#I JUST WANT TO HAVE A BIRTHDAY FIC ABOUT EMINENT DOMAIN

[marginal-notes]

Love serenading in the new year by realizing that I’m repeatedly getting my ass kicked while writing fic because I keep trying to apply the wrong legal system in my worldbuilding. At this rate I’m going to hunt down a course on civil law systems, jfc.

[eerythingisshaka]

Mr. and Mrs. Stevens

This is my submission for @hoopshoney and @purple-apricots Black Panther Anniversary/Valentines Fic Fest!  Not sure if this fic goes with the theme of the fest and if its a bit....I don’t know, however I did a thing and that’s that on that!

Warnings:  Violence, Language, Sexual Situations

Word Count: 4k

Erik Killmonger x Black!OC

Prompt: “Try not to get blood on your clothes. We have dinner reservations in half an hour.”

Her phone trills in her bra as she checks herself out in the mirror.  The shift she picked up for a friend starts in 15 minutes and she hates when he calls beforehand.

Picking up the call she answers.  “Hey Erik.”

“Wassup baby girl?  You at work?”  His voice carries extra loud in her ear and kind of scratchy.

“Yeah actually.  So why are you calling?”  She asks in annoyance while applying her lippie.

“Aww, now don’t be like that.  You -- money tonight e--?  So don’t trip!”  His voice crackles in her ear.

She takes a step back to look over herself in the mirror, pushing her braids back and turning around to check her behind.  “The only thing I’m tripping over is why you obviously aren’t using the new AirPods I got you last month?  I can hear the 10.99 drugstore quality in my ear, it’s bringing down my mood.”  A loud sniff interrupts her train of thought as she sees a brunette leaning over the rim of a sink with a rolled up dollar bill.

Erik tuts at her.  “Come on, you know I’m a traditionalist when it comes to the audio experience!  I gotta, I gotta have, you know, an immersive, like, surround sound type of thing and like, the cords help-”

She leans on the sink in front of her.  “You lost one at the gym today huh?  When I called you and you said ‘shit shit shit!’ that was you dropping my money down the drain, huh?”

“Your money?  Since when is it your money only?”  Erik asks out the side of his mouth.

A girl taps her on the arm, wiping her nostrils as she holds out the dollar bill with a line left on the sink.  She shakes her head with a polite smile.  “Since I been doing all the work here.  These long nights, planning my own appointments, working these guys for tips with only my own damn wit, when they obviously want more!”

“Pssh, aight aight, calm down.  You know I appreciate this.  It’s OUR thing though, so don’t get your butt on your back with me.  I know you nervous cuz a high roller comin in today.”  Erik says calmly.

She picks up her bag and stuffs it in a locker, slamming it closed.  “Yeah, it’s basically now or never, Erik.  If I’m not what he’s looking for, he’s moving on and then we ain’t got shit!”

Erik shushes her softly.  “Chill, trust me.  You what he’s lookin for.  Guys like him love bitches like-”

“You better be kind and rewind that for me!”  She demands.  Erik always slipping his tongue at the wrong times, ignorant self.

Erik laughs.  “I don’t mean you!  He likes ‘females’ like you.  He studies them the most, you know?  That better?”

She sighs, choosing to ignore the still derogatory term.  “Fine.  You just be here when it’s all said and done.  I need you in times like this.”

“You do, huh?  I need you too, if you wearin whatever was in that bag you packed.  Shit looked tiny, so you ain’t covering much.”

She cackles out loud, her laugh bouncing off the walls of the room.  “Shut UP!  Don’t be silly right now!”

“Ain’t nuthin silly!  WE ain’t playing, you feel me?”  Erik says authoritatively.

She kicks her heel at the ground, biting her lip.  “I might be in a mood to see my friend backstage tonight.”

“Oh, so you claiming this dick right now?  Cuz, I thought this was MY dick!  Since I put in all the work around here, getting hard, staying hard, breaking your fucking back so all you gotta do is take it and you can barely handle that-”

“Oh Erik, fuck on with that.  Buh-bye!”

“You get it now?  Be good, DeDe.”

---

Johnny Rocket’s Adult Entertainment Club has a reputation for high profile clientele and catering to every kink imaginable.  Politicians, celebrities, CEOs, and anyone with a 7 figure or more annual salary has the possibility of getting in any night, however the waiting list was 6 months back, minimum.  If your name is powerful enough, you may receive a bump for the inconvenience, but there’s no way that list would move, as people kept looking for a chance to have an extravagant night inside.

One did not have to be looking for a touch from a stranger in order to enjoy themselves there, the club scene is just as hopping with exquisite seating, expensive liquors and miscellaneous party favors for the bold.  Tonight, Johnny Rocket’s is packed wall to wall for a birthday party of the man who runs the Upper West Side of Las Papeleras, of that’s what he would call it.  Mark Foley is the embodiment of greed; a shark tank businessman with a lust for power.  His monopoly of the financial district kept his pockets running over and the local law enforcement’s lined to keep his shady dealings going at an accelerated rate.  

His dealings started off with drug trades across the southern border of the United States, renting out the time of immigrants on the promise of Visa documents and safe keeping of their families on the road to citizenship.  This was a messy business however, as many of his vulnerable employees would be caught shortly after a drop or killed for being intercepted to ensure the details of his operation remained unknown.  It wouldn’t take much to cover his trail with his buddies in DC anyway.  Even with a successful run, Foley would instruct his subordinates to drop off the grid, leaving his pushers high and dry until ICE came for them eventually.  

But he was out of that game, now it is all about real estate.  Foley knew exactly where to upstart businesses for friends and confidants that would make him the richest man in America.  

“The rundown, dangerous, and poverty stricken  neighborhoods are nestled so conveniently between downtown and the burbs.  We just need to get those low lifes sucking off the teat of our taxpayer dollars to get off some extra dough, or get the fuck outta there.”  Foley slurs his words, picking up his tumbler of 12 year old whiskey.  

One of his associates respond, shaking his head.  “Ahh, come on, Foley.  Those people have been living there for so many fucking generations!  How could you uproot them like that, changing there way of life at the drop of a hat like that?  Where’s your heart?”

Foley blinks his eyes a couple of times, staring at his acquaintance from across the room for what seemed like hours.  The flashing, multi-colored lights of the club blur his vision as the bass of A$AP Rocky pounds at their temples.  

“Really?”  Foley asks loudly over the music, frozen with his drink in his hand.

The man laughs out loud, banging the back of the couch as he leans his head back in blissful humor.  “Fuck no!  I’m just fucking with you Foley, come on!”  He boasts, picking up a bottle of whiskey, clanging it against Foley’s glass.

Foley shakes as his hoarse laugh builds in his gut.  “Ohh, man, you had me going there for a second!  You can’t joke like that with me man, you’re still on probation with me.”

The associate combs his hair out of his face, adjusting his tailored, chocolate suede jacket.  “Let me have some fun, huh?  Anyway, you know what to do.  Call up Johnson to get in touch with Hesson about his eminent domain clause on the block, and kick those sons of bitches out on the concrete.  They’ll find a way, roaches never die, you know?  They just skedaddle on to a new nest to infest.”

Foley lights up a cigar, pointing it his way.  “Exactly.  I consider this motivation to do better for themselves.  Hell, once I clean up the pigsty, they can bring their credit score and occupation info, if they have one, and make a deposit with 6 months rent to settle in to the swanky new digs I transform those rat traps from!”

A waitress comes over in a leather miniskirt and thigh high boots with a fringed crop top that rests off her shoulder.  Half of her braids are bound on top of her head, with the rest cascading down her back.  Even in the dark room and the intensity of the strobing lights, her melanin shown beautifully rich, bringing the table to her full attention.

“Can I get you gentlemen another round?”  Her voice said with a sultry timbre, leaning forward to pick up bottle and adjoining glasses.    Some of her braids fall in the face of a hypnotized Foley who reached his thick hands through them, sniffing.

“Mmm, if you mean the juice, that’s not what I need another round of, sugar.”  Foley says wagging his eyebrows.

She looks over at him, pulling her braids back and out of his hands.  “You are Mark Foley, correct?”

He nods slowly, mouth half hanging open.  “I like the way you say my name, doll.”

“My name is Sade.  Your friend here made arrangements for us to...get to know each other a little better…”  Sade bites her lip, using her almond shaped eyes to invite Foley into the possibility.

He didn’t need too much convincing as he clapped his hands looking over at his associate.  “You sly dog!  You planned this for me?”

He shrugs. “Nothing but the best, for the man who holds my old hood in his hands.”  Raising the bottle up again in solidarity, Foley springs up out of the booth, grabbing Sade by the waist.

“This EXACTLY what I need!  Let’s not delay, drop those glasses at the bar and let’s boogie!”  Foley exclaims, leading Sade along and leaving his associate with the bill.

Foley’s hands were lit up over Sade’s body, feeling her soft and firm portions of her body with no shame as she led him to the quieter, private rooms in the bottom level of the club.  A black door marked with the number 8 in gold is where Sade took them before pausing to turn around and face him, snapping her fingers to regain his sober attention.

“Once we cross this threshold, you will need to behave yourself.  I won’t ask you again, otherwise consequences will be set.”  She says calmly.

Foley looks around the hallway, rubbing his hands together before whispering.  “Whatever you say, mistress.  I am at your command.”  His Dad-bod practically vibrated with excitement as she opened the door.  As it closed with a clang, Foley peers around to inspect the various chains, harnesses, chairs with binding mechanisms that decorated the room.

“Whew, this is-”

“SHUT UP!”  Sade yelled with a crack of a whip.  Foley turned around quickly in shock.

“Sade, I wasn’t-”

“Are you speaking out of turn after an order?”  Sade snarls.  In the midst of Foley looking around the room, she has put on a black lace mask covering her face and a nine tailed whip in one hand with ropes in the other.  

Foley shakes his head excitedly.  “My apologies!”

“Turn around and get on your knees.”  Sade says walking around the perimeter of the room like a lioness tracking her prey.  Foley does as he is told, fitting the profile of sub perfectly as he avoids eye contact.

“You are a stupid, worm-grubbing quim aren’t you?”  Sade says matter of factly, playing with the nine-tails in front of him.

Foley nods aggressively.

“ANSWER ME!  Don’t you have a tongue?!” Sade demands, this time cracking the whip across Foley’s arm.  

He shrieks.  “Agh!  Yes! Yes mistress, I am!  I do!”

“Hm, we’ll see about that later...Do you have a problem with authority?”  Foley stammers, not sure how to answer.  “A man of such wealth and status must know a thing or two about breaking rules….Are you going to break mine?”

“No mistress.  I’ll listen to every word!”  

Sade puts her heel into his chest, leaning against him on her knee as she speaks in his face.  “Have you ever let a Black person tell you what to do?”

Once again, Foley is at a loss for words as Sade runs a gloved hand through his thin, short strands of hair, before bringing the palm of her hand square across his cheek with a hard SLAP.

“That ends today.  Tell me Black Lives Matter.”  Sade commands with a dig of her heel that makes him wince.

“Ahh, Bl-Black Lives Matter.”  Foley says hesitantly.

Sade takes her foot off of him before cracking the whip on him again.  “LOUDER!”

“Black Lives Matter!  Thank God, they matter!”  Foley says more enthusiastically.

Sade looks him over with disgust.  “Take off your clothes as you recite every Black person you know that has contributed to the fabric of our nation.  Go!”

Foley starts with the buttons on his jacket and an ode to Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr.  (Sade had to whip him for leaving off the Jr.)  getting down to his briefs before stuttering on names, giving up before after he said Bill Cosby, holding his hands in front of his manhood.

“It’s not cold, put your hands down!”  Sade demanded.

He does do quickly, looking embarrassed at the small protrusion he can’t seem to control.

Sade shakes her hand tutting him.  “I’m glad you’re having fun.  It’s a shame though, how little you know.  The American private school system really failed you.  However I am in a generous mood and have every  intention on catching you up to speed.  With a little help from a friend.”

On cue, the door opens and in walks his associate.  

Foley protests.  “Whoa, hey, this may have been incorrect info you got.  I’m not into THAT.”  

Sade grips his hair at the root.  “Have my boot as a snack while the adults talk.”  Stomping her foot in front of him, Foley bends down on the concrete floor to kiss and lick her shoe.

Sade sighs, wiping her brow.  “Babysitting is so hard.  What took you so long Erik?”

He unbuttons his jacket sighing.  “His fucking card wouldn’t go through upstairs.  So this muthafucka owe me his life and some change now.”  

Erik picks up Foley’s pants, ruffling through his pockets for his wallet.

“Whoa, bro, what are you doing?  You aren’t a part of this!”  Foley says.  

Sade was not pleased with this interruption, bringing her boot around to land it squarely with his chin.  The crack of the impact echoed in the room as Foley flopped on his back, writhing in pain.

“What...the….FUCK!”  He yells out, blood starting to coat his fingers.

“Damn, Sade!”  Erik exclaimed, staring at his girl.

Sade inspects her boot.  “Shit, he got a damn scuff in it, now I’m really pissed.  Tie his ass up so we can move on.”  

Erik handles Foley like a ragdoll, turning him over and using Sade’s ropes to tie his hands behind his back.

“You fucking niggers don’t know who you’re dealing with!”  Foley says through clenched teeth.  

Erik pulls him up by his arms over to a part of the wall with a collar and chain attached to it.  Turning Foley around, he hooks his neck up to the contraption.

“You really want them to be your last words, bitch ass cunt?”   Erik says, tightening the collar on the last possible notch.   “Gotta use they language to get to em sometimes.”  Erik says to Sade.

Foley laughs nervously as tears fill his eyes.  “I could make you rich, man.  Get your mom out the ghetto.  You got any siblings?  You could take them anywhere!  I’ll turn your life around in ways you never seen, just let me out of here with this bitch!”

Sade sits on a stool trying to buff out the mark on her shoe.  “Erik, his voice is annoying me…”  She says in a sing-songy manner.  

Erik pulls out Foley’s phone from his pants pocket, holding it up to his face to unlock it.  

“Fuck!  I shoulda known that facial unlock would bite me in the ass.”

Erik opens his camera to take some pictures.  “Aww, shit!  You finna be the Belle of the Ball once these circulate through your contacts.  No way your bros at the Capitol can clean this mess up.”  Erik laughs, showing the gallery to Foley, who is whining for mercy.

“Come on!  Don’t do this!  Let’s talk this over!  You need some money?  Let me give you something something, and we can work this out.  No harm no foul!”

“Give him your bank login, we’ll handle the rest.”  Sade instructs from across the room.”

Foley shifts, blinking the sweat out of his eyes.  “I-I mean, you don’t wanna give me a figure first-”

Erik sends a strong blow to Foley’s gut, knocking the wind and dignity out of him.

“O...k…” Foley rasps as he coughs through his username and password for Erik to set up a transfer.

“Thanks for the paycheck, bro.”  Erik, takes some leather gloves off of a table, sliding them, flexing his fingers.  “No way in hell you can help me while you still got breath in your body.  And ain’t shit you can do for me.  That neighborhood you wanna run over so fuckin bad ain’t yours to take.  White folks can’t never miss out on a land deal, fuckin colonizers.”

Foley struggled against his bindings, becoming agitated.  “I am providing a service!  Something that will make their world better!”

Erik punches the wall next to his head, cracking the concrete.  “A world you ain’t got no plan to let them in?  They already got a place to stay, and you want them outta there cuz the living is too cheap and they barely affording that.  So instead of working for them, you’re just gonna build shit that they can’t afford, segregating them even more until they gotta leave.  Turning half the shit into fucking parking lots any damn way.”

Foley breathes heavily, swallowing hard.  “It’s so disappointing to hear you settling for less, bro.  It really is…”

Sade comes up behind Erik, handing him a club and brass knuckles.  

“I don’t need that shit, I got this.”  Erik insists with a wink.

Sade rolls her eyes.  “Try not to get blood on your clothes.  We have dinner reservations in an hour.”

As Erik takes off his jacket and dress shirt. Foley says, “Aye, what was it you said before?  Roaches always surviving?  What’s it to you when they’ll find another hole to crawl into?  Making babies and killing themselves, it’s the circle of life.  I'm just tired of seeing your Black asses fucking with my city.”

Erik reaches behind his back near his waistband to swiftly take take out his military issue knife, grabbing Foley by his neck, slamming his head into the wall.  As Foley neck folds sheath his hand, Erik brings the knife slowly to his eye socket as Foley closes his eyelids tightly.  That only makes the process more messy as he screams in excruciating pain while Erik skillfully gouges him.

“There.  Now you aint gotta see shit. That better?”  Sade says, walking away at this point when all she heard was the pounding of Erik’s fist in bone.  Foley’s feebled cries in pain didn’t last long when Erik socked him in his mouth, making him swallow his own teeth.  Sounded as if he even indulged in the knuckles and the club after all, as he dared Foley to say something again, until it was impossible to do so Sade sat in her seat, reviewing her manicure as the cacophony of pounds into Foley’s body turned soft.

Erik’s breathing was the only thing left as he made his way back over to Sade with a wild nature in his eyes, and blood coating his knuckles and face.

“Ohhh, look at you!  You’re never careful when I ask you to!”  Sade scolds him as she pulls out a handkerchief and water, wiping down his hands.

“You know how I get carried away in the moment.”  Erik says, voice gravelly as he stares at Sade.

Sade finishes off his hands, reaching for his face to clean.  “Mhm, I know.  Lucky for you, I brought a spare undershirt to change.  What about your pants…”  Sade brushed some dust near his crotch, feeling his dick twitch under her touch.  “That is enough!  I’m not cancelling this dinner.  It's been weeks in the making!”

Erik bites his lip, leaning over Sade as she digs through her bag.  “You blaming me when you out here dressed like that, kicking white folks in the face and not expecting me to wanna fuck you for that?”

Sade reaches for the collar of his shirt, tearing it halfway off his him with a blade between her teeth.  She takes it and aims it over his chest.  “You know how we celebrate…”

Applying pressure, she drags it slowly across his skin, red liquid bubbling along the length of the cut as Erik seethed.  The satisfying release of his skin allowing the penetration of her blade made her breath hitch in her chest. “We got another one, we mark the occasion.  Without him contacting his people in DC, no way they can settle a vote to gentrify now.”  

Sade runs her thumb along the blood trickling out, wiping it clean before bring her face in his chest to lick his wound.  The soft, muskiness of his skin is too tempting for her to let go as she caresses his chest.

Erik sighs deeply, taking one hand to grab her ass and the other wraps her braids around its knuckles pulling her face back as he devours her mouth hungrily.  Erik lifts her up and onto a nearby table with a thud, pulling her skirt up to her waist as she reaches to free him from his trousers.

“Ooh, dont make me scar your back up now.  This is lucky number 57?”  Sade chuckles as Erik brings ankles to his shoulders, leaning over her.

The way Erik looks at her, one might think she was his sworn enemy.  But this is Erik’s favorite time with Sade.  Not just fucking, but taking out white folks that aren’t doing shit for anyone but themselves, leaving a trail of dead brown and black bodies behind them.  Doing this vigilante justice together never got old.

“Try me. And a lot more to come.”  Erik promises as Sade kisses his keloid riddled arm, biting down once he entered her.

Sade peppered Erik with affection as they fucked.  Their roles easily switched from business to pleasure.  Sade being the brains behind most of the operations, and Erik being the muscle, all he needed was to be told where to go and he had the rest.  But as lovers, Erik took control of her, and she needed that change of pace.  

As Erik reaches for her throat, he put his weight on her, lapping at her neck as he digs her out desperately.  Sade gasped with each stroke he dropped inside of her, seeing stars as her breath quickened.  Her head fell to one side as she got a full view of the damage Erik did to Foley’s body.  The bruising, the bone jutting from his skin, blood pooling near his collapsed skull was all too much for Sade.   She came so hard, Erik nearly slipped in her wetness flooding between them, tightening up on Erik until he contributed his own fluids to their celebration.

Erik lays still on top of her panting.  “How much time left we got on the room?”

Sade rubs his back, still smooth but hopefully not for long once they continue their mission.  “45 minutes.”  She smacks his shoulders, willing him to roll off of her.  “You’re cleaning up by yourself this time.  Your dick is making me miss dinner, I’ve suffered enough.”

Erik laughs slow and deeply as he rubs his face, satisfied all the same.  “You need a mop-iana?”

RagTag  (it’s been so long since I wrote, I’m forgetting who likes to be tagged)

@chaneajoyyy @bidibidibombaclaat @wakanda-inspired