitude was enough to make me lose my cool.” Another thrust. Deep and slow. The kind that made your vision blur.

“But you forgot who you dealin’ with,” he grunted as his lips brushed your ear. “I can fuck this perfect pussy slow like this for hours and still not cum.”

You whimpered again, your hips twitching, your body betraying you as your heat reignited. He kissed the curve of your cheek, your jaw, your ear.

“You don’t get quick fucks when you act like you don’t need me.” His hand slid between your bodies, fingers slipping down until they found that tender, swollen bundle of nerves. “You get discipline.”And as his fingers began to move in calculated devastating circles, his hips continued their cruel rhythm and your body began to shake again.

You could barely breathe. Every inch of your body was coated in sweat, your skin fever-hot, while your senses flooded with overstimulation. Smoke hadn’t let up and he hadn’t sped up either. That was the worst part… or maybe the best. He moved with purpose and mastery. Every grind of his hips was deep, as he poured himself into you like he was trying to combine your souls into one. And his fingers… God. The pads of them circled your clit with such devastating precision, you swore you were unraveling on a molecular level. Like you were coming apart from the inside out.

You gripped at his shoulders, his back, his biceps, wherever you could reach… but you couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t change the pace. Couldn’t make him move faster no matter how much your legs shook or your voice cracked. “P-please,” you breathed, not even sure what you were asking for. Release? Mercy? More?

Smoke leaned down, brushing his lips against your cheek with a smug grin carved into his face. “Oh… You beggin’ now?” he asked. “Wasn’t too long ago you was flippin’ me off and actin’ like I was walkin’ around here like a cheap thrill.”

His voice vibrated against your neck, dragging goosebumps down your spine. “You wanna cum again, pretty girl?” he murmured, fingers pressing down just slightly harder, swirling against your clit like he was drawing a map to your breakdown. “Is that what all them little tears are for?”

You whined, nodding frantically, your thighs beginning to quake again. Smoke didn’t speed up. He didn’t need to. Your body was desperate for him and would greedily take whatever was given. He knew you so well he could fuck you out of a meltdown without ever changing rhythm.

“You don’t deserve to cum yet,” he said lowly, pulling his mouth back to hover just above yours. “But I’m gon’ let you anyway. Just so you remember who got you moaning so loud our neighbors might file a noise complaint tomorrow.”

He moved in again with one solid and controlled stroke that made your eyes roll and your nails dig so deep into his back you swore you could feel muscle give. Your body started to quiver. “No—no, wait—” you whimpered, because you felt it building too fast, the peak rising like a wave with nowhere to go.

“Shhh,” he whispered, voice laced with hunger now, though his pace never changed. “That’s it. Go on. Cum on my dick.”

He kissed you and swallowed your cries as your walls constricted around him and you came again, harder than before. Your body jerked beneath him as your second orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave smashing through a dam. You sobbed into his mouth, a mix of bliss and frustration and pure, helpless surrender. Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your nails dug into his flesh like he was the only thing keeping you from drifting away.

Smoke pulled back just enough to look at your face that was flushed and tear-streaked, while your mouth hung open in silent shock as you rode the aftershocks. “I don’t think that attitude is gone yet” he rasped, still deep inside you, still hard as stone. “You need another reminder. Don’t you, baby?”

You nodded weakly unable to form words.

Smoke slid his hand up your ribcage, slow and reverent, until he cupped the side of your face. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, tugging it gently. “I ain’t even started your real punishment yet.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Two days you gave me attitude,” he murmured, kissing your chin. “Two days you walked around this house actin’ like you forgot what my name felt like between your thighs… I'm nowhere near done with you yet.”

You gasped, your fingers twitched around his arms, already worn down and so full of him. You didn’t know if it was seconds or minutes or lifetimes that passed with him moving inside you like that—slow, deliberate, dominant. Your body felt swollen with sensation, soaked in the aftermath of two back-to-back orgasms that had left your breath scattered like glass shards across the mattress.

Your skin was hot to the touch, your muscles limp, your mind foggy with a heady mix of defiance and surrender. And through it all, Smoke hadn’t broken his rhythm. His stamina was inhuman, like he fed off control, fed off the way your body twitched and sobbed under his. The way you needed more and hated that it had to come from him.

But then… Something shifted. His eyes… those dark, obsidian things dragged across your face. He licked his lips, slow and thoughtful. Then he pulled back again. All the way out. You cried at the loss of fullness and rose your hips involuntarily trying to chase him. Smoke grinned but it wasn’t a playful or kind grin. Without a word, he grabbed your hips, flipped you over onto your stomach, and yanked your ass up until you were on your knees, chest pressed to the mattress. He spread your legs with his own and ran a hand down your back.

“You said I looked like I could be bought for two dollars and some gum,” he growled, dragging himself against your folds, wet and swollen and already twitching from anticipation.

You swallowed, face buried in the sheets. You remembered and silently cursed to yourself.

He leaned down, mouth grazing your ear as he lined himself up behind you. “Good thing for you, I don’t charge. But I do collect.”

And then he slammed into you. No warning. No patience. The thrust knocked the wind out of your lungs. “E-ELIJAHHHH! F-FUCKKK!” you cried, hands gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

Smoke’s pace was nothing like before. All that held-back heat, all that restraint? Gone. His hips snapped against you with vicious precision, his grip digging into your hips as your ass slapped against him, over and over, filling the room with the sound of skin meeting skin and your broken cries.

“This what you wanted?” he grunted, every word punched out between thrusts. “All that mouth, all that attitude… This what you needed to calm down?”

You couldn’t even answer. Couldn’t form a thought. Your voice was raw with whimpers and your tears stained the pillow as you arched back into him on instinct, chasing every brutal, perfect stroke.

He reached around and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back just enough to whisper against your jaw. “You talk big,” he hissed, thrusting deep, “but this pussy always tell the truth.”

You sobbed out a yes. Or maybe his name. Or maybe just a noise—because that’s all you were now. A body molded to his pace. A vessel of heat and ache and want. And then… He slowed again. But this time, his strokes were hard and measured. That had your eyes rolling and your teeth sinking into the pillow to stop yourself from screaming his name like a confession.

“You feel how deep I am?” he groaned, voice thick and low behind you. “You gon’ run your mouth next time a man so much as smiles at you?”

You shook your head quickly, biting down on your bottom lip as you wavered between reality and subspace.

“Use your words,” he demanded before landing hard smacks on your ass that turned your ebony skin bright red.

“No—no, Smo- Daddy! I won’t, I swear—” you gasped, voice choked and high.

“Damn right you won’t.”

He dragged you up by your waist, pulling your back against his chest, one arm wrapping across your ribs, the other snaking down to rub your clit in slow, punishing circles again.

“Let another nigga smile at you again in public and I’ma bend you over right then and there,” he whispered, biting your shoulder. “Make sure everybody knows who you belong to.”

You cried out again, the pleasure building faster than your body could handle. It was too much but you loved every second of it. And Smoke? He was relentless. Focused. Determined to etch his name into your skin, your bones, your fucking soul.

“You gon’ cum one more time for me,” he ordered, fingers working faster now. “And then I’ll think about lettin’ myself nut.”

You couldn’t even reply because your body was already shaking. Your walls were already spasming around his brutal rod. You felt your mind spiral into that place that only he could take you. The place where pride didn’t exist and control was something you gave him freely.

“Go on, baby,” he ordered. “Make my dick shiny. Cum for me.”

And you did. Harder than you’ve ever climaxed before. This orgasm felt spiritual like your soul kissed the feet of God before asking for forgiveness and traveling back into your human vessel. You screamed his name into the pillow like a secret finally confessed, your body convulsed, your legs collapsed beneath you as he held you upright, grunting through clenched teeth.

Smoke held you there, both of you trembling in the twinkling moonlight shining through the bedroom. Your back was slick against his chest, your breath short and stuttering. His arm was still banded tight across your stomach, the other gripping your thigh with bruising intensity, like he didn’t trust his body not to break you if he let it go free. You felt every inch of him—still deep, still pulsing, still holding on with that impossible restraint that made you ache in places words couldn’t touch.

“Fuck… Fuck… Don’t move,” he moaned, his voice cracking down the middle—low, rasped, and dangerous. “Don’t.”

You didn’t dare disobey your man. You were already trembling too hard, barely tethered to your body. Your face was damp with tears, your thighs quaking, your walls still fluttering in waves around him.

“Shit, baby…” he growled, his voice buried somewhere between awe and agony. “You tryin’ to milk me dry, huh?”

You whimpered. Not out of pain. But because you felt it—felt that slow-building quake start to rattle through him. The way his grip tightened. The way his hips stilled just for a beat too long. You felt the flex in his abdomen, the tension coiling at the base of his spine like a spring being wound to the brink of snapping.

Your last orgasm clenched down onto his dick perfectly and now he was close trying to fight against it. You turned your face slightly from the pillow, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “Why’re you holdin’ it in?”

Smoke gritted his teeth tightly. “‘Cause once I let go…” he hissed, “you ain’t gon’ be able to walk, let alone keep talkin’ shit like you ain’t mine.”

You shivered under him. “But I am yours,” you whispered, the confession slipping out with a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

That broke him. Smoke let out a low, raw groan as his grip shifted. He grabbed your hips with both hands, holding you still as his restraint finally began to splinter.

“Say it again.”

“Smoke—”

“Say. It. Again.”

Your voice caught in your throat, but you gave it to him, every word thick with truth and heat. “I’m yours,” you breathed. “I’ve always been yours.”

He let out something between a moan and a curse as he started to move again. Each thrust was rough with purpose, his rhythm tight and controlled even as his body fought against itself for release. “I should’ve made you say that two days ago,” he murmured into your neck. “Could’ve saved us both a whole lot of trouble.”

You could feel him on edge now. His hands were shaking. His thighs flexed with every grind forward. His jaw locked. “Fuck, baby… you feel too good,” he rasped. “Too fucking good.”

You whimpered, barely holding yourself up as he rutted into you like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

“Where you want it?” he choked out, voice frayed and thick with hunger. His hand fisted the meat of your ass, keeping your hips tilted perfectly, helplessly open for him.

“Tell me. Right here?” he ground into you deeper—deeper—and your whole body jolted like he’d struck a nerve that reached your soul.

“Want me to fill this pretty pussy up?” he growled, hips snapping forward again, rough, rhythmic, merciless. “You want me to cum so deep you leak for days, huh? So every time you open your legs, you remember who the fuck owns it?”

You tried to answer, but your voice cracked around the sound of your own moan.

Your body was done. Shaking, oversensitive, strung out from back-to-back orgasms—but still hungry for him. Still desperate to take all of him, to feel the final blow. The one he’d been holding back since the minute he put his hands on you.

Smoke’s thrusts became heavier and it became obvious he was losing the reins. His grip on your hips turned bruising, and a deep, guttural snarl ripped out of him like it came from the base of his spine. “Answer me, baby! Where. You. Want. It?”

“Inside,” you cried, head buried in the sheets, hips bucking against him. “Please, Smoke, fill me up.”

Smoke roared before grabbing you by the back of your neck and forcing your chest flush to the mattress. His other hand yanked your ass back into him, hard enough to make your eyes roll. His body collapsed over yours, hot and massive and trembling as he began to pound into you like a man possessed. No more teasing. No more patience. Just raw, primal need.

“You fuckin’ take it,” he growled in your ear. “You take every drop. That’s mine. You hear me? Mine. This pussy… this whole fuckin’ body… you think I’m lettin’ it walk around untouched, unclaimed? Nah. Nah, baby. I’m leavin’ my fuckin’ mark.”

His thrusts were devastating now. Every stroke came with the full weight of his body. His hips snapped forward like punishment, his chest slick against your back, his voice a broken, dirty prayer in your ear.

“I can’t—” you gasped, sobbing against the sheets.

“Yes, you… can,” he growled, his voice deep and guttural, hips pounding harder now. “You will. You gon’ take every drop I give you… then lay here… and thank me for it like a good girl. Understand?”

You felt the tremor roll through his body as his thighs tensed, his back flexed, and the ragged stutter of his breath grew as he chased his own breaking point. He was close. So close. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice sharp as a razor. “Say you’re mine while I paint these walls. Say it with my dick buried in this pussy.”

You cried out, clawing at the sheets, tears streaking your face. “I’m yours, Smoke! I’m yours, please—cum inside me!”

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself so deep you screamed, and then he moaned your name like it was the last word he’d ever say.

You were on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness when you felt Smoke’s hot and heavy load spilling into you in thick waves as his body seized behind you, every muscle locked in place. His nails dug into your hips as he held you there, stuffed full, claimed and ruined. His head dropped into your neck, his moan drawn-out, ragged, the sound of a man breaking as he finally gave in.

He stayed like that. Still pulsing inside you and panting. His lips grazed your skin, open-mouthed, breath hot. Then, after a long, heavy silence—he exhaled and murmured low, almost reverent: “Mine.”

And this time, you didn’t argue. Because your body? It agreed.

Authors Note: This was just a one shot to get all the horn horn energy out before I finish my series🥴🙂‍↕️ I understand mean Smoke isn’t for everyone but… HE IS VERY GORGEOUS TO MEEEE!!!

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spicypiscesssss · 1 month ago

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I want somebody to do story on how smoke girlfriend is the BIGGEST FREAK he haves ever seen 🤪😆🙌🏾 ( you can do stack too!!!) but yall know I love smoke DOWN BAD!!!

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spicypiscesssss · 1 month ago

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That Ooey Gooey Love

Summary: Summary: N’Jadaka begs his girlfriend to stay at his place while he’s gone as much as possible to which she takes him up on his offer, finally. To celebrate his arrival and thank him for his generosity, she sets to work filling his house up with some of his favorite dishes including her ooey gooey brownies, his favorite. Already planning on showering her in his affections and attention to try and convince her to stay indefinitely, N’Jadaka is overwhelmed by just how much he feels he’s headed in the right direction with her. Her display of love makes him that much more desperate to turn her into his permanent personal ooey gooey chocolatey treat.

Warnings: profanity, pure fluff

A/N: I been craving some intimacy and I been thinking our man Erik deserves some fluff in his hard ass life.

A/N: My work is NOT to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

Despite the increasingly busy schedule that keeps Erik from his home in Cali due to recently heading up the launch of an outreach center in NYC, he has never been happier. If it wasn’t for this project, he’d have never met her, Y/N, the love of his life. It took him going all the way to New York to find the woman that lived only 20 minutes from his home in Venice Beach. When they bumped into each other several times in NYC, he’d taken the opportunity to get to know her and found himself tapping into youthful experiences at a bowling alley, an adult arcade, and both an ice skating and roller rink.

She honestly had drew him in from the first time he laid eyes on her, she had him starstruck which is why it took crossing her path three times before he asked her out. By the end of their first date though, he was well and truly hooked on his princess. Anytime he could make time outside of whatever he had to handle for his work trip he would so that he could take up as much of her trip out to New York. He got it in his head after they mentioned that they lived near each other in Cali that he needed to start filling up all her memories with him in it as quick as possible. There was no way he ran into the literal woman of his dreams by accident, multiple times, on the other side of the country when they legally resided a mere 20-30 minutes away from each other.

There had been a lot of turmoil and pain in his life and the mental and spiritual growth in order to alchemize it all and get to where he was now had shown him it was worth it. You can not truly recognize and care for pure light if you have never been able to do the same for pure darkness, at least that’s how he felt and thank the gods for the new royal spiritual advisor who guided him through the process of finding that conclusion. It took a long ass time for him to make it through his darkness so to have successfully made it to the part of his life where he could have meals with his family, was a few weeks into heading the Oakland Outreach Center and literally running into Y/N his first day on the East Coast he didn’t take that lightly. He had seen that good times were going to be rolling in fast during his last ritual healing and the ancestors made it known to him that the only thing that could stop them would be him. So when so much goodness and peace was finding him naturally and he could truly say that it was because he was now at peace with himself he made himself relax into it. All of the good experiences that, although he had been hesitant to receive at first, was taking and accepting as his new reality prepared him for her. She turned up the brightness of his life from day 1 and he’d hoped to have it around more and more often so that they could get to forever.

Now that they were six months into this coupling he had been begging her to take his spare key and leave her scent all over his home while he was gone more and more. He wanted to come home to her so bad and had a feeling she wanted to surrender to that being her future as well. N’Jadaka was slick if he could categorize how he’d gone about subconsciously preparing her for what it is he had been trying to accomplish since day 1, making her his wife, dropping whatever kind of hints he could think of. He was now in a place where he felt like he’d done as much work as possible to prepare for being a husband and as such was ready to bring his wife into the home he’d prepared for them. With the new routine and lifestyle he’d been able to acquire from healing in Wakanda he felt he was ready for her, his princess, his lil bit, and hopefully his queen. Y/N didn’t make it easy to get her to take the damn key let alone actually use it, so when he got back from his latest trip out to the east coast to find her in his kitchen cooking up a storm, his heart damn near leapt out of his chest and planted itself firmly into hers. She looked right at home, back in his hoodie from the day before when he facetimed her and he couldn’t help but visualize all the times he’d get to have this view for the rest of their lives.

Y/N had been in her own personal bubble of cooking and cleaning up Erik’s place while bopping to some jams. She had made her way back into his comfy ass hoodie, swimming in it compared to his recently more swole form that filled out every piece of clothing to where almost everything seemed to fit like a second skin on him. He’d been getting bigger since they met in NY and she couldn’t say she hated it, in fact it made her want to be held by him and wear all his hoodies and shirts all the time. It was probably why when the work week went from sketchy to rough, she finally decided to take him up on his standing offer to escape to his place that was on the edge of the city. He’d been begging since their third month together for her to use his key and sleepover at his place both when he was and wasn’t there. She had been doing her best to not get too attached and rarely took him up on the offer unless she was sleeping over after a planned date. Having found a new freedom and balance with how much she actually worked and how much she passionately played in her purpose doing more of the latter, a man like him scared her. She loved the fact that her big daddy Daka had the ability to cart them off wherever and whenever he wanted, but he was a workaholic.

She used to be one and it literally and figuratively almost killed her to keep up that kind of lifestyle so she worked hard to find a routine that didn’t drive her crazy. Meeting someone like him who seemed to be a male version of what she used to be frightened her. She didn’t want to accidentally revert to her old habits just because she was hanging around and lowkey falling in love with someone that mirrored the energy she had recently cleared herself of. Recently however, she was getting the impression that having someone like him as her partner was exactly what she needed in order to continue to fall deeper into the softness she deserved out of life. He did everything possible to keep her from working too much or too hard if he was in town and especially if she was with him, often slipping in comments like, “you know you could just let me pay for everything.” He especially let that comment slip whenever she would rant about bills and everything she knew about the ‘system.’ Now that they’d known each other for the last seven months and had officially been together six of them she was finding herself falling into the pattern of seeking him out and wanting to take him up on the offer. His smell, his smile, whatever essence of him she could get her hands on. The last time she’d stayed over had been when he was super busy and she didn’t think he noticed her presence when he got back - he did, but didn’t want to spook her with how easy it was for him to tell. So she thought she could get away with a night over again without him knowing about it. After the last few weeks of synchronicity they were having she shouldn’t have been surprised to have just sat down with her homemade hot chocolate burrowed in his hoodie on his couch when he facetimed her.

The little giddy girl in her had perked up louder than usual when N’Jadaka hit her with “look at my princess lookin’ fine as hell in my hoodie, you betta be sticking ‘round for me to come home to you tomorrow.” She was blushing and giggling their whole conversation after that and she couldn't say she was mad about it. He had a way of turning her into almost literal mush with just a look or a few words. Even though she had initially nodded her head in agreement he made her verbally confirm that she would be there several times before he hung up that night. She was going to get to see him again and it would be the first time in a long time she would get to experience what it was like to have someone to come home to and come home to her. Erik had been texting her sweet things since before she woke up and all throughout the day in anticipation of this first they would be experiencing so she wanted to do her part to make it as special as possible.

Despite Erik paying for her to pick up some lunch and letting her know not to make anything so that he could take her out when he got back she completely ignored his request. That surprise text that both sushi and a poke bowl was waiting at 2 of her favorite restaurants was the last confirmation she needed to go ahead with her plan. She wanted to love on her man in the privacy of his home and refused to make him go back out into the world as soon as he got back. It was now her mission to provide all of the comfort that she could from the moment he walked into the door and the first step was to cook up a feast of all of his favorite foods, both things she’d already made for him and things he’d mentioned. She enjoyed her lunch at a park, using the time to reflect on their time together and what else she could do besides cook to show her appreciation for this journey he was walking with her on. Both of them had been very clearly terrified of giving into love when they first met, but he was the one to convince her that he was worth it, that she was worth it. And now, enjoying the fruits of their labor she knew that the reward would always outweigh the risk of being hurt.

Just as she got up from her feast he’d facetimed her and declared “I’m on my way princess!” and that little giddy girl from the night before reappeared. Her baby was coming home and now it was time to really kick things into high gear to complete her personal mission. Even though he expressed his hope that she was about to go and get ready for a night out to be pampered some more by him, she didn’t correct him so that it would truly be a surprise when he got home. Despite her silence surrounding his return and the plans he had for them, Erik was still able to tell something was up with her, especially when everytime he mentioned coming home to her she tried and failed to hide excitement that superseded him just coming back to the west coast. He kept his skills of perception to himself, hoping that whatever his lil bit was planning would be revealed on his security camera before he was in the air so he could see exactly what was going on. Unfortunately for him, his princess was already 10 steps ahead of him, having her plan on how to get around spoiling the surprise set and in motion. He was reluctant to finally hang up, but had to as he left his hired car and made his way into TSA.

Y/N couldn’t help but practically float through the rest of the day, hoping her efforts to create a special moment for Erik would succeed the way she’d planned it out. As she walked up and down each of the aisles, mentally checking off her list, she bounced through the store with all of the joy she was filled to the brim with, vibing to a playlist that matched her mood. Not even the rush hours traffic that set her back 45 minutes in her scheduled plans could bring her down. She made sure to walk into the house without her shopping bags, avoiding the front door and garage security cameras and opened the garage door from inside so that she could pull her car into the empty space that Erik always told her was waiting for her and unloaded from there. It would be just another happy surprise for him to see her finally listening to his requests and hopefully it’d throw him off a little to not see her car in the driveway. By the time she got started on the 3 course meal starting with dessert prep and working her way to the appetizer so that everything would be fresh and hot by the time he arrived her playlist had switched to RnB, hoping the smooth sounds would aid in relaxing Erik from his trip.

When he pulled up at first, it had thrown him off slightly to not see her car in the driveway, thinking that maybe she was running behind in getting ready. He got a little pouty, having been looking forward to actually coming home to her, as he waited for the garage door to open all the way, but immediately brightened when he pulled in and her car was in the spot he always told her was reserved just for her to use. No one else was allowed to park there even before her, family, fling, or otherwise. He’d had it in his mind that only his wife’s and his car would have the status to allow any part of their lives to take up residence in his home. It also gave him something to look forward to before meeting Y/N, gave him the hope that he was not only worthy of a wife and a family, but actually going to get it one day. When he’d told her to start parking there and given her his spare key, both actions had been signs to himself that she was exactly the woman he’d been hoping, praying, and waiting for. In his excitement to finally wrap his arms around his princess, he left his travel bag in his truck. And boy was he glad he decided to cause seeing her domestically cooking for them with RnB playing in the background short-circuited his brain. Despite remembering distinctly telling her to prepare for a night out as soon as he walked in to see her and what she was doing made his heart grow like the grinch, feeling too big for his chest.

This welcome was far more than he could’ve imagined or asked for and the fact that she did it without him asking or hinting at wanting exactly this experience warmed him in ways he had never known before. She always had this way of subconsciously reading his mind that baffled the fuck outta him. Y/N turned as soon as she heard Erik’s keys hit the bowl on the island, her music, the sounds of cooking, and her hyperfocus having drowned out the sound of him pulling into the garage and walking into the house. She practically leapt into her man’s arms and he responded in kind by wrapping his hands around her thighs and sitting her on the island, kissing her over and over.

“Welcome back Daka!” Y/N said once he pulled away to take a breath and take in her full glow.

“And what a welcome it is, princess. I thought I told you to get ready to go out,” he responded as he rubbed on what he could reach of her ass and her thighs.

“I know, but I figured since you’ve been working so much and traveling for so long that you’d want to relax rather than be a designated driver or anything. Plus I’m kinda selfish, I don’t wanna share you with the outside right now,” her voice taking on a more childish tone with the last sentence, accompanied with a cute ass pout.

“That’s alright princess.”

Erik chuckled at her confession and kissed away her cute forlorn expression making her brighten right back up.

“Plus you always spoil me so I wanted to do the same,” she said with a small pout, suddenly feeling like she doesn’t do enough for him.

“Your presence spoils me enough as it is mamas.”

She brightened at those words and had to push him a little to be able to scooch off the counter.

“Well you deserve more,” she said as she pulled out the cauliflower bites she’d plated a few minutes before he arrived and pulled a bouquet of royal blue roses with 24k gold accents to place in front of him. “May I present your appetizer and a small token of my appreciation for you.”

Erik started to sniffle, fighting back a sudden wave of emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him. He grabbed Y/N and pulled her into a bear hug to hide the happy tears that were escaping despite his efforts. She rubbed on his back and shoulders, allowing him to express himself and savour the moment. When he finally pulled back to swipe at the offending liquid now gracing his face it took a moment for him to fully gather himself and sit on one of his barstools to enjoy what she was doing.

Y/N slid the plate in front of him and said, “I knew you might be a little hungry so hopefully these cauliflower bites will help you make it until dinner is ready and unfortunately I couldn’t find a vase to put your flowers in.”

Erik held out an arm and she happily leaned into his side as she watched him enjoy her hard work.

“That’s alright princess, imma have my friend that makes forever flowers come and pick em up so I can get that done and it’ll come back in a vase.”

“Okay, that’s awesome. I completely forgot about forever flowers. Oh, and there is a hot bath that should be cooled to perfection waiting upstairs for you when you’re done to give me time to finish up down here.”

“You really thought of everything lil bit,” he replied.

“I tried. It’s so hard to spoil a man that has everything.”

“Like hell! You hit it out the park with all of this and like I told you already, your presence spoils me. So, anything extra is just that, extra,” he said as he squeezed her closer for emphasis.

She rubbed on his ears and neck as he continued to eat, reluctant to let her go before he absolutely had to. This was everything and more and her actions proved to him yet again why he’d had the feeling that she was his one. He popped her on the ass before heading upstairs, loving the sound and accompanying jiggle that always graced his ears and eyes when he did that. Despite protesting as usual he heard the mirth in her voice and wondered how much better this night could truly get. As he finally sunk into the bath she prepared for him full of essential oils, epsom salt, and rose petals he thanked the gods again for allowing him to live. Never in a million years could he have imagined his version of a fairytale type of life would meet him like this.

By the time Y/N plated the surf and turf meal she’d made of salmon, steak, homemade mashed potatoes, with sauteed kale, Erik was coming back down the stairs in nothing but his grey sweats. She damn near forgot she had his expensive whiskey bottle in her hand and had to clutch it quickly to keep it from shattering on the clean kitchen floor. He knew what watching him walk around like that did to her and by the fire in his eyes was counting on his preferred loungewear to make his intentions very clear. That man was finna eat her up as a reward for how she’d welcomed him home and she couldn’t stop clenching her thighs or squirming in anticipation. She shook as she poured his whiskey and her glass of wine and couldn’t find a comfortable position when she sat next to him and watched him enjoy the meal with gusto for a bit. He’d immediately put his hand on her thigh when she sat and squeezed it when he realized she hadn’t even taken a bite.

After a few bites she relaxed a little and asked about his trip, loving to hear the passion in his voice for the project. It was tough and time consuming but he knew it was absolutely worth it. She talked about how her latest passion project was coming along and how she was getting more and more annoyed with having to go to work. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find the will to work somewhere just for money when her passion project brought so much more fulfillment and hardly drained her energy if at all. Erik made another comment about her quitting, moving in with him, and working on her passions full time but she brushed it off as usual. The look in his eyes hinted that he’d be bringing it up more and more now and she made a mental note not to complain so much. She didn’t want him to think that she was just with him for his money though he’d expressed plenty of times that he knew she wasn’t like that.

They finished dinner just in time for the timer on her brownies to go off and Erik raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“What else you been working on mamas?”

She got up and tried to grab their plates, but Erik was quick to shoo her away.

“I made my ooey gooey brownies that you always devour. I figured that was your favorite dessert of mine so far,” she said as she took the pan out and set it on the stove to cool.

Once Erik finished rinsing off their plates and put them in the dishwasher he came to wrap his arms around Y/N and kiss up and down her neck and the side of her face.

“You would be right though your cookies are a close second. What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked.

She turned in his arms to kiss him and said, “Live big daddy. That’s all you gotta do to deserve me, keep living.”

He teared up again but was able to keep the tears at bay this time.

“Now go find us something to watch while I get the last of this together for us.”

“What else could you possibly have to do woman?” he asked, bewildered by the seemingly endless work she was putting into the night.

“Make us some hot chocolate!” she said as she beamed at him.

He couldn’t chastise that face as much as he wanted to tell her to just sit down already and let him rub on her. It took him a minute to find something that he knew they’d both be interested in, but also wouldn’t mind not finishing. By the time he was finished Y/N was setting a tray on his coffee table with their mugs and a plate piled with a few brownies. Despite wanting to be the one who did the rubbing, she positioned them so that he was laying on her more than she was laying on him. Even though he wanted to end his night between her thighs licking her to nirvana he’d ended up knocked out still between her legs and listening to her heartbeat. There was no way he could stop all the ooey gooey love she’d filled him with combined with her soft hands rubbing out all of the stress from his body and mind from knocking him out.

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spicypiscesssss · 1 month ago

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Idc I’ll never be ashamed writing about Michael b Jordan fine ass

Like do you not see this man?!!!!

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spicypiscesssss · 1 month ago

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Elijah,you put that cigarette out,you can hold her.

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spicypiscesssss · 1 month ago

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GET. AI. OUT. OF. FANDOM. Stop making headcanons with it, stop making fanfic with it, stop making fanart with it. If I see one more "asking chatgpt *blank* about *character/characters in a fandom* I'm going to lose my goddamn mind. Use your own fucking brain, stop asking AI to do everything. You could even ask other real people what they think. Just. Stop. Using. AI. In. Creative. Spaces.

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spicypiscesssss · 2 months ago

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I salute the wakandan women who had the guts to try & defy erik killmonger... they truly respected they country, me personally?? He immediately would have had me in there sounding like a loveandlightTV video 🙏🏾😭 ain't even got to ASK who MY king is

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spicypiscesssss · 2 months ago

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day #968 without my king n'jadaka... SIGHHHHH

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spicypiscesssss · 2 months ago

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HEAVVYYYY on the Killmonger content - ppl completely forgot about my bby fr!!! 😫😫😫😫

How it feels going to people tumblrs looking for updates on Killmonger, the SmokeStack twins, or Sinners content, but I have read everything MULTIPLE TIMES😭

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spicypiscesssss · 2 months ago

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just thinking about smoke + breeding you…. 18+… lowercase and headcanon form intended…modern era! au…

luvrs note: he just wants a family… that’s all.

thinking about how smoke just loves teasing you after finding out you have baby fever. and it’s not just because it’s cute… gosh, it makes him feral. so eager to breed you, his sweet girl. have you filled up from dusk till dawn— so eager to see you be the mother of his child. him seeing you with your three month old niece, is a heartwarming sight on the one side, but he would be lying if he said seeing you in a maternal role woke something up in him.

it’s so sweet, seeing how he looks at you — admiration and then some.

but of course, it’s smoke we’re talking about here. sure he’s sentimental, wanting to be the dad that stepped up; the papa to your future little ones.

beneath that soft, protective layer however… rests a beast.

thinking about the day you finally tell him you wanna have a baby… he damn near springs into action.

the man loves you, your body, and the intimacy shared in every glance, every touch and every kiss.

thinking about how smoke wouldn’t slow down the pace of his thrusts, sac slapping against your soaked folds as you cry out for him to keep going. and he can’t help but want to fill you up to the brim with his thick cream, watching it ooze out of you.

his responses to your sweet moans come out in a thick southern drawl, tinged with an unbridled need to fill you over and over again.

thinking about how smoke would gently place his palms across your tummy, pressing slightly onto your midsection — enough for you to squeal his name and tell him…

“s all the way in my belly, baby.”

“Uh huh… ‘s gon’ stay there, doll. ain’t lettin’ a thang slip on out…”

he’s never wasteful, pushing his release back into your quivering hole with two thick fingers — simply set on wanting to start a family with his sweet girl.

thinking about how smoke whimpers at the slight clench of your silken walls around his fat tip, only for him to groan obscenely when said walls suck him right in, wrapping around him like a vice.

thinking about how smoke revels in your soft voice when your arousal gushes for a sixth time, soaking him messily. skin covered in sweat, heavy breaths exchanged, fingers interlocked. And he comes after you do, the sweetest grunts leaving his lips.

thinking about how smoke, despite all his efforts, will breed you until he’s empty with nothing left to give.

”cmon doll….spread that pretty lil pussy open f’me.”

and you do, knowing it’ll be hours before either of you let up.

________________________

tags: @prettyfilmz @cremeful @zillasvilla @clubsoft @babynueva @charmed-dreamssss @cyberdejos2 @4milly @trippinsorrows @kenshisluvrgirl @sheaabuttaababyy @mselenalovebug @sayyestoheav3nn @shantinextdoor @minsingular @whowrotethenote @that-90s-girllll @harmshake @empressdede @usoinked @szatears @spiicii @punksyeet @tribalhoochie @tojisteddy @katezy2x @christinabae @kqmbr1a @cocooned-butterfly @dollyblush222 @monstaxmomma0 @bigjuiciisushii

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spicypiscesssss · 2 months ago

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Holy Matrimony pt.2

wc: 9.6K

cw: black!femreader, Black Panther Erik Killmonger, breeding kink, virgin/virginity loss, hard!dom, back shots, hair pulling, cervix, choking, mouth stuffing/gagging (fingers), s*x toy/vibr*tor, punishments/rewards, slapping, mirror sex, facial, fingering, oral (m & f), dumbification

song: Flavour - Time to Party

Author’s Note: Part 2 of our virgin reader now married to Killmonger! This took a turn… That’s all imma say. Lemme know what you think. The story has somehow morphed into Husband!Erik that’s a hard dom “training” his wife and that just… Warms the heart. I worked really hard on this and I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Please excuse any typos or errors!

Original request: Erik having an arranged marriage with a woman from a nearby tribe in Wakanda. She’s totally inexperienced; virgin, never been kissed.

★ masterlist | taglist | part 1 ★

“Prince N’Jadaka. Sister Y/N. Welcome Home.”

Erik held Y/N’s hand as they exited the ship. The Dora Milaje lined the runway along with the Royal Guard. She held her breath as she spotted King T’Challa, Queen Mother Ramonda, Princess Shuri, Okoye and Nakia standing at the end of the runway, smiling. Y/N paused for only a moment, but Erik tugged her along.

This was to be her new life. Her… Family. She had to get used to it and quickly.

She could feel the eyes of the servants and guards on her. Curiosity. Amusement. Worry. Similar emotions that stirred in her belly. They stopped in front of the Royal family and Y/N bowed immediately.

“King T’Challa. Queen Mother. Princess. It is an honor to step foot in your home.”

“You ain’t gotta act proper and shit. They family now.” Erik grabbed her elbow, pulling her up and into his side. Y/N squeaked, flashing him a look of shock and annoyance. Was he not aware of proper protocol?

T’Challa raised a brow. “At least your wife has better manners than you cousin.”

“Like that is a shocker.” Shuri muttered.

“It’s not is it?” Nakia smirked.

Keep reading

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spicypiscesssss · 2 months ago

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Could I request Erik having an arranged marriage with a woman from a nearby tribe in Wakanda? She’s totally inexperienced; virgin, never been kissed.

“Holy Matrimony”

wc: 8.0k

cw: black!femreader, Black Panther Erik Killmonger, breeding kink, virgin/virginity loss, oral (f & m), fingering, handjob, facial, (slight) face f*cking, slapping, dumbification, corruption, overstimulation, praise, tummy bulge, size kink, spanking, choking, daddy!kink, facial, pussy slapping

song: 1er Gaou- Magic System

Author's Note: This is my very first reader request! Sorry I tried not to make it long but then I started listening to music then fantasizing and blah! I pulled inspiration for the tribes from both the Movie and the comics. Thank you, hope you like it!

★ masterlist | taglist | part 2★

“Are you ready?”

Y/N cocked her head to the side as she stared at herself in the mirror. She was puzzled…

Not that long ago, was running the streets with Abeni and Panya. Playing, fishing, and hiking. Worshipping Sekhmet, the Lion Goddess.

Years ago, the goddess had revealed herself to Y/N, blessing her to become an avatar of the goddess herself. It was a secret her tribe kept from the rest of Wakanda. The Lion Goddess had lost many worshipers over the years to the Cult of the Panther God. They were small in numbers compared to the rest of the tribes, and to increase their numbers and integrate back into Wakandan society.

She was to become queen consort to Prince N’Jadaka. Son of betrayer Prince N’Jobu. Monster.

Killmonger.

Wakandans had not forgotten the atrocities he put their country through. Through the grace of King T’Challa, Queen Mother Ramonda, and the Tribal Council, he was allowed a second chance.

The requisites of his second chance?

He was to take a bride.

“Entle… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as beautiful as you are at this moment.”

“Mother…”

Y/N turned to her mother. As leader of their tribe, and on this special occasion, she was dressed in ceremonial gear. White ochre face paint mimicking the main of a lion. Her headdress. Elaborate. Made from ostrich and lion man, it stood tall. The beads of her necklace clacked against her chest as she approached her daughter.

“Kutheni ubuso obude? This is a joyous occasion. My only daughter. Princess. Joining the ranks of the highest family in our country.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back to her vanity. For days, Y/N had gone through the bridal tradition. Saffron and milk baths. Facials. Massages. Sacrifices to Sekhmet under the moonlight.

“How can I be happy, mother?”

“Utsho kanjani?”

“I don’t get a say in any of this!”

Slamming her hands on the vanity, the makeup and other knickknacks toppled over. Standing, she paced as her mother watched with an indecipherable expression.

“I wanted to marry for love! I wanted to pick my husband. Instead, I am sold to the highest bidder!”

It was her mother and Queen Mother Ramonda that decided this heinous fate.

Y/N powers mixed with the Bashenga bloodline would create offspring that would be insurmountable in power. Better than any Wakanda had ever seen. Queen Mother offered her mother a tribe a seat on the council, more than enough resources to feed and clothed their people than they could handle. Access to better technology. Weapons.

Cattle. She was treated like cattle.

The first time they presented her in front of Killmonger, it was hard to deny his allure.

Dark piercing eyes. Muscles on muscles. Calculating smile. He didn’t hide his obvious ogling of her body. Lingering on her breasts. Legs. The curve of her behind. Y/N couldn’t help but pull the fabrics of her gown closer to her body as if he could see through it. He felt like a fiery beast hovering for the kill, and he promptly agreed to the arrangement. Now, a week later, here she was.

“Y/N, we talked about this—”

“No, you talked with everyone else but me! Were there no other available women that would gladly go to this slaughter?”

“It is not a slaughter.”

During the wedding preparations, she and Killmonger had to meet. He was a barbaric man. Snapping and growling at things he disliked. Pushing his body closer to hers on the couch. The resentment in her eyes didn’t deter him. It seemed to fuel him. Closer and closer, he would move. His fingers brushing against her thighs for only for her to shrink away or hop up claiming to need the restroom when chased her to the edge of the couch.

“Ntombi, uyazi ukuba kufuneka kwenziwe oku. This is not just about you. This is about the future of your people!” Her mother stomped the spear in her hand against the floor.

It was what her mother had told her since her birth. Blessed as leaders, their responsibility was always their people.

“I did not raise you to be this selfish.”

“Is it selfish to care about my own wellbeing?”

Her mother rolled her eyes. Standing, she ambled towards her. Pushing a strand of her curly hair out of her face that had escaped from her head wrapped.

“It is not, but sometimes in life we are called to a higher purpose—” Y/N shoulders deflated and her mother cupped her chin—“Your destiny was decided the moment Sekhmet blessed me with you in my womb.”

“It is not fair.”

“That does not matter.”

Y/N had no desire to get married right now. There was too much to do. Too many things to try. Her powers she had to learn. She planned to usher her tribe into a new era. Educating their women in the art of technology and combat.

Her heart twisted.

Osei.

Her childhood sweetheart. A sweet man. He spent his days teaching the children. Read her poetry. Brought her flowers. She was saving herself for his touch. To finally know fleshly pleasure with him.

“Osei—”

“Will find another girl and live a peasant life. You will become a queen consort!”

“Ndiyayithiya le!”

Her mother patted her cheek. “Better to air your grievances right now. You do not want dark thoughts in your mind when you consummate the marriage.”

Y/N’s body jerked at the knowledge. If she was to judge from the hungry look in Killmonger’s gaze, he would not be gentle. Safiya, an older girl who married several years earlier, always complained to Y/N, Abeni, and Panya about her husband.

To say she was suffering was an understatement. Safiya had to endure her husband mounting her like a broodmare, night after night, only seeking his only pleasure and leaving her in pain and humiliation. From the sounds of it, it was horrible and Y/N did not want to suffer that same fate.

“How can I not have dark thoughts while Killmonger mounts me like an animal?”

There was a knock on the door and Abeni peeked her head in. “It is time.”

Y/N and her mother locked eyes. The thought of offering her body to a man like Killmonger, to do whatever god-awful things he wanted to her, was horrendous. Her life was changing irrevocably.

“Kakuhle kakhulu. Let’s take our places then.”

Casting Y/N a look, Abeni bowed as her mother passed her and exited the room.

“You look as if you want to cry.”

“I do.” Y/N collapsed onto the couch. Abeni hurried to her. Her blue gown swishing as she pulled Y/N into her arms.

“There, there. It won’t be all bad.”

“It will. You’ve seen what Killmonger has done in the past. What’s to say he has changed?”

There was a small population of Wakandans that did not trust the rehabilitation of Killmonger. They believed he was a viper. Waiting to strike again at a moment of weakness.

“Who’s to say he has not? You found out the truth like everyone else. King T’Chaka killed N’Jobu. And hid it for years. It was not right for N’Jadaka to take a route of violence, but what do you expect when one’s been abandoned?”

“So now you feel for this monster?”

Abeni sighed. “I’m saying you need to think broader. Humans are unpredictable. This may not be as bad as you think.”

The door opened again and Panya, one baby on her hip and a protruding belly, stomped her foot.

“The two of you are taking too long! Let’s go.”

Y/N and Abeni rise. Fixing her beaded necklace and choker, Abeni doubled checked that everything on her was correct.

“You look so beautiful, Y/N.” Panya sighed. Her eyes traveled down the blue gown. Intricate weavings of yellow, green, and red patterns. Abeni brought her veil over her face.

“I am but a lamb to the slaughter.”

Panya smacked her lips. “Aye! Not today. Let’s go.”

The wedding would happen on her Tribe’s land. Afterwards, Killmonger would bring her back to The Golden City where they would stay in the Citadel.

Flowers adorned the walkway leading to the courtyard, where everyone waited. Panya led them, followed by Abeni. Many of her fellow tribe bowed and blew kisses to her as she passed. Not wanting to show emotion. Not wanting to show that she had no choice but to bend to her mother’s will. She kept her eyes forward.

They stood on the edge of the courtyard. The guest came from tribes all over Wakandan, in their ceremonial robes, headdresses, and paint. A few outsiders were permitted as well. The sun shone brightly overhead, as if the Lion Goddess were blessing this union as well. Stacks of food. Flowers. Weapons lined the aisle to her waiting husband.

Y/N closed her eyes as Abeni handed her the bouquet.

The music began. Abeni and Panya began the wedding march. Dancing and shouting. The guest joined in and for a moment Y/N allowed herself to feed into the joyous emotions for a moment. Maybe mother was right. Losing her freedom was minor in the cosmic of fate. It was better to think that she was setting her people up for success. A new era of her tribe was emerging.

Still, the knowledge of the burden she was carrying could not be forgotten. Her mother had killed two birds with one stone. Marry her off to a rich family, and thus, enriching herself and the tribe to live carefree. How was Y/N to continue her training with Sekhmet? Would her husband forbid it?

It was time.

Y/N held her high. Focusing on the shaman next to Killmonger. Her bare feet crunched the dirt and flowers. Shouts and prayers rang out as she walked. Hoping to conceal how her hand shook and her heart raced.

Erik nervously shifted from one foot to the other when he finally saw his bride appear at the aisle. Her gown looked like it was made of silk. It melted over every curve and floated behind her like a cloud. His mouth went dry.

Y/N.

Blood raced, shooting straight to his dick. She was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. Curly hair. Brown eyes. Full body. Lust coiled through him, and he could imagine himself ripping that dress off her. Pulling out what clips and pins kept her hair up, allowing her hair to cascade over her shoulder. Hands gripping her hips as he fucked her deep and hard.

Licking her lips, he shifted, trying to compose himself because T’Challa and Queen Mother were watching him intently. He couldn’t have his aunt seeing him with a hard dick.

At first, he seethed over T’Challa, Queen Mother, and the Tribal Council’s orders.

A wife? Erik had no desire to get married. Not now. Not thirty years from now. The life he lived; he couldn’t be anybody’s husband. Love didn’t last long in his world, so why should he invite it in?

He only knew they would give him any random broad from a tribe.

He’d only hoped that she had a body that was somewhat fuckable. Or a half-way decent face. Something, anything that could get him through the sex. No man wanted an ugly bitch that couldn’t fuck. Yes. He hadn’t been choosey in the past, but the less than pretty ones made up for it by sucking the skin off his dick.

And if push came to shove, and the broad was just too damn ugly. He could send her ass to his estate in the countryside and he’ll stay in the Citadel.

The first time he met Y/N?

He thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. There was something about her. He couldn’t figure out what. Queen Mother and Lion Tribe leader were hushed about her background.

Erik was enraptured by her face. Angelic. Round. Soft. Her eyes were bright, and he watched her play with a few of the children of the tribe. Chasing them. Picking up and tossing them in the air as the children giggled like crazy.

She was the daughter of the tribe’s leader, but she didn’t play into the bullshit hierarchy they liked to do on the Citadel. It intrigued him.

Then Y/N smiled, and he wanted her. Craved her in a way he wanted to hike up her skirt and fuck her right there in public. She was soft and warm, something he’d craved his entire life. Then she finally spotted him and the resentment in her eyes shocked him at first. Y/N made it know she disliked the entire arrangement from the start, but he didn’t care.

It hurt that it was obvious she didn’t want to be near him. Scooted away from him. Left the room. Gave him a polite smile as if he was a stranger on the street.

All Y/N saw him as was a monster. Yes, he was still in some ways. There was another part of him he’d discovered since returning to Wakanda. A side that could only emerge from connecting with his family. A side that wanted stability. Routine. Happiness.

He wanted it with Y/N, but she couldn’t see it? Not when he sent her expensive gifts and flowers. How he tried to skip out on his diplomatic duties to be with her. Erik had a plan. He’d get Y/N to give him a chance, develop some type of affection for him. He knew he’ll be the best fucking husband to her if she gave him a chance.

Y/N broke and took a peek at her husband as the Shaman read the prayer. He was extraordinarily handsome. Up close? Her mouth went dry and her pussy pulsed. He had full, thick lips. Those dark eyes were fixed on her face since she made it to his side. He smelled phenomenal. Dimples appeared when he winked at her.

She’d told herself that she wanted to remember as little of this moment as she could. That’d she seen too many of her fellow tribe women married off to older and mean men. Killmonger was… Something else. He was young. Not much older than her. Why had he chosen her to marry? There were far more beautiful and willing women.

His eyes locked on her, and the blazing desire sent another flutter through her core.

Killmonger wasn’t what she expected.

“Do you, Y/N, take N’Jadaka as your wedded husband for as long as your love lasts?”

All eyes on her. She glanced at Killmonger. Then the shaman.

“Yes.”

“Ngamandla oothixo, you are husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Killmonger stepped closer, bringing his head close to hers. His eyes locked with hers and a brief flash of fear went through her. Her first kiss was in front of a crowd. With a monster. He placed his hands on her waist and drew her body against his. A small gasp escaped her as she felt the hard swell of his manhood on her. Abeni and Panya warned her what was to come once a man was aroused.

To her surprise, he didn’t mash his teeth against hers. His other hand cupped her cheek. His thumb rubbed back and forth, instantly relaxing her. His lips parted and then he pressed them into her mouth, kissing her softly.

She inhaled shakily, unsure how to respond. Tentatively, she kissed him back. When she felt his tongue brush her lips, ask if asking to be let in, she obliged him. She kept her arms by her side, but when his thick tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips before dipping inside. It shocked her. She instinctively gripped his shoulders, and he pulled her closer.

The guest hooted and hollered. Music played once more.

Y/N realized she enjoyed kissing. Or was it because she was kissing him? She felt drunk. His hands exploring her body. His kiss sent new spirals up her spine. Paired with the erratic exploration of her mouth, she felt high.

It was too sweet. Too delicious. The mix of soft and hard licks and sucking. She dug her nails into his shoulders. Tilting her head to the side, allowing him deeper access.

A moan exploded from them both.

That reminded her they were not in the private. It was a reminder that she was kissing him, not of her own free will. This was Killmonger. She shouldn’t allow herself such liberties with him, but her body ignored her.

Did all husbands kiss their wives like this? So wantonly? Uncaring of who might see? Seductive.

She wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t stop. Her lips and body continued to respond. The heat of his hands burned through her gown as he fisted the material. She heard the clearing of several throats, and even Queen Mother hollered his name before he finally released her and she panted.

“Damn baby,” he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You taste so fucking good. I promise you, tonight? We’re fuckin’ all night.”

She gasped. Her body flushed at his blatant language, but her body seemed to respond to the crude demand. Unable to take his stare, she fixed her gaze on the crowd, then to the front room where her mother sat next to Queen Mother. Killmonger chucked arrogantly next to her as he led her down the aisle.

Each step away from the watchful eyes of the crowd, Y/N did indeed feel like a lamb to the slaughter. Albeit. A willing one.

Erik couldn’t wait to get this shit over with.

People danced. Drank. Sang off-key to the music. He glanced at his wife. They both had changed. She wore a white, almost translucent, off shoulder long sleeve dress that made her look like an angel. He wore matching pants and tunic, nodding at whatever bullshit the millionth guest that came up to their table wanted to say.

There were more important things he wanted to do. From the way Y/N responded to a kiss, he knew she was a virgin. She couldn’t deny that shit. That riled him up more. There were things he wanted to show her things… Nasty things, and he bet she would be a willing student.

“Blessing to you both! Blessings, blessings, blessings! Lots of children, yes?” An older, heavyset woman. Y/N told him her name, but he forgot the shit just as quickly.

“Enkosi makhulu—” Y/N glanced at him. He raised a brow, and she looked away. “In the Goddess’ due time.”

“Don’t know about the Goddess…” Erik placed his arm on the back of her chair. His fingers grazing her bare skin and Y/N flinched. “Could fuck around and it happen tonight.”

The older woman and Y/N gasped and looked at him.

“Oh ukulunga kwam, potent then, young man?”

“Grandmother!” Y/N exclaimed, and she ducked her head. Erik laughed.

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Well…” The older woman eyed him with newfound respect. “Sekhmet has blessed you well, daughter.”

One last glance at him, the older woman left. Her tribe had some bomb ass liquor. Almost as good as his Hennessey, and he took a swig of it when she sat back and looked at him.

“Listen here Killmonger—”

“Erik. Or better yet, husband.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

“You cannot speak about… Private matters between a man and wife in public. It is indecent.”

“Indecent?”

“Yes.”

Erik finished his wine and signaled for a servant to refill it. Sitting up, he scooted closer to her, and she retreated. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“We’re gonna be married for a long time—”

“Goddess willing, we won’t.”

He pulled back at the harshness in his tone. So, his little wife had a backbone, after all?

“You can pray to your goddess and shit, but listen to what I’m tellin’ you right now.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as he leaned in closer. To the guest, they looked like a blissful newlywed. Not the reality. He was dangerous and horny. She was terrified and aroused, despite everything.

“I say what the fuck I want, when I want. Call it a character flaw, maybe I’ll get better with age. I doubt the shit. It’s one of the many things you’re gonna have to learn about me, baby.”

“I pray I learn little.”

So, she wanted to stay with the cold shoulder shit?

“Still gonna be mean to me when I make yo’ ass cum so hard you see the ancestors?”

Y/N sucked in a breath. They held the others’ gaze. He couldn’t stop himself when he cupped the back of her head. His lips were hard and searching. A cruel ravishment.

“Blessings from Bast and Sekhmet!”

“Here! Here!”

Erik released her lips with a pop. They were wet and swollen and he bit his bottom lip as he took his thumb, rubbing the spit into her bottom lip.

“It’s a matter of time before I get you alone. Better enjoy this party and shit now.”

Sitting back, he drank his refilled cup. Smiling at a bunch of men who offered money and presents. He felt Y/N’s gaze on him, but he didn’t care. He meant that shit.

It was a custom for her tribe, for a newlywed couple to spend the night in the ceremonial hut.

Y/N had seen this happened dozens of times. The tribe lined the walkway. Touching the couple as they passed with blessings and well wishes. She gripped Killmonger’s head, eyes on the door as they neared. Sparing a glance over her shoulder, Abeni, Panya, and her mother watched.

They waved, blowing a kiss before he pushed her into the hut and closed the door.

Her face remained expressionless, and she could only imagine the things Killmonger would do to her. Y/N had an understanding about the goings on between husband and wife, and she knew there was no escape. He locked the door.

Their hut was beautiful. A gorgeous canopy sat in the middle of the room. White fluffy sheets with gauzy linen. A fire place sat across from it. Lit. A fur rug is in front of the fire. Artwork from the tribe lined the walls. Her bags. Abeni and Panya packed it for her, sat on the floor, and she hurried to them.

“I need… A moment. If that is, okay?”

Killmonger turned. She held the bags like a defense backing up to the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of the room. It was lit by dozens of candles, a porcelain tub, and windows before she blocked his entry.

“Do what you need to do.”

Y/N bowed quickly.

“Don’t be takin’ too long and shit. I’ll come in there and get you.”

She gulped, her eyes like saucers before she ducked inside, shutting the door with a click.

Goddess, where are you?

Stepping out of her gown, she bathed quickly. Partially not wanting to anger Killmonger. The other half… A traitorous half. Yearned for what was next. Y/N never voiced these thoughts, but… She envied some of the wilder women of her tribe. Those that did not subscribe to the ancient rules of the women. They liked to talk. Tell stories of pleasure from lovers far and wide.

It was only something Y/N could wish for. Imagine when she touched herself at night.

Now it was here. There was nowhere to go but out into the room. To her destiny.

Her bridal robe was sheer. Tied at the neck, it offered a modest amount of coverage, but not enough she would have liked. When she stepped out, the room had darkened some. The fire place managed most of the light but candles were placed all around. Killmonger sat at the foot of the bed, staring into the fire, naked.

Shutting the door, he looked up. His eyes swept over her body, lingering on her breast for more than a few seconds. She couldn’t stop the tingling in between her thighs or the hardening of her nipples. He stood. She fixed her gaze on the floor and bit her lip.

“C’mere.”

Obeying, she took small steps toward him. Keeping her gaze on the floor, she pulled at the string around her neck. The robe falling in a heap.

“I am yours to mount, as you will.” Why fight? There was no escape.

Killmonger cursed. “Mount? What old ass terminology is that?”

Y/N glanced at him. Amusement and frustration were mixed in his expression.

“From what I’ve heard from married women. There is no pleasure to be had by the women. It is merely meant to satisfy… The man.”

He laughed. “Really? Who’s tellin’ you this shit?”

“Women I know that are married.”

“Their husbands are pieces of shit, then.”

Y/N looked at him curiously, but sighed in relief.

He took a step toward her, his arms circling her waist as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“It ain’t about… Mounting and shit. Don’t worry, baby. You won’t feel any pain or nothin’. I’ll fuck you so good you’ll be beggin’ me for more.”

His lips met hers, pressing softly against them. To her surprise, he didn’t behave like a barbarian. He wrapped his arms around her midriff, rubbing soothing circles that had her melting into his embrace. She moaned softly as he bit her lower lip, tongues clashing as he pulled her into a rough, heated kiss.

Y/N had thought of her first time with Osei many, many times before. She always imagined something gentle. Easy. With Killmonger, she realized she wanted… More. She loved the roughness of his grip. The shakiness of her breath. His dominance over her. His hands went to her hips, gripping her to the point of pain as he pressed his manhood against her.

She wanted to feel Killmonger. All of him. All over her. In her.

His lips left hers, trailing down her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she gave himself to his touch. It was traitorous how her body gave itself away so easily. He sucked hard on her neck, and she realized what he was doing. She’d seen other girls in the tribe with them. Often, they would giggle and show the love bite proudly. Walk with a pep in their step. Now she would be one of them.

“Killmonger—”

He bit hard and Y/N grinds her body against his. Her hands running over his enormous body as she let out a low whine. She loved how big he was compared to her. His hands went to her breast, rubbing them and then squeezing. Arousal poured from her as his thumbs circles the tips of her nipples.

“Erik, baby. My name is Erik.”

“E-Erik…”

He had done nothing to her yet, and she already felt desperate by his touch.

She got lost in the darkness of his eyes as he pulled back, licking those thick lips. Cupping the back of his neck, she pulled him closer. Her nails trailed down his chest, forcing a growl from his chest.

“On your knees, baby.”

Butterflies rolled in her belly as he placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her lower. Swallowing, she looked up at him. This was it. She knew this was to be expected of her. Her thighs twitched as he cupped his manhood. It was long and thick. Thicker than what she had seen before when Abeni showed her a “dick pic” of one of her beaus. The urge to get up and run was strong, and he sensed it. Digging his fingers into her shoulder to keep her in place.

“I’m guessin’ you never sucked dick before.”

She licked her lips. “Dick?” The word was foreign to her tongue.

Erik chuckled, and he gripped her hair tighter, forcing her face inches from it.

“Spit on it.”

“Spit?”

Her heart raced as his eyes darkened even more. Abeni and Panya hadn’t told her anything about… Spitting before. Wasn’t that gross?

“The fuck I say? I like my head sloppy.”

Y/N tried to keep her breath steady as her eyes focused on his dick. Licking her lips, she tried to work the moisture in her mouth. He waited patiently, stroking, and she lifted from her hunches, spitting gingerly on his dick.

“That ain’t gon work, baby.” He chuckled and his grip in her hair tightened to the point of pain. She gasped, clutching his wrist, he brought her higher so she was balancing on the bone of her knees. Taking his dick, he rubbed it between her parted lips, smearing precum.

“I said spit on my shit. You wanna make me mad?’

“No!”

“Aight. Spit on it. Like you love it.”

She felt more slick pooling between her legs. Her clit throbbing as his eyes never left hers. Fearing what he would do, she gathered as much salvia as possible and spat on his dick. Her salvia dripped down his dick as he strokes, and for good measure she spat again. He grumbled his approval.

“Now take your right hand… Yeah, like that. Stroke this dick. Tighten up, but not too tight.”

Y/N languidly stroked his dick. Erik hummed, and she tried to read his body language. Was she doing it right? She tightened pressure when a choked moaned escaped him. His hand came to the back of her head.

“Suck. Keep strokin’ and twist. Uh huh, good girl.”

Bobbing her head up and down, she moaned around the length. Y/N grew use to using her spit as lube. He liked it so much; he pumped his hips. The tip of his dick hit the back of her throat, making her gag. She tried to pull away, but Erik forced her forward.

“Uh, huh. Keep swallowing. Good girl, Keep taking my dick so well.”

Her cheeks bulged, eyes watering as she glanced up at him. His thumb rubbed small circles on her cheeks as he fucked her mouth steadily. His heavy breaths filling the room, her eyes closed, and he slapped the side of her face lightly.

“Keep strokin’.”

His tone left no room for argument.

Y/N’s hands gripped him firm, sliding down to the base of his dick and back, spit trailing down the corners of her mouth as her lashes fluttered innocently at him. She falls into the rhythm he sets. She hadn’t known that watching him receive pleasure from her would stimulate her as well. Feeling bolder in her actions, she pressed down farther. His tip tapping her throat, she released and tightened her hand, twisting more, and his head fell back.

“Baby, shit!”

He pressed her head onto his dick, her nose buried in the black tufts of his pubic hair. He held her there and panic of lack of air sets in.

Y/N realized in that moment that she hadn’t wanted it softly and by candlelight. She wanted passion. Recklessness. She wanted it with Erik.

“Relax… Just relax.”

“Er-mhmm!”

Taking both hands, he took her hand into both hands, forming pigtails. Pumping steadily into her mouth, a sweat breaks out on his skin. Her nostrils flare as she tries to suck in air. Tears fall from her eyes as her jaws turn stiff.

She remembers Abeni mentioning the head of a man’s dick being the most sensitive, and she knew she couldn’t handle Erik fucking her mouth like this any longer.

Swirling her tongue around the head each time, he retreated, trying to suck the tip as much as she could as her hand alternated between strokes, trailing down to his heavy balls. Sliding her tongue up and around his dick when he returned, his eyes were slits at the sloppy sounds of her gags and sucks.

“Fuck, where you learn that, baby?”

Y/N bobbed her head faster, allowing his length to press on her throat, trying to control her gag reflexes as much as possible to get him off. He bucked his hips, picking up the pace.

“Mhmm, god damn. Good girl, you learn quick, huh?”

His breath was choppy. He forced her head still. He was fucking her throat raw as he pulled her mouth off his spit drenched dick. She gasped. Strings of spit connecting the head of his dick to her mouth, she messily wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“So easy to train, aren’t you?”

Nodding, her tongue drags over the underside of his dick before he presses back in.

Panting, he pressed his dick against her throat, once, twice, three times before she gagging loudly. Pulling out of her mouth, he taps her face with it before he repeats the cycle. Y/N closes her eyes, feeling the world tilt slightly as pushes her head all the way down.

“F-fuck!” her nails dig into his thighs as he’s hunching over her. She’s sputtering and choking; he pumps a few times before he stiffens, his dick drenched in her spit as he cums hard.

“Shit girl!”

Y/N feels the first splash against the back of her throat. Pooling against her tongue, his body trembles as he fills her mouth. Y/N’s knees ache and her throat feels sore as she tastes the salty liquid. Pulling out quickly, he strokes his dick, and she closes her eyes just in time as his cum lands on her face.

“Open your mouth!”

Hot spurts land on her eyes and cheeks as she does as he asks.

He breathes heavily, loosening the grip on her hair. His cum trailing down the corner of her mouth as he pumped the last remains of his pleasure, a shiver racking his body as he tipped his head back, tapping her lips with his dick.

“Mhmm— good girl. Now swallow.”

Y/N doesn’t even get a chance to analyze what just occurred. That he had just treated her like a whore to be used. Swallowing in one big gulp, she wipes his cums from her eyes, cracking them open to see Erik grip her jaw, pulling her to her feet. His lips connect with hers, uncaring of the taste of himself.

“E-Erik…” Y/N’s voice is raw, and he shushes her, tapping on the ass, he lifts her into his arms.

Her legs circling his waist, he tongues her down, carrying her to the bed.

“Erik!” His hand roamed her body, laying her on her back. He kissed down her chest, over the swell of her breast. He took a nipple into his mouth.

“Oh!”

Her eyes closed and her hands laid on the back of his head as he continued his descent. He gripped both her legs, pressing them up and out. Her eyes flew open. Nobody had ever seen her like this. Anxiety flooded through her. Would he like what he saw? Was it normal? She tried to pull her legs shut, but he pressed hard, his gaze fixed between her legs.

“E-Erik please—”

He sank his head and brought his lips to her sex. For a moment, she was frozen with disbelief. This was really happening to her, and she felt him inhaled, pressing his face further into her womanly place. She thought she died when he nudged between her lips with his nose. Hot air blew against her and his tongue parted her, giving a languid lick from top to bottom.

“I—oh!”

Abeni and Panya had mentioned this, but never could they explain the immense pleasure that came from it. It was such an unthinkable place to kiss, but she couldn’t gather the strength to push him away.

“You have a pretty pussy baby,” he muttered as his tongue flicked over her clit. This feeling differed from her own fingers, and she loved it.

His fingers caressed her thigh, trailing to where she pulsed. She tilted her pelvis toward him, rocking steadily to build her pleasure as he sucked her roughly.

“Erik, yes!”

Her eyes closed as she moaned loudly. What a beautiful sight it was to see him lapping away at her pussy. He released her clit with a wet pop. Easing back, he watched how she leaked steadily. Running his fingers through her folds, he eases his fingers inside of her.

“Ah! It hurts!”

Y/N flinches when he presses too deep, and he immediately retreats. Lightly pumping his fingers, he licks his lips lazily, his eyes drunk on her.

“Don’t want to pop that cherry yet, do we?”

She shakes her head no, and he hums in the back of his throat.

Her head pressed back into the bed, as he lowers back down, draping both of her legs over her shoulders. His nose rubs against her clit, and she lets out a strangled groan. He fucked her with his fingers slowly, lapping up her juices that oozed freely from her. Sweat collected on her skin, pooling in between her breasts before turning into a rivulet down to her belly button.

“P-please—”

Her hands grip the sheets, and she flexed her toes. Her back arching as his tongue alternated between thrusting between his fingers into her pussy, and then over her clit. Pleads and whimpers spilled from her mouth as she felt herself burn hotter.

Her pleas didn’t move him.

He tongued her down intently, not letting her escape when she tried to pull her hips back.

“Keep still baby.”

“I can’t!”

Her fingers found their way into his dreams, forcing his mouth to suck her header. His thick fingers driving into her channel, stretching her out. It was all too much. Whining, she screwed her eyes shut, fisting her hands in his hair till her knuckles turn white. She loved this. She loved him for bringing her pleasure. Instinctively, she spread her legs wider, pulling her knees up so they pointed toward the ceiling. Her muscles clamped around his fingers, as her mouth parted, drool pooling in the corner. He was driving her out of her mind.

The lapping, sucking, and pumping made it so she couldn’t last any longer.

“Erik!”

She hoped the tribe couldn’t hear her screams.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. Her chest heaved, and her body jerked and twitched. She clamped her thighs on the sides of his head. He didn’t stop. He dragged out the pleasure. Sucking and lapping at her, he made her tired body burn. Pushing at his head, he sucked her clit once more, pulling a sob from her.

“I-I can’t! Please!”

It seemed like forever before he finally released her clit. Lifting his head from her thighs, she exhaled and slumped onto the sheets. She felt weightless. Without any worries, and like mush, she melted into the sheets.

“You like that, baby?”

Y/N could barely nod as he trailed kisses up her body. She screamed when he his slapped her pussy once. Twice. She sobbed when he pulled her back, doing it again before sucking her clit.

Twitching when he kissed the spot above her belly button. More than anything, she just wanted to rest.

“Wake yo’ ass up. We’re not done yet.”

He slapped the side of her ass, and she whimpered.

“We’re not?”

“No.”

Y/N stirred under his touch, his hands tracing her body, cupping her breast. He covered her body, peppering kisses, as her torso arched off the mattress into his touch. Her eyes lowered as he whispered praises into her ear.

“You did so well for me. Can I fuck you now? Hmm?”

“It’s gonna hurt.”

“Shh. Shut that shit up. It’ll be a good baby. I promise.”

He kissed her again, his hand trailing down between her legs, rubbing her swollen clit. Pushing her thighs around his waist. Caging her to the mattress.

“E-Erik—”

“You gonna let daddy fuck you out? Hm?”

Y/N nodded and Erik pinched her nipples, then slapped them.

“Use your words.”

“Yes!”

“Yes what?”

A desperate mewl left her. Their skin glistened, illuminated by the flames of the fireplace. The sheets under her already soaked in her juices, and the sex in the air made her mind whirl.

“Yes, d-daddy.”

A hushed breath rushed from his lungs. “You ready for me? Hm?”

“Y-Yes daddy, please! Please fuck me!”

His eyes turned black as hee dragged the head of his cock through the lips of her pussy. The sticky sound of her juice aroused them both as his dick slapped against her clit roughly.

“Hold still!”

Her thighs tremble as he pressed pushed the head of his cock deep, causing her to instinctively clench around him. A hand wrapped around her throat, and her hands clamped around that arm. He forces her thighs open, and she arches away from him, the pressure too much, and he smacks her ass.

“Open that tight pussy up.”

“D-Daddy— hurts. Doesn’t fit!”

Erik ignores her, tunneling forward. Her eyes roll in her head, a dull ache forming between her thighs. She sighs when he pulls out his dick out. It glistened with her juices.

He chuckled, and his grip on her neck tightened. Now he fucked her. Pumping harder, she yelped at the dull burn as he forced her open.

“Doesn’t fit! D-doesn’t fit!”

“Mhm, don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna fit. I promise.” His eyes were lidded as he pulls out. Massaging her juices into his dick, she spots the tinge of blood on his dick as he slaps her clit with his heavy dick.

“Daddy…”

He forces his dick deep, and she feels him in her soul. His hands coming down to her waist, and he sits back on his hunches. His eyes focused between her legs; Y/N is in a daze.

He feels so big. He’s consuming her and her body doesn’t feel like her own.

Weakly, she tries to pull away, but he fucks into her some more. Using his thumbs to spread her lips open, stretching her tight little hole.

“Feels so fuckin’ good—”

And just like that, he took her virginity. Her pussy was hot and tight around his dick, she clenched rhythmically to his intrusion.

She whimpered at the burning strain, trying to stretch her legs. He watched her cry out and adjusting to him, biting her lip till she drew blood. The budge from his dick in her tummy each time he entered had him drooling.

“D-Daddy! E-Erik please, I can’t! Fuck!”

The curse left her before she could stop herself. He grinned evilly, as he pushed his hips into hers. Pressing down on a spot that has her eyes flying open. She feels his dick jump, lowering his body onto her, trapping her. He places both hands on either side of her head.

“So fuckin’ tight, and all mine.”

He pulls back and his hips smack into hers. Y/N let out a moan that was drowned out by his more powerful groan. He thrusted into her again and again, her breast bouncing with each thrust. Y/N tossed her head back, eyes focused lazily on the ceiling as the sticky slap of his balls against her ass filled the room.

“How it feel? Is it good, baby?”

How on earth did he think she could respond? She feels their cum trailing down the crack of her ass. The bed creaks and groans as he reduces her to a limp, fucked out mess. She placed her hands on his shoulders, but he grabs them, fisting them into one hand above her head. Her orgasm catches them both by surprise, her mouth parting as her stomach clenches. Erik curses, burying his face into her neck.

“Mhm. Shit. Fuck!”

He doesn’t stop, her swollen pussy barely able to take more of his pounding. He cums. Filling her, and he only pauses for a second, before he’s fucking they’re cum out of them.

“Tighten that pussy up! Yeah! Just like that.”

Eyes half closed, she focuses on the veins in his thick arms straining, lifting her legs higher, they trembled in the air. He rotates his hips. That was the killer right there. His damn hips. She hiccups as he forces a mini-orgasm through her. Weren’t men suppose to cum just once?

“Please daddy! That’s enough, please!”

Y/N pulls against his hold, trying to put some distance between their bodies but it’s no use. He places his free hand back on her neck, releasing her hands to bring her left leg into the crook of his arm.

Babbling a mixture of his names and Xhosa, he drills her pussy. He fucked her like he wanted to breed her. She submits, allowing him to use her like she was a fuck doll. The muscles in his body rip as his sweat rolls off him.

“F-fuck Y/N.”

A glance between her legs has her dizzy. White creams soaks their tummies. Her pussy clenches and flutters, a heavy chill rack her body and she’s ruined. Killmonger has ruined her. Wet and messy, and it does, to her surprise, gets easier to take his dick. She feels him hit her cervix and calls his name again.

“You see that? You see me, baby?” He gasped and she moans.

“Mhm…”

“Feel me in your belly? Hm?”

Y/N crumbles as she watches him driver deeper and harder. Her mouth falls open as she watches the bulge in her belly reappear each time he bottomed out. He’s fucking her walls loose. She won’t have anything left when he’s done. She scrunches her face as he takes her legs, lifting them so her knees are pressed high and toward her chest. Getting to his feet, he pressed her into a mating press.

“Too good! Too good!” She’s mumbling.

He watches the emotions pass across her face. Lowering himself, pressing two fingers into her mouth, he makes her gag.

“Aa—gck!”

Tears stream down her face as she feels her body tightening.

Getting closer to the edge and she whimpers because she knows it’s gonna hurt. Hurt so good. Her heart hammers in her chest as his hands pull her hips up farther. Bam! Bam! Bam! He’s slapping her ass, and she knows its gonna be red and bruised when he’s done.

“My good girl! Broke you in good, didn’t I?”

She wants him to cum. She can’t do it anymore.

Her head spins as her pussy squeezes him, and her eyes flutter and her legs shake. She hears him asking if she wants his cum and she says yes. She’ll say yes to anything he demanded. Her pussy is trying to push him out as she explodes. Hot liquid gushing around him, and he fights it, fucking her open.

“Fuck! Here it is baby. Shit!”

He picks her up, grinding his dick deep. She’s wetting them both up and he’s dripping down his balls and thighs. He presses her to his chest, her cries filling his ear as his snap once, twice, and he floods her. Lips parted, his body goes weak, and they both go down.

Thrusting into her gummy walls, she clenches, forcing another spurt of cum from him.

“Damn Y/N—”

His dick was still harder as rolls them to his back.

Her pussy stuffed to the brim as he relaxes against her, kissing her neck softly rubbing her back gently, and she can sense the pride in his tone as he whispers how good she was for him. When he finally pulls out, cums drips from her body, and to the bed.

“Had all that up in you, girl, damn.”

He squeezed her ass, rubbing the cum into her pussy. She can only nod faintly, too fucked out on bliss to fight him. Then he’s in her ear, thanking her for her good pussy. How he couldn’t wait to fuck her again. That he had a lifetime to fuck the shit out of her.

“You think you can love me, baby?”

Y/N manages to crack her eyes open, his heavy gaze on hers as he brings his mouth to hers. Pressing a soft kiss that felt like forever, he pushed her tangled curls out of her face.

She smiled and murmured, “Yes.”

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★ masterlist | taglist | part 2★

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