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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 7 months

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ALL MINE.

Pairing: Erik × Black OC (Courtney).

Summary: Erik finds himself at the mercy of an obsessive woman.

Tags: Non-Con, Roleplay, Bondage, Body Worship, Size Kink, Praise Kink.

Part 2

The soft float of breathy giggles filled the air as Erik awoke to realize he'd been handcuffed to a pink bed and confined to an all pink room. His Tinder date from the bar, Courtney Rawlins, was lying next to him on the bed, tracing figures on his forehead with her fingertip.

"Oh baby, don't struggle," she warned in her gentle Cajun accent. The cuffs were tight to the pull.

"Did you drug me," he glared, feeling her finger slip into his nose. "Did you drug me," he demanded, yanking once more despite how those cuffs cut.

"Relax." She tapped the furrowed stress lines between his furrowed brows. "Just relax. You woke up a little confused and it's to be expected. But you're okay. It's just you and me here."

Erik's eyes circulated the room once more for something to help himself out of his predicament, but Courtney caught his hairy chin in her stern grasp.

"Don't startle, my little pumpkin. You are safe here with me."

"Fuck this," he pulled away. "Kidnapper Barbie is NOT what I signed up for."

"Don't be that way. We were having fun," Courtney purred, cuddling into his side.

"What do you want?"

"What any girl wants... To spend a little uninterrupted time with you at my fingertips for whatever beautiful thing we conceive. I'm all yours and... You're. All. Mine," she enunciated with finger taps on his cheek.

"You've got to be out of your damn mind. I would match with a crazy bitch." He turned his head, unafraid but regretful of his choices.

"Courtney," she corrected. "But if you wanna nickname, call me Sweet Pea or whatever your sweet lil heart can conjure." She drew a line down his nose bridge and booped him as he stared a her, a woman 'booping' a grown man 6 years older than her.

"You seemed so normal on our date, Courtney," he continued to stare, unsettled. "What happened?"

She smiled, squishing his chin in her hand. "You're so CUTE. Lil shady self. I love it. I'm gonna feed you and make you fall in love, you just watch. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach and BOY do I have a HELLA good tribute on the stove, special, just for you."

She left the room.

Erik tested the cuffs once more, but they were of a sturdy grade. He'd made the mistake of telling her his favorite cuisine on Tinder when she asked and now she was using it against him in some sort of sick warfare. He wouldn't give in.

"I'm back," she sang, returning with her hands full. She set up a collapsible side table with a bowl of steaming gumbo and a glass of sweet tea with a bendy straw. His mouth watered.

"You drugged that."

"What purpose would that serve?"

"Iono but I ain't eatin' it."

Her eyes widened. "You're already handcuffed to my bed! There's no more reason. This here is straight home cooking, no tricks."

The cornbread was floating on top of the gumbo, soaking it in. Cajun cuisine from a Crazy Cajan Barbie. He didn't trust it. He watched her spoon it, blowing gently. The spoon traveled to his mouth as she cupped the bottom to catch the drip.

"Open up. I swear it's the best thing you'll ever do. Well... within the next twenty minutes or so."

Immediately his tastebuds were in heaven. It was the best damn gumbo of his life.

"I'd ask you how you like it, but I can see," she rubbed her well-moisturized knees happily. She smiled, feeding him a spoonful at a time until the gumbo and cornbread were gone, giving him sips of tea in between. His stomach was happy as ever and full, but he was still cuffed to a damn bed and at this weird girl's mercy. What did she plan to do to him and for how long?

"I can't believe I've got you here all to myself! It feels too right."

"Courtney."

"That's not all I have planned for us, but I swear you'll be in love by the end of tonight."

"Courtney, stop the bull. This is crazy. You know it's crazy. You're crazy... You need help and I can help you... If you unlock these cuffs-"

"The cuffs stay on! I don't trust you to stay put. You'll leave." She grabbed his wrists, stilling them. "Stop struggling or you'll bruise."

"Look. Really look at me? Do I look happy? I'm cuffed to your BED. Do you not see how fucked up this is?" He squinted, watching her avert her crazy eyes to avoid reality. The second he got loose, he'd run for the hills.

With a deep sigh, ahe folded her arms on his chest and rested her head on top, looking innocently up at him from under her lashes. "I just wanted us to spend some time together is all. I was gonna let you go... Eventually."

"You... could've... asked???"

A high giggle escaped her. "You know, you have the most lusious lips and the way they move makes me think of things I'd love to use them for. I love this mouth," she sighed tapping his full bottom lip, high on her delusional cloud. "But I'm patient. I can wait."

Erik exhaled the breath he held when she got up.

"Hope you can handle dessert. I don't think you're ready for this one, it's what I call The Clencher." This time, when she left the room, she returned with a covered plate. "Voila!" She presented a wide and hefty slice of chocolate mousse cheesecake.

Suddenly, he wasn't so full anymore. She was killing him.

"Mm, mm, mm!" She sprayed whipped cream on top. Not the damn whipped cream. He loved whipped cream. He ate it straight from the spray can.

Hm... Fuck that, he doubled back mentally. He was done. No more entertaining the circus.

"Whoa! Hol'up... What you doing..."

She began pulling her cropped pink shirt slowly over her head so not to mess up her hair.

"Courtney," he warned.

Under that shirt was a small and magenta bra. "You guessed it," she smirked. "Looks like you're getting lucky tonight."

"Nah, sweetheart. This aint it. I'd have been happy to see this under different circumstances," he admitted, watching her slowly push down the matching pale pink mini skirt to reveal a magenta thong. "But this? Too far." He couldn't deny being a little turnt on. Had he uncovered it in his own way on his own terms, he'd have been glued like a dog on a leg. "It's the principle."

"I don't think so?" Courtney walked forward, challenging him. She pinched her bra apart from the front, letting the straps fall from her shoulders to reveal two perky breasts. "The Big-Big Man didn't get your memo," she teased, looking to his partial-chub. "He doesn't seem to care how it happens as long as it happens. Gotta say, I agree.

"My dick gets hard if the wind blows. You not special. That's why you listen to ME. Consent is everything."

Her eyes grew momentarily.

"You have a way with words that gets me so tingly on the surface and creamy inside. It's not helping your case," her accented voice lilted, giving the sound of arousal. "I'm getting what I want tonight and you're... gonna like it."

Erik pulled against the pink furry handcuffs as she slipped down onto the bed with the cheesecake. "POLICE."

"Stahp," she chuckled, feeding him.

He might as well have been drugging him, she was giving him the itis. The cheesecake was like a cheesecloud. If only she wasn't so damn weird! She fed him another bite then sat the dish down, dabbing the whipped cream on her perky chocolate nipples.

"Bitch... If you touch me without my permission we're gonna have some real problems."

"Would you punish me?" She touched her nipples and massaged the cream lightly in a teasing circular motion, causing his dick to pitch a tent independent of him. "Seems two of us know exactly what we want."

Erik watched her swipe her delicate and clean looking finger along the top of the cheesecake, collecting a healthy dollop and bringing it to his mouth. Hesitantly, he sucked it. She was a gorgeous girl, his ideal physical type, and very sexy. The cheesecake was godly. Next was her chocolate mousse coated nipple. She hovered over his face and he caved, salivating for a different reason now. His thoughts were wayward.

"If I'd have asked you on our first date to come spend time glued to me like a good roux, would you'd have said yes?"

"No," he admitted easily. "Because that's weird. I don't think you really understand."

"You don't understand. I want what you won't freely give me.. Sugar, I want your heart. I want your time. I want you to look at me as more than a one night stand. I want you to understand my passion for all things you." She drug her hands up his washboard abs feeling every bump and indentation, getting very worked up in the process and breathing heavier. Her leg was now over his and she was sitting on top of his thighs, grinding, her hips rotating to show off her toned belly. "I want you so bad Erik. I want you to be all mine and no one else's. I want to be selfish and keep you to myself forever, tied to me. I can be your everything if you let me.

"Easy.. Calm down.." She was riding his laplike they were having sex but he was still fully dressed and she wore panties.. They were getting damp just from that..

It clicked to her in that moment to undress him. He couldn't physically resist, so he laid and watched his long legs come into visibility.

"You even smell amazing." She took a large intimate sniff of his bare stomach. Unhinged. "Why do you drive me so crazy?"

"Drive you? You were already there." He watched her press kisses into his stomach around his bellybutton. A ring of kisses, then more where she'd just been. She traveled up, sliding her hands with them. She was in the Sahara as thirsty as she was, licking his skin like she'd taste pheromones. Meanwhile, Erik couldn't deny the blood flowing to his dick. He'd lied when he said the wind could make him hard, but Fort Knox couldn't get that info out of him right now. He was so fucking turned on despite his frustration.

"Aight that's enough."

"For who? I just started."

She worked her little hungry ass tongue desperately back down to his waistband, kissing over his print in his Calvin Klein briefs. The head HAD to be crazy the way she was feenin.

"Stop... Bitch, what I say? Don't touch my dick." He kissed his teeth as she disregarded every request doing only what she wanted.

She freed his growing erection watching it twitch to life as she stroked it up in her hand. He happened to be a grower AND a shower, and she looked hungry like she needed to be fed.

"I knew it was big. I knew it was big." She rubbed her face against it in circles. With her nose flat on the underside."

"The fuck are you doing?"

"Stay up there!"

She continued to stroke it toward the ceiling, all fingers on deck to grip the girth. It was thickest at the base and that was where her face rested, her tongue tracing the vein. Soap and vanilla filled her nostrils.

He watched her natural nails painted pearlescent white. Then she stopped fucking around and put her lips on the tip, putting him an inch into her mouth, her lips as full as his and shapely. The sight of her lips making his tip disappear with her eyes on his made him keep his eyes on her. She was swirling her lil freaky tongue on the hole. "You freaky motherfucker... you better stop that shit..."

She claimed another inch, still focusing on the tip and watching him carefully to find his sensitive spots. It felt so good to him that he put his head back against the bed and watched the ceiling to shut her out. She was determined to find a way to his soul.

Her hand cranked the rest of his shaft and for a moment her tongue found its way to his balls. He bit his lip, holding back sound. Don't encourage her, he thought. But she was encouraging herself, moaning and licking on his sack, playing with it. Her tongue slipped to his taint, massaging.

"Shiiit.."

"There's no one as perfect for you as me," Courtney announced. "Give me sole access to this dick and I swear," she begged, between soulful sucks on his sensitive tip. "You'll never want for better.. I can satisfy you."

She took him in deeper and deeper still. He could feel the back of her mouth, her tongue, then the squeeze of her throat. She was getting sloppy, making a mess of spit and bubbles that collected around the base and slid to his balls as she massaged it in.

"Fawwck," Erik writhed with nowhere to go. She was seizing his body up, relentlessly sucking and beating the shit out of his dick. "Uh!" He came in ribbons, all in her mouth. Her eyes turned into two happy slits, but she didn't stop. She focused on his tip, still sucking. If his hands were free, he'd push her away needing just a moment, but his wrists were cuffed. "Aight, aight. You don't eat the stick when the popsicle gone," he sighed, watching the ceiling once more.

She was in her own world with his dick.

"I'll devote myself to worshipping this big pretty brown dick."

Her fingers dug into his thighs, passionate in her plea and sucking him into another buckling orgasm.

"One more," she sighed.

This time she gave him a moment as his dick was losing blood, his breathing trying to get back to normal. But it was only a moment. She gripped his base and started stroking to get the blood moving back up. Again, she put it in her mouth.

Erik groaned, pulling against the cuffs. His abs tensed. A low feral growl escaped him. "Fuck me," he blurted. "Sit on my dick. Now."

Brain was turning off, lust was turning up.

She wasted no time straddling him with her panties pulled to the side and her feet planted at his sides, her hands on his chest. She guided his rock hard dick into herself and sank down onto it bouncing off of the first few inches and working her way down with gravity.

Erik growled, flexing and wishing his hands were free. He wouldn't run, he'd take control and teach her ass a lesson.

Courtney moaned loudly with no regard for neighbors as she rode the fuck out of him. An expert jockey. "I love this dick, I love this dick," she chanted. All he could do has throw his hips to add more bounce and thrust deeper into her womb. "Fuck me!"

"I'm finna nut. Shit. Shit." She hadn't put a condom on him.

"I want it all. I want those fucking babies. Give me your babies," she bounced stubbornly.

"Get up. Get off me. Shit. It's coming."

He couldn't hold it. She wouldn't stop. He nutted inside her, panting at every spurt. She was idling on his dick now, keeping it warm as it went soft inside of her.

"Damn," he sighed.

Courtney slowly dismounted with his seed dripping down her inner thigh. She retrieved a key from her dresser and undid his cuffs, sinking onto the bed next to him.

"I might have you for longer than we thought," she smirked.

He wrapped her in his embrace, kissing her hair.

"I can't believe I stuck my dick in crazy," he sighed the second he could breathe properly. She chuckled, reaching across his body to hug him tightly.

"You love it."

"I do. I knew you were crazy when I met you. Scorpios are all crazy. You lucky I looove scorpios." He stretched, letting blood flow through his arms and wrists. "We should roleplay more often. This was wild."

"What we doing next time? And can it also involve liquor?"

"Next time," he smirked, thinking of a good scenario. "Next time, your car can break down and I'll come offer you some assistance."

"Ooh."

"You like that?"

To be continued.

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henneseyhoe · 1 year

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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.

#michael b jordan smut #smut masterlist #masterlist #michael b jordan #killmonger fic #killmonger smut #killmonger fanfiction #erik kilmonger x reader #killmonger x reader #smut blog #black!fem!reader #black fanfic writer #black!oc #black!reader #black panther smut #smutty #henneseyhoe

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nareyacute101 · 1 year

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I Can Give You A Ride

this imagine is inspired by my fav movie from a24 “X” so I hope y’all enjoy!

Erik Killmonger x Black Farmers Daughter! Reader

You were just minding your business on a beautiful Saturday afternoon making some lemonade since you were very thirsty. As you were about to pour you a glass, you hear the the doorbell ring. “Daddy isn’t expecting anyone over” you said while walking to the door.

You open the door to see this fine chocolate man with some blue jeans on with a red and black plaided shirt and some timberland boots.

“Hello ma’am, my name is Erik and my car ran out of gas, so I was wondering if I could use your phone to call someone to help?” The stranger who goes by the name Erik said to you from outside the door. “Oh my goodness, well Mr. Erik I’m not sure if there’s any mechanic shops around her but my daddy is a mechanic and he could try to fix your car” You said while biting your lip innocently but sexy. “Okay, will he be able to fix it right now before dark?”

You thought for a second before smirking with an idea to keep him here “My daddy is out of town right now to do something supposedly “important” but…I could give you a ride.”

“Okay thank you so much, so where’s your car?” Erik asked your concerned. “Oh, I don’t mean that kind of ride sir.” You said pulling him in the door and touching his chest. “So, what kind of ride are you talkin-” he cut himself off know what she was talking about “Ohh, yeah I would definitely love that ride, ma” he mocked the same smirk you had on your face. “Well, let’s go to my room so I can help you out” you walked him up the stairs to your room, feeling his gaze on your ass.”

“FUCKKK!” You yelled while bouncing up and down on Erik’s dick. “Yeah, you like this dick huh Princess?” He asked while looking at you and your bouncing tits. You nodded to his question “No baby, I need words” he smacked your ass and you squealed “Yes, omg your dick is so big” you leaned your head back from the pleasure that you were getting from his long, curvy dick.

“Fuck, I can’t leave from this tight wet pussy” Erik said while getting ready to hold you and thrust up really fast. “FUCKFUCKFUCK” you screamed from the sudden thrusts up your pussy. “What’s my name babygirl?” “DADDYYYY! OMG IM GONNA CUM” “Me too baby, now who’s pussy is this?” Erik kept going to meet his and your climax “This your pussy daddy, please make me cum!” Erik thrusted three more time before you both grunted after reaching your climax.

“So, was that the best ride you’ve ever had Daddy?” You asked in a sweet voice “Hell yeah princess. Now, when is your dad coming home?”

You shrugged your shoulders “I don’t know but maybe in a few minutes, why?” You asked him. “Well one, I wanna try to get home before dark and two maybe we can do another round before he gets home” he licked his soft plump lips while looking at you up and down.

“Lets do it Daddy” you smiled while being rolled over by Erik and having a heated make out session.

I’m sorry y’all had to read thee worse sex scene ever but I tried okay 😭

#farmer!reader #farmers daughter #killmonger x reader #erik stevens imagine #erik x oc #erik killmonger imagine #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan #black fanfic writer #erik x reader #erik killmonger smut #michael b jordan smut #black panther imagine #x a24

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zillasvilla · 6 days

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❤️‍🔥 Welcome to Akhara’s PlayHouse ❤️‍🔥

❤️‍🔥more playboys coming soon||spam account: akharareblogs

Introduction: Akhara’s playhouse is a male centered fictional world, where they all fight for the attention of the writer. Akhara. Yup, that’s me.

Each play boy is unique in their own way, all expressing different ranges of emotion and skills. However boys will be boys, and Akhara is only one woman.

This is an eighteen plus blog containing: Mature themes, Rated-R content and pure filth. I reserved all rights to block anyone under the age of eighteen.

Roman Reigns:

Rebellion in the Shadows: Joseph Anoai replaces his father as Matai Joseph , and must now navigate his new role as chief, while wondering if his reign could match that of his father’s.

Averi makes a narrowing escape from some dangerous people. She finds her self saved by a mysterious man. Still, she keeps her walls up.

One : Two

Samuelu Island

Jey Uso:

Beyond the Lights: Soraya is a well known artist in the music industry, and her accolades reflect that. While her career may be thriving and successful. She still has a lot to learn as she faces the trials and tribulations that come with the fame.

zero : one : two : three : four : five : six : seven

Nap time

Randy Orton:

Mayhem: A planned feud goes a bit too far when two sisters pitch a story line that shifts the trajectory of the women’s division. co-written with: @keyaho

preview

Micheal B. Jordan:

Dadmonger Series: Erik and his wife are parents to ten-year old twin boys. Come along with them and their little family as they navigate their lives as parents.

winter party : not my sons : school bullies Mistletoe Clean up woman I wish you would He wasn’t man enough for me

Winston Duke:

International Studies Wedding Day

Chadwick Boseman:

Berlin

Trevante Rhodes: Coming Soon Cody Rhodes: Coming Soon Triple H: Coming Soon Pablo Schreiber: Coming Soon

Akhara’s Patrons: If you would like to be added, please comment on the master list. I will try to frequently update it as much as I can.

@justazzi @yana3sworld @wrestlingprincess80 @abadbitchblogs @paigereeder @kill-the-artiste @destinio1 @kill-the-artiste @reci1996 @mindairy @jatriciablog @alichesmi @jstarr86 @minsheyaish @wonderingfashion @whatdoeseverybodywant @jeysbvck @jeysbaby @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @keyaho @chaneajoyyy @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @empressdede @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @pimptressss

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 7 months

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Whew! 😍😍😍

Source:bakarislegacy

#michaelbjordan #michael b jordan #michaelbaejordan #erik stevens #erik killmonger #black panther #wakanda forever fanfic #black panther wakanda forever #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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starcrossedxwriter · 9 months

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Unbreakable Part 1 (Erik Killmonger x OC)

A/N: here is the summary for our new story! Enjoyyyyyy!

Warnings: This is an AU with bits of the movie and the comics mixed together

“Fuck! J-Just like that.” Naja screwed her face up in one that gave the impression of a woman lost in the throes of pleasure, internally rolling her eyes at the haphazard thrusts of the man on top of her.

In fact, she was merely counting down the minutes until he came and would leave. She supposed the time was good to clear her mind and reminisce.

There was that guy from London, her brain immediately recalled.

He was her favorite one-night stand to think about when she needed an extra boost to get off. Now, that man was gorgeous and he fucked like a God. She actually felt a tinge of guilt when, after he made her cum for hours, she returned the favor by torturing him for hours… and not in a pleasurable way. To his credit, he lasted a long time, which earned her respect.

I hope he is doing ok, she thought to herself. Well, she knew he wasn’t. But had he just given up his supplier of stolen vibranium faster, he’d likely be doing better.

“You like that??” He demanded as he fucked into her like a jack rabbit. No finesse, no skill, no care. He did not even ensure her needs were met.

That’s ok, she decided. If his fucking was any indication of his skills in other activities, he was actually doing her and her pussy a favor.

“Yes, I love it!” She called out, cringing at her own voice. She faked her orgasm to finish the ordeal faster.

Anytime now, Bast, she called out to the god above. This was getting irksome.

It seemed Bast heard her calls and blessed her, the man finally cumming and filling her. She silently thanked Wakanda for the painless, side effect free birth control that would last her five years.

He rolled off of her, his chest heaving slightly while Naja was wholly unruffled aside from a thin layer of sweat.

“That was… something,” she offered with a fake smile, a content and pompous smile he did not deserve forming on his lips.

The male ego, she shook her head as she slid out of bed and threw a robe on. After returning from the bathroom, she was surprised to find him still lounging in her bed. Most of her night time companions knew the rules… no one stayed the night. But this one, Kofi…

No, this is Kwame, she thought to herself.

No… Kwame actually knows how to fuck you. Or at least, attempts to make you cum even if he doesn’t succeed. Kwame gets an A for effort. Is there a grade lower than F we can give this one? Maybe it’s Amari? She tilted her head as she studied him. Hell, she did not know who he was but she did know one thing: he clearly did not know when to get the fuck out.

“Ok well, this was fun but I should be heading to bed,” her tone was polite but left little room for negotiation. She gathered his clothes with lightning speed and tossed them onto his lap.

He pushed himself up onto her forearms. “Wait, you serious?”

She stared at him, a dead panned expression painted on her face. “Yea. I sleep alone. I had fun though,” she lied with ease and a smile.

“Oh… ok.” He started gathering his clothes, Naja wholly unmoved by the hurt glimmering in his eyes. “When will I see you again?”

“I’m at the bar… working every night,” she handed him his shoes to speed the process along. The sooner he was gone, the sooner she could pull out her vibrator and actually service the ache between her legs.

“So we can do this again sometime?” He asked as she shooed him toward the door.

“Definitely, definitely. I’ll call you. Get home safe.” She pushed him out of her front door, locking and dead bolting it behind her.

She rolled her eyes before returning up the stairs to her bedroom. She did not know why she even bothered. Every time she brought a man home after her shift, she knew they would likely not be able to please her. But she allowed them into her bed anyway. Fucking, even if it was lackluster, filled some void.

She settled into bed, about to pull out her trusted and faithful bullet when her phone rang. She groaned, glancing at her phone.

Dayo. Her boss.

“It is offensive to call someone this late, Dayo.” She chastised as she settled into bed.

“I gave you an hour. I assume your suitor has returned home?”

“He just left. What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “Another child went missing in the village tonight.”

Her heart sank. “That’s the 15th child in the last three months. Soldiers?”

At his silence, she let out a frustrated groan. “The family?”

“Devastated but not talking. They won’t admit it was the King’s men, which means they were threatened. The father tried to fight back and was killed. The mother had to be taken to the hospital, she was distraught and collapsed.”

“FUCK!” She paced up and down her bedroom, the wood panels of her floor creaking softly.

“I just wish we knew why he was targeting this village specifically. I reached out to the network across the rest of the city and the country and nothing like this is happening elsewhere.”

She shrugged. “This is the poorest village in the Capitol. It’s like child soldiers across the continent and trafficking across the world. You steal people from those who do not have the resources and means to fight for their return. The King maintains his throne and his games with intimidation and violence. We will find them, Dayo, and we will liberate our people. I promise. I will talk to you tomorrow. Let me know if the family needs anything, I can try to go to the markets tomorrow night during my shift.”

“Everyone needs everything, Malika. Thank you for doing what you can. For the liberation of Niganda.”

“For the liberation of Niganda. Good night, Dayo.”

She sighed, the ache between her legs vanishing completely. She grabbed her kimoyo beads and went over to the plain, nondescript wall across from her bed. She pressed the beads to a circular groove in the wood, both lighting up a mysterious shade of light blue. She glanced over her shoulder, as if someone were watching her, as the wall parted to reveal a walk-in closet.

However, this closet was filled with more than just clothes. It was a small arsenal. Spears, blades of all shapes and varieties, guns of equal diversity, even a bow and arrow, which she never got to use but she liked the look of it. And clothes. All black, fashioned to hide a many assortment of weapons in the oddest places, laced with vibranium to protect her body. She missed donning those clothes. And while those days might be over, the cache of weapons she maintained proved that some habits never died.

She pulled a duffle bag out of the back of the closet, the bag filled with passports, Nigandan currency, and Wakandan dollars. She pulled out a notebook she kept stashed under everything else. She flipped through it, each page filled with notes from her years in Niganda. The last 20 pages or so were each numbered with the name and # of a child. Her notes, witness accounts, leads. All of it jotted down on those pages, a complex map that helped her get no where closer to find in those children.

She did not know #15’s name yet but when she learned it, their name would join their number on the page. She wrote down the bit of information Dayo shared, figuring she could fill it out more tomorrow after she spoke with him in person.

All these children, all these souls lost. And no one seemed concerned or like they cared, no one willing to risk their lives to find them and save them. No one except those in the Nigandan Liberation Front. Dayo was their leader and he was committed as anyone to overthrow the tyrant that ruled over this country.

Her writing was interrupted by a ping from her kimoyo beads.

“Damn, can no one leave me the fuck alone?” She wondered aloud. However, she knew if someone was calling this line, it was important. No one from Wakanda ever bothered her unless there was news to share.

She knew it would be an encrypted and recorded message, it was too risky to ever call her and expect her to answer. She checked her beads once a week at different times and intervals, usually there was nothing there.

Shuri’s upper half materialized from the beads. Her voice was professional and calm, very unlike her.

“Malika, please return home. The Royal Talon will be waiting for you on the other side of the Nigandan-Cannan border at the following coordinates at 2 a.m. in seven days. Your presence has been requested in Wakanda for two months by order of the King. Please confirm that you received this message.”

“Anddddd this is why I never check this fuckin’ thing,” she mumbled, frustration coursing through her.

Two months??? The power of the throne had clearly gone to T’Challa’s head. And only giving her one week to prepare to leave? And how many children, she glanced at the photos in her book of each one, would go missing in that time? How many families would be torn apart while she stayed in the safe bosom of Wakanda?

She hated herself for knowing she had to go, hated him for forcing her hand. He knew how she felt about that place, knew why she had chosen the path and life she had chosen. Why she had only stepped foot in her borders twice in the last seven years. But an order from the King was an order from the King, she took liberties but even she could not refuse him.

As she laid in bed, frustrated, her mind already churned on what lie she could tell everyone to explain a two-month absence. She had already laid the groundwork for relatives in South Africa. Perhaps she could use that.

“Ugh!” She now only had a week to get everything in order. “Every King on this bast-forsaken continent is a tyrant,” she mumbled to herself before flopping to her side to try to sleep.

***

When Naja stepped off the Talon, she was thankful to only find General Okoye waiting for her, her stoic face a sight for sore eyes. She was thankful the rest of the family remembered she hated the excessive fanfare of returning home and immediately being pestered by a million people. It had been a long time since she saw many of them so she figured a certain King would ignore that directive. But she was thankful to have a moment to ease into seeing everyone. It was already an adjustment, as it always was to be back on Wakandan soil in the first place. It still felt new, every time, even though this was technically her home. It did not feel like home to her, not anymore.

“General,” her lips tugged into the smallest of smiles as she saluted her old friend. It was the first genuine smile she could remember giving someone in months. There was little happening in Niganda worth smiling about anyway and when she did, it was usually fake.

“Naja.” Once Okoye returned her salute, she reached out and squeezed Naja’s hand, Naja returning it gently, before their faces returned to their usual stoic and neutral expressions. “I trust your journey was well.”

“It was. Though it was difficult to spin my absence on such short notice. Do you know why the King saw it to order me home?”

“No.”

Her answer was simple, and Naja knew, untrue. Okoye was one of two people in this palace privy to all of the King’s decisions and thoughts. But she also knew Okoye would not give her a single inch. It was worth a shot though, she reasoned. But it also let her know the reason was not straightforward, which meant her nap in her quarters would have to wait.

“Of course. May you take me to his office if he is not too busy? I know the way to my room from there.”

Okoye did not nod or answer her. She merely changed the direction of their walk through the palace toward T’Challa’s office. Naja tried not to get too wrapped up in the bustling movement and sounds of the palace. The last time she was here, it felt more like a ghost town than anything else, lifeless and dreary. Wakanda had weathered the Blip better than most countries but it still struggled and during those five years, the palace wore the scars of its lost King and Princess and half its population. But with their return, life and joy returned to the palace and all of Wakanda. She was happy for it. They all deserved it, to be whole again.

She did not let the facade she had on fall until Okoye opened the door to T’Challa’s office, her brother in law sitting behind his desk reading. He glanced up, a wide smile gracing his tired but ever youthful features, as his eyes landed on Naja. He immediately stood up, joy rippling off of him like waves. One thing she always appreciated about T’Challa was, even when he and Nakia were not together, he treated her like a younger sister. A colder one than the one he actually had but a sister nonetheless.

“Thank you, General. Naja, welcome home.”

“My king,” she saluted him. She waited for the firm click of the door closing behind Okoye before she offered him a smirk. “My king summons, I answer.”

“No need for the formalities, sister. And I know you despise hugs. But it has been 7 years, humor me?” He rounded the desk to stand before her.

“I was told the Blip only felt like minutes to those of you who were gone. So technically, for you, it has only been two years. But as my king, I suppose you make the rules. You get seven seconds.” At his raised eyebrow, she shrugged. “One for each year.”

She allowed herself to be gathered up in his arms, the man squeezing tight. She forced herself not to fall into it, though she wanted to. The warm embrace of family, she had missed it. But instead, she merely cleared her throat, letting him know the timer on their emotional reunion had indeed run out.

To his credit, he immediately released her, his hands holding onto her forearms as he took a step back to examine her. She chuckled and rolled her eyes as he attempted to inspect her form for any injuries or drastic changes that would worry his Queen. Seven years might have passed since she last laid eyes on T’Challa at his coronation but time had done little to change either of them.

“You look well. Thin,” he remarked. “But well. How are you?”

“Glory to Bast, I am in good health,” she offered lazily as she sat in the seat opposite of his desk. She tried not to look at the pictures that littered the office, keeping her eyes trained on him, knowing she would find more than one that featured him. She did not need or want to see him ever again. “Food in the Capitol has been sparse since the return of everyone from the Blip.”

“Do you need more money? I know the alias and job you chose does not offer much.”

She shook her head. In addition to the money she made at the bar she worked at, all War Dogs received a salary discreetly added into their accounts disguised as local side jobs and businesses. She had more than enough money.

“No, no, no. Thanks to you, I am the world’s richest bartender. Just the monarchy hoarding resources, there is more than enough to go around for the wealthy. And the black markets continue to thrive there under the King’s nose but what I usually get from there, I give to those who need it more,” she shrugged. “I’m good. I’ve survived on less.”

“Anything of note on those black markets?”

She tilted her head before shaking it, T’Challa’s shoulders sagging a bit. “Aside from delicious meats and vegetables the royals have now deemed delicacies? No.”

“Well, make sure to eat two plates at dinner. Or else your sister will not rest tonight.”

She nodded. “Two plates? That feels gluttonous. Though I suppose I need to reacclimate to this… abundance,” her eyes flickered to the obvious signs of wealth and prestige littering his office. A pang of guilt hit her for even being able to indulge in it. “So I’m sure Nakia will make it her mission to fatten me up before I return home. So are you going to tell me why you’ve grounded me for two months? I hope it’s a good reason. Do you know how hard it will be to explain a two-month disappearance?”

T’Challa’s deep chuckle filled the office as he sat back in his chair. “Only you would consider a vacation and a bit of time off a punishment.”

She scoffed. “It is hardly a vacation when it comes as a direct order from my King himself, one he knows very well I would never refuse.”

“You could refuse.” His eyes twinkled with humor as he handed her a glass of Wakandan rum, the one thing he knew she missed from home.

“And face the wrath of the Black Panther?” She shook her head, throwing the entire glass back in one gulp before sighing contently. She slid the glass across the desk, gesturing toward the decanter, T’Challa refilling it for her. “The people outside these walls may call me ongenaloyiko* (the fearless one) but I am still smart enough to fear the greatest warrior in all Wakanda. But as your elder,” she started to say with a wink that she knew would agitate him.

“You may have surpassed me in years thanks to the Blip, dear Naja, but you are still my younger sister always,” he reminded her.

“Then tell me why you brought me back. Niganda is in a precarious place right now… things are… brewing. This is a long time to be gone.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The other War Dogs in the region report no issues. Remember, Naja…”

She sighed. “I know, I know. No interfering and we only care about things that threaten the interests of Wakanda. I’m being a good leashed watch dog now, I promise.” She knew she was not off to a good start, lying to him so soon. But she hated the new role expected of them. To witness the suffering of the world but do nothing to help. The other War Dogs in Niganda may be fine with such an existence but one thing she had in common with her sister, Naja would always do whatever she could, as long as life pumped in her veins.

“Good.” She was surprised he believed her. “I brought you back for many reasons. The first and most important being that your sister is pregnant,” Naja’s eyes widened. “And due any day now and she has spoken of what a great support you were during the birth of Prince T’Challa while I was…”

“Fake dead,” she supplied. She knew the Blip was not a laughing matter. It was traumatic for those gone and those who were forced to stay and carry on. But they had all survived, she saw little point in dwelling on it.

“Yes. And I knew she would be happy to have you here for the birth and a bit of time afterward as well. Second, you have a nephew that is growing day after day and barely knows you. I did not know my uncle before he died. You can understand that I would prefer for history not to repeat itself.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on stealing vibranium and selling it to the highest bidder while I’m here,” she mumbled as her thumb traced patterns in the condensation of her glass, trying to stay aloof at the mention of his father.

“I’m serious, Naja. The War Dog program is important but N’Jobu taught me that it is not more important than family and connection. And third, I am hoping that some time back here will give you some perspective and perhaps… change your position on certain matters.”

She scoffed, standing up to pace his office. She was dressed simply, far too simply to address the King some would argue. But there were perks to her position and her reputation, no one would correct her. Her standard soft black pants and tank top provided comfort and agility and ensured she never stood out. Tucked into her waist band was a gun, she had forgotten to remove it on the plane. Though she felt safer with it, even here, on her person. She had left her other weapons at home, her calf felt uncomfortably bare without her blade attached to it.

“And there it is. So just so I understand the rules of engagement. Are you speaking to me now as my King or as my brother?”

“I speak to you as your brother, Naja, always.”

“Except when you ordered me home,” she muttered as she leaned against the window sill, her eyes starting into the heart of the capital city. A small part of her ached. She’d never admit it aloud but she did miss it sometimes. She had tried for so long to find something like it but nothing compared to Wakanda. She ignored that, pushing it into the depths where she stored every other feeling she did not want to deal with.

“You may reject the displays of our love and affection but it will stop none of us from giving it or caring for you.”

“I am happy with how things are now, T’Challa. I have no interest in changing my position on certain matters.”

“We are entering peace talks with Niganda, and while you do not trust them -”

“I do not trust them because they are untrustworthy,” she cut him off sharply. “I’m the best War Dog you have there. You’d do well to heed my warnings where the Nigandans are concerned.”

“If these negotiations go well, there is an opportunity for you to consider a position that is here in Wakanda. You are the best War Dog I have in any country on this planet, Naja. But it’s been 15 years. We have other War Dogs stationed in Niganda now, thanks to you, who can ensure the peace treaty is adhered to. You can come home.”

“Those other War Dogs don’t know what they are doing. And… This is not my home, T’Challa,” she muttered.

“You can spend as much time as you want away from our borders and pretend to be Malika, a lowly Nigandan bartender all you want. But you will always be Wakandan, Wakanda will always be home.”

“And the best way for me to honor Wakanda is by doing what I have always done: serve her. Protect her interests. In Niganda.”

She and T’Challa stared at each other for a few moments. While most would have withered under the intense gaze of their king, Naja did no such thing. It was T’Challa who finally broke their standoff, bowing his head as if to signal his surrender.

“For your sister’s sake, I ask that you merely consider it. She misses you terribly. And not just your physical absence. She misses who you were.”

She rolled her eyes and chuckled as she walked back over to his desk. Her eyes fell on a picture of T’Challa, Nakia, and their son. She picked up the frame, her fingers grazing along the patterns surrounding their smiling faces.

“Who I was is of little consequence now, T’Challa. This is who I am. It’s been 15 years and my sister would do well to accept this version of me. Wakanda and I are better for it anyway. Does she know I’m here?”

“No, it is a surprise for dinner tonight.”

She sucked her teeth before nodding. “Fine. I will serve out my two month sentence - without complaint - and I will not tell her of your clever but well-intentioned manipulation to force me here. But I say this with all the love and reverence for you as my brother and my King, when these two months are up, I will return to Niganda with or without your approval. Are we clear?”

Few could talk to T’Challa as she did or had the privilege to make demands. But when Naja spoke, T’Challa listened. “Crystal clear. It is good to have you home, sister. We missed your bubbly personality and disposition around here.”

“It is good to see you too, T’Challa. Congrats on the new baby. Next time you want to send me encrypted messages, send me good news like that. I’m going to lay down until dinner.”

“Naja!”

She stopped and turned around to face him once more.

“I recognize, accept, and love who you are now. But I would push back on one point.” At her raised eyebrow, he continued, “Wakanda is served well by every version of you because you love her and she loves you back. This version of you is extraordinary. But better implies there was something wrong with the equally extraordinary version of you from before. And there wasn’t.”

Something pricked the back of her eyes as she turned away from him, a sting she despised about as much as physical affection.

“This is why I hate coming back,” she huffed. “Tell anyone my eyes so much as misted and I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

He chuckled. “Bast’s fiercest warrior and daughter never cries. Even if my eyes witnessed such a feat, I would not know the words to share it with a soul.”

She smiled before exiting his office, immediately swallowing the emotion she felt. She hated how out of sorts she felt being back here. Seeing T’Challa in the flesh again after seven long years, the emotions of being back here in this home and in this city, finding out her sister was pregnant, the emotional exhaustion of switching from her alias back to Naja… this was why she preferred to be alone when she first got home. Had not been on Wakandan soil for an hour and she had already been through a rollercoaster of emotions.

Naja moved through the halls silently and swiftly, moving like a panther herself to ensure she did not run into her sister. Though she was not happy about being forced to return, she was excited to see her sister and her nephew. Though Nakia still treated her like a fragile dove, her sister loved her beyond comparison and reason.

When she finally found her way to her room, she stripped down and curled into bed immediately. A content sigh slipped from her lips as she settled into the comfort of the soft mattress and linens. The room was obscene, triple the size of her home in Niganda. It was home to her and served her needs but it left much to be desired compared to what she left behind.

Don’t get used to it, she thought to herself as she already started to drift off to sleep. Two months and then we’re out of here.

***

Naja yawned deeply as she rushed to dinner, realizing she was several minutes late. She hated that T’Challa was right, per usual.

A break from life as a spy was not so bad. She did not know how to relax and rest but her body seemed determined to ensure she did it. She slept like a rock, a call from T’Challa 10 minutes past dinnertime was the only thing to jolt her from her sleep.

She paused outside the family dining room, her heart warming as she heard her nephew spitting rapid fire questions at his parents about training. Her sister’s voice filled the room.

“Will you teach your sister how to train when she’s old enough?” She heard Nakia ask.

TJ’s small voice responded. “Would that be safe for her? I don’t want her to get hurt like I do.”

“As safe as it is for any Wakandan,” Naja offered with a teasing smile as she rounded the corner.

“Auntie Naja!!” TJ sprung from his seat with the strength of a cannon and ran into her outstretched arms. “I missed you!”

“My prince!! You are getting taller and taller every day!” She tickled his sides, his giggles filling the dining room and everyone’s hearts with warmth. “And when you’re training that little one in a few years, you should remember what my baba always told us. Our battle scars are our strength, our power, and…”

“A reminder from Bast that we lived another day to serve Wakanda,” TJ finished, reciting the words Nakia and Naja’s father always said.

She cradled him against her chest for a moment once more before letting him go, his small hand gripping around hers to drag her farther into the room.

“Now why doesn’t he have a time limit on your affection?” T’Challa’s voice was filled with fake indignation.

She merely shrugged as TJ demanded she take the open seat next to him.

“I simply like him better than you.”

However, before she sat, she rounded the table to her sister.

“Sister. No, don’t get up,” she cautioned as Nakia started to move. The hug she bestowed was longer than most would receive but she could tell by the unshed tears in Nakia’s eyes that she needed it. She cradled one hand to Nakia’s cheek before the other rested on her belly. “How are you? And how is my future niece, Wakanda’s next great warrior?”

“We are both well, even better now that you are here. You’re so thin.” She tsked slightly, T’Challa and Naja sharing a knowing glance and chuckle. “You need to catch me up on everything. But first sit. Eat.”

As she returned to her seat, she watched as a silent conversation passed between her King and Queen. Though Nakia’s face appeared happy, there was something brewing beneath the surface. She could sense the anger passing through her to T’Challa, a guilty look plastered on his face. She watched as he busied himself with his own plate to avoid her glare.

She did not know what to make of it as she piled food on her plate, she could not deny she was starving. However, she realized the reason for that silent conversation quickly as two voices grew louder and louder as they moved toward the dining room.

“If you had just listened to me, we wouldn’t have been late! Your elementary knowledge of nanotech is useless. I could’ve finished it in an hour if you hadn’t been there mansplaining,” Shuri ranted as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. She was so frustrated she did not even notice Naja at the table or acknowledge her.

“Aye! I went to MIT, short bit,” a sharp American voice filled the space, Naja’s blood turning to ice water, her head whipping toward the door so fiercely she could have broken her own neck. She felt as if her heart completely stopped as she watched Prince N’Jadaka enter the dining room. “That shit’s hardly element-” his words immediately fell off as his eyes fell on Naja, his entire body paralyzed in mid step.

The pair merely stared at each other, the dining room rapidly filling with tension so severe even the staff ceased moving. And only four people, save the Prince and Naja, knew the source of that tension. Her body did not move an inch, her fork still hovering in the space above her plate as indescribable rage took control of every cell in her body. She could feel it deep in her bones, 15 years worth of pain she had buried warped into a monster. Her nephew’s presence mere inches from her were the only calming presence she could feel, the only thing keeping everything from boiling over.

“Well… this is painfully awkward,” Shuri muttered as she sat down in her seat next to the Queen Mother. “W-Welcome home, Naja.”

She cleared her throat, an even and cold timbre falling on her voice. No longer did Naja, the sister and friend, sit at the table. Naja, the spy, with her iron clad facade sat before them. Cold, unfeeling, ruthless. Unbreakable, she reminded herself. That was the weapon she had fashioned herself into. That was who she was now. And she was better for it.

“Thank you, Princess. I am happy you are back and well. I see much has changed since my last visit. Erik.”

He had started to make his way to his own seat but stilled at the sound of his American name. It was the name he had gone by his entire time in Wakanda when he moved here as a child after his father’s death. Prince Erik, preferably just Erik, he forced everyone to call him. But Naja… she was the one person aside from T’Challa he allowed to call him by his Wakandan name. She knew he had once loved hearing her say it as much as she loved to say it. She knew the dig, however coded it was, hit its mark, a part of her savored in the hurt that crossed his face.

“I prefer N’Jadaka,” he offered as he sat down in the last open seat directly across from her, which only increased her anger.

“Hmm… So you have returned to Wakanda for the birth as well, Erik?” She asked, ignoring his preference. She would never call him N’Jadaka or prince again. She did not care if the whole damn country referred to him as such.

He sucked his teeth. “Nah. I’ve been back for months… I owed T and Wakanda a favor so I’m home for good, helpin’ rebuild after everythin’.”

The entire table seemed to shift as rage wafted off Naja. She cut her eyes from Erik to T’Challa, the rest of the room falling away as she threw him a glare that made him thankful the heart-shaped herb ran through his veins. However, beneath that glare, T’Challa knew it masked hurt and one question only he and Nakia could likely decipher.

How could you?

“I have suddenly lost my appetite. Sister, I will check in on you in the morning. Good night.” Her fork loudly clanked against the dinner china before she rose from the table. She ignored the calls of her sister and T’Challa for her to stay as she turned to leave. She slowed herself just enough to kiss her nephew on the forehead briefly before exiting without a second glance.

He was home… How could T’Challa not tell her? Tell her that she would be living under the same roof as him for months? Did he consider her too fragile for such knowledge? That her feeble, weak mind would collapse or fall apart? Those days were behind her.

She had turned all that hurt and pain into fuel, it drove her and pushed her. And now here he was, and all that hurt she suppressed for 15 years, all of that was back with one look at his face. She hated him, despised him. She did not want to look at him, much less sit across from him at every meal for the next two months.

She could not do it. Fuck the King’s commands. She was returning to Niganda tonight. Even if she had to hitch hike the entire way.

She was so wrapped up in her escape plan that she did not hear the footsteps behind her until she felt a presence directly on her back. Without thought, she pulled out the gun still tucked in her waistband and cocked it, aiming it directly at… T’Challa.

She ignored the bang of the Doras’ spears on the ground as she kept the gun aimed at him. She was thankful it was just him. That was the one thing she did not enjoy about her life as a spy, her instincts were too difficult to turn off now.

“Still ever vigilant, I see?” T’Challa raised his hand to the Dora, silently ordering them to stand down, wholly unperturbed at having a gun pointed at his chest.

“Well, you never know when someone’s gonna betray you,” she spat with venom that made him flinch.

“I understand you’re upset...”

“You understand nothing,” she seethed, taking a step toward him. She lowered the gun, the weapon shaking in her hand. “I understand that you knew I would not agree to return if I knew he was here so instead of telling me of the birth and asking me to return, you forced my hand. I understand that you used your title and my love for my sister as manipulation to force a reconciliation. It. Is. Not. Happening.”

“You cannot avoid him forever. You are both part of this family.”

She paced, agitated and frustrated. “I can and will avoid him forever. Because if I don’t, I will use his body to test out the multitude of ways I know how to kill someone.. I can’t believe you didn’t warn me he was here.”

“I am sorry. I thought it would help but I was wrong.” He sighed before gesturing at the gun. “Will it help?”

She thought about it and nodded.

The black fibers of his suit emerged and covered his whole body. With perfect precision, she shot him over and over again, emptying her clip until his suit was bright purple with the stored kinetic energy of each bullet. The loud bangs reverberated through the halls, her eardrums rattled.

“Better?” He asked when she finally lowered the gun and tucked it back in its hiding spot.

“Yes… and no. You’re still able to talk,” she muttered. Though shooting something did take the edge of her anger off.

“I am sorry for deceiving you. You are right, I knew you would not return if you knew Erik had returned home permanently. But your sister… and I… we need you here. I know what he did, the pain he caused you. And if you do not speak to him ever again, you would be within your right. But I ask very little of you, Naja. And right now, I am asking you to stay here,” Naja was annoyed that he somehow already realized she was going to run back home. “And endure for us. Two months and then you can leave and I will not utter a word to convince you to stay. I promise.”

She nodded. “Fine. But just so you know, any ill conceived notion you had of me returning to this country for good? That is gone now. As long as Erik Stevens calls Wakanda home, I never will.” She turned on her heels and disappeared down the hall, leaving T’Challa alone surrounded by shell casings.

She only paused when she heard him yell back, “I’ll have dinner sent to your room. Please eat or your sister will kill me.”

She scoffed. “That’s not reason enough,” she called back. Though they both knew she would eat whatever was brought to her.

***

Unlike Naja, Erik was able to hide his emotions a tad bit better and hold it together through dinner. However, his emotions did not include rage, except for toward T’Challa. All he had felt at dinner was the hot, uncomfortable spotlight of guilt and shame. What he had done, he’d never forgive himself. And any stupid notion he once had that Naja could forgive him one day was wiped out in a manner of minutes.

“What the fuck, T?” Erik demanded as he stormed into T’Challa’s office, the King nursing a glass of rum as he continued to work.

“Your ex already shot me several times this evening, figuratively and literally. So go easy on me, N’Jadaka.”

“You told me she didn’t ever come back to Wakanda? That she moved on??

T’Challa shrugged. “Those things are not untrue. Naja is a War Dog stationed in Niganda,” he admitted. “You wanted nothing to do with Wakanda once you left and worked for the US Government so I could not reveal War Dog identities to you. And when you came back, I thought it best that she remain out of sight and out of mind.”

Erik’s eyes grew wide. “W-wait, w-wait… a watch and report back War Dog or a Hatut Zeraze-era War Dog?”

There was a distinction, one only a precious few in the country knew. For most, the War Dogs were merely spies, a Wakandan-style CIA force that watched, patiently integrating themselves into their host country’s world to report back critical information to protect Wakanda. However, past kings used a specialized force of them for other purposes, ones the average Wakandan knew nothing of, purposes that actually kept Wakanda safe and protected all these years.

T’Challa sighed and rubbed his eyes. “The latter until my coronation. She was handpicked during training by my father, and worked her way up to leading missions across the continent and beyond.”

Erik scoffed. “Missions… I know what missions mean. Assassinations, torture.”

T’Challa tilted his head. “None that we would ever admit to. She is stationed in Niganda 90% of the time unless my father needed her for another assignment. When I became king, I disbanded that portion of the War Dogs and she has been our lead War Dog in Niganda ever since.”

The stinging heat of anger and fear prickled his brain. The Naja he remembered was soft, not in a bad way either. You wanted to lean into her and soak up her warmth. It was comforting and soothing. However, he knew first hand the things she would have had to do to be part of that specialized force. And he would not wish the damage all that had done to his own soul on anyone else, least of all her.

“’N you didn’t think to tell a nigga she was comin’?”

“I thought 15 years was enough time for you both to move past everything that transpired. Clearly I was wrong.”

“She still hates me?”

T’Challa scoffed. “Is there a word stronger than hate? Because that may be more accurate.” He paused. “Do you still feel guilty?”

Erik merely nodded, his finger fidgeting with his father’s ring, which he had worn around his neck since he was a small boy.

“15 years and one look at her and all that shit just comes right back,” he let out a low whistle. “She looks damn good. Different though. Not just physically. She’s colder than I remembered.”

“You miss her?”

He nodded. “Yea, being back here this year. She’s gone but every fuckin’ place in this damn country reminds me of her. I fucked up.”

“You still love her?”

Erik shrugged. “A lack of love was never the issue. Doesn’t matter if 50 years go by… it’d still be her. Only her. Who knows, maybe I can make this shit right. Can’t be a coincidence that Bast brought us both back?”

“May I be honest with you, cousin?”

“Me saying no ain’t ever stopped you.”

“When Naja first joined the War Dogs, her father made a personal plea to my father and I to reject her application. When I asked him why, he said that though they were crafted by the same hand, his daughters could not be more different. Nakia, he said, was an assassin’s blade. Beautiful, striking, and when wielded with the right hand, deadly. While Naja was no weapon at all. She was a delicate sculpture, something to gaze upon, he said. She could be a weapon, like anything. But one blow would be all you get and the cost would destroy her and she would never be the same again.”

“This fuckin’ Wakandan proverb shit,” Erik mumbled. “Like what the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means… You broke her, N’Jadaka. And that isn’t a judgment or condemnation,” he added at the pain that flashed across his face. “I understood then and now what ailed you when you did what you did. But you broke her. And to cope with that pain, like you, she picked up all those broken pieces and fashioned herself into a weapon that is more deadly than even Nakia ever was. Someone who is unbreakable. She is the most lethal weapon I’ve ever seen with stunning effectiveness and precision. She is pragmatic, she is cold, she is cunning, and merciless. And for her, love for anything other than this country and its throne is weakness. She is not the Naja you left here 15 years ago. She may look like the woman you love but she is an entirely different person, N’Jadaka. Be wise and remember that.”

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying that as much as I would love to see the two of you reconcile, this Naja will sooner kill you before she will let you close enough to break her ever again. Goodnight, cousin.” T’Challa grabbed his glass and stood up, walking to the door, leaving Erik to contemplate the consequences of his actions.

Tag List: @miyuhpapayuh @pipsqueak-98 @injerafiend @themakingsofdion

A/N: Ok I've never written Erik before so I'm really excited. I also feel like this OC is very unlike my others so I'm excited about.

Drop a comment and let me know what you thought or if you want to be tagged!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #erik kilmonger x reader #erik killmonger angst #erik killmonger #Erik Stevens x reader #michael b jordan fanfic

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bizzybkd · 1 year

Text

Cornbread (1)

Killmonger x pregnant!reader / part one

Warnings: None, just super fluffy, and in this AU, Erik’s father never left Wakanda but he did pass at the same time as in canon, Erik just grew up surrounded by the rest of his family instead

As you looked amongst your closet, the growing mound on your front told you that most of your clothing wouldn’t properly fit you anymore right now. Carrying your fiancé’s big headed baby boy had given you enough reason to buy larger sized clothing ahead of time. Of course, most of the clothes you wore were Erik’s, seeing as he was almost an entire foot taller than you.

You reached your hand inside and pulled out one of Erik’s Nike tech outfits, the much larger size telling you that as long as you didn’t spill anything on it, and your baby didn’t suddenly decide to come two weeks early and have your water break whilst sitting on the couch, Erik wouldn’t be upset once he saw you in it.

Said man had already taken his leave to go to work, a job you knew very little about but didn’t care to know much. You had your dream Cadillac in the garage and subscriptions to Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, HBO Max, and Disney+ and more than enough good food in the kitchen. Whether it needed to be made or even just removed from the packaging, you couldn’t be happier with the selection. Erik always made sure you had your favorites, which at the time were goldfish crackers, plantain chips, ice cold water from your preferred refillable water bottle, and your soon-to-be Auntie-in-law’s homemade cornbread, which Erik would either take you to get personally from her in Wakanda or he would go get himself.

For a royal family that could have any chef they desired and any food they could ask for at their finger tips, Queen Mother making cornbread always seemed to brighten your mood no matter what.

As you looked in the fridge for your cornbread, you looked at the container the cornbread was in had been gone, and taking a quick glance at the sink, you knew exactly why.

‘You ate the last piece of cornbread?!’ You sent to your fiancé’s phone, fingertips typing ten words a second at how furious you were becoming. How dare he! Taking the last piece of cornbread he knew you loved and knew he wouldn’t have time to get for another few days due to work. How dare he taken something quick to eat in his late morning that you had wanted first!

After five minutes passed of you staring at the message sitting on “delivered”, it finally changed to “read 11:27am”.

‘…’

‘Babygirl, there was only one piece left.’ He replied, having deleted and retyped his message three times as the dots had told on him.

‘That was my last piece! Now there isn’t anymore and I want some! When can we get more?’

‘Maybe Thursday, (Y/n). I don’t know, I shouldn’t be talking right now, okay? I’ll get you your cornbread.’

You glared at the message and simply put a ‘thumbs up’ on it in reply, letting out a long groan of frustration before putting a hand over your belly, in your act of anger, you had forgotten to actually get something to eat. Getting up with a huff, you trudged to the kitchen with much less gumption that you had before. Pulling the box of Lucky Charms cereal from the cabinet and the oat milk from the fridge, you made yourself a quick bowl of cereal, leaving everything out by you as you knew you would want another few bowls.

An hour or so later, still saddened by the lack of cornbread as you munched on the bland tasting plantain chips you had beside you. The mediocre game show on screen made you cringe, it was obvious the contestants were guessing wrong on purpose to the easiest questions just to make the episode hit its target screen time. It annoyed you to no end, but seeing as you binged all your shows and wouldn’t dare taint your mind’s taste buds by risking a new show or movie, you settled.

Out of boredom, you decided to treat yourself, you were cornbread-less, patience-less, and had what the doctors assumed to be a seven to eight pound baby in your belly. Wakanda was only a short ten hour trip by flight, and practically 30 minutes if you could convince your cousin-in-law, Princess Shuri or King T’Challa to send a jet to your house.

You had always known about Erik, well, N’Jadaka, Erik simply being the name he took undercover when he came to America where he met you. You figured out pretty quickly he was the prince, shaving his beard, contacts and a switch from locs to a fade didn’t do as much disguising as he’d hoped, not from you anyway.

You kept his secret while you both attended MIT, as long as he promised to help you pass your physics and trigonometry courses. Aside from numbers and formulas, those weren’t the only things you were happy to take with you once you graduated.

Now having dated four years and being eight months pregnant, with a beautiful 4 carat engagement ring on your finger, and a very strong bond between your fiancé and his family, it wasn’t exactly uncommon for your pregnant self to call the princess and king if you needed something while Erik was at work.

Dialing Shuri’s kimono beads with your own she’s given you, it was almost immediately she answered, a large smile on her holographic face.

“(Y/n)!! It’s great to hear from you!! How are you and my nephew? Sleeping okay? Resting? Eating well?” She cried, the background of the hologram showing she must’ve been at work in her lab.

“Hello, Shuri, I’m doing very well thank you, M’Jabe too. Erik ate the last piece of Queen Mother’s cornbread this morning and I was hoping I’d be able to come get more? It’s really been the only thing keeping me—“

“Right away! I’ll speak with cousin later but for now you come here!!” Shuri interrupted, an interruption you couldn’t care less for as it meant you’d be getting what you wanted. “The jet will be there in ten minutes, shall you pack a bag and stay the night again?” She asked.

You’d stayed the night last month, having had phantom contractions that had easily convinced you that you were in labor. Seeing as it had been another four weeks since then, it was obvious you were wrong. Knowing you still had two weeks before your due date, you deemed yourself perfectly fine not to stay long, especially with how busy the royal family were already.

“No, Shuri, but thank you, I’ll stay again in a week or two since M’Jabe will be due then.” You assured her. She nodded solemnly but smiled. “That’s fine, but the next sleepover I’ll be meeting my nephew so I’ll be looking forward to that!”

You let out a laugh and nodded. You and Shuri continued to talk until the jet arrived, having put on a jacket to combat the nipping mid October weather and a pair of fuzzy slippers you loved. Okoye met you at the top of the stairs into the jet, giving you a smile as you walked in, lending you a hand up the steps as you used the other hand to hold your belly.

“Enkosi, General.” You smiled as she nodded and helped you to a seat.

“Of course, (Y/n), it’s good to see you’re doing well, I’d hoped you would with prince N’Jadaka.” She replied, earning a laugh from you and your son who kicked your kidney in agreement. God he wasn’t even born yet and he was heavy handed like his father.

The ride to Wakanda was short of course, and for good reason, you could only feel your drool escaping your lips as you nearer the great castle, as if smelling the cornbread being made already.

Erik called you after you landed and we’re being escorted inside.

“Why are you in Wakanda?” He asked almost immediately after you answered.

“I wanted my cornbread.” You replied matter-of-factly.

He let out an audible sigh. “You’re a trip..” he let out a soft chuckle before it turned into a light laugh. He loved your attitude, and his ability to tame it. “Don’t worry, Babygirl, I’ll be there soon. Tell Auntie and the other two I said hey.”

You smiled and walked along the long hallways with Okoye, her simply going about her duty alongside you. You couldn’t tell if she was just a master of not showing her opinions through her face, or if she truly tuned out your conversation. It didn’t really matter to you.

“Okay, baby, I’ll see you when you get here. And I forgive you for eating my cornbread.” You smiled, rubbing your belly gently.

He let out yet another laugh, but this one came from his gut, he truly found you amusing and that’s one of the things he truly loved about you. You loved his laugh as well.

“Thank you for forgiving me baby. I won’t touch your cornbread again.” He said in defeat, you could hear the smile in his voice and it made you blush. God, even after four years he could make you giggle like a school girl.

“Get here soon, me and M’Jabe miss you lots..” you admitted. Curse your pregnancy tongue.

Erik noticed the small difference in your tone, how sad you suddenly became at the thought of him being so far away. He hated doing that to you, no matter what his duties were. Of course, him working was to provide for the human you both created that was only days away from coming along. You and your baby were his priorities and everything else came second, so as much as he’d want to spend hours and hours tending to your pregnant form and giving you all the treatment you deserved, being able to stay with his family was the next best thing.

“How about you stay in Wakanda until my son comes along?” He asked you, knowing you had already discussed how you wanted to stay in the comfort in your own home until it was time. But you also knew that he was worried about that plan, what if you went into labor and he wasn’t home or couldn’t make it home, he’ll be damned before you had to take yourself to a rinky dunk hospital that charged almost 100k just for birthing the child and even just holding it afterwards, before the baby was born of course.

You went silent for a bit to think it over, you knew what he was worried about but also knew what you wanted. Being hormonal and pregnant, missing your fiancé who couldn’t be there for what you knew wouldn’t be another two hours, and in a castle you hadn’t spent more than a week at a time in, tears welled in your eyes.

You quickly wiped them away and did your best to hide the sudden spiral in your voice.

“How about we talk about that when you get here, baby, I don’t wanna make any decisions without looking each other in the face.” You said, mustering a smile.

Erik nodded, he knew that would make you feel better.

“Alright, baby, that sounds good. I’ll talk to you then, okay? I love you.” He finally said.

“I love you back..” you replied, hanging up the phone and letting soft tears fall as you made it to the thrown room.

Face to face was how you liked to handle things anyway. That how you got M’Jabe to be two weeks away to being in the world anyway.

Well… maybe not two weeks.

#killmonger fic #king killmonger #erik killmonger #black panther killmonger #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fluffy

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imperfectlyxangelic · 1 year

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The lack of Michael, Erik and/or Adonis V-Day fanfics…

#michael b jordan #erik killmonger #adonis creed #fanfiction #fanfics #smut #michael b jordan smut #erik killmonger smut #adonis creed smut

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livstarlight · 1 year

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Modern AU-no powers-just everyone being regular people type of shit, and it’s christmas because I said so and because everything is more fun at christmas:

Namor (like I said before) is N'Jadaka's best friend, they get along like an hamster on a wheel (except the wheel is on fire, and the hamster is on the highway) ANYWAY they have been best friends for ages but Namor has never actually met Erik's family, if not his father once when he was alive, and Erik always talks shit about the rest of them, especially his insufferably perfect cousin T'Challa and his annoying younger cousin Shuri, and usually Namor tends to believe him because he is... you know, his best friend, and you are supposed to believe and support your friends when they tell you something and because okay they do sound like excessively good to the point of boring people

Except that one day during the holidays Erik asks Namor to come pick him up by his uncle's house and he ends up actually meeting the infamous family, but especially Shuri and okay, when Erik said young, Namor was expecting a child, not a 22 years old beautiful woman with eyes so sharp they could cut him. And there is nothing annoying about her, she is spirited... alright he is probably gone, down so bad and so fast he's already trying to come up with a plausible excuse to see her again soon. 13 years of difference is not that much right? Right? He doesn’t care, he is too whipped to care.

(If in his mind he's already trying to decipher which color should he have to mix to get the perfect shade to paint her eyes that's between him and his canvas... and possibly his roommate Attuma and his cousin Namora who unfortunately share the apartment with him and have to endure him raving about this girl 24/7 day and night for the foreseeable future) [Pray for them]

No matter she seems to have the most overprotective family around her that could rival with the Great Wall of China, or that N'Jadaka would tease him mercilessly if he knew how down bad he was for his cousin (he doesn’t hold that much love for her anyway, so if it ended bad nothing would happen between them, but Namor won’t, absolutely won’t let that happen, she is too special to lose)

She's apparently also a genius and a know it all who wouldn’t hesitate to shut him down faster than the time it would get him to say hi? Fine by him. She can dissect him to pieces with that wonder of a brain she has for all he cares.

Shuri on her part has already heard about him, and decided to despise him by principle because he's her devil-spawn-cousin's best friend so he must be awful too and who the hell decides to call himself Namor if not a deranged egomaniac person.

Except she doesn’t expect him to look like that or have that voice, or to sound way more deeper than she gave him credit for... and alright, he is intense, and stubborn to-the-point-of-idiocy when he wants to. But he can actually make a lot of sense about a lot of things, and they do have a lot in common, and he challenges her, doesn’t let her win easily, she wants to know more about him oh no he is not that bad at all what now

#thank you for staying with me with this deranged rollercoaster of a musing #I'll be here whole week #obsessing like a maniac over a ship #and creating fake scenarios about them that satisfy no one but me #namor x shuri #namuri #nashuri #seaprincess #namor #shuri #n'jadaka #erik killmonger #black panther #wakanda forever #mcu #fanfic aus #namuri christmas au

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 7 months

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ALL MINE. PART 2.

Pairing: Erik × OC (Courtney Rawlins)

Tags: Roleplay, Car Smut, Fall Rain

Part 1

"Damn it all!" Courtney hit the steering wheel furious. "Big ol' pothole in this damn country road... And in the rain of all things." Her car had broken down. She was now parked on the side of the road with her hazard lights on in a no cell service area. "Now what?"

A gentle tap came at her back window. A man who'd pulled over behind her was walking to her door. "I noticed your lights were dim, and your car was stalling. You look like you need a service."

"What's it to ya," Courtney leaned, her face nearly against the glass to eyeball him up close. The nerve of the nigga to be fine in a situation such as this. She cracked the window, her eyes narrowed. He was getting wet out there in his hoodie, his thumbs hitched in the pockets of his distressed denim jeans.

"I'm a mechanic."

"Are ya now?"

"Yes... Country ass. I gotta shop not too far from here," he gestured to the road ahead, "I stopped when I saw you were broken down, stuck out here in the rain."

"I'm not in the rain, sir, you are."

He smiled, long lashes fluttering. "Ok. Let me help you out."

Courtney muttered to herself as he briefly poked around under her hood, letting it back down and leaning into the now half down window with a sniff. "It's the alternator."

"Alternator?" She frowned. "Can't you jump it or something like in the movies?"

"I could jump something," he looked her up and down.

"Aht! You ain't getting in this, I assure you... I'm a LADY."

"K, Lady. Your alternator's dead. Fixing in it costs as much if not more than getting a new one. You're looking at $400-600."

"Where am I supposed to get that kinda money?" Courtney's hands flailed, hitting her knees in frustration.

"You're driving an Audi, you'll find it."

No one else had stopped, and Courtney couldn't call anyone. Not even data worked. He was a handsome guy. She squinted hard, appraising him. "Eh," she bit her nail, hesitating until he turned back to his car. She rolled the window down all the way.

"Wait! You're gonna leave me?"

"LADY... I'm getting soaked, and you don’t have any money."

"Not sitting around!"

"I accept other forms of payment." He shifted his nuts with a grab.

"Or you could help me for free," she murmured, her lip in a pout.

"In the next few seconds, I plan on getting back into my car and driving away."

"Alright, fine!"

"You change your mind?" He walked around to the ditch. "Unlock the door."

"Ugh... YOU'RE ALL WET," she rolled her eyes as he sat in her leather passenger seat. When he pulled down his jeans to free his dick, it was already pointed to the ceiling.

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

"Bring that neck." He palmed her head, bringing it down over his tip. Her body turned, knee in the seat.

She wrapped her fingers around his base and took in the first couple inches, getting it wet with her spit, spread with her tongue. Her tight lips sunk down, spreading the bubbling wetness down an inch from the base. Almost instantly, her head bobbed up and down, her hand on his thigh. The gluck-gluck-glucking of her wet mouth, the zoom of cars passing, and the sound of falling rain on the windshield filled the vehicle. He laid his head back, going hands-free until she took a gasping breath, spit stretching between her full lips. He palmed her head once more, growling lowly until he came.

It was on her tongue, a pool of opaque white that she swallowed easily.

"That's enough?"

"I'll tell you when it's enough. I'm a get you real right. Climb in the backseat."

Traffic had not stopped coming or shaking the car each time another vehicle whooshed by. Courtney watched through the back windshield as the wayward mechanic exposed her ass while it was tooted.

"See, I would've helped you for free, but for getting me soaked, I gotta charge you some way. This the best way." He wrapped a hand around her low natural bun, his pelvis thudding skin to skin with her ass. She braced herself against the back headrests, taking dick and throwing it back to her own pleasure. The back of her thighs were wet from him dragging along his wet clothes, but when he hit the right spot from the start like he knew her, she no longer cared.

"Men are pigs," she muttered, looking back. He grabbed her chin, tilting it back and holding on as he continued to stroke, the thud of their colliding bodies another sound on the rainy day.

"Erik," she breathed, caught in a rhythm of meeting his hips.

"Who?"

Her smile spread, her breath on his face. He sucked her top lip between his before kissing her and spitting a watery drop of his saliva into her open mouth. He then slapped her small ass and let her fall back forward to look through the rear window.

Again, she pushed her hips back, grinding until a police car rode by.

"Aight aight, let's stop," she dropped suddenly paranoid. She didn't want him to swing back or pull over to assist. Wasn't nothing really wrong with the car. Erik looked back and crawled back to the passenger seat, pulling his pants up fast as the cop pulled over ahead. Courtney did the same, jumping back in the driver's seat under the cover of the rain.

"He's not looking," Erik spotted, helping her move. "Relax," he whispered when Courtney's eyes were still big. "We ain't doing nothing wrong. It's not a crime to pull over."

"I know," she whispered back. "I got indica in the glove compartment!"

"Shit..." He popped the compartment open covering the baggie with the manual that was in there. He took out the registration just in case, closing the compartment as the cop reached the driver's window.

Courtney cracked it.

"Everything okay here? You break down?"

"Oh, no! I was having trouble but my boyfriend was behind me. I just had to press some button to get the alert off my screen."

"She's getting used to learning the controls," Erik added.

The cop nodded at him, understanding. It wasn't a lie. Courtney genuinely didn't know a damn thing about cars or what half them symbols on the dash meant. It was believable because it had already happened before.

"You're good now?"

"Yes. It was my mistake, but I've got it now," Courtney smiled. "Thank you."

"Alright," the officer left, returning to his car and eventually pulling off. Courtney sighed and looked to Erik. At the same time, they chuckled, and he got the weed out. "Consider this payment," he smiled, leaving the car before she could snatch him up. He got back in his own car and she kissed her teeth, waiting for the current queue of passing cars to pass before she pulled off too. He was right behind her in the rear view mirror.

"What," she answered on Bluetooth when his call popped up on her screen.

"That was fun. I like how you treated me like some dusty ass nigga and left me out in the rain like you ain't know my ass-"

"YOU SAID TO ACT LIKE I AIN'T KNOW YOU!"

"Nah, it's cool. Next time I'm a get you back! Just kidding... But you know me now, so don't be acting like that."

"I acted too well?" Courtney smirked, meeting his eye in her mirror. She laughed, not thinking that he would be looking.

"Nah, don't change it, it makes things interesting. What we doing next?"

"Hm," she thought. "I'll think about it."

"Can it involve me being dry?"

Her head rolled with silent laughter. "I'll think about it."

The End.

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #spooky szn #kinktober

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henneseyhoe · 6 months

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The Return Of Killjoy.

Killmonger x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of death, gory descriptions, mentions of religion, possession, choking, rough s*x, cu*khold, !SLIGHT CNC!.

Ps. I’ll edit this fully later, so if y’all see random pov switches then ignore it really quick. I just wanted it out before Halloween was over Lmfao.

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“You sure you wanna watch this, Trey? I just feel iffy” She expressed to her boyfriend, fiddling with the frills on her socks. Her stomach felt queasy, and her nerves were higher than usual all that day. It could be because she knew that there were plans made to do something she had no instest in, plans to watch an old slasher film, but even before she knew it was this movie in particular, she had already felt a bad feeling come over her body.

“You need to calm down, baby. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and we both know this shit is fake” Trey brushes her off in a nonchalant way, putting the vhs tape into the tv.

“Trey, please. We can watch a classic! Friday 13th?” He ignores her again, playing with the buttons on the television. “This movie is like 80 years old, who knows what type of old ass voodoo is on it?! we needed a fuckin’ box tv to watch this shit, and everybody saying it’s cursed!” She continues to press him, hoping he’d realize how stupid the whole situation was. She was never the type to be scared of movies, but she heard around town about what people saw in the tapes, and she wasn’t trying to be added to the list of people who lost their minds after watching.

Some stories she heard included people gouging their own eyes out, projectile vomiting everywhere only five minutes into the film, some even lose consciousness. “Are you even listening? Trey!” She pushed him, the boy still seeking no interest in what she was saying. She was so convinced that she could change his mind and that she had time to all before, but obviously he was adamant on watching the movie to understand the hype and fear surrounding.

“…someone literally stopped talking for an entire week after watching it. If that ain’t enough proof for you, I dunno what is!” Crossing her arms, she huffs like an upset toddler, over him ignoring her for a ‘stupid little movie’.

“That was just a drawn out joke! Wasn’t shit wrong with that woman” He says, using the tv remote to navigate through the options to start the movie. There was no turning back now, the tape beginning to roll.

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Trey yawns for the fifth time that night. She couldn’t tell if he was tired of just wanted to pretend like the scenes wasn’t scary. The movie started out with a blood curdling scream that made both the young adults cover their ears, Trey attempting to turn it down with the remote, which didn’t work, but even when he put it on mute, the scream continued. After that was the most gruesome death scene either of them had ever seen in a movie that old. It was almost too real. The main character, or who they thought was the main character, was killed only five minutes into the film. The masked man had captured her in her own home and hung her upside down with chains wrapped around her ankles. She was completely undressed, naked glory there to gawk at. Y/N caught Trey doing exactly that for a moment before the woman was split in half completely from the top down with a seemingly dull machete.

Y/N gags strongly while clenching her thick thighs closed as she watched the woman rip in half, screaming in agony until she stopped before the man could even pull the blade all the way through her body. He hacked away multiple times before he had even reached the end of her, blood splattering all over the hardwood floor.

“Ewww!” Y/N let out a girlish squeal while kicking her feet up and covering her face. Trey shook his head. “This shit is not scary, you doin too much”

“Shut up! This shit is makin’ me sick, turn it off”

“Why? You scared?”

“Yes! Stop playin’ and turn it off”

Trey rolls his eyes and laughs, switching his position so he was kneeling in front of his fearsome girlfriend. “It’s not real” she shake her head, her face still scrunched with disgust while Trey laughs at herfit. “Lemme comfort my little cry baby” he teased and kisses her lips. She melted from his touch, feeling safer than before. Trey’s hands roam her body, going for her shirt to pull it right off her body. Y/N’s safe feeling didn’t last too long, a feeling in her stomach creeping up onto her, telling her to open her eyes, which she reluctantly complied to.

Watching the screen behind Trey, multiple pictures of gore flashed as the film continued, the next picture even more disturbing than the next until the screen flashed a picture that had her jumping out of her skin, goosebumps covering her body.

She pushes her boyfriend away with a scream. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” She panicked, tears welling in her eyes. “Damn, Y/N! You almost bit my fuckin’ tongue off!” Trey shouts, tasting blood in his mouth from the girl biting down on his lip. “What are you on about now?!” Trey glanced back at the screen, but it had changed to a normal part in the movie.

Y/N couldn’t even begin to explain the feeling in her chest. The picture she saw that flashed lastly was a picture of her. In that same spot. With Trey laying next to her, his face looking as if it was bludgeoned, features beyond recognition.

“STOP FUCKING WITH ME, TREY! IM SERIOUS! IT AINT FUNNY!” She freaked, her chest heaving as Trey looked at her in confusion.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. If you that scared then I’ll just turn it off, damn” he reaches for the remote and clicks the tv off, yet the screen went no where. Still playing the movie, Trey tried clicking the buttons on the TV to turn it off, but the film stayed put. He sighs. “Look, it’s an old tv, baby. We can smash this shit right after if it makes you happy” he said, turning back to her. Cupping her face in his hands, he kisses her again, tasting salty tears on her lips. As she gave into his temptation, the kiss progressed to him laying her down and undressing them both fully.

Trey took it upon himself to pleasure her first, something he rarely did, but Y/N brushed it off as him trying to make her feel better. Spreading her legs out for him, Trey dove in, beginning to lap up her swelling clit as she used her hands to play in his hair.

They were cornrowed back, neatly placed in straight lines and she found herself tugging at the ends of them while he slurped her up. He uses her thigh as a headrest for him so he could eat without getting tired, but his patters were already sending the girl into overdrive.

“Yes, Trey” She calls out to him, her other hand gracing her wet lips. She sticks her tongue out and licks a long stripe along her pointer finger and thumb, using her own spit as lube to twist her nipples softly. Trey had suctioned his entire mouth around her clit, beginning to suck while his fingers dipped into her honeypot, giving her a reason for her eyes to be rolling backwards into her head like they were doing.

What was into him? She had never experienced this type of behavior. She couldn’t even remember the last time she came from head alone, but this time felt so different to her.

She had wondered when he had gotten so skilled at this..and when he got a tongue.. or when he got dreads.

Popping her head upwards, Y/N’s heart completely drops. The man that was between her legs was no longer her boyfriend, but the same psycho killer that shook her up just a few minutes ago. Her adrenaline rushes, her brown eyes becoming wide with her jaw being stuck hanging low like she had just been hit with a brick. “—oh fuck” She moans, the demon himself keeping himself latched on her clit, shaking his head from side to side. He rubs his plump lips against her clit while humming, vibrations spreading throughout the girls body before she came, a tongue being right there to catch all that she was giving before it was his turn to get his.

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“Like this, baby?” The man stared deep into her soul while stroking her, his callused hand wrapped tightly around her throat. Y/N shook with fear, but she couldn’t stop the moans falling from her lips. Turning towards the tv, she watched as Trey begged and pleaded on mute, slamming his hands against the windowed screen he was trapped in. Before a singular teardrop slipped from her eye, killjoy had already turned her head back towards him, giving her no permission to look at anything but him.

“Take it. Take it like a good fuckin’ girl” He grunts, gripping her thigh and pushing it back so far that she was basically folded in. It took strength to endure the beating he was putting on her, and the little bit she had left was gradually growing weaker. He was to blame for every reaction she was currently having, from the jagged breathing all the way down to the helpless whimpers. She thought he would have never stopped, until he did, his hips colliding with hers one last time before he stops, laying a smack on her thighs.

“Now, sit that ass on it” He demands. It was like she had no control over her own body, the real version of herself watching behind her eyes in utter shock. Flipping them both over, Killjoy does the honors of pushing himself back inside of her, Y/N using the strength of her calves to bounce on the tip of his dick. It was still so much for her, he was barely inside and she already felt so full. “I can’t-“ she chokes out as her legs shake, her body cowering on top of him. Killjoy grunts in annoyance, his patience running low for the girl. He was fed up. How was she gonna be a good host if she was a coward?

Giving her that jumpstart she needed, he lays three hard smacks on her ass, sending Y/N jumping forward with a yelp, landing right back on his dick. She slid down on his thick pole completely, her thighs closing together. “Unt-Unt. Open them legs, lemme see that pretty pussy” He says, completely disregarding her stiff movements and thrusting his hips upwards. She wasn’t even thinking straight at this point, she couldn’t have answered a question if you asked.

“I’m gonna cum!” She shouts, fisting his locs in her hand, a guttural groan escaping his mouth at the hair tugs. Only the lucky knew how he liked it rough, and not one of those lucky people were alive anymore to tell the story of how killjoy himself broke them in on Halloween night. Now, it was her turn.

“Cum on this dick, pretty girl. It’s yours” He taunts with a devilish smirk, but that only made Y/N teeter over the line of ecstasy and unconsciousness just a little more.

“I’m- im-“

“Uh-huh. Show yo’ man how a real nigga do it”

“FU-“

“Show him how a real nigga make you cum!”

“FUCK”

She stops bouncing, but killjoy kept his hips jack hammering up into her, his arms arms going around her waist to hold her in her spot as he fucked her pussy with no remorse. Y/N was praying to the heavens that it would stop and this would just be some crazy wet dream, but it kept going.

“No need to pray now. He can’t help you” Killjoy speaks into the girls ears, his voice echoing in her head like they were in an empty room.

She could hear her water splashing against him, and he had no means to stop just yet.

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#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #masterlist #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!oc #michael b. jordan fic #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b. jordan #michael b jordan x reader #killmonger fic #king killmonger #erik killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #killjoy #henneseyhoe #black actors

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nareyacute101 · 1 year

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Boyfriends Best Friend PT.1 ~ E&D

This is a fanfic I wrote a while ago so I’m just posting it and I hope y’all enjoy 😭

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Y/N POV

I was at home with my boyfriend of 3 years almost 4 next month, Donnie. We met in high school in the beginning of high school and started dating in the 10th grade. I thought he was really hot and sweet when I started talking to him. But, we were waiting for Erik to just hang out as friends , me and Erik are friends , I met Erik through Donnie because they have be friends since elementary so for a while, so Donnie walked downstairs since he was upstairs and I was downstairs eating food, "Babe, I'm going to the store to get snacks so if Erik comes , just let him in." Donnie said going to the kitchen " okay babe, I will." I said and Donnie came around to give you a short passionate kiss and left the house.

After he left, you went to put on comfortable clothes on and went back downstairs, trying to find a movie to watch and 5 minutes later, you heard the doorbell ring. You got up to open the door and knew it was Erik so you swung the door open and their revealed Erik. Now, when you first met him you thought he was cute or whatever but a year later and some, he got hotter and whew Chile, anyways, Erik was smiling and said " hey y/n" with his deep voice that was so sexy. "Hey Erik" you said as you hugged his torse and he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Come on in and by the way, Donnie went to by some sna-" you got cut off by Erik kissing you deeply and rough, you thought about pushing back but you kissed him back and a few seconds later, you pulled away.

"What was that for Erik?" You asked as you looked at his dark brown eyes deeply. " Y/N, I've always wanted to do that since we met through Donnie and your just so beautiful, smart and a intelligent women and I've always wanted you but never got a change because Donnie got you before me and now is my chance." Erik said then looking down and he truly meant that and I know it so I'm like f*ck it , I feel bad for him but then I'm going to feel bad for Donnie because I've been with him the longest but I'm going to give Erik a change to have me for now.

I started to kiss him again and then it got heated into a makeout session " Jump" Erik said seductively in my ear and I jumped into his arms and walked up the stairs and he was so strong carrying me and Donnie's shared bedroom, but, he threw me on the bed and hovered over me to connect our lips again.

"Strip" Erik said while standing up off the bed so you got up and took off your pajamas shirt and shorts leaving you in your laces bra and panties. Erik was already undressed and only in his briefs.

He was staring at you up and down and then said "Damn, my best friends girlfriend looking fine naked" ( omg 😭 okay keep reading ) Erik says so sexy and his body is so hot with those scars and those biceps (🥵). He pushed me on the bed and went down between my legs and looked up at me for permission , I nodded and he took off my lace panties " Damn" Erik whispered but you heard it so you smirked in your mouth( if that makes sense) and he just starting eating you out and I felt like I was in heaven on how is tongue was working my clit and his plump soft lips around my p*ssy " OH MY GOD ERIK FUCK" I yelled that anyone who was in the house can hear " I'm gonna cum Erik , fuckkkk" I said and then came.

"Now it's my turn princess" Erik said. So I got off the bed as Erik goes to lay on his back on the bed.

I crawl on the bed to meet his face and kiss him, then kiss my way down to his growing budge. I start to tease him by only putting my mouth on the tip, "stop teasing me Y/N" said Erik but I stopped teasing him after a couple of minutes then put him in my mouth.

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"Ughhhh yes Erikkkkkkk" said Y/N moanly loudly, "Fuck" Erik grunted while blowing my back out (omg😳) after a while I hear my phone ringing, "Pick it up" Erik said while his thrust going faster "I can't d—ooo that's fuck but okay" Y/N said while picking up the phone and answering Donnie "Hey babe"Y/N said while breathing heavily, "Hey baby so was there any particular snacks you wanted while I'm here?" Donnie said while looking through the aisles. Y/N looked back at Erik to slow down but Erik kept going "Hello?" Donnie said over phone not hearing his girlfriend speak, "Sorry I was looking for something but um yeah some—Takis chips and Oreo's please" Y/N said then whispered "fuck" after she said that because she was getting pleasured by Donnie's best friend. "Okay we'll see you when I come home, I love you" Donnie said over the phone. "Love you too babe" Y/N said then hung up and screamed "SHITT, This feels so fucking good Erik". "It's does huh princess?" Erik said then grunted. "Yes daddy" Y/N whined

"I'm home!!" Donnie yelled throughout the whole house.

TBC...

#erik x reader #erik kilmonger x reader #erik killmonger #erik killmonger fic #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger smut #erik killmonger x poc #erik stevens #erik stevens imagine #michael b jordan #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan x reader #adonis creed #black fanfic writer

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starcrossedxwriter · 1 year

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Bleeding Through Part 1 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Trigger Warnings: Angst, asshole Michael, some mentions for triggers for the OC but nothing graphic - just vague mentions (that will be important plot points in later fics!)

A/N: well… this is way longer than I intended or anticipated lol but here it is… Also if you love these two… don't be mad at me!! lol

“That looks delicious, Charlie. He’ll love it,” Michael’s mom commented as she watched Charlotte put the final touches on her husband’s favorite sweet treat, a chocolate cake.

Her eyes did not leave her cake as she checked the icing meticulously for spots that did not look exactly. She knew her attention to details slightly obsessive. After all, Michael could care less about the look of desserts as long as the taste was just right. And if there was one thing Charlotte could do, it was bake. But still, she desired only perfection for her husband’s first day home from shooting. Her entire spirit beamed at the compliment from her mother-in-law, one of the few people in the world whose opinion mattered to her.

“You think so??”

At Donna’s affirmative nod, the young woman let out a small squeal of excitement before laughing at her own antics.

She moaned, “Ugh… Sorry… I know I’m acting like a complete nut. I just can’t wait for him to be home. This time felt way harder for some reason.”

“I know. It felt longer than three months.”

Charlotte shrugged. “He wasn’t able to call home as much, maybe? Usually we FaceTime every night when he gets home from set but I could barely get him on the phone once a week. And I’ll get to see him at some point but I haven’t seen him since Oscars weekend,” she mused before shrugging. “But I totally get it. Lupita mentioned that the filming and training schedules were just relentless so he probably just didn’t have much time.”

Michael’s schedule for Marvel’s Black Panther had been crazier than most of his projects so Charlotte truly did understand. Most of the film was shot in Atlanta but the cast had flown to several other locations across the world while training to capture different scenes. And she knew that Michael’s character forced him to stay in hair and make-up longer, which meant earlier and later days on set than many of his counterparts.

With all of that in mind and as an actress herself, she gave Michael as much grace and understanding throughout the process. He missed a call, no worries. Forgot to call her back, all good. However, that meant they had seen precious little of each other since he left in February. Three months later, she desperately missed everything about him.

“That boy doesn’t know how to slow down either.”

The pair shared a laugh. “Definitely doesn’t.” She checked her watch and phone, her face falling into a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, forcing her mouth back into a grin and her concern back to the depths of her mind. “N-Nothing, nothing. Just… well he usually texts me when he lands and is on his way but he should’ve landed like an hour ago? Hell, he should be walking through the door any minute.”

“I’m sure he’s fine… you know he’s forgetful.”

Michael could be forgetful, it was true. But generally not with things like this. He knew how much Charlotte worried so he never forgot to text her when he landed somewhere. It was usually the first thing he did even when they spent the whole flight texting back and forth. Which was also unusual. She had not received one text from him his entire flight. She shook her head as if she could shake the thoughts out of it.

He’s fine… he’s fine, she thought to herself. She knew she was just trying to convince herself. To keep her concerns at bay as she worked to clean up their kitchen, she made a mental note to call him in ten minutes if she did not hear from him. However, that ten-minute mental alarm never needed to go off.

“Speak of the devil,” she whispered to herself as she heard a key turn in the door. She wiped off her hands off and raced to the foyer of their home just as Michael crossed over the threshold.

Damn he looks good, she thought to herself as she took in his Killmonger look. She loved him in any iteration. But she could not deny this one was… sexy as fuck. Her eyes almost did not know what to focus on and she was shocked at how, even with only three months on set, his body had changed so much from when he left. His muscles were massive before but now they threatened to break the limits of his hoodie, his beard had grown longer and a bit unruly, giving him a rugged look that made Charlotte go weak in the knees. And she could not deny that the dreads were growing on her. They were neatly braided back to keep them out of his face.

“Hey handsome,” she offered with a bright smile. She immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her movements almost faltered as she felt his body tense up at her touch, however, he seemed to catch himself and force his body to relax. However, the hug and chaste kiss he placed on her lips were still brief.

“Hey babe,” he offered before quickly breaking free and moving to bestow equally-brief hugs to his parents.

Charlotte felt the balloon in her heart deflate slightly at his less-than-warm welcome. Perhaps she had simply built his return up in her mind but typically when he returned home, even from a weekend, he could not keep his hands off of her. And she would be lying if she claimed she did not enjoy it. And so, in this moment, it felt odd not to receive it, his immediate love and affections.

However, she knew she would not solve any of these conundrums standing in their foyer so she fixed her face back into a smile and followed her husband deeper into the house.

“How was the flight, babe?”

“Fine.”

“You hungry? I may or may not have a freshly made chocolate cake in the fridge for you. A lil welcome home surprise.” She hoped the promise of his favorite sweet treat would bring out some of the excitement to be home that she felt he was missing.

“Nah I’m good. Just gonna go shower.” His eyes barely left his phone as he moved through their house, his answers short and clipped as to not invite additional conversation.

And before Charlotte could even blink or think of a response, he disappeared before her eyes to their master suite upstairs. Charlotte glanced around, unsure of what to do with herself. This was certainly not how she expected his return home to go. She anxiously fiddled with her wedding band as her brain went down a million different rabbit holes at once. She questioned whether he was upset with her. But she had barely spoken to him in the last few weeks, hell the last few months if she were honest about it, so what could she have said or done? She glanced down at her clothes, which did have a light dusting of flour across them due to her mad furry of baking earlier in the day. Perhaps he expected her to look cuter or more put together for his return and he was disappointed?

Whatever the reason, she knew something was off. This man who looked and spoke like her husband was not fully him. She stood at the foot of their staircase for a few moments as she tried to strategize what she should do next. Should she go and talk to him and gauge what was wrong? Or should she give him space? She was not used to not knowing what to do where Michael was concerned. Usually, they moved in perfect step and in sync. This was far from that.

She did not noticed Michael’s mom studying her until she spoke up.

“I’m sure he’s just tired, Charlie.”

Her words knocked her out of her trance.

“Y-yea, yea. Just tired,” her words trailed off as she nodded to herself. She repeated the words underneath her breath a few times as if to convince herself her mother-in-law was correct.

Not everything is a reaction to you, Charlie, Charlotte reminded herself, a refrain her therapist had given her many years ago that she often had to repeat once she stepped her toe back into the dating pond. It was not that Charlotte was self-centered, she preferred when things were not about her. But she had to learn and unlearn a lot where relationships were concerned by the time her rugged path led her to Michael. One of those things being that not every negative emotion or reaction from her partner meant she had done something wrong or would lead to harm. It had been a tough one to unlearn but she was all the better and stronger for it.

While Michael tended to be in good spirits most of the time, she knew he was not immune to a bad day like every human being and those bad days were not an indictment against her. He just came off shooting a character that was so unlike him, a grueling training and filming schedule, and a long flight. He earned some alone time and some space to decompress if he wanted, she decided quickly.

“I’m gonna unpack his stuff. I was going to take him out to dinner but I think we’ll just order in so he can get some rest… cool with you two?”

His mom shook her head. “We actually are going over to Jamila’s house for dinner. Figured you two would want the house to yourselves for a bit.”

Charlotte’s heart warmed at their thoughtfulness. Before she and Bakari got married, she had always questioned whether living with her in-laws would be awkward or uncomfortable. However, they were both so attuned to giving she and Bakari their space as a married couple and never overstepped. Now, Charlotte would fight tooth and nail to keep them around.

“Love you SO much… Thanks!” She squeezed Donna’s hand before treading the same path up their stairs to their master. She made a mental note to stay positive and to focus on getting him whatever he needed so that once he got some rest, they would get back on track later that evening.

However, that proved to be wishful thinking. Charlotte felt like she was a ghost in her own home, barely corporeal and visible to his eye. And when he did speak, part of her wished he hadn’t. There was a sharp edge to his words now, even his clipped responses carried annoyance like he wished he did not have to talk to her.

By the time she was ready to retreat to bed, Charlotte was almost excited for the forced silence of sleep. She was slightly disheartened though as her thoughts drifted to the lace lingerie hanging in her closet that she bought particularly for this moment that would go unused. It was black with gold detailing to match his former character’s Golden Jaguar suit, a detail she had gotten from a spy or two on set. She had strongly considered still putting it on and entice him. However, he did not seem to want any physical affection and she had felt enough rejection from him for the day.

Maybe tomorrow night, she reasoned as they both slid into bed.

When he turned off the light on his side, she offered him an ‘I love you,” and a kiss on the cheek. However, neither were reciprocated nor did he ease back into their usual sleeping position with half of his body draped on top of her. No, instead he slept on the edge of their shared bed with his back to her.

As his light snores filled her ears, Charlotte barely slept as she prayed her husband’s off day was merely a one-time issue and he would be back to his usual jovial self tomorrow. Somehow, despite the warm body next to her, their bed felt cold as ever. And she was no stranger to coldness in a relationship, that dreadful feeling of loneliness when someone was there with you. In fact, in her experience, coldness and indifference were a step up from her ex’s usual behavior. But she was not accustom to such coldness from Bakari. Warmth was she knew with him, all he had ever been. Even on the rare occasions when he was angry, he never acted as if she was a burden or as if he did not wish to be around her. And that was all she felt today: that coldness and the sharp edge of rejection. How else was she supposed to feel when, after three months apart, the love of her life acted as if he did not want to see her? But as she laid there, she still held on tight to her optimism. She vowed not to read too much into it or let it get to her too much.

She sighed before turning over to face the wall away from him and close her eyes.

Tomorrow, he’ll be back to normal, she thought to herself. He has to be.

***

Charlotte shifted in bed, her hand reaching out to find the warmth that was her husband only to be me with the uncomfortable cold of an empty bed.

“This nigga,” she whispered, rolling her eyes. She knew exactly where her husband was, where he had been almost every night and day since he returned home from Atlanta four weeks prior.

She swung her legs out of bed and grabbed her robe, tying it tightly around her waist as she made her way through the darkness to her husband’s ‘man cave,’ which housed all his gadgets and toys. She scratched her head, her reddish-brown curls wild and untamed around her as she had accidentally pushed her scarf off in her restless sleep. She was not surprised to find him playing Call of Duty, the loud gunshots and bangs from the game mixing with the sound from an episode from some anime she did not recognize on the other screen.

“Babe… Babe. Bakari!” She called his name several times, the annoyance in her tone increasing each time she had to repeat herself.

“What?”

Charlotte was slightly taken back by his tone and that his eyes did not leave his stupid video game to even acknowledge her presence. However, it did not deter her as she crossed the room to stand behind him. Her hands went to his rub his shoulders, only stilling when she felt him flinch beneath her touch and shrug her hands off of him. She supposed she should be used to the bite of rejection from him these days, but it still stung. Her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection as if to fight the instinct to touch him again.

“I-I just wanted to see if you were coming to bed soon. It’s like 3 am.”She knew her words sounded needy but she did not care. She missed her husband.

He immediately shook his head, wholly uninterested in retreating to the warmth of his shared bed with his wife. “Nah, not for a while.”

Charlotte’s whole body seemed to sag in disappointment, her shoulders hunching over as sadness spread throughout her. She knew she had been foolish for being so hopeful… hopeful that he would return to bed and hopeful that he would return to the man who left here in February.

It seemed as though, since he wrapped filming Black Panther, he had little time or interest in being with her or his family. He holed up in his cave in the basement for 90% of the day, only exiting when he had no choice. And even then, it was clear to everyone that he was suffering through their company. His behavior was odd for everyone in their household and their family. Michael was typically the conversationalist but everyone was struggling to pull two words out of him lately and those two words felt like an Olympic feat. She could count on two hands the amount of true conversations they had had since he returned home. And it was not just his isolation from her and his family, which she could, at least, make excuses for. She had also never seen him so short and quick to anger. Usually, he was the calm one, the one who could jump in and diffuse a situation. But now, rage seemed to live just beneath the surface and it only took one out-of-place word for it to spring forward.

It only took her a few days to recognize what was truly happening. It was the character bleeding through, the toxicity that was Erik Stevens tainting the waters of Michael B. Jordan. And the more she recalled the small tidbits of information she knew about the character he played, the more his behavior now and while he was shooting made sense. However, that did not make it any less anxiety-inducing and frustrating for her. Especially when it was not 24/7. There were certainly moments were she thought her husband was finally back fully. He was actually initiated conversation with her and laughed and joked around. However, those were always shorted lived as Erik seemed to rear his ugly head every time eventually, causing him to ignore her or retreat to his corner of the house. And she hated it, hated this Jekyll and Hyde rollercoaster she felt forced into enduring day in and day out. This ‘Erik-Michael’ hybrid was not the man she married and pledged her life to. But he seemed to have no desire to go back to who he was.

“Damn… You could’ve just stayed in Atlanta if you were gonna stay holed up in here all day and night,” she mumbled to herself, her own frustration getting the better of her.

“The fuck you just say?” He threw down his controller and stood up, the loud clanging to the ground causing Charlotte to jump slightly. However, his outburst did not deter her.

“I said, ‘you could’ve just stayed in Atlanta if you were gonna act like you don’t have a wife and family here.’ I mean what the fuck is wrong with you, Bakari? Like I know it can be hard to shake a character, trust me, I’ve been there. But this is getting fucking ridiculous.”

He rolled his eyes and took another gulp from his glass of scotch. “Always comin’ in here with some bullshit.”

“See - that right there. Since when do you speak to me like that?? I don’t know what’s going on with you babe but this ain’t ok.”

He shook his head. “I’m good. Don’t worry about it.”

She scoffed, “I’m not an idiot, Michael. This,” she gestured to him, “This isn’t you! You don’t let me touch you,” she started listing all of the grievances that had built up over the last month. “You only let me close to you when you want to have sex. You’re fucking mean a-and aggressive to everyone. You barely speak to me and when you do, you act like you can’t fucking stand it. I’m worried about you! Because this isn’t healthy. And I’m worried about our marriage when you’re treating me like you don’t fucking care about me at all. I need you to tell me what is going on???”

By the time she stopped talking, she was shouting, her chest heaving lightly with her frustration.

“MAYBE I DON’T CARE!” He yelled at her, his anger at her perceived attack boiling over to uncontrollable levels. Part of him knew she was right. However, hearing his behavior repeated back to him only increased his shame at the fact that he could not shake whatever this was. And that only increased his rage at himself, which he felt like could only be directed at one person: his wife. The words flowed from his mouth like vomit. He did not even know what he was saying until it was too late. “Maybe I don’t give a fuck about you or anyone else! This is the real fucking me. I got every right to be fucking angry if I want to be and I don’t give a fuck what you or anyone else thinks about it!”

The retort bubbling to the surface immediately died in her throat as his words hit her. She did not try to hide the tears that immediately sprang to her eyes as she stared at him. The back of her hand hastily wiped the falling tears away. She had never expected words so callous to come out of his mouth of all people. She could not fully even formulate thoughts, let alone a sentence, as his refrain just repeated in her brain over and over.

Michael immediately regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, especially since they were farthest from the truth. For the first time in a long time, he felt the spirit of Killmonger subside, even just for a moment. And he could finally see the damage he had left behind in his wake.

“Babe-“ he immediately raced up to her and touched her arm, immediately stopping when she flinched at his touch and stepped back away from him.

“Don’t…” her voice cracked as a small sob escaped her lips. “D-don’t touch me.”

She turned on her heels and raced out of the room, her eyes blurred in the darkness as she made her way, not to the bed she shared with Michael, but to a guest room on the other side of the house. She locked the door immediately and crumpled down to the floor, her body hunched over from the strength of her sobs.

The sound of her quiet crying as she left the room stayed with Michael, playing a torturous loop in his mind long after he was alone. He had never been so angry or disappointed in himself. He threw the glass in his hand across the room and knocked everything on the coffee table across from his couch to the floor. The shattering sounds did nothing to appease him.

He did not know what the fuck was wrong with him. Killmonger was dead but it seemed as if he was determined to not let Michael go. Every time he tried to lay the character to rest, Killmonger resisted, feeding on his insecurities, his pain, his anger, and every other negative emotion Michael usually had a handle on. Everything that he usually was able to diminish, Killmonger forced to the surface and amplified to new extremes. Nights like tonight there was only Killmonger and his ‘I have no one and nothing but my revenge’ attitude that Michael just could not shake.

But Michael had someone… several someones who loved and cared about him. He did not know why he had routinely pushed them all away over the last few weeks. And now he had done significant harm to the one person he loved more than any other person on Earth.

And he had no idea how to fix it… or if it was even fixable at all.

***

Charlotte hummed quietly along with her music as she packed her suitcase, her song only interrupted by her quietly talking to herself as she went over her checklist.

“Where you goin’”

Charlotte glanced up from her suitcase to find her husband standing in the doorway staring at her. The cold front in the Jordan household had been reduced to Arctic levels since their blowout argument two days prior. Michael had considered apologizing but his shame only pushed him farther into isolation. He could barely look at Charlotte and every time he tried to say something, a voice in his head overpowered his good sense and stopped him. And Charlotte, in turn, refused to speak to him.

So the couple existed in near silence ever since. Unless his parents prompted conversation or the pair had to discuss something important, they simply acted as if the other was not there. Charlotte had even moved out of their bedroom, sleeping in a guest room down the hall to avoid him.

“I’m going to New York.” She continued packing and gathering her things so she could close her bag. She did not even look at him to see the confused expression on his face.

“I thought we were supposed to be going in a few weeks before the Tonys.”

Charlotte nodded. Charlotte had work to attend to in the city and since they both loved NYC so much, they had planned to just go together in about two weeks and stay there until the Tony Awards. Michael had some time off before he had to start training again for Creed II so it would have been the perfect mini vacation for the pair. NYC was at the top of their shortlist of cities they did not visit without the other. And she was knowingly breaking that pact. However, it was, currently, the only city in the country she actually had something to do in and could stay busy while running away from her current problems.

“Yea but I just think I should go now. Gonna help workshop this new musical and get some other shit done. Car’ll be here in like 30 minutes.”

His eyes grew wide at how soon she was leaving. “You weren’t gon’ say shit?”

Still emotionally bruised from their argument two days prior, she could not stop her initial thought from escaping her lips. “Why would I? You don’t care, remember?”

Her eyes clenched shut as she heard the words settle in the space, immediately wishing she could stuff them back down her throat. When she opened her eyes she could see his whole body was tense, his face crestfallen. It was not her intention to make him feel bad. She knew her husband and knew he did not mean those words. But there was a petty part of her who wanted him to hear how deep his words cut.

However, it seemed to have the opposite effect. She could feel his energy shift, his defenses immediately rising as he felt attacked by her words.

“So what? You’re leavin’ me cause of some shit you know I didn’t fuckin’ mean?”

Charlotte rubbed her forehead. She was not interested in fighting with him.

“Nobody’s leaving you. I just… think we both need space. That seems to be what you wanted anyway? Time alone and away from me? Now you’ll have it. And maybe you can use the time to figure your shit out.”

“Figure what out?”

“What it is about this fucking character that you can’t shake? And why you can’t let him go? Because you can tell me you’re fine until you’re blue in the face but it isn’t true. And we both know it.”

Michael knew she was not wrong but slowly his Killmonger facade was slipping. Michael was the one holding the reigns now and Michael needed his wife… here with him.

“I don’t need space. You’re my fucking wife, Charlotte. I need you here.”

Charlotte let out a humorless laugh. “See I know I’m your wife, Bakari. But it isn’t clear to me right now that you know that or that you even know you have family and friends who love you. Cause you aren’t acting like it.” She paused before walking over to stand in front of him. Her hand went to his cheek and wiped away a tear that she did not even think he knew was falling.

“Look, I understand what you are going through… truly I do. I know what it is like to be you and in your skin and in your life but.. you have this other personality gnawing at your soul. It is hard a-and it takes work sometimes to let it go. B-but just because the actress in me understands this and empathizes with it doesn’t mean the wife in me can accept it. I don’t like who you are right now a-and I can’t accept how you’re treating me. I-I have no intention of leaving you, I promise. But I just can’t be here with you like this.”

Hearing that his wife did not want to be around him hurt worse than any physical wound ever could. He immediately wondered if his mood swings and behavior was triggering to her, something he had been far too in his own head to even consider.

“I’m so sorry for the other night. I didn’t mean it and you know I'd nev-”

“I know. Truly, I do,” she assured him. “You aren’t him, you're the farthest person from him I've ever met. A-and I know you didn’t mean what you said. B-but for the last few weeks, babe, I’ve been walking around on eggshells with you. Every day, afraid I’m about to set off a ticking time bomb. And even if all that bomb does is hurl words at me, it,” she choked back sob that caused her voice to crack. “It f-fucking hurts, babe. It hurts to feel lonely with you here. It hurts to not be able to love you or receive that love back. It hurts to feel constantly rejected. And… most of all, it hurts to see you in pain like this. I’m just exhausted, Michael.” Her words sounded as weary as she felt, fresh out of energy and options. If anything, she hoped this time apart would replenish her and him.

A buzzing from her watch pulled her attention from him. Her car was here.

She pulled her suitcase off of the bench at the end of their bed and grabbed her purse. She knew they both needed this but she did not expect it to hurt either of them as much as it did. The broken look on his face made her want to unpack her bag and stay exactly where she was. But she knew she couldn’t.

She dragged her feet toward their door, stopping to envelope him in a hug, the first hug in weeks that he actually returned with earnest. She kissed him on the cheek before pulling away, knowing if she lingered in his touch too long, she would not be able to leave.

“When will you be back?” He asked as she walked toward the door. Part of him was afraid to hear her answer.

She glanced back at him and shrugged. “Don't look so solemn, Bakari. Our marriage isn’t over. I’m with you to the end of the line. But that’s entirely up to you… let me know when my husband is back and Killmonger is dead and buried, and I’ll be on the first red eye back to you. And whatever you need to get him back, you tell me and I'll support you. I love you.”

She offered him one last smile before she met her driver in the hallway and handed him her stuff, leaving Michael alone in their bedroom.

“I love you too.”

Taglist: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @msniaimani @hi888888sworld

A/N: So… what do you think??? Charlotte has left for NYC, though she promises to come back. How can our favs come back from this? Do you think she should've let at all or stayed to work it out? What do you think Michael needs to do to get his shit together? Let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading!

#michael b jordan x reader #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan #mbjedit #mbj fanfic #erik kilmonger x reader #Erik killmonger x reader #black writers #creed 3 #adonis creed #black panther #creed iii #michael b jordan fanfic #Michael b Jordan x oc

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