#Erik Killmonger

[dailymarvelstudios]

Black Panther (2018), dir. Ryan Coogler

[destinio1]

He was unapologetic and unashamed that he liked that damn performance 😂😂😂

the way smoke looks at stack absolutely kills me

[nysrage]

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

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

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

killmonger who i want to ruin me..

[sayyestoheav3nn]

y’all remember that scene in black panther…when michael b jordan said “when i tell you to do something…. i mean that shit.”

yeah….

[melaninpov]

Michael B. Jordan aka Daddy

[erikftglitter]

Fallin’ Out [two] [e.k]

I hope this is to your expectations 🥹

——

Erik had been extremely observant about Claire’s whereabouts since last week. He kept an eye on where she went for Pilates, where she used her credit cards, and where she took Erin.

Despite this, Claire seemed unchanged. Yes, he’d heard her crying, but he figured they’d eventually have a conversation. He anticipated it every day, but it never came.

Erin was on a strict routine with Claire, transitioning smoothly into his second year. Other than quiet gestures and polite smiles, the couple hadn’t really spoken. Just “mhmms,” “yeahs,” and “thank yous.”

Was this the daily routine for the slowest divorce ever? When had they last had sex? Their last date? Before Erin, they’d gone out frequently, but as Erik and Sam got busier, Claire was simply left out.

Not on purpose—Erik’s ambitions were clear long before Erin’s arrival—but having a child made him work even harder. His own version of nesting was ensuring that his son would know nothing less than African luxury.

Claire understood, at first. She used to leave lamps on and dinner in the oven, but Erik rarely noticed. He’d grumble that he wasn’t hungry or had already eaten out. So she stopped. She left the house dark after putting the baby to sleep and got used to the cool, empty bed.

Infidelity crossed her mind a few times, but anyone having access to Erik was a liability. She knew he wasn’t cheating—not because he didn’t want to, but because the risk was too great. That pained her even more. She didn’t feel needed. She hadn’t felt loved in a long time.

The tears dropping onto the yoga mat snapped her back to the moment. She hadn’t realized she’d zoned out. She was exhausted—still learning to find confidence in her body after breastfeeding and managing to be both a healthy woman and a devoted mother. Sometimes she could push through, but today it was too much.

After folding her mat and putting it in the trunk, she texted her former assistant-turned-friend to pick up Erin. Erik was never home at this time, and she wanted to take things Erin loved rather than start from scratch somewhere new. She didn’t have a plan, but she needed to get out.

Claire walked up the stairs confidently. Erik wasn’t supposed to be home. She didn’t bother to look around, just walked straight to her closet and began throwing clothes for herself and Erin into a bag. She thought about taking off her wedding ring but couldn’t face that ache yet. She didn’t hate Erik; she just didn’t recognize him anymore. Or herself.

She didn’t notice Erik standing there until she turned to answer her buzzing phone. She froze at the large hand holding the door shut.

“Erik… Wh-what are you doing here?” she stammered. His face was hard to read. Was he angry? Did he know?

“I live here,” Erik said lowly, his eyes searching hers. He gently lifted the duffel bag from her shoulder. “Claire… what are you doing?”

Before she could answer, soft knocks came at the door.

“That’s Erin,” she said quietly. Erik moved his hand away, but his eyes never left hers.

He let out a rough sigh when he saw Jade standing there with Erin.

“I got the other car seat too. It’s better for traveling and tra—” Jade stopped at the sight of Erik.

“H-hey Erik.” She said awkwardly, holding Erin a little closer.

“Jade.” he replied, his tone dismissive. The air was thick, and no one said a word for a long moment.

“You’re leaving me.” Erik said finally.

“Yes.” Claire answered, surprising herself with how calm she sounded.

She reached for her wedding band, but her hands were too clammy to slide it off. Her throat was tight, her eyes burning from blinking back tears. She was on the verge of a panic attack.

Jade quickly stepped back, giving them space. She’s helped Claire with panic attacks before, but no one knew how to soothe Claire like Erik did. She took Erin upstairs and away from the scene of his parents.

Erik helped her many times before they were married but she didn’t have panic attacks as often, or at least not when he was around.

“Claire, breathe,” he urged, taking her face in his hands. “Baby, I’m right here. You’re safe. Please, mama, you have to breathe.” His voice cracked. Tears were welling in his eyes. He guided her shaking body to the ground as she began to cry.

Erik’s eyes didn’t leave her. “Claire, please… you’re scaring me,” he said, his voice softer than she remembered.

She tried to focus on his face. The room felt far away, her vision blurring. But Erik’s voice was an anchor.

“In and out, mama,” he whispered, guiding her through each breath. “That’s it. Just like that.”

The world slowly came back into focus. Her coughs subsided, and she could finally see him clearly—Erik’s face slightly damp with tears he hadn’t bothered to wipe away. His face remained unguarded.

“I’m so sorry, Claire,” he choked out. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve been gone when you needed me most. I thought I was doing this for us, but I… I’ve been failing you. I love you more than words, and I can’t lose you.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her closer than he had in a long time.

“Please. Don’t go.”

Claire sat there, tears streaming down her face, too weak to speak. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to go. She just wanted him here. She needed him to be here.

She took a deep breath, her voice small but certain. “I won’t.”

Nothing was fixed. But it was a start.

[manichewitz]

we gotta find that girl who saw black panther and clenched her jaw so hard at the sight of shirtless michael b jordan that she broke her retainer, i need her opinion on sinners (2025)

[cherienymphe]

Kingdom Come

Erik Killmonger x Reader

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

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies |

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

𓇼

⠀

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

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

…and they wouldn’t come looking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you want me to leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what he became.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still hadn’t put the pieces together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

He enjoyed scaring you.

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

You were quick to search for the big light.

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

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

“What? You got nothing to say to me?”

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

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

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

“You still on that bullshit, huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what I’m doing here.”

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

“No…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like now.

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

“Erik…”

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

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

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

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

He nipped at your shoulder.

“...anything you could ever want…”

Another kiss to your lips.

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

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

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

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[bvrnesher]

❝ 𝒫ull 𝒪ut 𝒢ame ! ❞ ― marvel !

summary: just what I think of each of these characters when it comes to pull out 🗣

— 𝒮teve ℛogers ;; He likes to think he’s good at it. And honestly? He is. Respectful, controlled, painfully self-aware. The second he feels himself getting close, he speeds up, grits his teeth, and pulls out right on time—usually on your stomach or chest. Gentleman. HOWEVER—deep, deep down? He does have a breeding kink. He just won’t admit it. The day you whisper “it’s okay, I’m on the pill”? He hesitates just long enough to ruin his perfect record.

Rating: 10/10. Practically flawless. Just a little too responsible.

— 𝒯ony 𝒮tark ;; This man cums like he’s paying rent. He could pull out. He knows how. Won’t. He’s like, “You knew the risk,” and just lets go. Finishes inside you with a smirk, kisses your temple like he didn’t just pump you full, and asks for another round like nothing happened.

Rating: 7/10. Could pull out. Ignores it. Still makes it hot.

— ℬucky ℬarnes ;; NO WAY this man is risking it, but for the sake of the game, let’s say he tries. He means to pull out. He really does. But the second you tighten around his cock when he’s close? Too late. He’s already twitching, already filling you up. Feels guilty after, mutters apologies, but ask him for another round and he forgets all about it.

Rating: 5/10. Tries. Fails. Feels bad. Does it again.

— 𝒯hor 𝒪dinson ;; Sweetheart himbo with the pull-out instincts of a golden retriever. You tell him “pull out,” and he’s like, “But why, beloved?” while thrusting deeper. His idea of affection is cumming in you until it’s leaking down your thighs and calling it “a gift from the gods.”

Rating: 0/10. He means well. That’s the problem.

— ℒoki ℒaufeyson ;; Oh, he can pull out. He just won’t—unless it’s to tease you. Otherwise? He stays buried until the very end, groaning in your ear about how good you feel while he fills you up. He wants to watch it drip out. It’s about power. Ownership. Ruin. You say “pull out”? He says “make me.”

Rating: 0/10. Wicked.

— 𝒫eter 𝒫arker ;; He’s studied the theory. He wants to pull out. He really does. But the second things start getting too good? He’s whimpering, cock twitching, finishing inside you before he even realizes it. Apologizes mid-orgasm and offers to run to the pharmacy still inside you.

Rating: 3/10. He tries. He panics. He fails.

— ℰrik 𝒦illmonger ;; Pull out? Babe, he hears you say it and smirks. Doesn’t even pretend to listen. Holds your hips down, grinds in deeper, and finishes inside like he means it. Tells you “You better take all that,” like it’s a challenge and a threat. Might pull out once—just to finish on your face and call it a reward. But most nights? He’s filling you up like it’s his personal mission.

Rating: -100/10. He’s doing it on purpose. You’re not walking right tomorrow.

[rhaenyratargeryen]

BLACK PANTHER dir. Ryan Coogler

[marvellegends]

Michael B. Jordan as Killmonger in Black Panther (2017) —  dir. Ryan Coogler

[djarinslover]

I love that the Black Panther movies give us “villains” that aren’t really villains. They have valid points that they’re fighting for, they’re just misguided, blinded by rage and the urge for revenge against those who have hurt their ancestors (coughwhitepeoplecough)

[insidekatmind]

Mine-Erik Killmonger

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Erik” you groan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hoetachi]

PASSENGER PRINCESS — E. KILLMONGER

➠ erik killmonger x reader

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

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

make a hood nigga put some jibbitz in his crocs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“BABY!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“deadass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“see? It’s meant to be!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

there was a pause.

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

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

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

“details.”

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

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

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

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

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

you snorted. “that’s what I said!”

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

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

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

“t’challa.” erik said curtly

you swore you could feel the tension thickening between them.

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

erik narrowed his eyes. “I live here.”

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

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

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

you choked back a laugh as erik glared.

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

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

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

“foolishness?” erik echoed.

shuri smirked. “you are foolish.”

t’challa hummed in agreement. “very.”

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

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

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

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

then—

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

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

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

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

all eyes turned to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“in crocs?”

“i swear to bast—”

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

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

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

[ceceslibrary]

CECE'S FIC RECS

BTS

Updated: April 24th, 2024

Fic Rec list 2

Namjoon

TRY AGAIN | jiminscockr1ng

Tonight We're Dancing | unique-high

"Cry for me" | prettyprincejk

Cleaning Day | gojosnympho

About Love | jjkeverlast

Closer | joon4eva

Between the pages | hwanghyunjinenthusiast

Cross Your Mind | dearlyjoonie

Lifeline | downbad4yoongi

Late Night Texting | hobistyles

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

Sundress | cheolhub

Doom boy | soft4gguk

Sexy Feeling | btsrunmylife

My Goddess | purpleyoonn

Quid Pro Quo | sopejinsunflower

Dream Girl | nmjoon-n

Rival Academia | aseaofyoongi

Cat and Mouse | aaagustd

Too sweet | teenytinyjimin

Jin

Payment Plan | trivia-yandere

Oh Baby | k00sblogger

Yoongi

Angel | sailoryooons

So it Goes | prodagustd

A New Rhythm | sluttywoozi

Three tangerines | kithtaehyung

Wife | mggsv

Jhope

"Missed you." | dilfhoseokie

Daisies | jeonaachu

Jimin

Disease | piedinthepiper

Camping | swanlakebaby

Missing You | swanlakebaby

My girl | k00sblogger

Daddy's Home | lovecoree

Taehyung

His Special Secret | kooktrash

Craving You | hoseokhasmyheartxx

The End is You and I | yonkimink

Distraction | lovecoree

Jungkook

Malibu | joonberriess

Seven | joonberriess

All mine | tanniefm

Side B!tch...? | bubbbii

Sunkissin' | peachyjeonss

Wild Thoughts | sxtaep

On and Off | gashinabts

The Broken Vow | lleldey

Blackout | jjungxkook

Long Way Home | sparklingchim

Over The Odds | jungk0oksthighs

Between Roommates | kooktrash

Shut Up and Kiss Me | ahgasegotarmy116

I miss you, I'm sorry | teenytinyjimin

Let me take care of you | ahgasegotarmy116

Nothing Serious | kooqitas

OT7/Multiple Members

Boyfriend for Hire | remedyx

All Bite, No Bark | spiderlilyserendipity

3 strikes | mapofthesea

Wolves in Sheep's Clothing | peachypinkgloss

Agains The Odds | jungk0oksthighs

WWE

Jey Uso

White Lies | tribalhoochie

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

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

Mr. Right Now | femdisa

Massage. | miyuhpapayuh

Chasin' | southerngirl41

Warm | msbigredmachine

This is Cinema | romanreignseater

Baecation | tribalhoochie

Jimmy Uso

I Hate You Too | femdisa

Dressing Room. | miyuhpapayuh

Beauty Calls | aintnorainbows

Pull Up | harmshake

It's A Scream, Baby | theninthwonder

Stay By My Side | aalyssah

Tension | visionarymode

Permission | theninthwonder

Can you focus on me? | pr0wlerpunk

Roman Reigns

Lingerie Fun | strawberry-milku

Can't Handle It | visionarymode

Under His Spell | southerngirl41

Forgotten Kisses | uceyreiignss

Michael B. Jordan/Erik Killmonger

I get high, high, high | cocoa-puffs

Just Friends | cocoa-puffs

Freshout | cocoa-puffs

Domesticity | cocoa-puffs

In the Morning | nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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

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

[phoenixyfriend]

Somewhere out there is an essay about superhero movies where villains co-opt, misuse, or even just misunderstand the language of the left to push methods and goals that are incompatible with the actual theory of the left, but that sound Right And Good to viewers who aren't thinking it through entirely. And the essay is not just about how they compare to each other, but how they are a litmus test for viewers to know how susceptible they are to propaganda.

Co-opt: Most obvious example and the inspiration for this post is the Riddler in Batman (2020, the one with RPatt). The Riddler recites leftist rhetoric about corruption, wealth hoarding, and redistribution, but his actual actions and goals are unrelated. He's an accelerationist who's more interested in tearing down a system that didn't benefit HIM than in actually rectifying the problems, and who cares if a few kids get traumatized or even killed along the way?

Misuse: Easy mode, this one's Thanos. He talks about ensuring there's enough for everyone to eat, but like. Bro.

Misunderstand: Erik Killmonger, who has the benefit of both some incredibly legitimate grievances and a pretty face, but also kind of fails at the idea of intersectionality, proportionality, or Start With Words Before You Escalate. He's the easiest to sympathize with, because he has some really good points and ultimately does appear to be legitimately pursuing those goals... but he's also a misogynist, jumped to international terrorism before "call up my cousin who doesn't know I exist," and there's something in there about the role played by his time in the US military, which gave him emotional trauma, head trauma, and a sincere belief in the validity of US-style insurgency operations based on hostile takeovers of inconvenient countries. He's charming and pretty and sincere... he's just also, in many ways, wrong. And the parts where he's right makes it easy to try to ignore the bits where he's wrong if you're predisposed to like him and prefer some absolutism.

Anyway, yeah, there are definitely other examples, but the ones that were suggested to me didn't quite vibe with the base idea (Mysterio and Vulture both had disgruntled union moments in the MCU, but they left those roots so quickly that I don't think the concept of using leftist rhetoric as cover/justification for the crimes really applies since, they very quickly shift gears into revenge and greed respectively).

Someone's probably done this better orz.