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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.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger imagine #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #erik killmonger x oc #killmonger smut #spooky szn #kinktober

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risingoftime · 1 year

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Shuri & Killmonger both surrounded by fire symbolizing their consuming need for vengeance in the ancestral plane.

#screaming crying throwing up #i love them both #erik killmonger #killmonger #mcu universe #mcu black panther #black panther #wakandagifs #wakanda forever spoilers #wakanda forever #shuri #mcu shuri #shuri deserves the world #risingoftime #ancestral plane #ancestors

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mndvx · 1 year

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BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER (2022) dir. Ryan Coogler ››› Michael B. Jordan as N'Jadaka / Erik "Killmonger" Stevens

#black panther: wakanda forever #michael b jordan #killmonger #n'jadaka #erik stevens #marveledit #mcuedit #movieedit #filmedit #bpwfedit #wakandaforeveredit #bpwf spoilers #spoilers

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yns-world · 1 year

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lion & lioness

title: lion & lioness

pairing: erik killmonger x fem!reader

summary: erik takes the heart-shaped herb and sees his lost lover.

word count: 1k

warnings: reader death

a/n: i’m now taking requests for killmonger so feel free to send in your requests <3

As the new king of Wakanda, it is ritual for Erik to drink the essence of the heart-shaped herb and to speak with his ancestors. But as the searing power of the herb ran through his veins, he felt himself arriving at a place other than his childhood home.

When he opened his eyes, Erik found himself at the edge of a lake, in a forest that he recognizes. The creatures of the night sang their songs-- crickets and insects chirped, the nocturnal birds trilled, and the wind lapped at the lake water. The night was full of life under the illuminating light of the full moon.

Erik craned his head back to take in the sight of the moon. A soft breeze blew past Erik, and a scent caressed his nose-- a familiar scent.

A moment later, Y/N materialized a few feet in front of him, wearing a sheer gown made of white silk.

“My King.” Y/N beckoned, with a proud smile on her face. Erik’s eyes filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. He broke the distance and pounced on her, wrapping his arms around her in a bone-crushing embrace.

His tears were seeping through her translucent gown, and Y/N ached at the sight of his pain.

Y/N pulled back just enough to see his face. When she cupped his cheeks with her hands, he noticed that they were not cold, but they held the same warmth that they always did when she was still with him. This fact only made him cry more.

“You’ve come so far, N’Jadaka. You’ve done it.”

It was true, their whole lives were spent fighting for this one moment-- the moment where Erik was crowned king of Wakanda; where he was revered as the true Black Panther.

But before he was the Black Panther, they were Lion & Lioness. Hearts and souls bound as one.

“I need you by my side.” Desperation laced Erik’s voice, his eyes pleading with her.

“As long as the moon is out, I am with you.” She momentarily took her eyes off him to gaze up at the moon, and the moon reflected in her wide eyes.

Erik’s expression shifted from one of despair to one of bitterness.

This was injustice-- his whole life was an act of injustice-- and Erik swore to avenge each and every action done to him, starting with burning the sacred garden of the heart-shaped herb.

Y/N knew that face, she knew exactly what it meant when Erik’s eyebrows furrowed and his usual scowl deepened.

“If you burn those flowers, you cut off our connection.”

Immediately, Erik felt a moment of pain that he would feel if he did burn those flowers-- it was scorching pain, like someone took a rod of fire and ran it through his chest before dragging it down his torso and cutting him in half. But that was only the start of the pain, what came next was indescribably worse.

After the initial wave of hell, he was left hollow. He was an empty shell of a man.

He did not remember happiness. He could not recall love.

He couldn’t even remember the original reason for why he became king in the first place.

In that single, simulated moment, Erik was no longer himself. He was merely a ghost.

The feeling washed over him as quickly as it came and he was brought back to the present-- his arms around Y/N as she stared into his eyes, experiencing every emotion with him.

Erik was silent, but he knew better than to burn those flowers. He wouldn’t dare cut off a connection like theirs.

“Secondly, your heir…” Y/N’s words trailed off and she brought a hand to her stomach. Erik’s eyes followed her hand and was stunned. He gently kneeled in front of her, and placed his hand over her stomach. He pressed a kiss on the baby bump.

He then got back up, asking how many months she had left.

“Soon.” Y/N smiled a bit wider when she saw Erik’s impatient expression.

Before he could get another word in, Y/N gave Erik a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Good luck, N’Jadaka. Your story is only beginning.”

---

Erik’s body shot up, his chest heaving as he attempted to regulate his breathing.

---

Months would pass since that night and there was a significant shift in Erik’s ruling. What was once a war-hungry dog, has now turned into a protector of his nation.

But recently, something has been eating away at Erik. A gnawing feeling was twisting and churning every moment he was alone. He was restless at night and was suffering from insomnia.

It was another night in a string of sleepless-nights, but this time he was called to the window. Erik looked up at the indigo sky, a full moon gazed back at him.

Tonight was one year since Y/N’s passing.

Erik closed his eyes and bowed his head towards the moon.

“Rest easy, my Queen.”

When he opened his eyes, he witnessed a shooting star race across the sky-- it flew across the moon and seemed to be inching closer and closer towards the castle.

Erik’s body acted before his brain could catch up and he bolted down to the castle entrance.

Outside the entrance sat a baby wrapped in white silk. Erik picked up the swaddled baby and recognized the texture of the cloth immediately-- it was the same cloth Y/N wore when he last saw her.

Holding up the baby in the moonlight, Erik was able to see the striking resemblance to Y/N.

As he was admiring the baby, a name was whispered in his ear.

Leona.

And that was what the heir to the Wakandan throne was called.

Leona Stevens; Lion at heart; born of royal blood.

The next day, the royal courts would rejoice at this news. The elders were not appalled by the appearance of this heir, they were rather fascinated that they have lived long enough to see this phenomenon happen in front of their very eyes.

Kings come and go, but nothing could ever dispute Erik’s bloodright of being king since he has been gifted by the gods with an heir.

Leona’s birth would be celebrated for the next week. She would be revered as the Snow Leopard, for her rare birth and the even rarer occurrence of having an heir blessed by Bast herself.

“Leona!” Wakanda chanted. “Daughter of King N’Jadaka and Queen Y/N; Princess Leona, the Snow Leopard!”

a/n: if you enjoyed reading, please consider reblogging and tipping, that supports me and my account more than likes :)

DON’T BE A GHOST READER!!!!! let me know your thoughts, opinions, ideas, etc in the comments!!! i love talking with y’all <3

i’m open to requests! free feel to request, just make sure to read my pinned post for request rules <3

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xo-tough-love-xo · 4 months

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We got spies embedded in every nation on Earth. Already in place. I know how colonizers think. So we're gonna use their own strategy against 'em. We're gonna send vibranium weapons out to our War Dogs.

BLACK PANTHER (2018) Ryan Coogler

#michael b. jordan #erik killmonger #killmonger #black panther #blackpantheredit #mcuedit #mcufam #marvaladdicts #mcuchallenge #userelysia #dailymarvelgifs #dailymarvelstudios #n'jadaka #erik stevens #marveledit #userstream #dailyflicks #miss u

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eye-raq · 1 year

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Erik Killmonger in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

#black panther #killmonger #e #killmonger imagine #michealbjordan #micheal b jordan #erik killmonger #erikkillmonger #erik stevens #blackpanther #shuri udaku #wakanda forever #wakanda forver spoilers

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melaninpov · 8 months

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Black Panther Killmonger v. T’challa

Challenge for the throne

“Is this your King? The Black Panther, who’s suppose to lead you into the future?…. Naw, I’m your King”

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kukvlkan · 1 year

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MICHAEL B. JORDAN as N'JADAKA

BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER

#killmonger #marveledit #michael b jordan #wakanda forever #black panther wakanda forever #tag: mine #tag: mcu #tag: n'jadaka

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apocalypse-shuffle · 10 months

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ERIK STEVENS | KILLMONGER (the mcu)

────────────────────

“Mirror Image” (Erik Stevens x Fem!Reader)

| Erik only just came to visit you last night; now you have some catching up to do.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, descriptions of the Reader-Insert’s naked body -chubby!reader/curvy!reader

| Gif source: Black Panther (2018)

| 2k+ words

Song lyric prompt #TWO:

I walk around the house butt-naked

And I stop at every mirror just to stare at my own posterior

(Thot Shit by Megan Thee Stallion)

You look at yourself in the mirror and dance a little. Booty popping as you move around.

There’s no music playing in the house outside of your own head, but you’re just really feeling yourself right now.

There was nothing of any note going on at the moment but after you’d used the bathroom you couldn’t help but pause as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

It’s been a while since things were calm enough for you to admire yourself in this way. Erik was busy a lot and his whirlwind life tended to throw your own into a tizzy, so to be able to take just a little time out of your day for something as simple as this felt nice.

Erik had legitimately kept you busy over the last year and half. He hadn’t been shy about his big plan, even if he’d sugar coated the hell out of the fact that his plan was to usurp his cousin for the throne of a hidden technological empire, so that meant when he disappeared you’d had to live with the extremely high possibility that he’d left you for good. You had never once in your life heard a man talk so much shit as him when he knocked on your door four months ago though.

And boy could Erik talk. Man could convince you your own Mama was your Auntie after you just watched yourself come out the womb, and it was because of that that you had nearly laughed him out of your house when he’d started really explaining. There was no way he thought he was going to make a clown out of you after you’d seen him do the same to other people before.

But then the gold necklace around his shoulders had turned into a whole power suit and your doubt hadn’t been feasible anymore.

You’d wanted to knock him when he ended up laughing at you instead. He still made fun of the bug eyed look you gave him. The only thing stopping you from doing just that, vibranium suit be damned, had been your own shift in thought.

All of a sudden without the worry of whether he was coming back or not, you were reminded of all the reasons you’d been more scared for Erik than you had longed for him.

During the duration of your relationship in college he’d never once been bad to you. Not like you knew he could be, the man was ruthlessly motivated on an easy day. But you couldn’t say with full confidence that you and Erik’s relationship had been good.

Certain facets of you and his personalities complimented each other and other facets kicked your asses frequently. There were multiple times in college that you’d left his dorm in a fit with barely any clothes on during the winter.

He would do or say some sly shit that would piss you off and then you wouldn’t talk for a week. You because you were stubborn as hell and Erik because he didn’t bend for nobody. And while you could see how your immaturity had put a strain on your relationship that didn’t mean the space between y’all was souly on you.

Erik was a mean son of a bitch even when he liked you and back then he seemed to make a game out of getting on your last nerve. Erik was also demanding, and you weren’t a dog. So every time you didn’t move mountains when he asked you to with half an explanation, you’d fight.

Erik has only gotten the chance to pull some crazy shit on you once and for good reason.

The second he hit you with a “Where the fuck you at?” you had just about left his ass entirely.

It was quite literally y’all having graduated the next day and then him leaving for his self proclaimed mission that had kept you from officially ending things.

So yeah, as all that came back to you you hadn’t exactly been jumping into his arms when he knocked on your apartment door. Over the time he was away you’d grown up. Shit, you didn’t even live in New York anymore. Couldn’t wait to leave it behind for something less chaotic once you earned your degree.

You’d gotten a well paying job, a condo, and Erik Stevens had slowly but surely faded to the back of your consciousness. That was until he knocked on your door that month and you’d gone from halfheartedly hoping he was okay to the man taking up every inch of your mind.

A half a year from then and here you were.

With his plan ruined but part of his goal still well into execution Erik had mellowed out significantly. He was by no means not still angry, which you got completely, and anger like his didn’t dissipate so much as it shifted anyway.

What you’d needed from Erik was for him to learn the source of that anger and repurpose it better than trying to take it out on you. And he’d been doing that too. All he asked from you was to try with him and to “Stop doing that uppity shit. When you mad at me, tell me so we can work through the problem.”

So the both of you had started working on your communication, and it was an uphill battle, but you weren’t losing.

Recently whenever Erik was relieved of his duties as Wakandan royalty and the Golden Jaguar he’d taken to visiting you for as long as he could. And that came with complimenting you about the most random shit whenever you were down. Your body being no exception.

As you think about Erik you turn and shake your ass, watching the way the mirror catches the bounce. You can’t help but giggle. Call it vain or whatever but damn you still had it.

You’re in an old t-shirt and shorts and you still couldn’t help but stare. So if that wasn’t having ‘IT’ you didn’t know what was.

Over the last few years you hadn’t exactly thought you were ugly, fuck all of that you’d been pretty good at keeping the self deprecation firmly in the past of your adolescence, but you hadn’t exactly thought you were the shit either.

Erik let it be known often enough how much he loved your figure. Your curves and soft rolls constantly caressed in his hands. And you didn’t think there was a damn thing on earth that could keep that fucker away from your stretch marks, he loved running his hands over the more raised lines and pressing his lips to them. So in that department you certainly weren’t lacking in reminders of how attractive you were. You just hadn’t consciously been thinking about it.

Until now that is.

You shift your body in the mirror some more, watching how the light casts shadows on your melanin; the dimples and dips in your chunky thighs. Fuck. You chuckle to yourself, no wonder your partner was always all up underneath you.

Just then some burning curiosity compels you and you start to undress. You showered earlier in the morning so you’re fully aware that if Erik catches you you won’t have much of a cover story that didn’t sound at least a little conceited, but you couldn’t muster the shame to give a fuck.

You’d just have to resolve yourself to the fact that his annoying ass might tease you.

But it was your body. If other people were allowed to admire it, you think after all the work you put in to cherish it, you should be able to admire it too.

Your clothes, underwear and all, land in a heap beside your feet on the floor and you take in the new view.

You remember a time in your life when the sight made you embarrassed and it makes you kind of giddy to see that quite the opposite is happening right now.

You’re fucking gorgeous.

Not everyone would agree (no duh) but that wasn’t any sweat off your back. As far as you were concerned they were missing out.

You stick your tongue out and snicker as you shake your ass facing forward in front of the mirror. You watch as the excess parts of your body jiggle and honestly if you could visibly blush you probably would be.

“You shaking all that for me?”

You scream, you hadn’t noticed Erik come into the hall, let alone stand to watch you take in the varying browns of your skin. You whip around a moment later, prepared to chew him out about sneaking up on you, but at the sheer intensity of the look he’s giving you y’all just end up staring at each other.

He’s in his work out clothes, you hadn’t gone with him to the gym today, opting instead to get some work done and try out a new recipe you found online and he’d clearly come back while you were…um… distracted.

You don’t have time to be embarrassed by him catching you, not that you would be if you did, due to the way his eyes are eating you up on the spot.

He licks his lips, eyebrows raising slightly.

“You gon answer me?”

You humph quietly, confused as to what he means before you remember what he’d initially asked and smirk.

“I wasn’t, no,” you give his glistening body a once over of your own. “But I can be.”

Erik’s eyes light up and your heart stutters.

“Oh? How do I make that happen?” He starts to move towards you.

You both lock eyes again and you sigh as you think of an answer, backing up more into the bathroom unconsciously.

“Hmm. You could go to that dance class I’ve been begging you to do with me?”

You watch as he makes a big show of thinking it over before shaking his head.

“Hard pass. I already told you once a month, and we went together last week. Give me something else so I can get my hands on you.”

Your tongue presses into a spot behind your teeth on the roof of your mouth as you glance behind him. His jaw ticks when he picks up on the action.

“Another plushie and a massage?”

His response is instant.

“You’ll get a massage regardless, but I’ll get you a damn stuffed animal.” He grins shark-like at you. “You finished playing now? Over here taunting me with all this.”

“Oh?” You mouth, head tilting as you watch him stand in the doorway. Your calves hit the tub softly and you shiver, tongue pressing into your tooth gap again. “All of what?”

His eyes travel back to your mouth.

There’s a chuckle, it sends anticipation racing through you as he shakes his head.

“You like torturing me don’t you?” The grin that stretches across your face at his words squashes whatever claim of innocence you might have tried. He scoffs. “I’ll get back at your ass for it though, don’t worry.”

He gestures to you as you continue giving him a confused look, loving teasing Erik like nothing else. Riling him up like this always led to something fun, whether it involved sex or not.

You raise your eyebrow,

“But I haven’t even done anything.”

Erik glances away, hand running over his mouth before he looks back at you.

“Don’t act slow. I don’t get to see you for weeks, and when I come home you look like this. What do you expect me to do when I find you practically eye-fucking your naked body in the mirror, huh?”

Your smile turns a little more manic at that. You kind of want to cackle.

“Awww, did I accidentally make someone hard?” You coo, his eye twitches.

What can you say? You’ve got a mean streak too.

“Yes, baby,” he licks his lips again as he watches the dark planes of your skin. “You’ve made me hard. Now what you gon do about it?”

You fight the urge to shrug, play blight to your own obvious affect on the other. Part of Erik’s life being so crazy that it often disrupted yours was that it left little time for you both to just be together. Romantically or casually, recently being with him was always a treat and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t craving Erik just as much as he was clearly craving you.

“I’m getting my plush right?”

He nods. “Promise baby.”

The smile that breaks across your face is unabashedly giddy and you can tell from the way his stance relaxes and how he rocks back on his heels that he knows he’s got you.

You move forward in a few quick strides and press yourself up against him, hands resting lightly on his abdomen. His chest is heaving as he stares at you.

“Then let me shake my ass for you.”

He’s on you in seconds, hands reaching for your ass and pressing your groins together, his lips crashing into yours.

You groan, allowing your own hands to explore his chest as you devour each other. You hadn’t realized how needy you were for his touch until you finally got it after so long of being too on edge for the next problem to make a move.

You break apart to breathe. A line of spit connects the two of you as you stare each other down. He slaps your left ass cheek, you feel the impact in your toes, and then he squeezes. You can’t help the startled whimper that pulls from you and Erik chuckles, breathy and low. He holds the flesh in his hand and jiggles your ass like that. You let out an airy moan as the movements spread your pussy lips apart.

“Fuck, I missed this ass,” he groans into your neck, clearly watching the skin ripple and the pink of the inside of your vagina that you know he’ll be able to just barely see at his angle.

He presses a kiss to your neck and you laugh, wrapping your hands around his waist to press him even closer to you. You roam your hands along Erik’s back and eventually to his own defined ass.

“Mmm, you only missed my ass?”

You can feel his grin spread across your skin.

“Nah, I missed some other things too,” his hand lets go and this time slaps your right cheek. You squeak a little.

He pecks you on the lips. “I miss how your body feels against mine like this. Too needy for me - for my dick - to worry ‘bout anything else.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you shiver, moan falling unbidden from you. You're so close that he feels the movement and his chuckle makes your insides melt even more.

“Mhm,” You whine.

“Mhm what?” He murmurs.

“Mhm, I’m needy.”

“Oh yeah?” His hands stay rubbing all over your curves and folds. “What you want me to do about that?”

“Fuck me, please,” you whisper.

The second the plea falls past your plush lips he bends down to pick you up with nothing more than a soft noise and then carries you to the bedroom. You don’t react outside of a small giggle. More than happy to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders.

He doesn’t let you go while he collects something from the bedside drawer and dumps it on the bed. Moments later you’re next as he lays you both on the mattress. You go to unwrap your limbs and he slaps your thigh with a shake of his head.

“Uh uh,” he grunts, laying your back against the cool sheets. He kisses you on the jaw. “I want you around me while I fuck into this pussy.”

You moan and he presses a kiss into your plump cheek next, beginning to rock the length of his hot dick against your equally needy pussy. The tip spreads your lips and you throw your head back at the stimulation it puts on your unfurling clit.

“Yeah, I want you in me,” you pant out.

“Fuck yes,” he moans, rutting increasing. “I missed you.”

He kisses you on the lips and kneads your stomach between his big hands.

“Missed all of this,” his sentence stutters on a moan and you whine.

“I missed you too.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!

I’m not too confident about how I write Erik yet, so be gentle. I will take any feedback though.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

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mbakubabe · 1 year

Text

Not the End

Reader takes a heart-shaped herb after Erik's death, hoping to see him again.

CW: Erik's dead, Angst, fem!reader

You took the herb-you didn't care if you got the power of Bast, potential side effects, nothing-you just wanted to see him again.

You ended up in what looked like a plain, with beautiful trees and sky.

Your breath caught when you saw him.

Erik.

Even though you weren't very far from each other, you still sprinted to him, burying your face in his chest. He laughed a little, and your heart broke all over again.

"Hey, babe."

You looked up and wanted to cry. He had that same cocky, lovable grin that you missed so damn much.

"You doin' alright?" Usually, he'd try to play it off his concern as casual as possible, but not right now. Maybe cause he was...

You gulped, trying not to break down in his arms. "Nah," you whispered, burrowing yourself into him further, "missed you."

"Me too," he said, and you didn't miss the way his voice shook, just a little bit.

You didn't want to move, but he pulled you back, just enough so that he could see you properly.

"You look good," he breathed. The way he said it made you smile, even though your eyes watered and your legs felt like jelly.

He looked good, too, albeit a bit different, his hair being styled differently, beard a bit longer, and his all-white clothing. But you didn't mind in the slightest.

You felt a tug, and you fought, wanting-needing-to tell him what you didn't when you were alive, when you were both together.

"I love you, Erik."

He just smiled at you, cupped your face in his hands and brought you close enough to kiss, "Yeah, I know."

Then he did kiss you, and you never wanted to stop.

When he finally pulled away, you felt the tug, stronger this time.

"Erik, I got-I got to-"

"Stay? We both know that ain't happening. Least right now." You'd think his words harsh, if his tone hadn't been so soft. Almost heartbroken.

"But I-it hurts, Erik."

Erik just pulled you into another hug, this time much tighter. "I know, baby. I know."

Then he slowly, slowly pulled a fraction of an inch away from you, and you saw that same perfect smile that he reserved for late nights, when he thought you weren't awake, when he'd gaze at you as you both lay and tell you how much you meant to him, when you'd both look up at the stars and he'd talk about how he'd make you royalty-

"Don't cry," he said, his voice gentle-too gentle. You felt his thumb brush your tear-streaked cheeks.

You didn't know you'd been crying.

"Now, you need to go," he murmured, bringing your foreheads together one last time, before pulling away from you completely.

"Erik?"

Your vision blurred, and you felt yourself going.

"Erik! N'Jadaka!"

"Love you," he called, suddenly seeming far away. "And death ain't the end! I'm not goin' away that easy!"

You woke up, gasping.

#black panther #black panther wakanda forever #black panther wakanda forever spoilers #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #killmonger x reader #killmonger #erik stevens #black panther fanfiction #it's actually embarrassing how long something this short took me #😭

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sabugabr · 1 year

Text

RRR, Black Adam and the Response of the Oppressed

OR: The Colonial Wound and how to approach Violence as a solution against the mechanisms of oppression

OR: how to get the debate right VS how to ruin it completely

Spoiler: RRR gets it right

So, I was keeping this one to myself because it's a very delicate subject, but rejoicing in RRR's recent Golden Globe nomination, I thought hell might as well talk about it.

First of all, a very important disclaimer:

I am not here, in any way, defending or endorsing any side in this debate. My personal views on violence and armed struggle and guerrilla warfare are not what I will be addressing. Armed struggle, is an extremely complex issue that is still being debated today by theorists and academics much more qualified than I am, so no.

Rather, my aim here is simply to address how this debate has been represented, and my take on this issue: media portrayals of social, historical and most importantly, decolonial debates. And recently in 2022, we've had two approaches (And yes, I am fully aware that this topic is much better covered in dozens of media that have this debate entirely as their main focus, but I am talking about superhero blockbusters here, so keep that in mind) that may seem similar, but are fundamentally completely divergent:

The Telugu movie RRR (Rise, Roar, Revolt)

And curiously, DC Film's Black Adam

No need to say, there'll be major spoilers ahead, so be warned

1. THE RESPONSE OF THE OPRESSED

Before I start, I would like to clarify as briefly as I can some terms and concepts that I consider necessary to begin to understand decolonialism and the response of the oppressed, a term that was coined in the famous quote by Jaylen Brown during the height of the BLM movement, "Do not confuse the response of the oppressed with the violence of the oppressor".

Pierre Bourdieu differentiates the violence of the oppressor into two categories:

explicit violence – in which the action of the dominant subject is visible (and therefore, in our current society, subject to questioning and legal or moral limitations)

and symbolic violence – conceptualized by Bourdieu when he addressed the issue of male domination in society and all the faces in which it presents itself – and we see it everywhere, from racial demographics in income distribution to that homophobic joke your uncle always makes.

This relationship of systematic domination can be understood as a chain, and in view of the necessary rise of awareness and consequent rupture of this chain, Audre Lorde presents the uses of anger.

By connecting the idea of symbolic power and the breaking of the domination relationship with the use of anger, we have the explosion of a natural reaction of the oppressed triggered by centuries of imprisonment in their own fear and, bringing this reality specifically to colonial relations, using anger over your own fear results in liberation. (source)

And although it wouldn't hurt to address the revolutionary terms in its most famous roots in the French Revolution and etc, here it seems more fitting to comment on Marx. And class struggle.

Briefly, Marx and Engels saw revolution as the result of organized political action by the exploited. Therefore, one can only speak of revolution when there is a rupture with the old political, social and economic order; and in its place, new standards of social relations are established whose principle is to ensure freedom and social equality among men.

This is what we mean when we talk about inverting the social order, and Marx will also use the terms infrastructure (productive forces + relations of production) and superstructure (politics, police, army, law, morals, religion, etc.).

The superstructure, for Marx, is created by the most favored and dominant class, but determined or conditioned by the infrastructure.

Therefore, the revolution would happen when the working class (and in that logic, any oppressed group) reversed the order and took control of the superstructure.

In short, this can be understood as the basis of revolutionary thinking.

Now apply this to the invasion, colonization and genocide scenario, and you'll see where I'm going here.

KKKKKKKKKKKKKK THAT'S A BIT EXTREME EXAMPLE SORRY but actually in Black Panther I the plot could very well be read through Marxist lens (and that has certainly been done), but I won't even go into that here, god forbid Wakanda Forever hahahah imagine that, anyway going back to my thread

2. ARMED STRUGGLE

A quick definition of armed struggle, which can be found in dictionaries, is armed resistance against oppressive regimes. In the armed struggle, the militants understand that the situation of society requires drastic action so that it can be modified, and for this reason they decide to take up arms and declare war on the oppressive regime. Guerrilla warfare is an example of armed struggle.

In the armed struggle, a group of militants opposed to the current regime in a given society, organize actions that can be strikes, attacks on barracks or public buildings, etc, aiming to destabilize the current power with the aim of overthrowing it and placing a different regime in its place, like a democracy, for example – in general, the armed struggle follows a leftist tendency. (source)

In Brazil, for example, the armed struggle appeared mainly as resistance to the Military Dictatorship between 1964 and 1985.

All of this goes along the idea of using violence as resistance to oppression (as already pointed out before): fire is answered with fire. In the specific scenario of the guerrilla, the French philosopher, journalist, former government official and academic Jules Régis Debray writes the controversial book Révolution Dans La Révolution, where he points out that "The main objective of a revolutionary guerrilla is the destruction of the enemy's military potential"; the enemy is stripped of it's military power (it's weapons) to ensure a greater chance of victory.

"To destroy an army you need another army.", Debray says. "Precisely because it is a mass struggle, and the most radical of all, the guerrillas need, in order to triumph militarily, to gather politically around themselves the active and organized majority, since it is the general strike and the generalized urban insurrection which will give the coup de grace to the regime and destroy its latest maneuvers - last minute coup d'état, provisional junta, elections - by extending the struggle throughout the country." (source)

Does that all ring a bell?

Sure it does.

Now, these are all historical scenarios, and nowadays the moral debates about armed struggle have become extremely more complex (as they should), and the disarmament discourse is taking more and more space in these debates. Is armed struggle the only solution? Wouldn't there be others?

But it is still a complex debate. The Brazilian rapper (and political thinker and, dare I say, philosopher) Mano Brown, a strong advocate of disarmament, staunchly defends that violence, most of the time, bounces back on the oppressed, not the oppressor.

Look at him all precious

He argues, however, that one cannot simply condemn the oppressed who react violently. Already in 2006 he presented in an interview that:

"I am in favor of disarmament, but this argument is difficult, things should be done differently […] People are coming as a class struggle, you know? Rich people don't want poor people to arm themselves and remain unarmed. And poor people don't want rich people to arm themselves and remain unarmed. Did you see the kid's argument: "How are the police allowed to carry guns while I remain unarmed? " It's kind of uneven. It's confusing." (source - translated by me)

Mano Brown is part of the Brazilian rap band Racionais formed by 4 black men from the periphery, who revamped their music after realizing that it could be used to foment violence. They front a series of social programs, and revolutionized the way peripheral music is seen and consumed. Nowadays, in 2023, Mano Brown hosts one of the biggest political interview podcasts in Brazil (having even interviewed Angela Davis), is considered one of the most active leaders of the racial struggle, and along with the other members of Racionais, has taught open classes in estate universities.

The Brazilian educator and philosopher Paulo Freire, considered one of the most notable thinkers in the history of world pedagogy, inaugurates in his book Pedagogy of the Oppressed (you can read it translated right here) the idea of the liberation pedagogy. He strongly emphasizes that liberation pedagogy is a political process that aims to awaken individuals from their oppression and generate actions for social transformation – through education.

NOW WITH ALL THAT IN MIND WE CAN FINALLY MOVE ON TO WHAT MATTERS,

3. THE MOVIES

I'm going to talk about RRR here first because it makes me happier, but for reasons of time and your patience I'm not going to extend myself so much in the analysis of this film technically, and if you want a more detailed look at the grandeur and the importance and the genius of this film, please watch any of the many videos that are now appearing on youtube on the subject (I recommend RRR: Make Movies EPIC Again, by Jared Bauer, and The Importance of RRR, by the wonderful Accented Cinema)

ONCE AGAIN ATTENTION FOR BIG, MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD

The story therefore revolves around two men: Raju, who infiltrates the British army to steal fireguns and deliver them to the people's guerrilla, and Bheem, a Gond leader who is after Mali, a child of his people who was kidnapped by the British to basically serve as a pet.

They meet under false identities, and unaware that they were both fighting for the liberation of India (through different methods), the two men form an extremely strong bond of love and friendship, which results in their struggles coalescing into an evocation of patriotic unity and popular resurgence against the colonial forces.

First of all, RRR is a fictionalized biography of two real-life Indian revolutionaries, Alluri Sitarama Raju and Komaram Bheem. So, in real life, Alluri Raju actually stole guns from the British to stage uprisings against the British Raj, and Komaram Bheem really was a Gond revolutionary leader who coined the slogan Jal, Jangal, Zameen (transl. Water, Forest, Land) wich became a call to action for Adivasis (or Scheduled Tribes) peoples.

You can see the flag in the last scenes

This "historical aspect" (in addition to the incredible, completely impossible and impossibly glorious action scenes) makes it plausible to draw parallels between RRR and Tarantino's historical revisionism films like Django Unchained (2013) and Inglourious Basterds (2009), where in all cases we see scenes of extreme violence that somehow feel justified, or cathartic, for being directed against oppressors (slave masters, Nazis, British colonizers, etc etc)

The parallels are just there.

Black Adam, on the other hand, states in its synopsis that "After nearly five thousand years of imprisonment, Black Adam, an anti-hero from the ancient city of Kahndaq, is released in modern times. His brutal tactics and righteous ways attract the attention of the Justice Society of America, who try to stop his rampage by teaching him to be more of a hero than a villain, and they all must band together to stop a force more powerful than Adam himself."

So we have a superhero story set in the present day in a fictional country on the Sinai Peninsula (that means, right there besides the Gaza Strip and the Suez Canal), occupied by a mercenary crime syndicate called Intergang, who brutally oppresses the Kahndaqi people while robbing their mineral resources. All good, all great.

But as stated in the synopsis, the film's great moral conflict revolves around whether the use of violence against mechanisms of oppression is justified or not.

Basically,

And while these two scenarios may seem similar, the approach the two films take to this debate, which, as I've said before, is EXTREMELY DELICATED, and EXTREMELY COMPLEX, is completely different. Firstly, because RRR is the only one of the two that treats it as, well, a debate.

From the beginning, RRR establishes the two characters as essentially polar opposites; Raju is fire

Look at the scenery with the european buildings in the background

Bheem is water

And here, the native, untouched forest with pure cristaline water

Bheem is the god Bhima, immovable, patient and resilient

(like water)

And Raju is the god Rama, heroic, springy and skillful

(and hot)

Bheem is the legs (the foundation) while Raju is the arms (the action)

They ✨ complement ✨ each other

And this is translated into their different approaches to the revolution: Raju with his arms policy (inherited from his guerrilla father), who operates within the system to overthrow it, and Bheem with his native philosophy, using the land, the fauna, the culture, the religion, the people themselves as agents against oppression, operating from outside the system to overthrow it.

At the beginning of the film, Raju dresses Bheem in western clothing so that he can attend a British party (which allows him to know the building and locate Mali), and at the end of the film, Bheem dresses Raju in the traditional clothing of the god Rama, and arms him not with european firearms but with a sacred bow and arrow, evoking his native homeland in what configures the real defeat of the colonizers.

Not even getting into the merits of comparing these two films technically, just talking about the discourse itself, what for me fundamentally separates RRR from Black Adam, and even Django and Inglourious Basterds, is precisely Bheem's character. It's the other way to fight (but fight nonetheless)

This does not mean that the armed struggle is delegitimized, or diminished. On the contrary, it is explained, justified (within that historical and social context) and respected. People who fought in the armed struggle, and died in the armed struggle, are honored and respected. It allows you to understand where the idea of arming the population is coming from (in a certain parallel with Mano Brown's interview that I mentioned above), but it also presents other discussions on the subject, that happened at the time, and still happens today.

And above all, as I mentioned before, the film presents and reinforces the idea of inspiration. Even if education is presented only very briefly, in a popular assembly, in the long term, the film still gives extreme focus to the importance of raising awareness among the oppressed people.

This can be clearly seen in the scene where Bheem is being tortured in a public square by the British government, and refuses to kneel.

So when the torture becomes too much to bear, he starts to sing

Now, this is the most important scene in this movie and I'll die on this hill

And then, this happens

Bheem inspires not only the population, but also Raju, who even after years of enticement by his own father, steps back on his original (armamentist) plan when he realizes that "I was under the impression that guns would bring us freedom. But Bheem inspired a whole crowd with one song"

Even though in the context of the film the "path of choice" was still violent (this still is, after all, an action superhero movie), the message of this scene is extremely metaphorical. The idea of a song (art) inspiring all people to "become a weapon" against an oppressive regime is very powerful, and it resonates deeply in anti-opression movements all over History. It is, literally, the power of the people.

Furthermore, at crucial moments in the plot, both Bheem and Raju put aside their collective struggles for the other's individual good; Unlike his father, who readily accepts the militarization of his child son for the greater good, Raju, when questioned by his guerrilla companion for abandoning 15 years of work to save Bheem, says that "I will bear it for another 25 years, but I won't sacrifice Bheem for my goal".

Bheem, here, represents not only the friendship and love between them, but, metaphorically, an entire ideal of the people. Ultimately, one can say that this film addresses the idea of "what are the limits in my revolution": I will not sacrifice the other for my revolution; the limits of my revolution must be the wellness of the other (and in our metaphorical reading here, the wellness of the people).

Parallel, the torture scene can be metaphorically read as: the only valid sacrifice is my own, never that of the other. (and I won't be commenting on the revolutionary character of ideas like martyrdom and self-sacrifice, but yes). That's what Bheem and Raju do throughout the entire film, they put the other above themselves.

And in the end, they kill the british defeat oppression together✨

Now, as I've mentioned before, yes, this movie still ends violently, yes, it still glorifies and celebrates this violence in some of the best action scenes I've seen in my whole life, yes, it is heavily patriotic and sometimes a little bit too on the nose about it, yes, and did I rejoyce in it? Yes.

But it cannot be denied that RRR at least presents a reflection not often seen in films of the genre, which is the mere existence of real debate. In addition, the film is placed in an extremely specific historical context, portraying real historical figures, real life revolutionaries, folkloric parallels, a gigantic symbolic charge, in short, a whole other deal.

Besides it, the only difference between this film and idk, Braveheart, or Star Wars, is that in this film the social and racial parallels, the guerrilla warfare and class struggle (and the colonial wound) become clearer – and perhaps this is a more responsible way of representing a revolution.

NOW, BLACK ADAM ON THE OTHER HAND KKKKKKK

As mentioned in the synopsis, the background of Black Adam is curiously similar: we have an oppressed people, we have the militia, a clear racial reference to a real-life conflict, which affects thousands of people daily, and the figure of a mythologically evocative hero with super powers who will free the people from oppression through violent means. And yes, there is debate: we have the Justice Society, which condemns Black Adam's methods and questions his use of violence, only to be proven wrong at the end of the movie.

But the "proved wrong" isn't really built, or developed (as Intergang is quickly forgotten when they all start fighting each other and then… Satan? For some reason??), and it basically boils down to this:

KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

And that's so funny because he actually just… killed like 3 soldiers in the second act of the movie. That's all he did.

And it gets even funnier because at some point we have a scene that genuinely makes a VERY VALID point that made me very hopeful when I was in the theater watching it

Like, this is SO VALID and she is SO RIGHT and this is such a great argument and a great debate point and then it just... goes nowhere

He just killed like 3 guys he didn't even talk to the people he just, quite literally, killed some pawn soldiers and went on to fight his own individual battles that had nothing to do with the actual opression state of the country besides them telling you that "it was bad".

The problem with Black Adam's is ac how shallow the argument is. Nothing is justified, nothing is not even debated, we just have Hawk Man going "killing is bad" and Black Adam going "yeah but I do it caused I'm disruptive like that", and even when we have this "inspire the people" moment is just... this kid with a cape doing this symbol and yes, symbols of struggle are a great tool in fighting oppression, and yes they work and they're so, so great, but this one specifically kind of just…was there?

LIKE OK THIS IS ALL GREAT but then it lead to people… fighting zombies?????

zombies ??!?!??!!!????

Like, how, seriously, how does this have to do with any of your previous state of opression? How does this change absolutely anything??? Are we going to have elections after the zombies thing, or... ?

And that, to me, is such a poor and wasteful way of representing people power that, even though I didn't take this film seriously, I couldn't help but feel mildly frustrated. Much of the recent wave of blockbuster media about decolonialism, in my opinion, has been making this same mistake, which is apparently thinking that just because a movie is made to be a blockbuster, or a superhero movie, or an action movie and easy entertainment, it cannot tackle complex topics. It cannot deepen a discussion. It can't take 10 minutes off a fight scene to establish a full dialogue. As if that would, idk, tire the audience maybe? Idk.

As if a universe of superheroes, or fantasy and action, couldn't contain a scene like this:

This scene seems so simple but it is so, so huge

Andor is perhaps an example out of the curve, because Andor is a series that makes a great effort to represent the fight against oppression in a very serious and responsible way, making it its main theme, of representing what a fascist government is,how a fascist government acts and affects all layers of a population, what is the immigrant cause, what is the armed struggle, what is it like to be a person of color in an far-right government. And it does all of this in an unprecedented way in the genre so far, indeed.

But as I said before, perhaps this should be how all media represent these themes. Because otherwise, even the best of intentions can turn against the causes you sought to defend. And ok, I know that Black Adam is "just a superhero movie" and that maybe it's unfair to demand so much from a movie that only came to propose a simple entertainment with fight scenes and jokes, and I had fun watching it indeed. I love Dwayne Jhonson we all do. But the thing is, if you're going to represent that debate, I genuinely believe it can't be done as simply, or as poorly explained, as it was in this film. A poorly presented arms discourse can become an attack on the legitimization of the armed struggle in its historical context, it can become a justification for a shootout against anti-oppression demonstrations, it can become the excuse for why a policeman mistook an umbrella for a rifle, or a piece of wood for a gun, and killed innocent (and peripheral) men.

In the best of scenarios, the intent is simply forgotten, or it's so hidden in the metaphorical layers of the work that it's easy to miss them. If that weren't the case, there wouldn't be so many racist, misogynistic, right-wing Star Wars fans, for example (just to be clear, I'm not attacking Star Wars here at all, ok, I'm just using it as an example – you'll agree with me that I've never seen any Cambridge professors attack Star Wars)

And fair is fair, Luke did explode a moon-sized military base full of millions of people and all that...

SO ANYWAY

Armamentism is an extremely serious issue, and it must be handled very, very carefully. As I mentioned before, RRR has a historical context, and an argument builded throughout the entire film; I hardly think anyone comes out of RRR, or WomanKing, wanting to pick up a gun and simply shoot someone (I hope). But the way this idea was presented in Black Adam, it is not an exaggeration to say that someone might have had this impression after watching it. At the very least, the movie took no care making sure this wasn't the case, and that for me is troubling enough.

The struggle against oppression and decolonialism are extremely important topics, and I am happy that these themes are increasingly making themselves present in more and more media works (and we have had several very good ones recently) – and Black Adam does have good ideas in the middle of the mess. But if you're going to make a film to talk about oppression, without actually commiting to approach it responsibly, why do it?

And ok, RRR does have a very imperative call to action but well, look at them, would you not answer???

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 9 months

Text

A/N: Erik killed your husband, T'Challa, and took the throne. Y'all got beef and sexual tension. This is part 3 and the end. Smut included.

Part 1 Part 2

In the 20 minutes on the airship, you and Killmonger don't talk. He adjusts his neck. He plays with his nails. You cross your ankles in the opposite direction.

Since what he said, it's been a week of silence on your end. You admit. It got to you, the guilt. Was what he said wrong, yes, but there was truth within it, and that truth made you feel like the worst traitor of them all.

Still, all week, he's slid paperwork under your door, and you've quietly scratched out full paragraphs, sending it back with pen-inked edits. One pleasure of being an advisor? You get to piss him off and hear him sigh through the door. It's his own fault for attaching clauses as if you won't comb through all 15 pages of his loosely worded proposals. You have the time.

"I humored your request to replace the Dora as a trade-off for your active participation today. Make me look good," he reminds you as you step off the airship into Step Town, located in the Golden City. Last you were here was with T'Challa. This was his place to get away from the stress of the palace. Now you understand. Here, he could breathe and walk the streets. You take a breath of the fresh air though people are everywhere.

The two of you have come to do a walk-through and some small-scale mediation for morale. You take the reigns at D'Jouti's and Sampha's, speaking before Killmonger can manipulate or spread his unidentified agenda. It's a property dispute. You keep it at a property dispute. It takes a lot of skill, skill that you learned watching T'Challa manage strong personalities.

"Killmonger," you gesture, bringing him in finally. If the men want to meet the 'new king' so badly, that's their prerogative.

"Ndingu Yaba N'Jadaka." Sternly, he shakes their hands and looks them in the eye as if he truly cares for them. If you didn't know better, you'd believe it. Fortunately, you do know better. "Let me know how I can help you in the future."

They nod eagerly, easily enamored.

"Why wait, why not now," you challenge.

Killmonger's brow arches so quickly that they miss it. It's his own fault for being disingenuous. While they voice their thoughts, and every gripe that's been eating them since T'Chaka, you abandon him. Serves him right.

Step Town is the cultural and economic hub. The variety here is more than you'll get anywhere else nearby, perfect for shopping. You comb through colorful beaded jewelry, picking up a deep green stone necklace. You have fabric this color.

"About you behaving on this trip?"

You sigh, ignoring the evil immigrant as he comes up behind you. Instead of engaging, you pay for the necklace with a smile at the young saleswoman. She made it herself.

"Thank you," she smiles back.

"No, thank you. It's beautiful!"

He waits until you walk away from her stand to address you alone, gripping your wrist when you start to walk away from him. You shoot him a sharp look and feel his fingers slip away.

"If you won't behave out here, neither will I. You've been warned."

"You wanted them to get on their knees and worship you like a God for appearing to them. I simply skipped past the bullshit. If you're going to be King, be King, but the nonsense has to end."

A lustful wickedness flares in his eyes.

"Not interested. Move on."

"I've got your clearance to be King."

"That's not at all what I said."

"Same thing." His eyes shine as he looks out on the marketplace with new interest.

"It's not at all," you sigh. "I'm telling you. Don't disgrace my country or disturb the peace we've built."

"Maybe it needs to be disturbed." He grins at a passerby, putting on his caring act once more.

"Don't you get tired of beating a dead horse? I'm sick of you," you frown. Violence as a perpetual state? Exhausting. Who besides him would want that?

The next point in the visit for morale is Aishat's Contracting Services. Again, you dominate the interaction, purposefully cutting Killmonger off when you realize he's planting the seeds for future manipulation. He interrupts with nationalist rhetoric and fear-mongering not easily spotted in casual conversation.

"It's impressive," you interrupt his interruption. "You're able to resolve this amicably, but if I may? Hatred gives rise to violence and creates the conditions for war. Caution is a virtue of the wise."

"Yes, Queen. Wise take. Wish you'd take that mindset to heart, maybe we'd get along," he winks, cheeky in front of the contractors. You glare, a bullet already loaded in your mental chamber.

"We don't see eye to eye because, unlike you, I subscribe to civility, not senseless murder."

"See, that's contrary to what I know to be true." His head tilts as he engages his crowd. "I'm guessing your six attempts on my life don't equate. You know what it does equate to? Treason. But you know the penalty for that. I don't have to quote Wakandan law to you."

The thinly veiled threat of exile surprises the people. It's good. They need to see his nature.

"I'd hardly call it that. You did insult the past kings, including my late husband," you turn, completely throwing him under the bus.

"We fornicated in the bed you and he shared. His spot is still warm, in fact. Is that not also insulting the late King, or am I mistaken?"

Eyes are wide and judging.

"Do you really want to do this, my Queen?"

"How dare you spew such vile lies!"

You muster the calm to keep the overwhelming shame at bay well enough to conceal. Meanwhile, he continues the professional conversation. Too much denial makes you look guilty, so you don't continue, but you now see firsthand how people believe him.

Your head remains high as he follows you. Putting your feelings aside, you smile to others as you're offered free food. You insist on purchasing the roasted corn and pears as they are inexpensive and delicious.

"I agreed to replace the Dora under the impression that you'd keep your end of our bargain," Killmonger mutters when no one is in listening distance, and you're boarding the airship once more.

"Oh! Did I Iie to you? Imagine that." Your nose scrunches as you take your seat. He takes his.

"It's cool, I match energy."

Sighing, you close your eyes. You can't control what these people believe anymore than you can control anything else these days.

"Now, half the city, possibly the country, will know what we did."

"And that's all you have on me."

You're actually asleep, which is unexpected. Erik slides to the front to enjoy the colors of the sky. His father was right. Wakandan sunsets have quickly become his favorite thing.

At the palace, he prepares for another silent dinner. You sit at the opposite end of the table without provocation. The Queen being seen and not heard ain't a bad deal. It's been peaceful, something rare.

You leave the table, still shameful after eating and living life as usual, and with enough on his mind to contemplate, he retires to his own quarters. He's added his own touches at this point: black and gold, Wakandan tapestries, and a Tupac printed duvet. He's also gotten hold of the highest of Wakandan tech, some for entertainment and communication, some for more nefarious purposes.

He's in for the night, plotting because his plans for the world depend on his ability to stay three steps ahead at all times. Step one has been realized. As King, he's able to complete his father's work but with a twist. Now, he has to move strategically. After all, he will be starting a world war very soon.

Imagining the fall of Europe makes his stomach leap. It bubbles with sharp shooting pains. On second thought, he makes it to the bathroom just in time to shit his stomach out through his ass. It's still churning as if trying to self-abort him from this plane.

"AIDA!"

His body's feeling fatigued, face and neck shining from a sheen of cold sweat.

"My king," she responds from the opposite side of the door. Suddenly, he feels faint.

"Check on the Queen and report back. And get the doctor!"

"At once."

It's a good thing the palace has its own physician. Waiting in immense pain, nausea, and misery, he lifts his head when Aida knocks.

"The Queen is perfectly healthy."

That confirms it. You've finally done it.

Dr. Ebi confirms the poison, treating Erik in the infirmary with an emergency transfusion and educating him that he would NOT have died thanks to the herb, but thanks to advanced Wakandan medicine, his sickness is healed completely and in much less time.

Erik laughs from the infirmary bed, going from stress to feeling invincible. The only thing keeping him from teaching you a lesson now is exhaustion. After he sleeps... It's on.

He collapses in the medical room that's been darkened for comfort. Even this is a five-star bed and breakfast compared to combat conditions where he slept in uninhabitable places, always on high alert.

Almost immediately, he drifts off into a dreamland where his father comes to him. Suddenly, he's a little boy who's been caught rummaging through his father's belongings, but his father isn't mad. He simply holds him.

"I did it, Baba. I'm the King."

"So you are," N'Jobu smiles.

"And guess what? I can unite us again. All of our tribes around the world, we'll finally be one big tribe, just like you said."

"You've worked hard to make your dream happen. I am proud."

"Even if-" Erik wonders, now his true age. "Even if I've done bad things to get here?"

The war, the murder, the pillaging, the deceit... It all flashes in his mind like a movie.

"Does the end justify the means?"

He's only had the hope that it would, but what if he fails and it's all been in vain? That would mean he sacrificed all those lives for nothing.

N'jobu, knowing all that's occured having seen it through his eyes, raises his chin.

"Head up. You are a King, yes, but more than that you are my son, and no matter what you do, I will remain on your side always."

It's what Erik's needed to hear. If his father's the only one to believe in him, it's enough.

Erik bolts upright in the darkened room, still half-in a dream. He's heard noise when he should be alone. He lies back down, wiping his eyes and waiting, in kill mode for the next hour until the threat lurking in shadow is revealed and edging silently toward him. The feminine physique gives nothing away, considering he's surrounded every day by deadly women, each of them harboring a motive.

"UH!" You grunt, giving away your identity when he knees you in the gut.

"The fuck?"

Flipping on the beside lamp, he can see you completely, crumbled over the bed with a bigass machete in your hand.

"You got something against me sleeping? Give me damn the machete before you hurt yourself."

You take your swings instead, chasing him across his infirmary bed where he sweeps your legs and pins you by the chest in a simple and painless hold.

"You ain't on that level, Queen. Play with someone safe."

He moves his head from the path of your slow fists. You cry out as he captures your wrist, squeezing until the machete falls to the bed. He puts it to your throat.

"Neither are you," you smirk, meeting his eyes proudly. "I ALMOST TOOK YOU OFF THIS EARTH! I'll do it again, and again, and AGAIN..."

Despite the machete at your neck, there's no fear. You both know he won't do it.

"You'll never know peace," you continue. "I'll KEEP trying and one day? Very soon. It WILL work because you're weak."

That last word gets to him despite his best effort not to react. You're about to have a field day with this word now that you know it's a trigger.

"The confidence you must have to talk shit in a vulnerable position..."

He almost sounds bored, but you know better.

"You won't kill me. First of all, you're too weak. Second, you NEED me. Without me, you're a tyrant, and it's hard to gain the backing of a nation when you're an enemy of the people."

"It's not that hard actually," he mutters. "You wanna know why I REALLY keep you around? Who ELSE would put up with the woe is me shit? Every day, full of guilt and mad at the world. I didn't even LIKE that nigga, but you're right to be mad. That's why I'm the only one who gets you."

"Oh shuut uuup," you sigh, taking advantage of the monologue to pull a little knife you stole from the kitchen and plug it into his stomach.

"SHIT!" His face scrunches.

You push harder, tired of his manipulation. He's already showed his true colors. You won't believe in him again.

"You gone cut yourself," he winces, the machete still at your throat. "Trying to hurt me, you gone fuck around slit your own throat by mistake."

"I don't care, if it'll shut you up."

Even if it does cut, you won't die. You lean into the machete to his surprise and twist the small blade into his gut. He staggers back, but not before you get sliced pretty good in the process.

"I ain't ever warned one person this many times," his brows knit in frustration. You can see the pain in his eyes.

"It feels good to cause you pain," you stare, not wanting to miss a second.

His eyes narrow briefly as he holds his breath to pull the bloodied blade from his stomach. "Ugh, fuck," he winces. "You REALLY think you doing something, too. That's the painful part."

Dropping the knives on the floor, he kicks both away toward the door.

"I see. I'm a have to teach you a few things."

You want him so bad that you can't sleep or think straight. It's clear to him. Is it clear to you?

Erik climbs to his feet and shoves you back for a moment to breathe. Your eyes are still trained on him like you're not done. It's not only rage at him. It's toward yourself.

Blood's dripping down your neck, but you don't feel it due to the adrenaline in your body. Seems he's underestimated your ability to handle rough play.

"You need stitches."

You come at him again, and reflexively, he flings you back, which fuels your homicidal vengeance-seeking. You'll never break if he keeps dodging or pushing you back. That much is now clear.

Fuck it, he decides, looking into your rage-filled eyes. He'll give you a win just this once and if your psycho ass wants blood?

Let there be blood.

Your responding smile is contemptuous. Your eyes only flash to the knives for a millisecond, but it's done with the intention of tricking him. You want him to think you'll go for them like you went for that glass in your bedroom. That means he has to actually dive for it to give you a shot.

"How about a visual demonstration," you grin widely. "Of your death!"

As you speak, you fake and use his dive response to knee him across the face, right in his golden tooth.

"I've been hit harder during basic training," he admits, watching you seethe. "Try again."

Flinging yourself in a blind rage, you rain down every hit, every elbow blow, and every kick to his ribs, groin, throat, and everything else you can reach. He grunts, bearing it and eating every hit while remaining on his feet, even when he feels like buckling. You don't seem to realize he isn't blocking.

"Now tell me how weak I am."

"YOU'RE WEAK," you growl, swinging fists, feral with rage.

"I feel it," he growls, tensing his abs and gritting his teeth while you punch the same place you just stabbed. "That hate brewing deep for me every time you swing. When you look at me," he pauses, wondering if you've figured it out. "More."

You keep hitting that same spot. It hurts, but it ain't enough, and it won't be enough until you find some strength to hit harder.

"These princess ass punches. Reminds me of my cousin, slumped in the river like some Sleeping Beauty."

"BASTARD."

You shove him back, smashing his face as you drive your knuckles into his jaw. You were aiming for his nose, but he made a mistake and turned on reflex.

"That's it? You hit like the pillow princess you are. Maybe yo nigga dived on purpose, bored of that stiff ass pussy."

You put every ounce in your body into punching through dense muscle and bone, spurred on by his heavy grunts, and he finally bleeds from the inside of his mouth, giving you a feeling of catharsis. You need more.

"I'm all you got now," he groans, shaking his head. "You gone learn. You're Queen because I allow it! You're beholden to ME!"

He hasn't been blocking. GOOD. He needs his ass beat. You've been beating it nonstop.

"I'm Queen because I married a REAL King," you pant, your head back as you grab your hips to catch your breath. "I will REMAIN Queen when I send you to answer to Kings past!"

"Shit, I'm not worried. You can't even break a simple hold." He spits the blood. "Killing me? Impossible."

"You can ramble to your heart's content as they kick your ass across the ancestral plane."

He snorts.

"So kill me then! Whatever the fuck you think you bout to do. DO IT NOW."

The adrenaline coursing makes you feel that you can break through his body if you channel all your hate and pent-up rage, all your grief, all your stress.

"MORE," he barks, his eyes deranged and begging for your worst.

Blood drips from his mouth. He spits again like it's nothing, wiping his chin.

"THAT'S IT? THAT'S ALL YOU GOT?"

You give it and then some, putting him on his knees and audibly cracking him across the jaw. He licks his lips, puckering in a quick kiss.

You're winded. Your hands are bruised and bleeding. The adrenaline is wearing off, and your whole body is stressed.

"I KNOW you ain't tired! You gone KILL me right? I'M RIGHT HERE!" Arms out on his knees, he challenges. "KILL ME."

Your eyes go to the machete he's dropped on the floor, and he reads your mind, smirking. You scramble for the machete as he gets up.

"C'MON!"

Slashing through his bare chest twice in a narrow X, you back him up a bit. He's circling you like an animal trying to find a weak entry point. You keep your eyes trained on his.

Swinging another three times, he dodges like you're both in a boxing ring. You swing again, slashing across his stomach. Instead of backing up, he's walks into it, purposefully cutting his hand in the process of prying the machete from yours for the second time in a night.

"I'll say it again, sweetheart," he squints. "I'm not going anywhere, no time soon. AND... I'm all you have at this point in time."

The machete spins in his cut hand as his tongue rests on his canine, tasting blood.

"Then I have nothing, but I'll gain much through your death."

You throw another jab, but he catches it and redirects you to the floor, having gone far enough to prove his point to you.

"My turn."

He knows your efforts are hopeless, but you gotta know it.

"What are YOU gonna do?" You glare up at him, cocky and stubborn. "I'll only keep coming," you rant. You continue until he bends and delivers a long and slow shallow cut across your thigh through your black pants.

"Hm." He licks at the blood on the machete, intrigued. "You look disgusted... I can be real disgusting. Shall I show you?"

"AIDA," you yell. That fear is what he wanted. More adrenaline coursing through your body.

"Something about having you trapped with a knife in my hand and you at my mercy," he smirks, "It does it for me... You look terrified."

"AI-," you stop mid-word as the blade starts to press into your skin, drawing more droplets to the surface..

"Aida ain't coming for you. Nobody coming for you... What? You thought it was your idea to replace the Dora? Nah, Queen."

He only told you that to make you comply. He'd always planned to replace and eventually get rid of them completely.

"You lost to me the second you decided to survive. Slowly, I'll CONTINUE to replace everyone who ever THOUGHT of being loyal to you. You gone learn. I'M all you got and if I gotta carve you up to teach you that, I will."

As he expected, you run to the door, trying the handle, pulling, banging, trying to escape.

"I told you. They don't answer to you."

Poor lil girl, trapped with the big bad man. What will you do?

You run, staying on the edge of the room, your frightened eyes on the machete slicing through air in his grasp.

"You've run as far as you can go. Now yield... Or don't," he shrugs. "It's fun for me either way."

Slashing the machete through the air, an evil giddiness erupts from him as you hole up in a corner like a rat caged.

"Call me weak."

You're silent.

"Say it."

Trailing his fingers over the sharp blade, he waits for the word that will be his green light.

"Say it," he dares once more. "I want nothing more in this moment than to fuck you raw in a puddle of blood with you covered in my cum and me by that sweet, sweet honey. Come to me," he stops, a mere six feet from you. "I won't kill you. I swear. Just rough you up a bit."

You stare from your fearful ball, bewildered and in shock.

"No? You want me to come get you?"

That thought terrifies you more.

He tosses the machete now that you see your position.

"I can do anything to you at this moment. Take anything I desire, and no one will help you. Just like no one helped me. Just like no one helped T'Challa. When will you see I'm all you got in this world? I'm not your enemy."

Confused, you don't move. He takes a step back and waits, extending his hand once you see he doesn't plan to move.

"Truce?"

You hesitate at you're at wit's end with his manipulations and your conflicting impulses. Emotionally and psychologically, you're adrift from any stable point of being.

You take his hand.

He guides you forward, but you aren't processing. You've stopped minutes ago.

"I can't," you cry, hitting him as he stands there, taking it. "You killed T'Challa. I can't feel anything but hate for the man who murdered my husband!"

"Look, LOOK." He captures your flailing arms holding them tightly at your sides. "Listen. I sincerely mean it when I say FUCK your husband. Fuck your guilt! He's gone! You're here!"

"You INSUFFERABLE, VULGAR-"

"Stop, I'm not done. I can make the confusion stop. I can make you stop thinking. I can make you turn it all off, all of it if you say one word," he whispers, seeking a deal in trade for your soul.

"You've been disrespectful from the start, not saying my name even once. I wanna hear you say it."

"Killmonger. That's what you are, no more than a U.S. tool."

"Nope. Try again."

"Orphan. Go to hell."

He takes a deep sigh.

"That's not my name, sweetheart."

His voice is sultry, his grip strong on your arms as if it's holding the shattered peices together.

"Mm," you hum, looking away. You can't let your mind go there. You felt the same way on the airship just looking at him. It's shameful.

"Look at me," he releases your arms to hold your chin up, forcing eye contact. His touch immediately softens. "One word."

"No," you whisper. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers dig into his locks. Your lips are pressed against his. Your nails claw his scalp, sliding gently down his beard, his broad neck and shoulders, his large muscled arms, his scarred and textured chest. Your breathing is erratic as you moan with desperation.

Wordlessly, he lifts you and lays you back on the infirmary bed. Never breaking your kiss, he climbs on top and knees your legs apart, leaning between, his dick print pressed against your thigh. Your frantic hands roam and grasp at his perfectly built body, warm and weighted like a blanket, while his erection grows and grinds subtly on your hip.

That familiar clean scent of shea butter radiates from your smooth and supple skin mixed with the metallic air of sweat and blood. His own blood is smearing onto your body, and yours is concentrated at your neck.

Like the machete, the tip of his tongue fondles your collarbone, tasting blood from your skin. It's followed by a gentle suck.

You quickly remove your black shirt, pulling him back in, and his lips trail the bare skin of your breast over your bra cup. His wandering fingers slide under your pants and over your thin panties, feeling the moist heat seal an outline of your lips.

"Show me how wet you can get."

He nibbles your jaw, your breathing and the heartbeat against his hand doing all the communicating.

The breath on your neck combines with the brush of his beard and travels through the cells of your skin, lighting every erogenous zone. You push at his pants and underwear, pushing it down past his perfect ass as you try to pull him so close he slides inside.

You want the dick. You want the dick. You need the dick.

"Say my name."

Your back lifts off the bed as your hips grind independently of you. Your body craves every touch and trembles needily at pleasure.

"I really do hate you to my core... N'Jadaka."

He bites your shoulder. You bite your lip, lifting your hips for him to take your pants and your panties at once, your eyes on his.

"You sure?"

He slides in before you answer, licking his lips when you gasp and clutch his ass, pulling him deeper. You can take it and you need it. Taking your cue, he raises your calves and pushes your knees back, getting deeper. Short, slow strokes with the dick deep inside, pushing you back. You hold onto your knees as you look down, trying to see. You missed this dick. Every 4 or 5 strokes, he'll go long and push it back in, letting you feel every delicious inch.

"Say my name."

"N'Jadaka," your face scrunches, matching the pulsation that you're unintentionally doing on his shaft. You grip him on purpose this time, finding a squeeze and release method to match his speed. He's lost in it, moving like he's possessed, his eyes rolling. He keeps going.

"Fuck," you mutter, concentrating on your orgasm thats building.

"I feel you. I feel you, let go."

He doesn't have to tell you, you hold onto him as you cum, not wanting him to stop. He doesn't.

"Ooh, Erik," you moan, clawing his back. "Ooh.. ooh.. right there, don't stop."

Your legs shake as he pulls out slowly to just the tip and pushes all the way back in just as you cum. Your legs lock around his hips, your body is trembling.

He waits for your legs to release just a bit.

Eventually, he pulls back again, leaving an inch inside of you as he brings your ass closer and holds your legs up by the ankles. You moan and whimper, taking every bit of his sweet assault, your legs now against his shoulders.

Coming once more, you find yourself on top, riding fast with both hands fisting his locs. You grind forward in small circles, feeling his hands assist by lifting you when you move.

"Watch out," he warns, lifting you completely off as he cums, cream spurting on the infirmary bed. You grab his dick and stroke until it spits again.

"No," he shuts you down when you try to put it back inside of you, cum-coated and all. "Sit on my face instead."

You do without pause, grinding the same as you would on his dick with his slick tongue reaching and flicking strategically. He grips your ass, spreading your lips more in the process and sucks on your clit gently, alternating with licks until you come again and sigh, falling to the bed and rolling off of his face.

"Mm," you moan, feeling satiated. You lay on your side with your back against his side.

He rubs slow, wide, firm circles from your lower back to your shoulders and the base of your neck. As good as it feels, you still haven't processed half of what's happened. The whole moment seems surreal, like you weren't even thinking. You were moving solely on instinct.

You still hate him. That hasn't changed, but the sex...

"UH," you exhale. "I'll probably regret this in the morning. You'll use it against me somehow, and I won't be able to look at the Dora when I- Hm."

You wrap your fingers over his thicker ones briefly as he grasps your neck, pulling your head back close enough for him to whisper, "Shut up," in your ear. "You talk too much... I'm a use it, but damn. You'll survive. It's what we do."

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#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger imagine #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction

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clearlydiamondz · 2 years

Text

The Game

Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader

Part Three

- - - - - - - - - -

Erik being the most popular person at Texas Southern University, he has his heart set on a particular girl.

- - - - - - - - - -

Travis placed the weight back on the bar as he placed his hands over his head and tilting his head back to get some oxygen. He’s been in the gym for the last three hours, his head spending with thoughts. Mainly, thinking about (Y/N). He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was having feelings and those types of emotions about her.

A part of himself just wanted to say it’s because she had a glow up over the summer. The other half is saying the only reason he turned her down was because he wanted something with Aliyah, but all she wanted was to have sex because Erik wasn’t there.

The vibrations of his phone ringing, brought him out of his trance as he grabbed it out of his pocket. He saw that it was a text from Brandy.

Brandy: Omariana and (Y/N) are having a small get together at their place at 8 if you wanna come

Travis: kk,

Around 8:00, he knocked on the door holding a bottle of wine. He waited a couple of seconds later the door opened and there was Omariana. He was hoping that (Y/N) would answer but oh well.

“Ooh.. you got that expensive shit.” Omariana cheesed, grabbed the bottle out of his hands as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh hi Mari. I’m doing good.” she looked up at him before opening the door wider to let him in. He walked in taking off his shoes looking around to see food and drinks in the kitchen. He saw everyone there but (Y/N).

“Hey everybody.” he announces himself as the room filled up with hey’s and hi’s. He took his jacket off, placing it on the back of the chair. “Where is (Y/N)?” he asked sitting down as Brandy looked up at him.

“She went to go get some cups and plates from the store with Erik.” Brandy said. His jaw clenched at the sound of that.

“Oh Erik is here?” Travis said trying not to sound a tad bit mad but it seeped through his teeth.

“Yeah, Jakeen was coming over anyways and (Y/N) wanted him to come.” Kia said as Kobe chuckled.

“I think they are getting a little close.” he said wiggling his eyebrows as everyone laughed. This was far from what he wanted.

Right on cue, they heard the keys in the door. It opened and in she walked with him right behind him, laughing about something.

“Well that was quick.” Jakeen stood up. (Y/N) was about to say something but she saw Travis and smiled.

“Travis you came.” she said as he stood up to give her a hug.

“Of course.” he looked behind her to catch Erik looking at the two of them. He looked back down at the drinks to put them in the fridge. “Well I’m about to make drinks.” she pulled away. Erik sat down on the chair as everyone looked between the two.

It was awkward of course, considering everyone knew what happened between the two. Erik couldn’t really complain about him being there because Travis was his friends. Travis couldn’t really say anything because he’s the one that caused the awkwardness.

Everyone else were in the own conversations with each other, trying to figure out what movie to watch. Erik was in his own world on his phone but Travis was in his seat seething in anger that he was there. Erik could tell he was upset about his presence but it was hilarious to him.

Travis stood up, walking to the kitchen to where (Y/N) was. She looked at him as she was adding the liquor to the cups. “What’s up?” she asked him, smiling. He shrugged turning around so his back was leaned against the counter as he looked down at her.

“Nothing much. We haven’t really been talking as much.” he told her as she pouted at him.

“My bad. I’m still trying to balance the-”

“Yeah I know. Wanna be a scholar but wanna be a hot girl too.” he joked with her, making her laugh.

“If Megan can do it, I can do it.” she responded, him agreeing with her. “But I’m sorry. I’m still trying to get a groove going so I can balance everything.” she told him grabbing his shoulder.

“Yeah... but I do appreciate the times you do call or text me. Let’s me know you still care about me.” he said. She pouted stopping her actions, him having her full attention.

“I could never stop caring about you Travis. Why would you think that?” she asked him. “Am I making you feel that way?”

“No no! Of course not. I don’t know but it just seems like everyone is looking at me weirdly or being funny.” he said looking into the living room as she sighed.

“Is this about what happened over the summer?” she whispered. He looked back at her in shock.

“Y-You know about that?” he asked her. She chewed on her button lip before saying,,

“Omariana told me a couple of days. Erik confirmed it when we went out.” she said as he looked down at the ground, clenching his jaw. “Look, whatever happened over the summer doesn’t involve us. I promise you.”

“I know. It’s just I feel so uncomfortable with him here.” he said, hoping she caught the hint. She continued making the drinks, thinking about what he just said.

“Well I mean, no offense but I bet he does too. I can’t just make him leave.” she said to him. “Especially in this situation where he didn’t really.. do anything wrong.”

“What all did he-” he was cut off with Erik going into the kitchen. He walked passed him, going on the other side of where she was. She looked up at Travis, seeing his nostrils flare up in anger and annoyance. Erik just looked so unbothered by his presence.

It was weird to her honestly. Travis wasn’t really the one to show his emotions. If anyone were to be upset or mad, she would guess it would be Erik.

“You came to bother me Stevens?” she asked looking at him making him chuckle.

“Yeah. and they in there arguing about what movie to watch, I was getting annoyed.”

“Yeah, if your going to be hanging out with us you should get used to it.” she told him. She grabbed two drinks handing it to the both of them. “Try it. Tell me if they need anything added to it or not.” she told them.

The two of them drunk out of the cups nodding. “Yeah.. this is good.” she took the cup from Erik and him before pouring it into her cup as they looked at her confused.

“Aye, what was that for?” Travis asked.

“The two of y’all can’t drink.” she said turning around putting the liquor back into the cabinet. “Y’all both drove here.”

“Can I spend the night?” Erik asked. As soon as the statement came out of his mouth, Travis couldn’t help but say,

“No what the fuck?”

She looked at him like he had two heads sitting on top of shoulders. “Like, you barely know him (Y/N). You can’t be naïve.”

“You trying to say I’ll do something to her?” Erik asked crossing his arms over his shoulder.

“It’s not that serious.” she said sensing that they are most likely going to start arguing.

“Tell that to this nigga. Acting like your father or something.” Erik laughed dead in his face.

(Y/N) knew Travis like that back of her hand. And she knew that he hated being laughed at or belittled.

“Nah nigga. I’m just trying to look out for my best friend because I know you Erik.” his voice started to get a little louder.

“That’s funny that you say that because I know you.” Erik walked closer to him. “You’re going to tell her how you feel?” he whispered into his ear, low enough so that she couldn't hear.

"Erik stop!” Travis pushed him away but before Erik could swing on him, everyone came to the kitchen hearing the commotion.

“I honestly should bust a fucking cap in your ass for disrespecting me, pussy ass nigga.” Erik replied as Omariana looked at (Y/N).

“Erik chill out.” (Y/N) said but he shook his head. “Fuck that. That nigga acting like I killed his fucking dog. You’re the one that slept with my bitch.” he snapped at him. “Talking out the side of your neck like your gonna do sum. All because I’m talking to her? What happened to not liking (Y/N)?” Erik asked him.

“I really don’t give a fuck about her, I obviously told her no for a reason nigga. If this is what it’s about you can have her, I never wanted her ass in the first place.” (Y/N) looked at him in shock. All Erik did was laugh.

“Travis! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Kia exclaimed.

“Yeah but you don’t give a fuck. Okay.” Erik sarcastically said rolling his eyes.

“Kobe, take Travis outside so he can chill.” Omariana said but (Y/N) shook her head.

“Nah, since he doesn’t give a fuck he can go.” she said walking passed him. Travis realized what he had said about her.

“(Y/N) wait I-”

She had already went into her room and slammed the door shut.

“I’ll go check up on her.” Erik said brushing passed him. Everyone looked at Travis.

“And you wonder why everyone is acting different towards you? What kinda shit was that?” Kobe asked him.

“He started with me first and-”

“You’re literally a grown fucking adult! If that’s true, you could’ve just brought your ass back to the living room to keep at peace my nigga. But you’re so caught up in trying to see what Erik and her got going on. Did you forget you fucked his girl?” Jakeen asked him. “Fuck outta here with that shit.”

“Why the hell would I care about what the two of them going on?”

“You should really be asking yourself that question?” Kia said. “Instead of trying to fault everyone else so you can be mad, you need to fault yourself for what you did.”

Erik knocked on her door hearing her shuffle around. She opened the door just a little bit to see him standing there. “Oh it’s you.” she opened it wider to let him in. Her room wasn’t unpacked all the way, She still had boxes and bens everywhere.

“You okay?” he asked further in as she sighed scratching her forehead.

“That was just so uncalled for. I know he doesn’t like me and I know for a hundred percent fact I don’t like him anymore. But he didn’t have to say all that extra shit.” she said leaning against her dresser as he sat down on the bed.

“You really think he doesn’t like you?” he asked as she looked at him.

“He told me that he didn’t feel that way and-”

“No. I’m not talking then. I’m talking right now.” he laughed. She thought about it. The moments she had with him started to flash in her mind as her eyes widened. “Looks like the gears are finally moving.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. We haven’t talked in months. And did you not hear what the nigga just said? All that can’t change in a matter of months.” Erik head fell down as he sighed. He looked back up at her, her face rattled with confusion and anger.

“A lot can change in a matter of months. For example, you.” he stood up walking towards her. “More confident, hanging out with them more. Physically you have changed also. Seems to me like he’s regretting his choices.” he pointed out. She was shocked to say the less.

“Now he’s getting jealous because you don’t want him no more. We’ve been hanging out more, and I’m sure he checks our stories and see’s pictures. He thinks I want you and vice versa.”

Well shit. She’s been caught up. She bit her lip looking up at him as he looked back at her. “Do you?” she whispered.

“I ain’t gonna lie. I do.” he looked her up and down. “Do you want me?”

“Yes.” she whispered looking at him. It seemed like all of her confidence drowned and was replaced with the old shy her. His eyes was low a dewy, most likely from smoking.

“So what should we do about that?” he asked tilting his head to the side. The way that he looked at her had her stomach dropping to her feet. This was the first time Erik had her speechless. “I hope you didn’t just get shy on me (Y/N).”

Not wanting him to get the upper hand, she ignored the shy feeling and smirked at him. “Come over here and find out.” he got closer to her before grabbing her chin and placing a kiss on her lips.

She tasted the liquor that she made them drink earlier, loving the taste mixed with the weed and the mint gum he spat out. She wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders, as she traced up his chest with her other hand. His hands laid sat on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

She slowly pulled away as he looked at her dead in the eyes. She smiled into the kiss. He backed away but she grabbed him by his chain bringing him back as she took control of the kiss.

What she did stir something in Erik. The fact that she demeaned his dominant side had him wanting to bend her over. He had to full back away again before the both of them stared at each other. He looked her up and down, licking his bottom lip as she smirked at him.

“You’re dangerous now.” he said as she shook her head rolling her eyes.

“What? Too much to handle.” she tilted her head to the side.

He was completely shock by her attitude. Never in a million years did he suspect her to be this affective on getting him stuck. Something truly sparked in him about this girl. “Nah.. I can handle yo ass. But I don’t think you ready for this.” he reminded her. It took everything in him not to say that. There was nothing he wanted to do more than just lay her ass out. But he wanted to take his time with her. But like he said, she was dangerous.

“Hmm... okay.” she turned around walking to her desk before grabbing her phone. “Please tell me that Travis is gone.” she said looking at him. He was surprised at how she could just act like nothing happened.

“I’ll make sure he does.” he walked closer to her. “You know I want you right?” he asked her. She bit her lip smiling. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“I wanna make you mine...” he whispered. He leaned in kissing her once again as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled away before there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Omariana.” she opened the door before they could say something. She noticed how close they were, before raising an eyebrow between the two. “Are you okay? Omariana asked her as she nodded.

“I’m fine. Just a bit annoyed. Like he literally ruined the night.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Oh, do you mind if he stays the night?” she asked pointing as Omariana shook her head.

“No of course not. Well Travis left and the twins decided to head out. So everyone is just gonna stay over here.” Omariana replied as she nodded. She looked between the two one more time, before giving a look to (Y/N). She knew exactly why she was being looked at like that.

“Well I’m going to leave y’all alone.” she turned around walking out the door. She turned and locked the door before Erik looked at her.

“She does not like me at all.” Erik laughed as (Y/N) nodded.

“Yup. She thinks you bring the bad out in Jakeen.” she said sitting on the bed as he kissed his teeth.

“Nah, that nigga is like that on his own.” he laughed laying on top of her as she groaned. “You’re so heavy...” she groaned as he scooted downward, his head laying on her stomach.

“You’re not scared about dating me?” he asked her.

“Should I be?” she laughed as he looked at her.

“No, I’m not gonna let shit happened to you.” he said. “But, like you said. People talk and do shit.” he told her She couldn’t help but agree with that statement. Then her mind started wondering.

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell anyone about us.” she said out loud. She looked at him as he scrunched his face in confusion. “I mean think about it. Like you said, people talk.”

“But that shouldn’t be a reason why we should hide. Like I said, I’m not going to let nothing happen to you. I want people to know that you are mine.” he told her as she sighed.

“I know but sometimes you can’t always be there. Literally do you know how Mirah and Aliyah got into a fight because of you?” she asked her as Erik laughed. “Both of them got kicked off the dance team because of that.”

“If you scared of Aliyah-”

“Scared of her? I can’t be scared of her if she bleeds like I do. But what I am scared of is being kicked off the dance and debate team, being expelled from school...” she trailed off as he closed his eyes.

“Point proven.” he said. He sat up as she did the same. “If we do this, we just have to be secretive. Because if she puts her hands on me or say something to me I’m going to-” he cuts her off.

“I know, I know.” he said grabbing her and pulling her onto his lap.

“I promise, I won’t let anything happen to us.”

- - - - - - - - - -

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