#erik x ps reader

[henneseyhoe]

Erik takes readers virginity

Killmonger X BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, heavy daddy kink, oral, unprotected sex, mentions of virginity, Bestfriend!Erik, slapping.

SUMMARY: reader gets tired of being a virgin and asks her bestfriend; Erik to be the one to do it.

Ps. Don’t let !!anyone!! pressure you into giving away your virginity. It should be YOUR choice on when and how you wanna do it and who you wanna do it with. don’t let anyone shame you for being a virgin no matter your age, there is NOTHING wrong with being a virgin or saving yourself or whatever the case may be. This is fiction and strictly for fantasy, it does not depict how losing your virginity actually is, simply because it’s different for everyone…and also because this is fiction lmao. Okay, enjoy<3

——

“And you sure you wanna do this? Cause once I get goin’, ain’t no turning back” Erik asked . He had a slight smirk on his face as his tall frame towered over me, making me look up at him and nod. “Yes. I just wanna get it over with” I responded timidly, fiddling with my hands behind my back.

Me and Erik had always been friends since the third grade. He was sort of a bully, but he also protected me all throughout our school years, so I always stood by him. It wasn’t a secret that I had a small crush on him either, and he always made it known that he knew by poking fun at me getting shy any time he’d compliment me, or when he’d hug me as a greeting and sneakily snake his hands down to my lower back just to make me tense up and push him away.

Because of my shyness, this is also what landed me being a virgin at age 20. Since me and Erik were best friends, I told him everything, so he knew that I was still a virgin and made fun of that anytime we’d talk about anything sexual, no matter if it was a joke I giggled at or just a simple conversation in general. Saying things like “why you talkin’? You don’t know nothing ‘bout this” or “virgin Mary over here laughing but I doubt she get the joke”.

It wasn’t like I lacked simple sexual education or anything, I just never did anything. I tried porn, but it got boring fast. I tried masterbation, but I could barely rub my own clit for more than 8 minutes without feeling an odd sensation that made me stop. I understood that it was most likely an orgasm, but the feeling felt like l was ascending to god himself, my entire body becoming too sensitive to ever finish.

When I told Erik about that, he bursted into laughter, almost shedding tears as I explained to him how I didn’t understand how to finger myself correctly either. I probably shouldn’t have told him anything, but in my defense he asked if I ever “stuck a finger up there”, so I just came clean, which was a mistake. And let’s not forget the on going joke he made up with our entire friend group with how he would be the one to take my virginity.

Everyone laughed, including me at one point, thinking it was a joke. Difference was, when he laughed, he was dead serious. Secretly he’d been plotting since senior year when back to school started and I suddenly came back with a little weight that went straight to my ass and thighs, switched my bifocals out for contacts and learned how to lay my edges correctly.

Not only that, but even with all the changes in my appearance, I never switched up. I never decided to fuck with some popular niggas cause they was all barkin’ at me, I never went off an pretended like I didn’t know nobody after the slight boost I got in socials after my ass got fatter, and that just made it better for Erik.

It eliminated all of the niggas that could have potentially broken me off and made me a freak before Erik could get his hands on me, but he knew it’d take some time for me to get on his level.

“So…is this the part where I get naked?” I asked awkwardly, rocking on the heels of my feet. Erik chuckled and shook his head “look, I’m not just gon’ fuck you like that and you don’t get nothin’ out of it. I wanna teach you a lil sumn while we at it” he admitted, crossing his arms, making his muscles press against his fitted black shirt.

“Are you-..are you flexing?” I raised an eyebrow as my eyes trailed to his biceps, the man taking his finger and lifting my chin so I was looking back up at him. “You off topic. Get on your knees”

A shiver ran up and down my spine as he spoke and touched me, a second heartbeat appearing between my legs.

-

If you told yesterday me that I would be on my knees in front of my bestfriend of ten years, with his dick down my throat and his hands on the back of my head to hold me down till my I was begging for air, I would have laughed in your face and walked away. Maybe even would have called you delusional.

“Move your hands and use your mouth” Erik grunted while thrusting his hips into my mouth shallowly, my hands being wrapped around the rest of his shaft, prohibiting him from going any further.

“What did I just say? Move your damn hands”

His gruff voice boomed to show he was serious, making me clench my thighs together tightly. He spoke with a new tone, a tone that had authority and control. An authority and control that I’ve never heard in this instance before. It turned me on.

He tugged at my box braids, making me wince and hesitantly remove my hands, slowly placing them in my lap.

“Good girl. Now open that pretty mouth up for daddy. Just a little wider”

I moaned at his self given nickname and tried to follow his instructions, opening my mouth wider while he slid deeper down my throat. I gagged strongly as he touched the back of my throat, my shoulders shrugging and drool dripping from my mouth whilst he retracted himself a little before easing back in, repeating those motions.

“Breathe through your nose and relax that throat, baby”

he removed one of his hands from my hair and placed it under my chin, helping me gain control of my gag reflexes that decided to be completely against me at the time. I let out a sigh through my nose, finally figuring out how to regulate my breathing as he touched the back of my throat once again, this time pulling back out quicker than what he did before.

“Oh shit”

he gasped quietly, lifting up his shirt and leaning back against the wall behind him as I allowed him to throat fuck me, my spit now dripping into the valley of my titties that were semi covered by a cropped spaghetti strap shirt.

“Just like that, ma. Get this dick wet”

He grunted. I opened my mouth wide enough so my teeth wouldn’t scrape against him again, the man laying a small, painless smack on my cheek any time he’d feel them rubbing against him.

“fuuuck, you finna make me nut all in that throat, baby” He moaned and gripped my hair tighter, his thrusts getting rougher by the second.

I hummed a ‘no’ with violent chokes slipping out of my mouth as he made me go down all the way, my mind racing steadily as I imagined what it’d be like to have him do anything of the sort.

“I didn’t give you a choice” he choked out while his stomach tightened, his abs suddenly becoming more detailed and prominent.

Tears trailed down my cheeks, my brown foundation being mixed in with the salty liquid. He continued his assault on my poor throat, only to stop abruptly and force my head down until my nose touched his stomach. Suddenly I felt a warm sensation trail down my throat, a taste of bitter sweetness lingering on my tongue as he pulled out with strings of my spit mixed with his cum dripping from the tip of his dick.

He used his hand and tilted my head up, forcing me to look up at him again. “Swallow”

he demanded, my head shaking rapidly as I held the remanding bit of him under my tongue.

“This is your first time, so don’t make me say it again and make this night more eventful than it already is, Y/N. I hate going back on my word, but I hate being disrespected more than that”

he threatened, my eyes widening with wonder as to why he said that and what he’d do if I had spit.

Taking no chances, I decided to save my curiosity for another day, building up the courage to finally swallow, licking my lips after. He tilted his head at me and squeezed at my jaw, opening my mouth. Humming in satisfaction, he slid his thumb into my mouth, my lips immediately closing around it and beginning to suck while looking at the man, my watering eyes gleaming in the apartments bright lights as if glitter was placed under my lids beforehand.

“Damn..”

he murmured and slowly pulled his thumb out, replacing it with his tongue as he bent down and laid a soft kiss on my lips. I melted into his touch, my pussy beginning to throb once again with him simply just wrapping his hands around my throat and arm, pulling me up from the floor.

My legs felt weird from being on my knees for so long, my throat feeling weirder from the constant pressure it just endured. He then picked me up bridal style and began walking us down the hall and into my room.

softly laying me onto my bed, he started to pull all of my clothes off one by one, leaving me naked.

I subconsciously covered myself up, and stared at him, most of my focus being on how he was gonna fit inside. He noticed my staring and chuckled while taking his clothes off. “You’ll be fine. I’ll make it fit” he spoke as if he read my mind. “I don’t think it will…” I began closing my legs, the man only gripping my thighs and prying them back open.

“I promise if it hurts I’ll stop”

“Promise?”

“Promise” he reiterated and bent down, kissing up my thighs. Shivers went up my spine as he got closer and closer to my pussy, his breath and mustache tickling my skin. He took his middle and ring finger and spread my lips apart, my juices already starting to leak out from the prolonged playing.

“Look…She already so damn wet for me”

He looked up at me and licked a long stripe up from my entrance to my clit, a moan leaving my lips.

“She sweet as hell too” he smirked before going in, his tongue making love to my pussy as he swirled and flicked it over my clit with a quickness, his middle finger now spreading my juices around my entrance before he slowly eased and slipped it inside of me, making me let out a louder moan.

He began humming and shaking his head from side to side as he closed his lips around my clit, adding suction while attempting to slip a second finger inside of me. I winced and bucked my hips up, my walls clenching and unclenching around his fingers involuntarily.

“I can’t!”

His eyes traveled up my torso until they met mine, a blank look on his face as he disconnected his lips from my clit.

“How do you expect me to fuck you good if this pussy can’t even take two fingers? Don’t tell me you backing out now”

He taunted and licked his fingers clean, a grin growing on his face.

“I’m not! I just…I wasn’t ready right then”

I lied, being scared of him literally ripping me in half in reality.

“You sure?”

He asked teasingly and kneeled onto the bed, gripping his shaft with one hand and rubbing his tip up against my entrance, the tight muscles clenching just from the light touch. I nodded, looking down to watch his actions. He began rubbing his dick through my folds, my juices making every inch and vein he had shine underneath the mood lights in the room.

“You see that shit? That pussy just beggin’ for me, baby” he let out a grunt as he attempted to push into me again, my hand immediately flying to his stomach to stop him. “Wait!…promise it won’t hurt?” His head tilted, his face reading a ‘seriously?’ Look.

“I can’t promise you that. But I promise if you want me to stop, I will”

I stared at him for a while, thinking about my decision. I couldn’t really come up with a reason not to continue other than fear, but I knew he wouldn’t intentionally hurt me.

I slowly moved my hands and Erik took that as a sign to continue, attempting for the third time to push into me, only this time the tip of his dick successfully makes it in, a sigh erupting from my throat.

He watched my face contort as he continued to slide inside of me until our hips were touching.

“Fuck…” I mumbled, taking a deep breath. a moan seemingly interrupted everything else I did after that point, every move of my hips making my clit jump and throb, the pain that was once there before now withering away. He soon began to rock his hips into me, his hands slithering up my body and holding my bouncing titties in place. The stretching felt unbearable for a few minutes, my juices seemingly making it both better and worse.

Better by making the thrusts go smoother, but worse because he was getting deeper by the second, so deep that it felt like a bulge had appeared in my stomach, stopping right under my belly button when he thrusted in completely. I know that it was impossible for him to literally be in my stomach but that’s how it felt. And it started to feel good. Really good.

My mouth was stuck open, letting out pathetic whimpers.

“I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?” Erik spoke suddenly, caressing my jaw softly while looking deep into my eyes. I nodded slowly, my hands reaching up to grip the plush headboard above us.

“Unt, Unt. Talk to me, baby. Tell me how that big dick feel”

he groaned, giving me long strokes that had me feeling delusional.

“Yesss, it feels good, daddy—oh my god!”

My words slurred as he suddenly switched his pace, the clapping noise becoming more obvious. He leaned in on my body and wrapped his hand around my throat, adding light pressure while giving me life rendering strokes, my body shaking under him just that quickly.

“I feel it, princess. That pussy squeezing daddy so tight. Tight ass pussy”

he laid a harsh smack on my thigh and I yelped, my hands flying to his arms and my French tips scratching down his brown skin. I don’t know how he knew, but it felt like I was about to explode, my legs clamping around his hips before he let go of me and spread them back open, using them for leverage to thrust into me deeper, if that was even possible with how he was doing me now.

“FUCK!”

I shouted, my back arching and falling against the bed. He watched as my pussy creamed around him, leaving a white coat of it around his dick, just how he liked it.

“There you go, baby. Get that nut”

He smiled and began rubbing my clit. It felt like electricity was running up and down my body, my eyes rolling far back into my head as I moaned louder.

“Nah, look at me, I don’t want you thinkin’ of anything else but this good dick”

He used his other hand and put it behind my neck, pulling me up a little so that I was slightly folded, forcing me to keep my eyes on him.

looking at him felt different than looking away, as if the feeling intensified. It was like he was stealing my soul with just the glare of his eyes on me.

I felt weak and powerless, my last orgasm taking all of my energy. I couldn’t lie and say I didn’t like it either.

Knocking me out of my thoughts, I felt Erik’s hips snap into me, this time it was harder, one stroke taking all of the air out of my lungs as I gasped, holding my breath in my throat.

“Right there—“

I managed to choke out, my eyes trailing down to where we connected, watching him work his magic.

“What was that?” He asked cockily, thrusting into me all the way and swirling his hips. My eyes shut tightly, taking all of him in.

“R- right-..FUCK!”

I tried to speak, but only curses seemed to do me any good. My pussy was filled to the brim with him, my walls gripping him tightly. He rolled his hips with such skill, the shaft of his dick rubbing up against my gspot with the tip of him reaching the back of my pussy.

Him having a slight curve upwards only added to the pleasure, the curve helping him reach places that only he now knew existed.

He smiled at my response, thinking that he would ‘deal’ with my incomplete sentences later.

“I want you to tell daddy how good this big dick is. Explain to me how this dick make you feel again, princess”

He cooed, his tone becoming sweet which completely contradicted his strokes, his hips speeding back up.

I could barely talk, drool pooling into the sides of my mouth with tears leaving my eyes again.

“I- I-“

“Come on. Say it”

He taunted.

He knew I couldn’t, pressure in my stomach beginning to rise again. If he asked me what my name was in that moment I probably would have had to genuinely think before answering.

“This dick got you dumb, huh? My dumb little slut”

He mumbled, his words sending me over the edge completely. My body thrashed around as I squirted all over his dick, some of it getting on his stomach and chest. The force was so strong that it pushed him out, his heavy dick sliding right on top of my clit.

“Gahdamn, baby” he watched the rest of my juices drip onto the sheets, his dick now jumping from sensitivity.

“I-I’m done”

I breathed heavily and closed my legs, the two limbs shaking as if I had been freezing for hours.

“Nah, you getting the full experience, ma. Turn that ass around”

He grabbed my hips and flipped my limp body onto my stomach, earning a cry from me. He sat on top of my thighs and squeezed my ass with his hands, spreading my cheeks apart before spitting down onto my second hole, taking his thumb and spreading it around before slowly easing it inside of my ass.

I choked out another cry, the strange new found sensation making my eyes roll back painfully, my pussy clenching around absolutely nothing.

After a few seconds passed, he was back to his original pace, pounding into my pussy from the back while slowly thrusting his thumb into my ass, the feeling giving me goosebumps and sending a shock to my clit as he smacked on my ass with his other hand before shoving my head down into the pillows under me, muffling my screams.

He leaned down, getting closer to my ear while somehow keeping up his pace, his dick now twitching inside of me more frequently, showing he was close to cumming if the constant dirty talk didn’t already do that, saying things like

“Imma be the best nigga and the only nigga to ever beat this pussy up like this”

“This good pussy all mine? Yeah? Imma lucky ass nigga”

“She so wet for me, baby. She practically droolin”

“Keep grippin’ like that, you gon’ make daddy nut”

he grunted, smacking my ass harder as he dug into me deeply, my toes curling painfully. My pussy was now drenched, my juices spreading around my inner thigh and lips, more of my cream spilling out onto his dick. I was so wet that I couldn’t even feel him rubbing up against my walls anymore, now only feeling when he hit the limit of my pussy, the ‘wall’ not allowing him to go any further.

“Daddy, please”

I begged, the pillow making it come out in a hushed tone. My pussy felt so filled and overwhelmed, my clit getting so sensitive with the sheets rubbing up against it as I laid flat on the bed, letting Erik do his worst, or what I thought was his worst.

“Fuck—…That’s it, baby, lemme use this lil pussy” we both moaned in sync, the man letting my head come up from the pillow for air.

“SHIT!- I’m about to nut!”

He shouted, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and reckless, wet slapping sounds filling the room, accompanying the sounds of the headboard banging against the wall the faster he got, one of the picture frames on the wall falling down along the line. He pulls his thumb out of me and grips my ass harshly, softly biting the top of my ear.

“Keep squeezing, baby. Just like that”

He hums, kissing my cheek softly and pausing his thrusts, grinding his hips into me.

“Erik-“

my bottom lip quivers and he smacks my ass, making me whimper and drop my head into the pillows, shaking my head.

“Now try again” he adjusts himself on his knees again, scratching his neatly trimmed and glossed nails up the sides of my thighs, swollen red stripes following after.

“Daddy—“ I cried out as I felt him ram his entire length into me once more before filling me up with a harsh sigh and a jerk of his hips.

“Fuck…”

he groans and leans up. Slowly pulling his dick out, he watched as some of his cum follows after him, spilling out of me and sliding down to my sensitive clit, my pussy clenching.

—-

“Damn…is that how sex is for everybody?” I asked. It was about an hour later and I was laying there limp as Erik chuckled, grabbing a baby wipe out of my drawer and wiping me off, my hips bucking once he swiped over my clit with the baby wipe. “Nope. But if you stick wimme, I promise it’ll be like that” he kisses my back “every” another kiss. “single” another. “Time” he smacked my ass, causing me to pull my ass up into the air and whimper, my hand reaching back to rub the spot.

————

Hopefully the person that requested this likes it, I didn’t know if they were down with the kinky shit but most of my other work looks like this so fuck it lmao.

[spectrs]

seduction - pt. 2

erik lehnsherr x afab!reader

etermined to try something new, you and erik decide to take a not-so-safe route.

WARNINGS - erik lehnsherr speaking french and german deserves it’s own warning bc it’s absolutely sexy, mentions of bruises, degradation, overstimulation, choking, spanking, thigh riding, (unprotected) p in v penetration, orgasm denial

WORD COUNT - 2.1k(?)

did i finally fucking finish this? yes. am i a very inconsistent writer? yes. is this pure smut? absolutely. (pretty sure this is longer than the first part but i’m not sure)

ps - if the translations are wrong i apologize (i used google translate since i’m not fully fluent in french yet.) also the reader can understand french

PART ONE IS HERE

His hand was still supporting the back of my neck, his other hand came up to cup my face. He looked down at the desk, then back at me.

“It looks like we made a mess of our dear friend’s desk,” he whispered, leaning down so his mouth was almost grazing my ear. 

I looked around me and saw that he was right. Everything that had previously been on the desk was either scattered across the surface or on the floor. 

“Well, that’s unfortunate. We should probably get off though.”

Erik leaned back and gently grabbed both of my arms, helping me slide off of the desk. My legs felt a bit sore, but still wanting to go through with the idea, I slowly strode over to the couch. I felt his eyes on me, watching my every movement, and that made me smirk a bit. I slowed down, making sure I exaggerated every movement, and sat down. I leaned back, letting my head touch the back of the couch. 

Our eyes locked and his eyes were dark with lust. He walked over to me, slowly taking his shirt off. I felt my bare cunt clench around nothing as his bare chest was exposed. He finally stopped once he was in front of me, his tall frame towering above me. He brought his hand up to slowly graze my cheek, slowly dragging it down my jaw and collarbone. He finally stopped at my wrists, which had two thin metal bracelets wrapped around them. 

“Mein schatz, why do you make this so easy?” He flicked his hand and my wrists flew above my head. I quickly looked up, staring and wincing at the bracelets tightening around my wrists. I looked back at him, a devilish grin on his face.

His hands started tracing themselves over my jaw, collarbone, and throat, making me squirm. 

He leaned down, his mouth yet again near my ear, and started speaking in German in a low voice. I felt my face heat up even though I had no idea what he was saying, although I knew it wasn’t anything good.

He noticed the silence and chuckled quietly. 

“Does my whore need me to switch to a language she can understand?”

I nodded my head, eager to hear what he was saying.

His fingers were still trailing over my body and his smirk was still evident.

“Aimes-tu ça, salope ? Je peux sentir ton désespoir, ton envie que je te touche. Je serais gentil et te laisserais le plaisir,” he whispered, his mouth so close I could feel his hot breath hitting the shell of my ear.

“Mais je ne crois pas que tu le mérites.” he said, leaning back to look down at me. I whimpered from the loss of his touch, watching his smirk grow wider. 

Erik roughly grabbed my hips and I yelped. He turned himself around so his back was facing the couch and sat down, pulling me down with him. 

I landed on his lap, but he twisted me around and balanced me on his thigh. He flicked his hand again, and my hands dropped and were put behind my back, as if they were cuffed. He lifted a hand to hold my chin, while the other wrapped itself around my throat again. 

“Move."

I slowly started to rock my hips against his thigh, the friction causing an electric feeling to shoot through my body. My eyes fluttered closed as I let the feeling take over, a small whimper coming from my mouth. I heard Erik tsk, either because of the pathetic sound or the slow dragging of my hips across his thigh. Either way, his grip on my throat tightened.

“Open your eyes.”

I opened them and saw him staring at me, his eyes dark and focused on my lips. 

“If you wanna kiss me, kiss me,” I whispered. His eyes darted up to mine, and he grabbed my chin to roughly pull my face to his, our lips connecting in another hungry kiss. 

I rocked my hips against him faster, muffled moans spilling out of my mouth. He let go of my chin and throat and snaked his hands around my waist. His mouth left mine as he started peppering kisses over my jawline and down my neck to my collarbone. He started sucking lightly, making me lean my head back and close my eyes again. The friction, his mouth on my body, the warmth radiating from him, everything made it feel like my veins were on fire.

I felt a tight coil start to form in my stomach, so I started grinding my hips against him faster, despite the movements getting sloppier. He must’ve known I was coming close, because his hands traveled down to my hips and he started guiding my body against his. 

I could feel him smirking against my skin each time I let a moan or whimper slip past my lips. I felt one of his hands slide down to my cunt, and he suddenly pushed a finger in. I let out a loud moan as I came, soaking his thigh and the couch.

His hand still guided my hip as he helped me ride out my high. I stilled and looked at him, his eyes still dark and holding an almost ravenous look.

“What are you thinking, Lehnsherr?”

His eyes glanced at his now-soaking thigh, then back at me.

“About how badly I want to fuck you right now."

I smiled and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, what’s stopping you?”

He smirked and suddenly flipped me over, my back on the couch and his body hovering over me.

“Nothing’s stopping me now.”

He leaned down and kissed me hungrily. My hands reached for his waist, feeling for the top of his pants. I grabbed them and started pulling them down, Erik leaning back to assist me. He pulled them off, along with his boxers, and threw them into the corner. He grabbed my hips and pulled me towards him. I stared at him as he grabbed his cock and lined himself up.

He stilled for a second, then slowly pushed himself into my cunt. I moaned loudly, my hands groping the edge of the couch as he pushed himself all the way in. He looked at me for a second, then pulled out and shoved himself back in.

My back arched as he started slamming into me, his pace rough and fast. I shut my eyes, but I felt his hand snake around my neck.

"Open your eyes."

I opened them and saw him staring at me. He smirked as he heard the whimpers and moans falling out of my mouth. He brought his hand away from my neck and brought it up to slowly caress my cheek.

"You're such a good little slut, aren't you mein schatz?"

I nodded and let out an obscene moan as he started ramming into me faster. He pulled his hand away and leaned down, peppering my jaw and neck with kisses. He started sucking on the side of my neck, and I felt the familiar feeling start to form in my stomach.

I shut my eyes again as he leaned away, grabbed one of my legs, and put it on his shoulder. I threw my head back as I felt his tip kiss my cervix every time his cock dove into me.

My cunt started to clench around his cock, and he grunted at the feeling. He knew I was getting close, and he knew neither of us would last much longer.

He caressed my neck, and I took that as a sign to open my eyes. I opened them and he immediately kissed me, his tongue shoving itself into my mouth.

His mouth muffled the noises coming out of me, and mine muffled the grunts and praises coming from him.

He leaned away and looked at me.

"Look at you. You're such a pathetic whore, so greedy for my cock. I know you enjoy this, I can feel you coming close."

"Yes Erik," I whimpered, my breathing heavy and my body sore.

His smile dropped and he slowed down. I whined at the loss of friction, but then felt my eyes grow wide at my error.

"I'm sorry, sir!"

He tsked and said, "Forgetful, are we?"

I tried to grind into him, trying to regain the feeling, but his arms held down my hips, stopping my pathetic attempts.

"It happens again, and I won't go so easy on you," he said, his voice low and laced with disapproval.

"Please sir, it won't happen again!"

"It better not."

At that, he started ramming into my cunt again, his pace unforgiving.

Erik smirked while he watched me completely come apart in his grasp, my moans growing louder by the second.

His hand cupped my face, and he said, "I want you to come for me, but only when I tell you. Do you think you can do that?"

I vigorously nodded my head, my body now desperate for release.

He cocked his head and smiled, and his hand dipped down to my soaking cunt. His fingers slowly rubbed the bud, and my back arched even more as I let out a loud moan.

He smiled, and started picking up the pace, his cock still ramming into me. The coil was growing more and more, and I could feel my cunt clench around him.

His thrusts were getting sloppier, and I could hear him moaning lowly.

He leaned down, and whispered a single word into my ear.

"Come."

I completely fell apart in his arms as I came. An intense wave of pleasure rushed over me, and an obscene moan left my mouth as I felt my cum soaking his cock and the couch.

He never stopped thrusting into me, making the orgasm much more intense. His movements were a lot sloppier and frantic, and he slammed into me one more time before he came.

His head leaned back and he moaned as he came inside me, filling me up. He stilled for a second, then slowly pulled his cock out and fell onto the couch, landing next to me.

Both of us were out of breath, the intensity of our orgasms still lingering. I looked over to see him already staring at me. I smiled, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling my naked body into his chest.

“He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?” I asked. 

“Kill us and bring us back to clean the murder scene,” Erik said with a smirk on his face.

--------------------------------------------------

french translation: Aimes-tu ça, salope ? Je peux sentir ton désespoir, ton envie que je te touche. Je serais gentil et te laisserais le plaisir, mais je ne crois pas que tu le mérites. - Do you like this, slut? I can feel your desperation, your craving for me to touch you. I would be nice and allow you the pleasure, but I don't believe you deserve it.

german translation: Mein schatz - My darling

TAGS - @low-keylover @sxrahwashere

[plus-size-reader]

Hidden Away

Erik x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2184 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader is getting picked on and Erik helps make her feel better.

——————————————————————————————————

Everyone had heard the rumors of the angel of music, the guardian of this place but you had never believed them before.

You had never had any kind of encounter and aside from frightened whispers from the dancers and stories from Madame Giry, you didn’t think you ever would.

In fact, if you had never gotten that letter, you may not have ever learned the truth about this place.

The Opera Populaire had gotten similar letters before, from someone signing as ‘Opera Ghost’ but you had no idea who that was. All you knew was that there was a letter just like it, resting upon your nightstand.

It may have been easier to pass off as a prank, but you didn’t think so. The performers in this place often thought you a joke, and wouldn’t waste their time doing something so elaborate.

Rather, they would just torment you during your rehearsal. You could never have hoped to be a ballerina, though you often wished you could have been.

You just weren’t built for that sort of thing, but what you did have was a voice that not even the most cruel among them could refute.

Madame Giry often said that if you had been built like the other girls were, you would have been the most popular performer the opera would’ve ever had.

You should have known better than to think that living in a place like this would be gentle toward your insecurities. The dancers alone were all in such a physical condition that they were almost always in pain.

...Not to mention, rail thin.

That being said though, you knew that it wasn’t their fault that you weren’t but that didn’t make their cruel comments any less harmful.

Not every one of the ballerinas was nasty to you, or made snide remarks about how pretty you’d be if you weren’t ‘built like that’. It was just that the ones that did sort of took up all your attention.

For example, today, you had been doing your best to perform your rendition of Hannibal that Carlotta was going to be doing tonight at the show.

It was just something you’d been trying to perfect since she began doing it. It was easy to get that song stuck in your head, and as a singer, it was only a matter of time before you attempted it for yourself.

You thought you sounded alright, though not as good as the headliner always did, but right on schedule, Bernadette came round the corner.

She wasn’t the most skilled among the dancers, as she couldn’t hold a candle to Christine or Meg but she was talented for sure. More importantly than all that though, was the fact that she hated you.

Treating you poorly was arguably her favorite thing to do.

“Come now Y/N, there is no use in practicing. They are never going to let you up on stage. I doubt they could even fit you into any of Carlotta’s costumes” she hummed, her thick french accent attacking your senses.

It was a tone you were comfortable with, and if she had been any more kind, it would have even been beautiful but with the way she chose to use it, that all faded away.

Perhaps you could have argued with her or defended yourself some but you knew from experience that it wouldn’t lessen her attack. So, instead, you removed yourself from the situation completely.

Of course, doing so only made her more wicked, a cackle leaving her lips when you left the stage. You didn’t even want to know what she was saying to her friends, but it didn’t matter.

Having heard it or not, it hurt all the same.

You were just so tired of your appearance having anything to do with your talent, as if a couple extra pounds affected your ability to sing.

...And you began to cry.

Luckily, you were far enough away from anyone to know about it, but you couldn’t help yourself even if they were around. It just hurt to never feel good enough, no matter how strong you tried to act.

Sometimes you just had to let it out.

Now, you didn’t know from where you were sitting, curled up in the corner of the room with your head in your hands but there was a witness to the entire thing.

A witness that had been paying attention to you for quite some time.

The opera ghost was the focus of so many people’s attention in the opera currently but the focus of the entity himself...was you.

He couldn’t help himself.

Erik could hear your voice through the walls, even when you were singing alone in your room and by this point, he found himself completely enamored by everything you were.

In some ways, maybe he even found himself developing feelings for you, in his own special way.

In any case, watching those girls speak so cruelly to you filled the man with rage. The only thing that softened that anger was seeing you there, kneeling down with tears in your eyes.

That was enough to stop him in his tracks completely.

That was when he sat down and wrote that letter, requesting that you allow him to meet you in person, provided that you wanted to do so. That way, if he needed to whisk you away in the future, he could do so without alarming you.

Perhaps it was awkward, or strange, but in his defense, Erik had lived most of his life within the walls and dungeon of this place. He wasn’t really the most up to date on social graces.

If nothing else, it was his attempt at not startling you with his presence.

...And thankfully for him, it worked.

You read his letter that next morning, having found it laid gently on your nightstand, stamped perfectly with blood red wax.

It didn’t make any sense, and it seemed rather foolish to answer the calls of some invisible man that you’d never seen before but you couldn't help yourself.

They said that curiosity killed that cat, but in your case, it may have skinned it well first. You didn’t bother to let anyone know you were going, and you didn't care too.

All you knew was when Erik appeared, having pushed through the floor length mirror in your bedroom, you followed him into what could have been another world.

It was both grotesque and beautiful, the dark hallways smelling of musk and soot. You had lived in the dormitories all your life, but you never knew this was hidden just below.

It was clear that this was the most well guarded secret of all that the opera had to offer, and you had to consider yourself lucky to be standing where you were.

Even if maybe you weren’t quite sure why you were doing it.

“What is your name Monsieur? What do you want from me?” you asked, following behind him a quiet tone, having just stepped from the boat.

Where you were now was no more than a built up rock quarry under the opera, but it was decorated as a house would have been. Clearly, he had been living here.

For how long, you had no idea.

Erik didn’t speak at first, doing his best to think this whole thing out before he could ruin it. He had been watching you for so long, dreaming of how you would speak to him, and now that it was here, he was at a loss.

“I hate the way those other little creatures speak of you” he commented finally, not even bothering to introduce himself. It was probably best that you didn’t know who he was right away.

You knew what he was referring to almost immediately, taking it upon yourself to set down on the satin sheet of the bed now. You had no idea how he knew, but he must have been talking about Bernadette.

No one else spoke viley of you more than she did, and if that was why he’d chosen to speak to you, there had to be a reason.

Why would he care?

“She isn’t wrong in what she says, though it hurts” you shrugged, deciding that having someone to talk to was worth all the danger you’d put yourself in to get here.

There were so many unanswered questions but you couldn’t bother with them right now. All you could think about was this strange man, sitting in front of you now.

Half of his face was hidden from your view, those you focused mainly on his crystal blue eyes. They shone even in the darkness of the pit you were sitting in, and you wondered briefly what they would look like in the midmorning sun.

You assumed it would be like staring deep into a sparkling bay at the peak of summer, and that idea delighted you slightly.

“Don’t ever speak like that” he spat, a bit more upset than he meant to. It was just that it was bad enough to have to listen to them make up rude things about you.

The last thing Erik wasn’t was for you to start feeling them yourself.

“Why do you hide away? Why do you hide your face from me now?” you wondered, not letting the slip of his tongue frighten you, though maybe it should have.

For whatever reason, you felt safe here. Frankly, you were more comfortable sitting here, under the watchful gaze of a stranger, than you had ever been anywhere else.

It just didn’t make any sense that he would stay down here when all of Paris was right outside these walls.

“The world would not be kind to me, as it is unkind to you, and I hide from you so that you will not be afraid” he allowed, knowing that you were starting to feel more comfortable in this odd situation.

Had circumstances allowed it, he would have loved to meet you up there, in attendance of one of your shows. He would have loved to hear your voice in all its glory, but what he said was true.

The world had reared its ugly head to Erik before, and he wasn’t willing to go through that again.

“I will not be afraid” you promised, though when the male mentioned it no more, moving instead to talk about what he’d seen last night, you took that as your hint to do the same.

You didn't know this stranger, after all, and you didn't want to go too far.

“Why do you let them treat you so poorly. Surely you must know that you possess more talent than the lot of them combined” He wondered, almost reaching out to take your hand in his own before he stopped himself.

Erik yearned to feel your skin against this own, it was true, but he didn’t want to risk scaring you away before he even really got to know you.

He had to remember that while he felt like he knew you fully, you had only just met him.

It was a strange question, but all things considered, it was probably the most tame thing you had done all day so you answered him. “I can’t dance nearly as well as they can, besides, there is truth to what Bernadette said. I will never be a real opera singer, not the way I am”

There was a sadness in your voice, like you had already accepted it to be the only truth there was, and that was because you had. In your eyes, there was no room for a woman like you, a big woman.

You had heard everything there was.

That if you were to lose weight, you would be on stage every night. That you were wasting time on a dream with no future when you should be looking for a husband. That you would never find a husband unless you stopped eating.

It was never ending, but you had never admitted that to anyone before.

Maybe it was the odd comfort that you found in the presence of this stranger, or maybe it was because you were hidden away from the world, but you had said it out loud.

...And now Erik understood.

You had never understood what a beauty you were because no one would let you be true to it. No one would let you embrace the obvious beauty you had and instead forced it down within you.

They made you think that the problem with the world was you, when in reality, they were making up lies to keep you beneath them.

“You will never say those things again. You will be on stage, a night all to yourself, I’ll make sure of it” Erik decided, and while you had no idea what he was talking about or how that was going to happen, you nodded.

Anything seemed possible, sitting with a handsome stranger in the darkness and even if it was all a lie, you could bask in it for a little while.

[onelovewonderwoman]

first class || charles xavier x reader

i’ve been on an x-men binge and fell into a hole of james mcavoy and charles xavier again, so here we are. i haven’t written fics in a long time, so i tried to again. i’m uncreative so like the title is just the first movie because of the fact that it’s set during that time. kind of like self insert cause there’s a few bits and pieces where there’s canonical plot and interactions, so disclaimer for that. anyways, hope you guys enjoy! ps also don’t have enough energy to find a fitting gif so maybe i’ll find one later maybe i won’t. we’ll see

words: 5.8k

warnings: not proofread (i spent three days on this so i don’t have the energy anymore haha), writing lacks emotional depth, drug use and mentions, intent of murder, thoughts of (murder, rape, suicide, etc.), poorly written two paragraphs about kissing, angst, we ignore moira and charles’ romance cause... duh, it’s x reader and it’s too difficult for me to work around it rn a haha

masterlist

The rooms were always the same. They were dark, illuminated only by the dimmest of lights emanating from the occasional lava lamp or fairy lights. Fairy - ironic word for such situations, such rooms. Filled so heavily with smoke it made it hard to breathe, let alone see. And the floors; the floors always felt different. 

In hindsight, it was probably the one thing that had her realizing the rooms were never actually the same. Sure, they had the same smell, the same overcrowdedness and moving bodies, the same darkness, even the same taste, but the floors testified to the difference each room held. 

Sometimes, when the world would freeze and all the people around her became nothing but a mesh of warm bodies, she could hear the floor creak under her feet with every step she took. There she was - the house right down the street from her. 

Other times, the floors felt sticky under her shoes. She assumed it was tequila. There were always too many bottles around to count, surely there would be spills. Or, some poor guy could have pissed himself like that one time. When her shoes sounded like velcro as she walked across the floor, she was at the house all the way across town.

In any case, she felt the same ankle up. One of her favourite parts had to be the way the music always abused her ears - so high, it made her feel lightheaded. More so than she already had been both. Sex was not nearly regular enough for her to compare, but she knew what she would feel every time the music was loud enough to make her head buzz and throb with a vengeance was more erotic than anything anyone could ever do to her.

The place could change but the scene never really did. Down to the people - she knew this for sure. She knew every beating heart around her like they were her own. She never only felt it there, but in her head as well. Even as it buzzed, she felt it. Sometimes it tore at her skull as if trying to escape - ironic.

Now, why did the scene change one evening in 1962? She told herself it was fate, but it had merely been wishful thinking when she knew why. How did she know? She knew the man sitting next to her on the worn down couch, nearly entirely unconscious and reeking of weed and vodka, knew the girl across the house, the girl across the house knew the man next to her and that - so on and so forth - meant she knew all three of them, even though they didn’t know her. So, for two new men to walk into the house, their eyes focused - focused on her - changed the scene entirely.

Now, the music became nothing more than an assault on her ears; the lights became too bright at the same time as the dark became too dark; the air became heavier than usual; and she sobered up at the feeling of something - someone - in her head. Then, it all caved in. It was as overwhelming as it always was, but she was used to it enough to handle it for a little while, at least whilst remnants of her high remained. She couldn’t say the same for the shorter of the two men she saw keel over at the pressure.

He got over it pretty quick, from what she could tell. “Charles Xavier,” he introduced himself as, “This is my colleague, Erik Lensherr.”

A quick trip from the couch to the door had her standing on the lawn of the house of the night with the two men. Crickets could be heard fighting against the sound of the music blaring from the house as she swayed on her feet, making wet sounds in the grass from earlier rain. Charles stood not much taller than her, charm emanating from him and the way his piercing blue eyes seemed to smile despite his furrowed brows and mouth set in a straight line as he stared at her, waiting for a response with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. Erik stood taller, stoic and calculating.

“And?” She crossed her arms across her chest, both in discomfort and the fact that the chilly night air had begun to bite at her skin, her long sleeve doing nothing to help. “I should care why?”

If the incident earlier wasn’t enough, the way the both of them looked at her was enough for her to know why. “What’s your name?” Charles asked, having her notice then the English accent on his tongue. 

The second she gave it to him, he smiled - almost sympathetically - at her and hummed, “You have an incredibly busy mind, Y/N.”

“And you have an incredibly nosy one, Charles.” That had Erik letting out a chuckle, one that felt like approval to her ears.

Never in a million years would she dare say yes to anything of the sort the two men proposed to her that night. A team of mutants; not necessarily that she thought it was absurd or a horrible idea - no. It made sense, not factoring in their current climate, to have a team of mutants fighting against the evils of the world. The horrible idea was to have her join. No, she wanted to tell them, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking too,” Erik agreed with her, catching both herself and Charles off guard, “We’ll be going then.”

He offered her his hand. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring at his outstretched arm. Sometimes her high slowed time - it could have been five seconds or five minutes. When she finally looked away from his hand, up at him, she saw he stood unwavered and patient.

“You don’t have to, you know.” Her eyes shot to Charles as he broke the silence. He shook his head, brows still furrowed and mouth set in a straight line. “You’re under no obligation.”

For Charles to know, she understood. He had just been in her mind long enough to know that most of it wasn’t even hers. For Erik to know and offer her his hand made her wonder just how desperate he was to assemble the team - for whatever reason that she was about to find out in a moment.

“We leave now.” Was all he said after he tore his hand from hers.

An hour hasn’t even passed when she found herself on a plane with the two men, mind still buzzing but this time not with a high. This time, with an overwhelming anger and anticipation. The way Erik didn’t make eye contact with her and Charles sent worried glances her way throughout their trip to their “base” was enough to tell her that they knew she had already been briefed on what was happening - the reason behind their assembling of a team. Rather, she knew specifically of the personal motive behind it.

All it made her heart feel like it was beating a mile a minute. It pounded against her chest so hard she was sure at least one of them could hear it. So badly did she want to hide out in the plane’s bathroom and take something to stop the pain, but it was off the table. For now.

Soon enough the flight ended, and she came to find out their “base” was a covert CIA facility where they placed the other mutants they rounded up before her. She just as quickly met and said goodbye to Moira MacTaggert, a CIA officer working with Charles and Erik to stop Shaw. His name alone sent sparks of rage flowing through her veins.

She was left with the group when the three went off that night. There, she came face to face with Raven, Sean, Alex, Hank, Darwin, and Angel - or, Mystique, Banshee, and Havok. Darwin and Angel were “self explanatory”, considering they were already nicknames and described their powers fairly well. Hank was just… Hank.

Her turn came around quickly, once everyone settled down from Alex’s show of his “gift”, when all heads turned to her, sitting at the end of the couch. Raven smiled at her - she liked her, she was sweet - “What about you? What’s your power?”

“I’m,” She paused for a moment, the eyes on her making her anxious and curl into herself hoping, praying, another mutant wouldn’t touch her. “I can move things. With my mind.” She gave a tight smile to Raven and nodded her head, as if to reassure herself. “I can move things with my mind.”

Raven’s smile only widened, excited by either the prospect of her being able to move things with her mind or the opportunity to give her an alias. She assumed it was the latter. She excused herself to the washroom just as Raven asked the group what they thought. “We’ll have one for you once you get back! Promise!” Raven called after her.

Body filled with anticipation, she nearly ran to the washroom, willing the door closed behind her after she entered. It was small, but clean - CIA property after all. 

She tried. She really did. Albeit, making contact with a mutant was always the worst; Erik especially. The trauma, the pain, the thoughts. All them clawed at her brain, as though they were tearing through it layer by layer until nothing but them remained within her skull.

Nothing could stop her from taking out the small baggy in her back pocket and tearing it open. Nothing could stop her from taking it, only to feel a rush flow through her. It would take a bit, but soon enough she would stop feeling them gnawing on her very existence. Soon, numbness would wash over her and she could just be no one.

She guessed she was in the washroom for about half an hour. Staring at her reflection, at the floor, at the ceiling, at anything, but when she made her way back to the room, she found it in disarray. Music was blasting from the radio, chairs flipped over, Raven on top of the couch dancing as Hank hung from the ceiling light, the rest of the group messing around with their powers. She couldn’t tell if they were experiencing some high of their own or just happened to have gotten their hands on some alcohol.

“What are you doing? Who destroyed the statue?” Moira’s voice broke her out of the trance she was in watching the group. Slowly, she turned her head to see her, Charles, and Erik walking over as everyone else froze. Moira was angry, that much anyone could tell, but the two men were unreadable.

Hank was the first one to reply back, jumping down the ceiling, panicked, “It was Alex.”

“No. Havok.” Raven seemed to stay unfazed, still standing on the couch with a wide smile on her face. “We have to call him Havok. That's his name now…”

Raven’s words melted away from her. Her focus wasn’t elsewhere; it was simply nowhere at all. She stared at everyone in the room, yet no one at all. So caught up in nothing she didn’t notice Charles himself staring at her until Erik uttered something under his breath and walked away with Moira following, brows furrowed in what looked to be confusion. Just as she caught his eye, he looked away.

Directed at Raven, he spoke firmly, “I expect more from you.”

Not long after, they had gotten word that Shaw would be in Russia, and so she was left with the group of mutants when the three left alongside the CIA to get their hands on him. Before, it would have made her wonder what purpose the group of mutants really served if they didn’t want them there to help. Now, after the incident, she understood why.

By no means were any of them prepared for such a task. She couldn’t claim to be either. She only agreed because she knew a part within her would hate her for not coming and at the very least trying to help.

Just when she thought she and the solemn group couldn’t be any more of a liability, she was proven wrong. Because now Sebastian Shaw stood in front of them, smug and irritating as ever, after having his lackey drop an unsuspecting CIA to his death in front of all of them and cornering them. 

“Good evening. My name's Sebastian Shaw, and I'm not here to hurt you.” She was sure she wasn’t the only one assuming he had taken out every single CIA operative in the facility to make it this far; a thought that filled her being with even more dread than she was already feeling at the sight of him. “My friends, there's a revolution coming. When mankind discovers who we are, what we can do, each of us will face a choice. Be enslaved or rise up to rule. Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us, then by definition, you are against us. So, you can stay and fight for the people who hate and fear you. Or you can join me, and love like kings and queens.”

They all watched, both shocked and betrayed when Angel took the hand Shaw outstretched, standing by his side even when he murdered Darwin in his attempt to stop him with Alex. She didn’t see it - she turned away the second Shaw released the energy he’d taken from Alex into Darwin. She heard it, though. The explosion. When she turned back, as Shaw, Angel, and the men he had brought with him retreated, she saw nothing. There was no sign of Darwin; not even a speck of dust.

Suddenly, her chest tightened and the clawing came back.

----------------------------------

The person who happened to almost send them home also happened to be the one who provided them a new place to train their powers for the fight with Shaw. Charles was entirely serious and extremely close to sending them all home; “They’re just kids.” But Erik made it clear to him that they couldn’t be anymore, not after Shaw.

Charles lived, alongside Raven, in a massive mansion that had been entirely too big for her to take in, but it provided the perfect space for them to train their powers. Each of them were assigned rooms by Charles personally that day. 

He took the liberty of walking them each there. She didn’t know if it was just her or a Charles thing, but he stayed quiet. Unusual for a man that had so much to say. But then again, with what they’ve already been through, she couldn’t imagine he was feeling very chatty. She certainly wouldn’t have been in his situation. Granted, she would be feeling the same way now, but in her predicament by this point, she wouldn’t mind someone else’s verbal company.

The second he guided her through the bedroom

door, she began to take in the sheer size of the room, feeling bigger than life itself in the way that she was feeling. The bed was even better; huge and looked as though the softness of it would swallow her into a warm hug. Her first instinct would have been to jump right onto it, but the fact that Charles ceased to leave and instead remained planted there, giving her a look she couldn’t make out once she turned to face him, made her fight against her urges.

She opened her mouth in an attempt to utter an “Are you alright?” but never got the chance. Instead, Charles spoke as soon as her mouth opened, slowly, as if to make sure she understood every word he was saying like she had been incapable of doing so before, “Training starts tonight, but I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

With her brows furrowed in confusion, she nodded, and Charles began to walk away. He stopped by the frame of the door, back to her, and spoke again, “Try and get some rest.”

With that, he shut the door behind him. Now, she was left in the room alone, tiredness washing over her. Awaiting the next day, she decided to fall into the cloud that was the bed and fall asleep while she could.

----------------------------------

The next morning was when Charles asked to see her - by Raven. The young woman led her over to a room, an odd dome shaped one, where Charles stood waiting. He wasn’t the same as the night before - uncomfortable, was the only way she knew to describe it - welcoming and encouraging.

“We’ve got plenty of work to do,” Charles spoke, hands in his pockets, as she entered and Raven excused herself elsewhere. Looking around, she could see evidence that training had started last night, namely Alex’s. Dark scuff marks were streaked across walls of the dome on the end farthest from them and small balls of fluff on the floor remained, assumingly left behind in the midst of a quick clean up of training dummies that had been torn open.

Despite the mess, several other objects were placed across the floor. All ranged from light to heavy. Chairs, weights - it looked to be anything he could have been capable of carrying in with the help of the others.

She stopped in front of him. “What’s this?”

The man’s smile widened before he started, rather loudly at that. “Well.” He moved towards the objects then spun around to face her, arms outstretched. “This is the beginning of your training.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking at the man unimpressed. “You want me to move this stuff around?”

“You’re not just moving stuff around.” Charles shook his head, arms dropping to his sides as he declared. “You don’t need to move everything here. I only need to see how much you can handle.” His head tilted as he looked at her, blue eyes meeting her own as his expression retreated to one of curiosity. “And how you handle it.”

She didn’t think the professor was aware of the innuendo within the situation, so she let it go despite the sweet stomach dropping feeling that came over her. Instead, she shrugged. “Then what?”

“Then,” Charles hesitated for a moment, “Erik was able to move a satellite dish. If it happens to be possible-”

“A satellite dish?” She laughed incredulously, “You can be serious.”

Charles nodded towards her, challenging her statements as he took a few steps forward. “And what is it that’s making you believe you’re incapable of doing anything similar?”

“Look.” She shook her head, looking directly at him when she said, “I can move the average household item, shut a door and maybe, just maybe, bust it down, but I couldn’t push your couch across the room, let alone move a fu- a satellite dish.”

Charles’ brows furrowed. “And that’s what you believe?”

She hummed. “That’s what I know.”

“Well,” he sighed, disappointment written across his face that sent her into a spiral, “There’s not much we can do if you don’t believe you can better yourself, is there?”

The second he walked past her was when it felt as though ice water had been spilt onto her. A mixture of confusion and gloom washed over her before she turned to see Charles’ back, still moving towards the door. “What?”

He stopped in his tracks at her exclamation, waiting several moments as if contemplating before he turned back to her. Carefully, he asked, “Why do you take them?”

She shook her head, looking almost offended. “How did you-”

“Your mind,” Charles confirmed, “It gets quieter.”

The offence on her face never ceased, but the uncomfortable mixture of feelings she was overwhelmed with had her shrug in response to his question. Charles only nodded and gave her a tight smile before turning back.

She closed her eyes, resigning herself with huff. She could go back to the life she had come to know and hate, or she could take the second chance he was giving her even if it did include the prospect of some suffering.

“I don’t take them for fun.” The sound of her voice made Charles stop again. This time, he waited. “When I touch a person I don’t just take every experience. I take every memory.”

He turned around to face her once more and gave her nod, signalling her to continue. She breathed in and out. “I see and I feel everything that’s happened to them. That’s a lot and it’s enough, but that’s not why I-”

She cut herself off, feeling herself choke on the words before shaking her head and persisting herself on despite Charles’ look of concern. “I take them because, when I take their memories, I take all of their thoughts too. Every one. So every thought of murder, or rape, or suicide, or any fucked up thing, keeps tearing me apart from the inside out.”

Charles nodded, walking closer to her, choosing his words carefully as he spoke, sympathy written deep in his soft voice, “And they scare you.”

She shook her head. Looking away from him for a moment, she willed away tears she felt gathering. She turned back to him. “The thought of acting on them scares me.”

Although slightly taken aback by the revelation, Charles holds his composure. He nodded before opening his mouth to respond, walking closer as he began.

The only reaction he got was her taking a step back, shaking her head. “I swear I’m not a bad person.” Charles assumed she didn’t want him touching her - considering she took away every thought. “I’m always all these people at once - I don’t even know who I am.”

“Then we will figure it out.” Charles tilted his head, making sure her eyes met his when she attempted to look away. His voice was soft and reassuring to her ears, even if she didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “You aren’t alone, Y/N.”

As it turns, the drugs were having a large effect on her ability to use her powers - the next few days told her as much. By no means was she capable of moving a satellite dish, but she had been able to take her powers to lengths she never thought she could have been able to.

Most of it was due to Charles - he’d spent most of the next few days with her, pushing her, sometimes to the point where she’d snap at him. She always calmed, though, and Charles always remained coolheaded.

Still, they grew closer. Or at least she grew closer to him. She couldn’t tell if the praise, the laughs, the banter, and the willingness to come back together after a fight only meant something to her. She hoped it did - because why else wouldn’t he just give up on her? All that time spent on advancing her powers to defeat Shaw, and he still talked about helping her as though their relationship would continue past this mission.

Part of her wanted to touch him so she could just know. Even if he hadn’t taken such a liking to her as she had him, at the very least try to understand him in his entirety and make a space for herself in his life. Then, another part of her was horrified at what she would find in there.

For the time being, there wasn’t much opportunity to dwell on it. The day they would head out was coming soon, and Erik suggested the group get a good night’s rest. They would all need it.

With her luck, she didn’t know why she thought that sleep would come easy that night. Whether it was due to adrenaline, anxiety, or anything else, didn’t matter. Because whatever was keeping her up had her pacing the hallways of Charles’ estate that night.

She wasn’t looking for it, but instead happened upon a conversation. 

“… no difference. Shaw’s declared war on mankind. On all of us. He has to be stopped.” She heard Charles’ voice through a door as she passed by. Although knowing that he could probably make out the sound of her mind from a mile away, she still stopped by it. She grew even more curious when she heard Erik’s voice. 

“I'm not gonna stop Shaw. I'm gonna kill him. Do you have it in you to allow that?” A moment of silence passed and she shifted on her feet. It made the floor creek. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, nervous, expecting to hear the sound of one of their footsteps coming to open the door and catch her eavesdropping. Whether they heard or not, she didn’t know as Erik continued on, “You've known all along why I was here, Charles. But things have changed. What started as a covert mission, tomorrow mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us, they won't differentiate. They'll fear us. And that fear will turn to hatred.”

“Not if we stop a war,” Charles’ voice wavered on a line of urgency and assurance, “Not if we can prevent Shaw. Not if we risk our lives doing so.”

Charles very well could have been doing nothing but reassuring Erik with his words, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually trying to reassure himself. As if the world wouldn’t either discard or abuse them once they’ve served their purpose of their betterment. 

“Will they do the same for us?”

“We have it in us to be the better men.”

“We already are.” Erik’s voice quickly turned from calm to urgent when he next spoke. “We're the next stage of human evolution. You said it yourself!”

“No, no!” She heard Charles attempt to cut Erik off before he sighed. She could practically hear the disappointment in it, although she couldn’t say she felt the same. He only let Erik continue.

“Are you really so naive as to think that they won't battle their own extinction?” She heard him pause. “Or is it arrogance?”

“I’m sorry?” As if Charles had misheard him. 

She shifted on her feet once more as their voices became more hushed, despite the feeling coming from the room becoming more hostile than calm. This time, she was more careful. Nothing made a sound below her feet when she moved closer to the door, pressing her ear against it, as well as her left palm for support.

“After tomorrow, they're gonna turn us. But you're blind to it, because you believe they're all like Moira.” 

“And you believe they're all like Shaw.” Came Charles’ immediate response. Calmly, she heard him continue, “Listen to me very carefully my friend. Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

Erik’s voice never wavered when he told Charles, “Peace was never an option.”

Footsteps came far too fast for her to move away from the door. In a split second, she found herself leaning against the door to crashing into Erik’s chest when he pulled the door open. For a moment, Erik stood staring down at her, watching her attempt to recompose herself and attempt to apologize. She didn’t get a word out before he moved past her and walked away.

She watched his form retreat before she turned back to the room. Standing in the doorway, she saw Charles sitting in the chair facing away from her. With his eyes closed and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, “You realize I can hear your mind from across this house?”

She took a step in, almost reluctantly. She didn’t imagine Charles would be content with anything she had to say, but maybe she could make him understand. “Erik’s right, you know.”

Her words had Charles’ eyes snap open. He got out the chair, setting down the drink he was nursing on the table next to him, before he turned to face her. “Excuse me?”

“Peace isn’t an option ‘cause we’re never gonna get peace.” She shook her head, desperation in both her voice and eyes as she stared into his. “Erik thinks they’re gonna turn on us. They might not, but it doesn’t mean any of us will get any peace. They won’t all be like Shaw, they won’t all be like Moira, but most of them - most of them will just be human. They’ll fear us and they’ll judge us. It doesn’t matter how harmless we are or not.”

She watched as Charles took a step forward, his head tilting to the side, expression unreadable as his voice remained calm. “You can’t be serious.” It was a statement - a wrong one.

“Shaw needs to die,” She spoke with assurance. She felt her eyes fill with tears, Charles watching her suck in a breath and release as he began to walk closer to her, before she spoke in a whisper, no longer trusting her voice, “Shaw needs to die for what he did to us. We’re going to kill him, Charles.”

They’re faces we’re merely inches apart, chilling her to the bone as he looked at her. What she thought he would never do is what he tried the second he began to raise his hand, speaking quickly to her when he asked, “Us?”

His hand almost cupped her cheek when she turned her head away from it. Immediately, his hand froze. Charles watched her profile as more tears welled up in her eyes and her lips began to tremble. Voice weak and tearful, staring away from him, she pleaded, “Please don’t confuse me. I can’t-”

“I know you feel it,” Charles’ other hand came up to guide her face back to him despite her, whispering carefully, “But it is not your cross to bear.”

His hand was warm against her cheek. Comforting - enough to make her mind go blank. Wishful thinking, of course, because soon the clawing in her head would come back with a vengeance at having a man such as Charles touch her. For now, though, he felt safe. Stable. Enough so that she could close her eyes for a moment and let the tears fall as he leaned down to her and let his forehead press against hers. 

“You can’t help but feel his pain,” She felt his breath against her lips as he spoke, his voice the same soft and soothing as she’s known it to be, “But you can decide what you do with it.”

She shook her head gently and pulled away, but still letting Charles’ hand rest against her cheek. “It’s not just-” she whispered to him, mouth feeling dry as her eyes avoided his, trying to piece her thoughts together. His hand slid down to the base of her neck, guiding her eyes to his. She licked her lips before she swallowed. “I barely knew Darwin, but he killed him right in front of us. And it was cruel and scary and I couldn’t even make myself look at it when it happened.”

“I know.” Charles brought his other hand up to brush away slow falling tears she hadn’t even known began to escape. He voiced nothing but concern, letting her continue as if he knew what she was going to say next. 

Her hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, not to pull his hands away from her, but to simply hold onto them. Almost as if they were an anchor to make up for the tears she now felt were falling faster down her face as she realized. “For the first time, I think I want something, I feel this anger and fear, because of my head. I saw it first and I felt it first. It’s mine, and now I have a real responsibility to take care of it.”

“Not with murder.” Her hands tightened around his wrists as he brought her face closer to his own. A frown on his face as he desperately told her, “I meant it when I told you that we would figure this out together. You told me you were never your own person, that you don’t even know yourself. We were - we are - going to bring you into existence. I beg you, Y/N, don’t let yourself be brought into this world as a murderer.”

His words, as beautiful as they were, only half registered within her brain. All she found herself focusing on then was how close he was. She would think back later and come to realize that it was because the only thing making her tears stop and giving her the will not to commit a murder was the prospect of approval she would get from a man like him. From someone who could never understand her struggle, someone who never tried to or tried to make her feel as though there was some way out. From someone who wanted to build on it and show her the strength she could find within it.

Realistically, she knew he would have a few words for her if she ever outwardly admitted to him that she used approval as a means for bettering herself, but it was the best she could do at the time being.

Charles’ brows furrowed as he watched her face, spaced out and regarding him with an expression not even he could read. Somewhere deep down, though, he knew he had gotten through to her. His lips curled up slightly, speaking lowly with amusement evident in his voice, “Now where did you go?”

Her eyes shot from his lips to his eyes once more. As quick as they made eye contact, she leaned forward to press her lips against his. Lips soft, she kissed him carefully, one hand moving to cup his face. Only in the last few moments did he respond to it by kissing back.

She pulled away, looking at him nervously and letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. Her mouth was dry again. “I’m sorry-”

She was cut off by Charles’ lips on hers once more. She kissed back instantly, sighing into the kiss in content. Feeling Charles smirk against her lips and deepen the kiss, she put both hands behind his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. He took her lower lip between his teeth, pulling slightly as he let his hands trail down her body to her waist, pulling her to make sure there wasn’t the slightest gap between their bodies.

Their lips broke apart, but only long enough to allow for a quick breath. Charles pushed his lips back into hers as her hands snaked down to the collar of his dress shirt, playing carefully with the top button.

Eventually, their lips broke apart as they caught their breath. Bodies still pressed together, Charles leant forward to rest his forehead onto hers, her eyes still close, for a moment before pressing a kiss to it. He placed his chin on top of her head and rested there, her head resting against the crook of his neck as she felt him - anticipating what it would feel like to feel nothing but him. 

[thirstyforcharacters]

When the Universe Collides (Sam Wilson x Reader)

Summary: Every person has a soulmate. When your soulmate experiences pain, so do you, and any bruises, scars, or other markings that they get appear on your skin. Or, the story of how smacking yourself in the face with a cabinet was the best thing to ever happen to you.

Notes: Hi! Since the first episode of Falcon and the Winter Soldier comes out today, I wanted to write something for Sam! He’s super underrated and deserves more love! Also, this soulmate AU is extremely self-indulgent and has absolutely nothing to do with the TV show, but tbh I don’t care. Hope you all enjoy it too! (no y/n, no pronouns) (PS: any italicized text is Sam texting and the italicized and bold text is the reader texting!)

Warnings: mentions of a stab wound (nothing explicit), cursing I guess 

WC: 2.2 k

Your soulmate must have one hell of a job.

Almost every day, you woke up with dark bruises covering your body. It seemed that whenever one faded, another took its place. At completely random times, you would double over in aches that you certainly didn’t inflict upon yourself. One time, in the middle of the night, you woke up with pain in your stomach so intense, it felt like someone had stabbed you! It turned out that it was a stab wound, but given that no one had stabbed you lately (or ever), you figured it was from your soulmate. You definitely didn’t appreciate that hospital bill.

But you still desperately wanted to meet them. Meet that person that completed you: your other half. As a teenager, you made your parents tell you the story of the day they finally met so many times, you knew it by memory. They were both in the library at college, and your mom dropped a psychology textbook on her foot! Her howl of pain was only matched by the “SON OF A BITCH” that came from your dad on the opposite side of the library. When the two of them made eye contact, they instantly knew they were the ones for each other (they were also immediately kicked out for making such a ruckus). You wanted to have that moment so badly; meeting your soulmate was a huge milestone in every person’s life, and you needed it.

Your best friend and roommate, Brianna, had met hers just two months ago. They had met at the beach, when out of nowhere, Bri had shrieked in shock and pain.

“A crab just pinched me!”

When you had looked at her foot and told her nothing was there, she was totally confused, until you saw a handsome guy with a crab hanging from his foot! He had introduced himself as Julian, and the two had been inseparable since. He was living with you now, and you had honestly never felt more lonely in your life. Sure, you had your dream career; you ran a music shop in New York City, selling instruments, making repairs, and meeting all sorts of interesting people. You had a decent apartment, a chill best friend, and the cutest Yorkie, named Muffin, on the planet. By all accounts, you had it pretty good. You were just missing your other half.

It was a rainy day in NYC. The chill of winter was still clinging onto the March air, and you shivered as you trudged from your apartment to your shop. Even though you had an umbrella to protect you from the rain, the wind blew right through the too-thin jacket you yanked off of the coatrack in a rush. Still holding your half-eaten toaster strudel in your hand, you pushed open the doors to Major Instruments and Minor Repairs, your pride and joy.

It was two floors: the first was where you sold instruments, and the repair shop was above. Acoustic panels were attached to the burnt red walls to help quiet down the place, since the hardwood floors didn’t do much to help with that. The checkout desk was directly in the center in the room. Surrounding it were reeds, bottles of valve oil, and guitar strings. Picks were placed in two clear, plastic bowls on the desk itself. In the front left corner of the room was a grand piano, situated right in the window so passersby could see whenever someone plucked its keys. The entire back wall was covered in guitars and basses. To the right of the desk was a large drumset, accompanied by a pair of drumsticks and brushes. On the right wall were string instruments; string basses and cellos were leaned against the wall, while the violins, violas, and bows were displayed on it. Woodwind and brass instruments were scattered across the room in various display cases. Instrument stands, bow rosin, and miscellaneous instrument parts were on shelves throughout the room as well. The spiral staircase leading up to the repair shop was in the back left corner of the room. Behind the staircase was the door to the back store room, where you kept your extra supplies and also where you took your breaks.

“Good morning!” called Andrew, one of your closest friends from college, from behind the desk.

You waved in reply, wandering to the back store room. You were lucky you had Andrew; you could rely on him to run the front desk while you and Brianna assisted customers on the floor. Unfortunately, Bri had the flu today, so it would just be you on the floor, which would make things a little more hectic. You hurriedly finished your strudel, took off your jacket, which left you in a black and white flannel, a matching black tank top reading “Music is Life,” black leggings, and black combat boots (you had an aesthetic to uphold), and strode back out to the main area.

“You seem in a bit of a rush. Everything okay?” asked Andrew, who was currently restocking bell covers.

You sighed, “Just a whirlwind of a morning. Bri has the flu, Muffin nearly choked on a chicken bone, I almost burned my toaster strudel, and I smacked myself in the face with my cabinet door by accident.”

“Oh, that’s where the new bruise on your eye is from,” he mused.

You snorted, “Yeah, for once it’s not from my soulmate.”

“Maybe he’s a spy. Or a superhero!”

“Yeah, or a criminal,” you joined in on the restocking, grabbing some trumpet mutes since the place opened in just half an hour, “thanks for opening up, by the way.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied, “you know I don’t mind.”

The doorbell jingled and two of your instrument repair people, Sarah (for strings), and Natalie (for brass), entered. Natalie was lugging what was unmistakably a tuba case, while Sarah carried both of their instrument repair kits.

“Morning, ladies!” called Andrew.

“Good morning,” Sarah replied pleasantly.

Natalie huffed out a “morning” and dragged the tuba up the stairs.

“Her tuba’s broken. The tubing that holds up her mouthpiece completely snapped off. She’s going to try and repair it before her appointments today,” explained Sarah.

You winced, “That’s rough.”

Sarah dropped off both of their jackets and followed Natalie up the stairs leaving you alone with Andrew again. Soon after, Erik, your percussion guy, and John, the woodwind repairman, arrived, and it was time for the shop to open. For a while, it was just another mundane Thursday. Customers came and went. People tested the piano and drumsets, someone bought $100 worth of jazz scores, and a teenaged boy came in who somehow got a ping pong ball stuck in their trombone (you learned to never ask). But at exactly 1:47 pm, a time you would never forget, two very unexpected customers walked through the threshold of your store. You were up on a ladder, carrying a large, rather heavy, box of violin bows to situate on the wall, when you heard their voices.

“I’m telling you, Buck, I’m a wizard at the saxophone.”

“Sure, Sam. I’ll believe it when I hear it.”

“I’m serious, dude! I played all the time before I joined the military, and I picked it back up a little bit again after the whole Avengers thing. I just need to get a new one.”

“Hmm, okay. We’ll see.”

“Bastard.”

You whipped your head around and saw the Falcon and the Winter Soldier themselves in your shop. Having superheros in your place was a first. And who knew Sam Wilson played the saxophone?

Andrew offered them a cheerful greeting and directed them toward the saxophones, which happened to be near the ladder you were teetering on. Every time you leaned up to put a bow on display, it wobbled so badly you thought you were going to fall. You really needed to allocate some funds toward a new one.

As you continued to place bows on display, you heard the conversation of the two gentlemen browsing the saxophones. Apparently, Sam much preferred the tenor sax (which you happened to play, quite well you might add). Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him pick up a Selmer Paris model and inspect it. Those didn’t come cheap, but you were sure that saving the world gave a man a pretty decent paycheck.

“You think I can test it out?”

“I don’t know, dude. You should probably ask.”

You saw him nod, “Yeah, I guess so. And there’s not a reed in here, anyway. Excuse me!”

You realized he was calling you, so you craned your head to look at him. Both men were looking up at you, both with kind smiles on their faces.

“Is there any way I can get a cheap reed to test this out with,” Sam asked, “and are we even allowed to test them in store?”

You smiled back, “Yes, you can. We have test reeds at the front desk, just ask Andrew and he’ll give you one. That’s the only one you’ll get though.”

“Cool, thanks,” he replied while looking around, “nice place you’ve got here.”

Your smile grew a little wider, “Thank you! It took a little while to get it off of the ground, but I’m really proud of how it turned out.”

It was almost as if the universe wanted you to suffer. You stretched up to display yet another bow, and the ladder toppled to the ground, taking you with it! You shrieked in surprise and braced yourself for the impact with the floor.

But it never came.

Instead, you were caught in a pair of (ridiculously) muscular arms. When you looked into the arms of your hero, of course it was Sam himself. He was too handsome for his own good. The thing that stood out most to you were his deep brown eyes. And how, on the left one, was a bruise that exactly matched the one that you gave yourself this morning.

“Are you alright? That ladder must have it out for you,” joked Sam, though you could tell that he was concerned for you.

“I’m okay,” you squeaked, “thank you.”

“It’s no problem. All a part of the job.”

You nodded distractedly, still fixated on the bruise adorning his eye. He couldn’t be your soulmate, could he?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he questioned.

“I-yes. I just got a bit, well, distracted.”

“By what?”

Well, it was now or never. You might as well just go for it.

“When did you get that bruise?”

He looked a bit surprised by the question, “The one on my eye?”

You nodded.

“This morning. It just popped up. Hurt a little bit, like something hit me in the face. Can’t be worse than what I’ve given my soulmate, though. I got stabbed in the stomach once and all I could think about was how confused and hurt they must’ve been,” came his reply.

It was him. It had to be! All of your random, serious injuries made so much more sense now.

“It did hurt,” you murmured back, “but not as much as the hospital bill.”

His face went from apologetic to elated faster than you had ever seen, “Wait, that means it’s you?”

“I think so,” you said, “I hit myself in the eye with a cabinet door this morning, and that-” you gestured to his face, “matches mine.”

“Oh, it does!” he exclaimed.

“Are you two done over there?” complained Bucky.

Thankfully, the Winter Solider had successfully rescued your box of bows.

Sam stood you up, and you could feel the embarrassment slowly creeping over you, “Yeah. Sorry about that, guys. Promise I’m not usually that clumsy.”

“Seems like you need a new ladder,” Bucky told you.

“You don’t say,” you sassed back, prompting a laugh from Sam.

Bucky then strode off to return the fallen box to Andrew. He gave Sam a knowing look as he passed by. He wasn’t very slick, though, you totally saw him.

“Listen, since apparently we’re soulmates and all, I’d love it if I got your number. I’ll take you somewhere nice to make up for all of the times I’ve gotten you hurt,” explained Sam.

You smiled bashfully, “That sounds nice.”

He handed you his phone and you input your digits. As Sam and Bucky were in the checkout line, your phone buzzed.

Hey, gorgeous. It’s your new man.

You giggled softly and looked up at him. He gave you an exaggerated wink and launched finger guns at you, making you laugh a bit harder. You entered his number into your phone and decided to send a text back.

Looking forward to you making up for all of those broken bones.

Me too.

You knew you’d be happy with him. Whenever the universe collided in this way, it always turned out for the best. If your parents and your roommate weren’t enough proof, soon you would discover it for yourself. You couldn’t wait for all of the memories you’d make together.

[thehomierobbstark]

Erik and his girl at the movies and he’s in the mood and he’s trying to get you in it too . Plz ps (I love your writings)

A/N: 💖💖💖Thank you anon!!! I know I always say this but yall are so nice to me and it honestly blows my mind yall really fw me and my writing like that, so thank you so much. Thank you for being patient for this release.

On a side note, yall are getting so creative with these requests! I love it! 👏🏿👏🏿Thanks for asking anon! I hope you like it!

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Oooh, look! The Evil Dead is playing!” You point excitedly, seeing one of your favorite old horror movies listed right at the top in big, black, block letters.

“Wackk, don’t nobody wanna see that shit! Where my psycho niggas at, like Hannibal or Candy Man or something?” he mumbles into your hair, looking up at the marquee with you as you try and decide on a movie.

The crisp winter air bites at your cheeks, but it feels nice combined with the human heater currently wrapped around your shoulders keeping you warm.

“Excuse me, The Evil Dead is a classic, thank you very much. What about The Thing?” You suggest, already bouncing on the balls of your feet just thinking about it. You loved the 1980’s film, always managing to get wrapped up in the ‘who dunnit’ sci-fi mystery every time.

“Quit moving, I’m trying to focus,” he holds you tighter to still you, clearly unsatisfied with the choices you were coming up with. And he called you the brat.

“Come on Erik, the next rotation starts in 10 minutes, I don’t wanna miss  it!” You plead, urging him to hurry up and make a decision.

It was the end of November and you and Erik were at a horror movie marathon event at your favorite old time-y movie theater in the middle of town was hosting.

All day they’d been playing classic horror flicks like Dawn of the Dead, The Howling, Children of the Corn, and Maximum Overdrive.

There were about 30 different movies that were playing for the day, randomly shuffling after every 2 ½ hour showing and intermission.

Currently your options were: The Thing, An American Werewolf in London, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Evil Dead, and Carrie.

He takes one last look over the titles before huffing out a big breath, conceding.

“Ugh, fine, lets go see this damn Thing movie, he moans, and you do a little fist pump, hissing a silent “yes!” as you grab his hand and skip over to the ticket booth.

“Two tickets for The Thing at 5:30 please,” you beam at the teller, and she rings you up, Erik already sliding a five dollar bill on to the counter before you can even reach in your purse.

She gives you the tickets, letting you know the movie is the last one on your left, and you pull Erik through the revolving door and into the lobby.

“Okay, since you paid for the tickets I’ll pay for the snacks “You say, already pulling out your money as you try to trot ahead of him to the concession stand.

He gives you a ‘yeah, OK’ look at the back of your head, letting you get all the way to the front of the line before pinching the back of your coat between his fingers and pulling you behind him, taking your place in front of the cashier.

“Can I get a large mixed ICEE and a Buncha Crunch for this one,” he says, nodding in your direction, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Sure thing, and what can I get you sir?” The lanky teenager asks, fingers flying over the POS system on autopilot.

“That’ll be all.” he answers, handing over another bill and collecting the snacks, giving you your candy.

As he receives his change he takes a long drink from your slurpee, looking amusedly at the exaggerated sour face you make at him as you head off towards the theater.

“I thought you said you didn’t want anything” you mock him, snatching the drink from his hand when he finishes.

“I never said that,” he states, opening the door for you to go inside.

“Then next time get your own,” you sass at him, walking past him inside the dark entry way.

“Nah,” the door closes and its nearly pitch black now as you start to navigate your way up the side hallway, seeing the big screen come into view.

“Whats yours is mine,” he says, low into your ear and you shudder a little, not even realizing he’s moved over to your left side.

If he notices, he doesn’t show it, and he turns to assess the seating situation.

There’s no one in here except for an older black gentleman near the front and a couple hyper pre-teens running through the aisles and jumping from seat to seat.

“You wanna sit over there?” You ask him, pointing towards the lower middle section a little bit away from the rambunctious kids.

He sniffs at your suggestion, again. “Uh-uh, we going all the way to the top. Come on.” he grabs your hand, guiding you up the stairs to the very top and picks a spot two rows down from the projector.

You put your stuff down and he helps you out of your coat, tossing it over one of the empty seats before doing the same with his own. You settle in, arriving right on time as the trailer for the upcoming deep sea thriller fades to black and the lights dim, the only glow being the safety lights lined along the floor.

As the final announcement to turn off all cell phones plays, an usher pokes their head into the theater, spotting the kids. They flash their hand light at them.

“Come on guys you know you’re not supposed to be in there,” they say admonishingly, escorting them out.

Out the corner of your eye you can see Erik relax more, sinking further into the seat as he spreads his legs wide. You ignore him, figuring he’s about to go to sleep since he didn’t want to see the movie. So dramatic.

You open up your chocolate and start snacking, the opening scene playing on the screen and washing the theater in a bright light, the camera panning over the landscape of snow, accompanied by the sound of a helicopter flying before it too, appears on the screen.

You see Erik reach for your drink again, and you try and smack at his hand.

“Hey hey,” you say, getting territorial now because this nigga was about to drink all your stuff. Thirsty ass.

He takes it and puts it into the cupholder on the other side of him, lifting up the one between you two.

You kiss your teeth, about ready to sock this nigga in the throat when he grabs you under the leg and pulls you over into his lap.

“Erik- what the’”

“Shhhh” he shushes you, handing back the drink. “Here, take it dang. Greedy ass.” he says, looking at you, and you slurp at the straw obnoxiously when you hear a soft snore coming from somewhere. You look down to see the old man’s head thrown back in his seat, mouth wide open as he continues to take in jagged and choppy breaths.

“That nigga knocked,” Erik comments behind you, and you chuckle, punching him in the arm.

It’s a little chilly in the theater and the iced drink doesn’t help, so its nice to be back in Erik’s arms, even if he was getting on your nerves.

You sit back and watch the screen as the research team scrambles to make sense of their new guest, enjoying the rise in tension.

You get about 15 minutes into the movie before Erik starts moving around beneath you, spreading his legs wide and pulling yours to hang on the outside of his and wrapping his arms around your middle, like how he does at home when he’s watching the basketball game or playing some video game you don’t care to join in when you want attention.

“Erik we’re in public, I can’t sit like this here,” you tell him, about to close your legs when he grips the inside of your thigh firmly, stopping your movement.

“You gon sit how I tell you to sit,” he whispers, behind your ear, grabbing one of the coats laid over the seat and using it to cover your bodies, kissing your ear playfully. You let him, thinking all he wants is to be snuggled up with you again, and you relax into him, laying your head back onto his shoulder.

He let’s you chill for about five minutes before he starts kissing your neck, this time taking his hands to stroke the inside of your thighs, moving them back and forth in a massage like manner over your leggings.

The inside of your thighs were one of your hot spots, and you can’t help but roll your hips into his hands, wanting him to press into your skin harder.

“Ok, Erik,” you start, orally disagreeing with your body’s actions as you try and slow him down, knowing full well if he kept going you wouldn’t be able to pull back, and you needed logic on your side since Erik damn sure wasn’t helping.

You put your drink back down in the cupholder and reach down to stop one of his hands from roaming when the other one sweeps over your hot center, cupping you.

He starts rubbing large sloppy circles over you, pressing his fingers firmly into your clothed opening.

“…Erik…” you manager to get out, breath catching as his hands work together now, taking turns running his fingers up and down your slit, alternating hands over and over again.

Your breaths get shallower, and he dives his hands into your leggings and spreads your lips, letting your panties fall between them. He flicks at your still covered clit, using his thumb and middle fingers.

The quick throbbing vibrations make you grab out to the arm of the chair, reaching for some sort of leverage, and you accidentally spill the rest of the candy in your lap, the little pieces cascading onto the floor making a distinct scattering sound. You tense up and freeze, gasping, but he keeps going, making your hips jerk around in his lap. You try to minimize your movements, digging your pelvis back into his crotch as you try to concentrate, feeling yourself start to wet your panties with your arousal.

“E-Erik… ss-stopppp” you try and plead with him, not wanting to get caught by the only other patron here.

“What’s yours is mine,” he reminds you, giving you a sickly sweet wet kiss to your cheek, and your head falls back as you give a quiet, stuttered high pitched whine. Your pelvis locks up as your orgasm surges through you, and you shake as you lift your hips up to ride it out. You squeeze your eyes shut so tight you see stars, and your cum completely ruins your pants, overflowing into Erik’s lap too to form a wet spot on his crotch.

Erik rubs at the inside of your thighs again as you come down, kissing your shoulder as he speaks gentle praises into you, ‘Good girl. Such a good girl’.

When you finally have the energy, you lift your head up to peek down at where the old man was sitting, and see his head still thrown back, mouth hanging wide open and you hear the soft snores again.

“Man, that nigga really is knocked,” you laugh, and you pick up your slurpee and sit back to watch the rest of the movie, passing the straw between the two of you.

[wakandanblogger]

Future Fics

T’Challa x Reader:

My Mother’s Prince (Date: TBA)

Reader is a single mother who goes to the opening of Wakanda meeting with her son.

A King First (pt.2) (Date: 4/27/18)

T’Challa hopes to mend things with his family after a vocal argument with his wife is overheard by his son and daughter .

A King First: Imani’s Video Logs (Bonus Chapter)

Erik Killmonger x Reader: 

What You Don't Do (Date: TBA)

Erik wants to repay you for all the good things that you have done for him, even during his worst times.

Michael B Jordan x Reader:

Partition Please (Date: 4/28/18)

After a long 3 months of shooting, your boyfriend Michael is finally landing home with you there to pick him up.

I’m trying to do more research on M’Baku/Winston Duke so I can write proper fics for M’Baku/Winston Duke stans so don’t worry!! 

Ps: Thank you all so much for giving me the confidence to start writing, it is such a weight off of my shoulders.  I am full of ideas now and I cannot wait to share them with you all!

Just wanted to tag a few people, hope you don’t mind:

@elaindeereads @aria725 @ ashanti-notthesinger @imaginewhoever @idilly @ bubbleboss17 @ lalapalooza718 @ niecey4cocaine 

If you would like to be tagged don't hesitate to message me🖤.

[reader-imagines-blog]

First Impressions (Charles Xavier x Reader)

REQUEST: I was wondering if you could write one about Charles Xavier of course when he Is young 😂, were he meets you and he is pretty site to you are a mutant so he wants to help you find your power. But you now you are not one and in the end he always new that also and he only wanted to spend time with you because he love you hahaha hahaha 😂😂😂 

a/n: helloo! this one took me a bit to write, sorry love! my wifi was down when we got home and i just got it back yikes 

ps: i mightve changed the request a teeeensy bit only cause it seemed like a slightly manipulative thing for charles to do? 

anyways, i hope you enjoy :) 

@zamaryzamary 

WORD COUNT: 1,178 

*********************************** 

Y/N's shift at the bar had been going great that night. Four hours in, $300 in tips, and no sleazy men offering her their room keys. So far, so good. 

The night grew slow after 9PM, much slower than usual considering how upscale the hotel was. So slow that Y/N's boss had given her permission to close early and Y/N wasn't going to complain. A short shift on a Friday and good tips? Unheard of. 

Just as Y/N was putting away the last of the clean glasses, two men entered the empty bar. Y/N looked up at the sound of barstools scraping and almost sighed aloud. 

'I knew I should have locked the door before cleaning. Nice goin', Y/N.' 

Y/N begrudgingly made her way along the bar, trying to keep her expression neutral. Technically, the bar didn't close until 1AM. It was only 11. Too early to kick them out.

The shorter of the two men looked up at Y/N when she stopped in front of them, his blue eyes raking up her form where they stopped at her face. His hair fell into his eyes and he smiled brilliantly. Y/N just raised a brow and looked between him and his friend. 

"What can I get you guys?" 

The other man, looking particularly intimidating in a black turtleneck and leather jacket, rolled his eyes at his friend and ordered straight whiskey. Y/N inwardly sighed in relief at the simplicity of the order. Y/N looked to the other man, awaiting his request. 

"Well, your number would be perfect, darling." 

Y/N rolled her eyes at his poor attempt at a pick-up line. The two had obviously already been drinking, and blue-eyes was absolutely trashed. He reeked of alcohol. 'So this is how this is gonna go.' 

"Ooh. Tough luck, we just ran out of that. Anything else?" 

The man in the turtleneck cracked a smirk at the put-out expression on his friend's face. "He'll have the same." 

Y/N nodded and turned to fix their drinks, wishing silently that another patron would walk into the bar. This was horrifyingly awkward. 

One of the men cleared his throat, interrupting the silence. When he began speaking, Y/N rolled her eyes. 'Oh. Flirty McBritish Guy again.' 

"I'm Charles, by the way. And this is Erik. My name is most certainly not 'Flirty McBritish Guy', Y/N." 

Y/N almost dropped the two glasses of whiskey, hurting her neck with how quickly she turned around. 

"Excuse me...?" 

The other man, Erik, was looking at Charles questioningly. Charles looked at him and quirked a brow, head tilting in Y/N's direction. He mouthed a couple words drunkenly and Erik's brows rose in realization: "Mutant." 

Y/N watched the entire exchange, completely confused. "How did you know my name? 

"I read your mind." The man, Charles, said it as though it was the most casual thing in the world. Like he hadn't just heard her thoughts. Erik was side-eyeing Charles, cursing his drunkenness for its current possibility of scaring off a new recruit. 

Y/N's confused expression turned angry. "You read my mind? Listen, buddy, I get that you're drunk off your ass, but people can't read minds. Now how the hell did you kn-" 

Erik decided to take the lead from his very intoxicated friend. "We're like you, Y/N. And, we know others like you." 

Y/N furrowed her brow, her face contorted in confusion. "What the hell do you mean 'others like me'? What is this?" 

Y/N was beginning to grow impatient. She put the whiskey glasses in front of the two men, her hands coming to her hips. "Who are you?" 

Charles smiled, "We aren't here to hurt you. We're mutants, like you, Y/N. We're here with an offer." 

Y/N was completely, utterly, hopelessly confused. 

Erik looked to Charles, eyebrows raised. His look communicated his thought perfectly: "Are you sure she's a mutant?" 

Charles responded mentally: "Just bear with me here." 

Erik glared harshly at Charles. "So she's not a mutant then? Charles, we don't have ti-" 

Erik's mental tirade was interrupted when Charles cut their communication. Erik continued to glare at his friend, hoping that his hangover tomorrow would be excruciating to act as payback for this. 

Y/N looked on, irritation visible in her features as she watched their silent communication. "What offer?" 

Charles smiled flirtatiously instead of the genial way he had before. "A date. With me." 

Erik sighed, dropping his head onto the bar with a dull thud, mumbling. "Dear Christ, Charles." 

Y/N rose a single eyebrow, more angry than bemused. "That's what this is? You invaded my head, tricked your friend into thinking I was a -what did you call yourselves? Mutants?" 

Charles nodded, his smirk having fallen into a sheepish smile. Y/N continued and Erik smirked as Charles got told off. 

"A mutant, thank you. You scare the piss out of me, someone that you have just met, all so you can be a creep and ask me on a date?" 

Charles nodded slowly, his gaze apologetic as he began to see past his drunken haze. "Probably wasn't the greatest first impression, was it?" 

Y/N shook her head. "No. No it wasn't. Get out of my bar. And maybe stop drinking for tonight before you tell the whole world that you can read minds." 

Erik chuckled amusedly, patting a downtrodden Charles on the back as he stood. "You had that coming, my friend. Let's go." 

Charles stood also, looking back at Y/N. "I am truly sorry. I don't know what on Earth I was thinking." 

Y/N kept her gaze hard, trying not to smirk at how genuinely upset he looked. "You weren't thinking. Whiskey will do that." 

Charles nodded, his head low as he exited the bar before Erik. The latter fished out his wallet, paying for the untouched drinks and tipping Y/N generously. 

"I apologize for him. Have a nice night, miss. And, it might bode well for you to not tell anyone what happened tonight." Erik turned to leave but was stopped by Y/N calling out for him. 

"Hold on a sec!" 

Erik turned to see Y/N scribbling something on her order-pad before ripping the piece of paper out and handing it to him. It was her phone number. Erik's brows almost disappeared into his hairline as he looked at the scrap of paper, disbelieving. "You're not serious." 

Y/N smirked, "His hangover is going to be killer tomorrow. He might as well have something pleasant to wake up to. I think it says a lot that he didn't just dig around my head for my number. And, he has the whole 'handsome-British' thing going for him, so that's a plus." 

Erik was still stood in disbelief and Y/N laughed. "Now seriously, get out of my bar so I can close." 

Erik shook his head, turning to exit the bar as he mumbled to himself, "Charles, you lucky bastard."

[plus-size-reader]

Princess

Erik Killmonger x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1366 words

Warnings: none 

Summary:  Erik using Klaue's niece as a connection to the arms dealing world. But what happens when she becomes more than that to him? 

———————————————————————————————————

At first, Erik was using you.

He needed you.

You were the only connection he had to Ulysses Klaue, one of the only arms dealers in the world who had any experience with Wakanda and Vibranium.

However, while Klaue was daft, he wasn't going to allow himself to be manipulated...at least not easily.

You, on the other hand, had nothing to lose. You were his niece, who had been orphaned as a child. He had more or less raised you, which meant that you were more useful than even you thought.

You had all of the access and knowledge that Klaue had, except you didn't care about it nearly as much...not only that, but you could be manipulated emotionally.

Erik wasn’t only skilled in battle, he had plenty of other skills that the military hadn't given him. Some things that you wouldn't even know how to look out for or worry about.

It was actually fairly simple. 

He just had to make you believe that he was in love with you, and then he'd have a link to the one thing in the world that he didn't currently have. If successful, Erik would have his very own arms dealer.

You would be able to negotiate any deal that he needed, or get him any weapons that he desired.

It was perfect...

Until, of course, it wasn't. 

It should have been easy. Usually, the idea of manipulating someone to get what he wanted didn’t even make Erik bat an eye. Hell, he had murdered for less, as long as he stood to gain something from it. 

However, from the moment he laid eyes on you, it was clear that wasn’t the case. 

You weren’t nearly as foolish as your uncle, as he’d expected. In fact, there was a silent intelligence and courage about you that instantly drew Erik in. It was clear that you were more powerful than he’d assumed.

Not that that simple fact was going to be enough to change his reason for coming to you. You had something that he needed, and nothing was going to stop him from getting it...not even a pretty girl. 

He had worked too hard to lose it all right now. 

“You must be-” he started, holding out a hand to you which you chose to ignore. Instead, you interrupted him to finish his sentence “Y/N” you hummed, that fire behind your eyes just hidden beneath the surface. 

You were briefly aware of your uncle in the corner of the room, ogling a new gold watch he’d just bought a few weeks prior. You had talked a bit about his new business venture with Erik Stevens but you weren’t expecting him to be like this. 

Everything about him was exuding power, real power, like you’d never seen in your life. 

“They call me Killmonger” he introduced, completely serious, though you briefly wondered if he was messing with you. You couldn’t imagine anyone actually going by a nickname like that, but you didn’t really care. 

As long as you got paid your cut at the end of the day, you’d call him whatever he wanted. 

“We’re stealing vibranium, I got that much but what’s so special about it? I know it’s valuable but you could get larger quantities of precious metals much easier” it was a fair question, considering that vibranium was sort of risky to get a hold of but Killmonger only laughed. 

In all this time, you were the only person to ask him something like that. 

Everyone else just went along with whatever he told them to do but you didn’t seem to care about how dangerous he was. In truth, you’d dealt with men and women alike that had higher body counts. 

He didn’t seem to appreciate the gravity of who he was talking to. 

“Personal connection, I guess” he shrugged, having not really thought about it much. It always just seemed like what he wanted in this life, no matter what cost. 

It was his birthright, after all. 

You nodded, you could respect that. Killmonger wasn’t the first man with a vendetta, but he surely had the most expensive one you’d ever seen. After all, you knew how’d it had gone down for Uncle Klaue the first time he stole for Erik. 

You weren’t going to get branded like that if you could help it. 

“Just try not to get us all killed for your personal connection, okay?” you suggested, your lips slightly upturned in humor before you headed over to the other side of the room where Klaue was waiting. 

You had a relatively simple job in the whole thing, at least as first. You just had to find an vibranium that was outstanding in the US. There wasn’t very much, you knew that for sure, but if there was even an ounce left-you would find it. 

You figured that some of your more eccentric contacts may have heard something so you started asking around but before you could make too much progress, someone cleared their throat behind you. 

It was Erik. 

“What’d you got going on there?” he asked, leaning down behind you to get a better look of the screen, not stopping until you could feel his breath on the side of your face. 

“Encrypted communication, all underground” you allowed, a slight sigh escaping your lips as you spoke. You had been raised in this, and you usually worked better alone. 

However, it was clear that Killmonger wasn’t going to let you do that. 

“Can I help you?” you questioned finally, when he didn’t move away from you. Clearly he wanted something but you couldn’t imagine what it was. You had only just met him after all. 

You weren’t a mind reader. 

The man to your left only laughed, the sound practically in your ear due to his close proximity to you. “Do you not like me or something, princess?” he hummed, sensing some kind of tension between you. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something up with you, he just wasn’t sure what it was yet. 

“It’s nothing personal, I just work on my own usually. I’m not one for taking orders” you shrugged. Taking clients and odd jobs had always been your uncle's gig, you preferred to move the merchandise after he found it. 

You didn’t really do the whole face-to-face thing. 

The worst part of this whole thing though, and maybe the reason you were being so distant with this new client was that something about Erik drew you in. 

You didn’t usually find yourself so enamored with a nearly perfect stranger. 

“Well I’m usually the one giving out orders, so one of us is going to have to get over it” he hummed, a new humor to his tone of voice that almost made you laugh as well. 

Perhaps you two had more in common than you originally thought. 

“...Or, you could just work for me? I mean, it might be nice to get away from Klaue’s old way of doing things” he suggested, this time shocking you though you didn’t let him know it. 

You had been working alongside your uncle since you were young and it was the only life that you had ever known. However, maybe Killmonger had a point. If you went out on your own, you could branch out and make your own way in the world. 

You wouldn’t have to wait on the sidelines during meetings anymore or play the role of an innocent little girl who doesn’t know anything about the business. 

It was the one chance you had to get out and make something of yourself. 

“Work for you? Did you miss the part about how I don’t take orders well?” it was your turn to tease him now, clearly amused with yourself as you spoke. He was ridiculous, but you were also having more fun than you had in a long time. 

You had a point, but Erik didn’t care. 

He was having a good time with you and he was going to make you his, if it took every ounce of will he had. “Trust me princess, eventually you’ll learn to love my orders” 

[plus-size-reader]

Stunning

Erik Lehnsherr x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1654 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Never letting anyone see your body because you're ashamed of your mutation and Erik wants to know why. You two have a heart to heart and he helps show you just how beautiful you are. 

———————————————————————————————————

To an outsider looking in, you simply looked like a heavily tattooed woman, a little too overzealous about the art on your skin. However, that was far from the case. 

You had always been ashamed of what you were. 

In truth, you had been born with every pattern of ink on your skin already there. The designs moved and changed as they wanted to, and you had no control over it. 

There was nothing you could do, except of course, cover it up. 

That meant you would be wearing long sleeve turtleneck for the next few decades at the very least...at least in public.

Or so you thought. 

Even when you moved into the academy with Charles and the other mutants, you felt the need to keep covered. You were envious of how young, and free they all were, but you just couldn’t be that way. 

You were afraid of their judgement, afraid of what they would think of you. 

It was all too much. 

And for the most part, no one questioned it. 

Charles understood why you chose to remain hidden away from their wandering eyes, and none of the younger recruits ever thought to ask about it. They simply assumed that you enjoyed dressing the way that you did. 

Which, by this point, you did. You were comfortable in your own skin as long as you could control how much of it other people saw. 

As far as you could tell, the ink never wandered farther than up your neck, so it was simple to keep hidden...unless the person looking, knew what to look for. 

Erik, apparently, was one of those people who could sniff out a mutation from a mile away. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d been studying you closely since you’d met. 

There was just something about you that drew him in and the fact that he knew virtually nothing about you made you that much more addictive. He wanted to know everything about you that he could. 

The trouble was, you seemed to avoid him like the plague. 

“She’s an odd little bird isn’t she?” He asked, sitting down next to Charles, looking across the room to where you were sitting. You had a book in your grasp, ignoring Sean’s every attempt to amuse you. 

He was prattering on about whatever it was he’d done earlier and while you did consider yourselves friends, you were trying to read. 

Charles grinned, already knowing what the man had been thinking about all day. 

“Perhaps, but she’s an old friend of mine. There’s no more loyal a person on this planet” he assured, regarding you with nothing but kindness. Similarly to Raven, Charles had rescued you when you had nowhere else to go. 

He thought of you as family. 

Charles knew all of your secrets, and guarded them with his life. You wouldn’t have hesitated to say that he was the person you were closest to in this world. 

However, if Erik got his way, he was going to change that. 

“If you’d excuse me, I need to attend to a few things” the other man smiled, standing from his position and heading off to do god knows what in this huge building.

That left Erik all alone, staring at you with curiosity shining in his eyes. 

There was something about you, something that he was determined to figure out all on his own. 

He just had to get you alone first. 

~ 

The perfect opportunity came later, much later after the sun had already gone down. 

You had turned in for the night, cuddled up in your bed. You had given up on keeping covered when you were on your own, wearing only a robe. After all, there was no reason to hide from yourself. 

Not that that ideal did anything for you when there was a knock at your door. 

Whoever it was, you knew that in a place like this, they wouldn’t just leave on their own. 

“One moment” you called, scrambling to wrap your throw blanket around your shoulders, covering the last bit of skin that was exposed by your robe. 

There was no response but you were sure that whoever it was, they were still there. As best you could tell, it was probably Angel or Raven, coming to ask you to settle an argument for them…

That’s what it usually was. 

However, when you opened the door, you very quickly realized that wasn’t the case. 

“What are you doing here?” you wondered, honestly unsure what Erik could possibly be doing at this hour, outside your door. After all, the two of you had hardly spoken since you met. 

The man only smiled, the kind of gentle, real smile that you’d never seen before. Still, you didn’t have a problem with it.

As confused as you were, you understood that Erik was handsome. He had a gentle, tortured kind of mystery that was like catnip for a girl like you. He was perfect, but you knew better than to think he’d ever want to be with you. 

Not the way that you were. 

“I thought you may like some company” he hummed, knocking lightly on the doorframe, as if asking for permission to come in. 

You had your reservations of course, but there was something so smooth and calming about the way that he spoke that you couldn’t say no. Instead, you moved from the doorframe, making room for him. 

“That was kind of you, unfortunately I was already dressed for bed, so I’m not exactly presentable” you sighed, cursing yourself for your lack of makeup and undoubtedly messy hair. 

You could hardly breath. There was something so intense about the way he was looking at you, as if he was looking beneath your skin into your soul. 

“You’re stunning, never apologize for that” he cooed, choosing to stay standing, though you were sitting at the foot of your bed. 

You were trying to remain casual, though it was clear to Erik that you were tense and obviously hiding something. 

In truth, you were still so flustered over his previous compliment that you could hardly focus on his prying eyes. 

You had never had someone be so kind to you, or so genuine about something. For all your life, you had never seen yourself as anything other than flawed, and shameful. 

But when you were with Erik, you never felt like that. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Erik, I’m far from stunning” you assured, knowing that he wasn’t going to believe you for a second. However, he didn’t have all the facts.

Still, the man laughed, a deep throaty chuckle. It was his way of calling your bullshit, making it clear that you were going to have to prove it to him. 

“That is something I just cannot believe” he tutted, closing the space between your two bodies, though he still didn’t sit. 

Instead, he stood over you, his hand stroking down your hair, tucking it behind your ear. 

You were basically holding your breath at this point, not used to having this much attention on you at any given time. You couldn’t focus…

“Erik” you whispered, your voice breathy and anxious as you tried to figure out what he was getting at. It was clear that he’d come here for a reason, though you couldn’t figure out what that reason could be. 

He was enjoying this...way too much. 

For whatever reason, getting a rise out of you was bringing him much more joy than he’d felt in years. You made him feel alive. 

“I can prove it to you” 

It was only a slight sound from his throat, so soft that you almost didn’t catch it. However, before you even knew what was happening, Erik had gently nudged the blanket from your shoulder. 

The action only exposed a small sliver of your decorated skin, across your chest and neck but it was more than he’d seen before now. 

He was shocked at first, having never seen anything like it. The dark lines of ink flowed along your skin in delicate patterns, changing shape in any way it pleased. 

After all the time you’d spent hiding, you couldn’t believe that he hadn’t shunned you right on sight. You had went over it in your head a million times but Erik showed no sign of being disgusted by you. 

Instead, he looked to be in awe. 

“Do you mind?” he asked, reaching down to tug on the single knot, holding your robe closed. You were only in your bra and panties beneath, but you nodded nonetheless. 

You wouldn’t be full exposed to his eyes, though you thought at that moment that you may have preferred to be. You had never been this open with another person and you were scared. 

However, as soon as Erik saw the full tapestry of your flesh, saw the unique configuration of your form, he was even more enthralled than before. 

You had been hiding all this time, when you should have been showing off proudly. 

“As I said before, you are stunning” he allowed, his fingers delicately running along the rivers of color on your skin. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to cover back up and hide again…

But you didn’t want to. 

For the first time in your life, you felt beautiful. You felt worth it and Erik had helped you feel that way. 

Needless to say, you spent a lot more time out in the open with the help of the man by your side. As long as he lived, you were never going to forget just how beautiful you were.