Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

In an interview with, David Karp (Tumblr's founder) admitted, "Being on computers all the time makes me feel gross."

Trending Blogs
#killmonger x you

• characters: erik, black!reader, jacoby (oc)

• warnings: langage, suggestive content

• 2625 words

Towards the end of your cognitive psychology class, you had concluded that one of the most powerful lullabies in human existence was the voice of a college professor.

Of course, there were those rare instances of attending a class taught by a professor blessed with the gift of a refreshing tone. But usually, most courses (at least the ones you took) were led by monotone lecturers who spoke at just the right volume to guide anyone into slumber. On one hand, you respected and appreciated the time that each of your professors put into educating you and your fellow peers. However, it wouldn’t kill anyone if they added some inflection.

Blinking your eyes open for what seemed like the thousandth time, you peek over at Jacoby. Somehow in the fatigued atmosphere of the lecture hall, he had managed to find a way to diligently scribble down whatever he could catch from the professor. After a few minutes of staring at the pretty dark skin boy next to you, you begin to nod off again.


The sound of a whisper forces your eyes to slowly open.

Blinking lazily, you meet the amused gaze of Jacoby, who has paused from his note-taking after realizing that you were falling asleep. There are a few moments of silence between the two of you before you share a quiet snicker. The sound of laughter isn’t loud enough to interrupt the end of the professor’s lecture (considering you are seated near the back of the hall), but it catches the attention of a few students around you.

“Sorry, y'all.” Jacoby smiles at the turned heads before looking back at you. “You good? You’re gonna start droolin’ on yourself soon.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, “I was just resting my eyes.”

Jacoby only smirks as you both listen to the professors closing remarks. After two more minutes, your ears are finally released from the uninteresting drone that was the professor’s voice, and the lecture hall begins to clear.

As you rise to gather your belongings, a question from Jacoby catches your attention.

“Why you so tired today, lil mama? You’re usually fillin’ up pages of notes during a lecture…” He trails off as he looks over to you. Your arms are now lifted high above your head as you try to stretch the tired out of you. Jacoby rolls his eyes down to the small area of soft skin that was peeking out from under your shirt as you stretch. He then takes a “subtle” peek at your unintentionally poked out ass before licking his lips.

“I was up until the butt-crack of dawn finishing a paper, so I wouldn’t have to work on it tonight.” You pause, pulling out your phone to check for any notifications you had missed, “Apparently, Erik has something special planned for us this evening.” Your shy smile causes Jacoby’s heart to speed up, but he knows he can’t do anything about it.

“Ah, that’s nice. I wonder what it is.” Jacoby’s voice noticeably changes at the mention of Erik, but you’re too busy reading a message from the formerly mentioned to catch it.


meet me at my place after you get done with your last class.


what are you up to, stevens?


don’t worry bout it yet. just bring your pretty ass over here after you’re done so i can taste those lips already.

You smile and take a deep breath to calm yourself before sending a quick message back.


you better be ready. i wore the gloss that tastes like peaches today just for you.


don’t make me come and drag your ass off-campus now, because you know i will.


sorry baby. i’m just really excited to see you.


i know babygirl. just a few more hours and we then got all weekend. now go eat lunch and tell Jacoby’s bum ass to keep his eyes off what’s mine.

Containing your laughter, you turn to Jacoby, who was occupied with something on his phone.

“Erik says ‘hi’.” You lie, grinning at the knowing man next to you.

“No, he didn’t, girl.” He doesn’t even glance in your direction as you throw him a sheepish look, before turning back to your phone.


chill baby lol. i’ll see you later. i love you.


love you more babygirl.

Slipping your phone in the right pocket of your sweatpants, you bend down to retrieve your backpack. As you lean over, you notice a small pocket open and take a second to close it. Not realizing that you are giving Jacoby a full view of your thick backside, you are confused by the groan let out from the man behind you. You raise back up as you secure your backpack on your back, before grabbing your Coach purse and slinging it over your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” You innocently gaze up at him through your eyelashes as he rises from his seat.

“Nothin’, cutie,” he sighs, “let’s go find Angie and Marvin in the dining hall before they get pissed at us for being late again.” He gives you an up-and-down before moving to the side so you can lead the way to the dining hall.

“Okay. I’m starving, so please don’t judge me when I start stuffing my face.” You smile sweetly, not noticing the look he gives you.

“Imma stuff your face with somethin’ else if you keep smilin’ at me like that,” Jacoby mumbles as you begin walking, hoping you didn’t hear him.  

“Huh?” You turn back to him, straining your neck to look up at him.

He just shakes his head and laughs.

“Nothin’, ma. Let’s go.”

.                    .                     .                    .                    .                   .                    .

After a little over two hours of preparation, Erik was finally satisfied with his hard work.

The candles were in place around his two-person bathtub, waiting to be lit as you snuggled together in the warm water. The chicken alfredo casserole (one of your favorites) was still warming in the oven for later in the evening, and the wine was chilling in the cooler in the dining room. The lights throughout the house were dimmed, except for in the kitchen, and a playlist of old school R&B ballads was cued to start as your night together began.

Erik leaned against his marble kitchen counter as he took a moment to breathe.

If one year ago, someone had told him that he would be putting all of this together for anyone, he would have laughed in disbelief. But then he met you.

(As soon as he met your shy gaze from across one of the campus libraries, it was over. The bashful glances you repeatedly sent him finally beckoned him over, and it was history. The fact that you had a perfect face, pretty tits, and a thick ass also didn’t help the matter.)

Erik lightly smiles to himself as he hears his front door unlock and open.  

“Erik?” You call out, gently setting down your purse and backpack, then slipping out of your shoes in the foyer. Erik doesn’t answer you and has to stop himself from smiling when you appear around the corner. Your eyes light up when you spot him still leaning against the counter. You pause for a second to take a moment to look at him and secretly calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hi,” you breathe out, clasping your hands together as you stand in the middle of his kitchen.

“Wassup.” He nods his head upwards with a blank face, and you giggle.

“Come here, baby doll.” Erik’s face breaks into a smirk while the sound of your laughter causes his dick to twitch.

Erik holds his hand out for you to take, and you all but run up to him. Your arms snake around his neck and you as squeeze tight as possibly can. He laughs to himself before lifting you a few inches off the ground and squeezing even tighter. No words are said between the two of you for the next few minutes as you each revel in the company to one another.

“How’s my baby?” Erik’s question is muffled due to his face being buried in the crook of your neck, and you playfully squirm from the vibration of his smokey voice.

“She’s good,” you mumble. “Missed you.” You pout a little and gently pull his head out of your neck.

“How’s Daddy?”

Erik finally straightens but keeps his arms around your waist.

“He missed his baby, but she’s here now, so it’s all good,” Erik answers, before pulling you up into him again so he can suck on your neck. His tongue begins to dance around your jawline and collarbone, causing you to whine.

“Why you so fuckin’ sexy, hm? You got me ready to bust in my pants, and I ain’t do nothin’ but suck on this pretty little neck.” Erik reaches down to grab a large handful of your ass, before reluctantly pulling away from the soft skin of your jaw.

“As much as I wanna pound you into every surface of this house,” Erik pauses to palm and squeeze at your ass for a second before continuing, “we have time for that tomorrow. If I can last that long.” Erik finally makes eye contact with you again and you swear you were blushing.

“Right now, I want you to go upstairs to the bathtub and wait for me there, baby girl. Go ahead and start runnin’ the water, but don’t get in 'til I get up there.” You nod at the instructions and begin to walk away, but Erik catches you delicately by the arm before you can getaway.

“You better get back over here and give Daddy some love.”

You beam up at him before rising on your tippy-toes and pressing your soft mouth against his. The sound of smacking lips fills the kitchen as your hands raise to carefully cradle his cheeks. You slip your pillowy tongue into Erik’s mouth and he grunts. You smile against his lips and then hesitantly pull away from his warmth.

Erik bites his bottom lip before speaking, “Get upstairs.” The rasp of his voice causes goosebumps to rise all over your body. You can feel Erik’s eyes pierce through you as you scurry from the kitchen, and he can’t contain the smile that breaks out on his face.

“Fine ass…” you hear Erik mutter as you exit the kitchen.

.                    .                     .                    .                    .                   .                    .

As Erik enters the bathroom with a lighter and the plate of strawberries, he is greeted with the sight of you sitting on atop his large sink, your thick legs swinging back and forth. You turn your head towards his tall figure and smile.

“Thank you for starting the water, baby girl,” Erik walks over and pecks your lips before moving towards the tub to turn off the faucet. “Lemme just light the candles really quick and then we can hop in.”

After nodding your head, you jump down from your place on the sink and remove your shirt. As Erik works to light the vanilla-scented candles, you pull out your phone from the pocket of your sweatpants and set it on the counter. After your shirt, bra, and pants are off, you travel over to the laundry basket and place the clothes inside.

Erik goes to set the lighter down as he takes a glimpse at your almost naked body. His eyes run over your exposed perky breasts and black lace boyshorts before slipping out of his plain white t-shirt. He watches you pointedly avoid his gaze as you walk across the room to the large mirror, and start to put your week-old box braids into a messy bun.

“I gotchu, sweetheart.”

The next few moments are silent as Erik skillfully forms your braids into a bun high enough so that you wouldn’t have to dry them afterward. As he concentrates on putting your hair up, you take the chance the examine him in the mirror. His short locks sit perfectly on the top of his head, and you can tell he had gotten them retwisted earlier today. His thick arms and chest flexed as his fingers moved expertly throughout your braids. His pink tongue ran across his plump bottom lip in concentration, and you nearly melted.  

You didn’t realize he had finished until his arms wrap around your middle.

“You’re so pretty you know that?” Erik whispers into your ear as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror. “Imma treat you like a queen and plus some tonight. 'Cause that’s what you are. My Queen.”

You thank him quietly, drunk on the compliments and love oozing out of your boyfriend. “You’re too much, Erik Stevens. I should be the one pampering you. You’re the one that really deserves it.” He laughs at you, before backing up and sliding down your panties. You stand still as he drops them down your legs, and you hear him moan.

“Goddamn,” Erik breathes out, trying to refrain from dropping to his knees and making you sit on his face. “We better get in before the water gets cold.”

Taking his large hand into your much smaller one, you pull him over to the tub. You enter first, nearly moaning at the warm water against your skin. As you get situated, Erik grabs the strawberries and sets them on the thick ledge of the tub. He then removes his basketball shorts, only to be bare underneath them. You both release a chuckle as he tosses his shorts to the side.

Erik slides into the bath behind you and tugs your back into his chest. After he gets situated, your head rolls back into the warm crook of his neck, and he tightens his heavy arms around you.

“So how was class, baby girl?

.                    .                     .                    .                    .                   .                    .

The last forkful of chicken alfredo casserole on your plate was fed to you by Erik. You finished chewing and swallow as you unwrap your short legs from his. Erik raises from the couch to take the now empty plates to his kitchen sink. You watch him walk away before picking up your glass and sipping at the red wine that you can’t even remember the name of.

Erik takes a few minutes to rinse off the dirty dishes and then returns with another bottle of wine.

"You’re tryna get me drunk.” You giggle tipsily, while Erik sets down the bottle onto the coffee table. He smiles knowingly and then laughs when you make grabby arms up at him from the couch. Bending down, Erik lifts you up into his arms, and you wrap your thick legs around his hard waist.

“Maybe I am.” Erik sasses, causing you to give him a wide smile. Your arms tighten around Erik’s neck as his hands travel from your back to reach under his t-shirt that you had stolen after the bath. Erik takes a minute to turn around a sit you both back down on the couch, before beginning to palm and massage the large cheeks of your ass.

You melt into Erik’s chest, while your eyelids flutter closed. His hands move from rubbing your bottom to your back, and he can feel you growing heavier as you are dragged deeper and deeper into slumber. After another few minutes, Erik concludes that you are finally asleep.

All he can do is laugh to himself, before kissing your forehead and looking at the unopened wine bottle on the table across from him. Behind it sat a duplicate of his house key that he had snuck in after dinner. Erik quietly sighed to himself, disappointed that nerves had gotten the better of his carefully thought-out plan.

Maybe tomorrow.

245 notes · See All

Part 7

Short update!! I hope you guys still like it. Sorry for the long wait. I hope to finish this up in 2-3 more chapters.


You stared at Erik in awe. His jaw is clenched tightly as he stares at his uncle with indescribable anger.

“Your UNCLE?” You stated in surprise, fear began to bubble within you. Your mind quickly realized just how evil this man could be to terrorize his own nephew, kill his own brother, and not to mention his own kids, and then to hunt them down for centuries after. You felt sick. Your knees almost buckling underneath you. Erik’s strong arm wraps around you tighter. 

Your eyes quickly scan the abandoned hallway for an escape route. You’d just gotten Erik back, you could lose him again. But the grey dank hallway gave nothing away.

You slowly began to back away from the strange man, a crippling sensation slowly harvesting on your brain. 

Keep reading

118 notes · See All

Originally posted by xdeepsoulsx

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Reader

Content/Warnings: angst-ish

Words: 1101

A/N: I’m kinda on the fence about making another part to this, so we’ll see. I really, really liked how this turned out so I hope you guys like it too! Also, not that this is obviously pre-Black Panther.

Erik didn’t understand. He had never questioned his orders before, not once; his goal to make it to Wakanda took precedence over any concerns he may have had. But this time was different, because he just didn’t understand why he had been sent to kill someone who was, by all accounts, a civilian.

Sure, his orders didn’t explicitly say to kill you. Yet. Currently, his instructions were to “monitor and report back”, but there wasn’t one assassination mission that hadn’t started with those words. Every single mission that had began with those instructions had ended with the subject being killed.

Keep reading

167 notes · See All

Sharing Disney Movies with Erik

So this is just a headcanon I thought of. I was like, “I wonder how Erik would do watching Disney with (Y/N)?” Then this was born!

Warnings: Language, the usual

Thanks for reading!


  • He saw one Disney movie growing up and it was Mulan
  • It wasn’t by choice either
  • His foster parents made him watch it with his foster sibling
  • Even though the songs were annoying at times, it encouraged him to keep fighting for the throne, so it was a “w” in his book
  • Any other movies slipped his radar
  • Former flings tried to get him to watch them but he wouldn’t have it
  • “Y’all got me watching this wack-ass white cartoons?” *sucks teeth* “Ain’t a goddamn nigga in sight”
  • The first time he met you, he knew you were obsessed from the Disney-themed tattoos wrapped around your arms
  • And also the Disney decals decorating your car by the droves
  • He tolerated the movies because he liked you but you could tell he never really got into them
  • You finally got him to binge the movies on a rainy day after promising a big home-cooked breakfast in exchange
  • There were too many for one sitting, so you stuck to the main ones and a few of your faves
  • He was a HUGE critic
  • it was fucking hilarious but you tried not to encourage him
  • “Why ain’t she just off the daughter in the first place? Why make Snow White a servant?” *tuts* “Dragging this shit out for no reason”
  • “Woulda merced her myself instead of sending out a weakass huntsman”
  • “That was some petty shit Maleficent did… I approve” *you smack him*
  • “Again, what’s with these stepmoms making them servants! Just kill her!” *hits him again* “You got one mo’ time to hit me”
  • He liked Jungle Book surprisingly
  • “Shere Khan a real nigga” *flashes his golds in a smirk* “Knew his strengths and ran the forests with fear”
  • “Coulda made a whole meal outta Mowgli’s fakeass, leaving his friends for a girl”
  • Oliver and Company had mixed reviews
  • “Dodger ain’t take no shit from those damn Dobermans, he’s a real one”
  • *frowns* “You can keep that fake-ass cat tho, turning his back on family! Tuh!”
  • Hated Little Mermaid entirely
  • “Triton shoulda let her dumbass just be a fish, she ain’t learn a goddamn thing” *shakes head irritatedly*
  • He remained entirely indifferent to most of 90s Disney, even Tarzan and Hercules
  • He was mad as hell about Princess and the Frog
  • Dr. Facilier was his favorite character
  • Ray was a close second, so he’s stuck between rooting for Facilier and feeling bad for Raymond at the end
  • Lilo and Stitch had him in his feels but he will deny it to his watery grave
  • “My nigga just wanted a family, that’s all”
  • You stopped the movies there because he cried a little
  • He tried to hide it, but the eye rub gave him away
  • *speaks softly to you* “I’m trying to get better, ma.” *wipes eyes harshly* “You know you my ohana, right?”
  • Your heart broke a little at the raw emotion in his voice
  • You went to bed that night cuddling Erik hella hard
  • The next day, you caught him humming “I’ll Make a Man out of You” during breakfast
  • You knew you had him hooked


End Note: Let me know what y’all think! Is there anything you feel should be different or anything you agree with? Comments are appreciated y’all! ❤️❤️❤️ Thanks for reading!

Here’s the link to 90s Disney with Erik!

Tag List: @hearteyes-for-killmonger @wakanda-inspired @madhatterhelsing @curls-and-crosses @wawakanda-btch @thedelightfulone @theunsweetenedtruth @suburbanblackhoe @blackgirlfics

244 notes · See All

Y’all I got too tired to proofread so if you see crazy things please just correct me and go… but thanks for sticking with the story!!

also maybe a tw: complicated grief?

I am the King.

Those words, so casually said, hung lazily in the air like cheap helium balloons.

Suddenly it all made sense. The dream, the voice, the renaming, the sudden subversion of the royal family courtesy of an extended family member from a distant land, your father dying in a single moment. There was only one explanation.

You were loony as hell.

And just like someone who was loony as hell, you drew in a breath and cackled at the top of your lungs. Loud, maniacally, until your throat hurt, until tears rolled down your cheeks.

Like someone who had to laugh to keep from falling apart.

N’Jadaka, clearly disarmed, shot a furious look at the other woman in the room who seemed to be attempting to compress her already small figure to invisibility, pushing further and further into the corner of the room.

Keep reading

83 notes · See All

so I tried my best to make a self-imposed deadline. Hopefully this is good!

** also in order for this to make sense, please read the prologue* 

“For Bast’s sake, why are you guys so loud?!” Amina hissed loudly, all but drowned out by the music booming out of the overhead speakers almost directly above your table. You noticed out of the corner of your eye a couple turning to give you a dirty look and grimaced, raising your glass to your lips. Across from you, your other two girlfriends paused their raucous laughter for a split second before breaking out into more giggles.

“Please madam, can we not laugh?” Kali said, pushing back her long Senegalese twists, fallen to her face in all her excitement.

“What’s funny?” Amina pressed on your behalf. You personally were unbothered, but Amina, now recently being accepted as a late term Dora Milaje, was a lot more serious about keeping the going-ons of the palace under wraps. You, however, were content to let them talk as much as they wanted, and your friends usually did just that.

“Well…” Kali began, rolling her eyes.

“It’s just that after all the years of Ms. Scientific Revolution here yelling ‘ritual is antithetical to progress’, ‘ritual makes us slaves to habit’, or ‘ritual is overvalued in our culture’, now she’s in the temple bowing like she met her god personally.” Asha chimed in, her deep alcohol-induced blush apparent on her face, pale from albinism. She threw back the rest of her cup, and as she met eyes with Kali again, both immediately both burst out laughing.

You sighed, and Amina, seated by your side, frowned at the two but eased back into her seat, crossing her hands over her chest. She watched your expression with a sympathetic look. You raised an eyebrow back at her, wondering what she was so concerned about.


Did something happen?” she asked.

You shook your head no, but internally acknowledged that something truly had stirred inside you over the months since that night. Although your daily routines were the same, you now found yourself staring too long into the faces of strangers, and praying every night to a goddess you were sure for years never existed for an explanation. You even found yourself now enjoying the weekday mornings you spent tending the Herb Garden with your adoptive father, and had started to spend half-hours meditating in the spiritual compound on the weekends.

Working in the garden was initially a chore you loathed growing up, even more so than the one-on-one spirituality and divination classes Papa Zuri had put you through every weekday. You had all but escaped a true apprenticeship thanks to King T’Chaka, who found that you were better suited for the department of science and technology division, as it was before Shuri revamped it. (Later on, you had found out per Asha that part of the reason you were removed from some of the temple duties was because some of the older medicine women had begun to complain about your irreverence and thought you’d eventually set off some catastrophe if the gods got angry.)

Unfortunately for your adoptive father, the side effect of the dual appointment was your insistence on lobbying him for less discretionary use of the Herb. What he insisted was sacred, you insisted was simply mutated and could be mass produced for common use the same way vibranium was.

Now that you were pretty sure you had been visited by Bast, the Heart-Shaped Herb was no longer simply as a symbol of how the monarchy monopolized an organic resource that could be shared with many. You wanted to know what kings truly saw when they ingested it, and if it felt like anything in your own dream, apparition, whatever you called it.

Kali scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That’s what she says every time. Oh, definitely nothing happened, but all of a sudden, she’s respecting our religion.”

Amina gave her a dirty look, and Kali retorted with a cheeky grin, but her eyes revealed a faint nervous glimmer. Amina was at least six feet tall, with a large, muscular frame, and she looked intimidating with her originally full head of back length freeform locs now freshly shaven and ceremonially tattooed along the sides of her skull. Kali’s 5’1 waifish figure didn’t stand a chance if it truly came to blows.

“Are you really going to start taking the priestess work seriously?” Amina asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity, deciding to disregard Kali’s comment, which overheard could have actually had some serious implications. Religion and spirituality were paramount to most, if not all, of the townspeople, especially considering all the blessings Wakanda had presumably received from Bast. You had too often been protected by the fact that your father was the high priest, such that no one actually believed the rumors that his daughter was everything short of sacrilegious.

That, in addition to having immigrated from the outside, was a recipe for disaster.

You shrugged. “It’s probably too late to become a priestess, but I can at least take the time to learn the rituals for real. Who knows, maybe I could do the one for Prince T’Challa’s coronation.” This last part you shared without looking up, instead focusing on the ice cubes swirling in your glass as you shook it. You knew Amina, who was particularly smitten by the prince, would take the comment as a humble brag no matter how it was intended.

It would likely be a long time until the next ritual combat for king would begin, but the preparation could be good learning.

Amina’s eyes widened in surprise at your response, and clapped her hands together in shock.

“See how she disrespects us!” Kali snorted. “Maybe she’ll crown Prince T’Challa.”

She jumped to her feet, and grabbed Asha by the arm, who had long since tuned out the conversation and by the look of it was busy undressing several men in the club with her eyes. “I beg, let’s go dance. My song is playing and these men in here are… how you say, fiiiiiiiine!”

Mad over You by RunTown was now coming through the speakers, and Kali and Asha went whining off into the crowd. Amina tapped your arm, and when she saw you weren’t about to go anywhere, smiled with understanding and ran off with the other two. You would join them in a few; it was the last night Amina would be able to move freely outside the palace anyway. The second they had disappeared into the crowd you locked eyes with a handsome stranger across the room who flashed a flirty half-smile at you. You smiled back politely and lowered your eyes, but as soon as you realized he was making his way over, Nope went your social anxiety and you threw back the last of your drink before making your escape to the restroom.

A haze was slowly starting to form in your mind as you sat in the bathroom stall, waiting out who-knows-what, until you caught the flash of your communication bead from the corner of your eye. It was a message from Shuri. You opened it.

My father is dead.


In less than a week, all mourning rites had come to a close and Prince T’Challa had become King T’Challa in a triumphant show of power over the Jabari tribe. You were amazed at how intensely your entire country could grieve and turn around to form the explosion of vibrant joy that was Challenge Day. But then again, your Wakanda was magical and blessed, and the whole country knew it.

Today, you were escorted into the throne room by one of the King’s guard and presented before your new crowned king.  Shuddering as the entryway panels shut loudly behind you, you immediately bowed your head deeply to greet him before being walked closer to the throne. Amina, head now fully shaven showing her full induction into the Adored Ones, stood out proudly from the line of guards posted along the walls of the throne room, and shot you an excited look, eyes twinkling. Unfortunately, the general, Okoye, noticed her lose focus and shot her a disparaging look. Amina quickly faced forward with renewed stern expression. She wears that warrior face well, you thought to yourself.

You looked away from the guard and faced T’Challa, who regarded you warmly. The throne appeared to suit him naturally, fit him like a glove. Yet it was no true surprise as by your recollection, he had been regal from the very first day you met him as a child.

“Come on, you have known me for too long to be doing all of those formalities.” He said, chuckling softly, motioning almost embarrassedly for you to stand up properly as he walked closer to you. He seemed to tower above you more than usual, and you wondered if he had grown taller since the last time he had seen you or if his new title had encouraged him to stand a little more confidently.

“That’s probably true, my King. But customs are customs, right?” You responded, smiling.

“Ah, stop with the King nonsense, Nkiru.” His hand rested softly now on your shoulder, and you found your face growing hot in embarrassment. Not here, not in front of Amina, you thought.

“Would you rather I have your guard destroy me for showing disrespect?” you quipped back with a sassy grin, eyeing Okoye whose lips betrayed a small smirk. You made a dramatic show of raising your hands in surrender, but mostly to shrug his hand off you, and he sighed, amused but exasperated.

You weren’t being facetious, this truly was more comfortable for you. The fact of the matter was that for some unknown reason, you had always felt some emotional distance from him. T’Challa was always Shuri’s older brother to you, and regardless of how aware you were that he was handsome, intelligent and sweet, you had been relatively immune to whatever unconscious charm he had on most girls in his vicinity. Sometimes you suspected that T’Challa realized this and would put the charisma on overdrive. Most likely he just enjoyed being the most eligible bachelor in Wakanda.

Too bad for him that most everyone in the capital knew how he felt about Nakia, princess of River tribe, who had come back from a posting as a War Dog to witness his coronation. You had even overheard a few girls in coffeeshops lamenting his relationship and hoping he had a long-lost brother or cousin or anyone else they could set their affections on.

There was a pause, and for a moment you began to worry about the true reason you had been called so formally. Then you remembered a rumor circulating the gardeners regarding T’Challa storming out of the spiritual compound after talking to Zuri a couple days ago. If this had anything to do with that you knew nothing, and hoped to continue being ignorant.

T’Challa suddenly broke the silence, clearing his throat softly.

“I just wanted to formally thank you for taking care of Shuri that night,” he began. “When…,” he paused for a moment, knowing the next words would be painful. “When my father died, I wasn’t able to be there for her and my mother, and I appreciated knowing that you would be there as her friend to console her.” He smiled again, with the slightest twinge of sadness this time.

“It was my pleasure, Kun-, I mean T’Challa,” you replied. He looked almost relieved that you’d stopped calling him king. Satisfied, he placed his hands behind his back and walked whimsically back to his seat. “I will add that I was pleased to see you at the ritual, even partaking in it.” He chuckled, settling back into his throne. “Imagine my surprise when I woke up from the ancestral plane to see you among those watching me.”

You cocked your head to the side in confusion.

“I’m just saying it was nice, that’s all.” He mused. Okoye now walked up beside you, and declared to the king that there would be an impromptu strategic meeting in a few moments. With that, you prepared to bow out quietly. However, just as you began to make your way towards the exit, a parade of elders seemed to spill into the room, almost spinning you a full 360 as their attendants rushed in and lined the walls.

“What is the meaning of all this?” Nakia’s father, the River tribe elder, exclaimed as he entered the room. Flamboyant as he was, his attendants quickly rushed to place a chair beneath him and he eased into it without looking back, crossing his legs as he sat down. “I will have you know that I, too, have plans and cannot be rushed in to talk about any foolish man that wanders onto our territory.”

T’Challa’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing, allowing the growing commotion to build.

The Merchant tribe elder sucked her teeth as she was accompanied into the room by her own attendants, hands behind her back. The Queen Mother and Shuri came in together, muttering quietly under their breath.

As quickly as the rest of the elders entered the room and were seated, their attendants scurried out of the room. Whatever was going on was serious and private, you guessed. A fan of minding your own business, you attempted the same…

Until you heard the voice again, and your heart skipped a beat as a wave of panic crashed over you.

Stay a little longer.

Your legs were frozen in place before the door, but your interior felt like fire and flames and thunder. Something big was about to happen. The grumble and brouhaha of the assembly had quieted into a low hush and you could feel eyes on you as your back as you, the intruder, stood motionless before the doors to the assembly. But no one said a word. And if they did, you paid them no mind.

You soon could hear a multitude of footsteps on the other side of the entryway, mirroring your own fast heartbeat. You held your breath.

The doors slid open, and you saw him, the literal man of your dreams, in the flesh for the first time. As you matched this new stranger’s features to your recollection, time might as well have stood still. You felt the same cool wind without a source from so long ago blow past you, and then a new wash of that eerie calm. Your heartbeat stabilized, your breathing slowed, your muscles relaxed.

The stranger’s arms were shackled behind him, but those handcuffs may as well have been a fashion accessory. He held his head high, walking with a confident swagger into T’Challa’s presence as if he were giving the Border tribesmen a tour of his very own home. His eyes quickly surveyed the room around you, taking it in and then rested on you.

He gave you the same quizzical look you’d seen before. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was replaced by a smirk.

“You cute and all, but uh, you gon move out of the way so I can talk to ya King?” he said, voice low, smooth and flat with disinterest.

Like an incantation, your legs seem to unstick from the center of the room, and you ran out of the throne, overcome with a feeling between offense and minor humiliation, to let him do his damage.

Bast would have to help you out with this one.

@syndrlla97 @iwantsomethingeternal @1killmonger

[Prologue][Chapter Two][Chapter Three][Chapter Four][Chapter Five][Chapter Six][Chapter Seven][Chapter Eight]

114 notes · See All

erik killmonger x black!gender neutral!reader

rating: e

warnings: none.



Originally posted by madblackpunkbitch

He tugs you through the cloying smoke of the hallway, through a string of entangled bodies, all in varying states of undress, until he finally comes to a stop at the fire exit door. He takes one look at you and the look on your face is enough to have him pushing the door open and tripping the alarm.

He doesn’t give a fuck.

Keep reading

45 notes · See All

“Brown skin girl
Your skin just like pearls
The best thing in the world
Never trade you for anybody else” - Beyoncé, Saint Jhn, and Wizkid feat. Blue Ivy Carter

A/N: This is one of my participations to the Quarantine Writing Challenge proposed by @chaneajoyyy and @shaekingshitup (won’t let me tag you) I hope you guys enjoy it! I’ve also been dying to use this song for a fic because I love it so much

Word Count: 1783


You hummed to yourself trying to keep yourself calm with this fidgeting little girl between your legs. The fidgeting little girl is your adorable, sweet, and at the moment, very annoying daughter Sarai. You were trying to do her hair but it was like she didn’t want you to. She wasn’t usually like this so you figured she was just having an off day where she didn’t want her hair messed with. You understood completely. You kept on understanding until it got too damn irritating.

You huffed putting the wide-tooth comb on the bed beside you. “Ok Sarai. What’s the problem?”

You could hear her pouting and she mumbled something incoherent.

“Excuse me? Mommy is speaking to you clearly so can you give mommy the same treatment back? And face me…” You turned her around to look at her pouty, dismal expression. It hurt you to see your baby so sad. “When I’m talking to you. That’s how a conversation works. Now tell mommy what’s wrong.”

“I want my hair straight.”

Keep reading

236 notes · See All

A/N: Here’s the highly requested part 2 that I’ve taken forever to write and release! Click here for part 1!


Originally posted by theandrophile


“Is my daddy late again?” Ashanti questioned aloud as she sat at her tiny desk with her eyes still focused on her drawing.

It was half past 3 and school let out at….3. So yes he was late again.

You sighed deeply coming up to her desk and crouching down. “Yes he is. But while we wait for him, We can do something fun.”

Keep reading

146 notes · See All

Part 18: Visitor

In the early hours, Erik walked casually through the next hotel’s parking lot dressed in comfortable all black with his bag of equipment, following silently and subtly a few feet behind a clueless older white man, mid-50s in loafers. The guy was making his way to a small silver Ford c-max with key in hand. He hit the unlock moving to the passenger side and luckily, he was parked next to a truck. Erik hopped in the cut behind him and between the two cars, wrapping his right arm around the guys neck, catching his chin in his elbow. The guy grabbed Erik’s arm trying to resist and protect his throat, but Erik gripped his shoulder before locking his left arm behind the man’s head, thumb to his own right ear. The throat was caught between his arm and bicep as he squeezed for ten seconds feeling the man go slack. He released him gently to the ground and took the keys, sliding into the driver’s seat. Pulling out of the hotel lot, he turned on the radio grimacing when country music flared from the speakers. He switched the radio to the hip hop station. After thinking over the dinner incident, he knew exactly how he’d been located. He knew the risks earlier when he’d taken that damn picture despite being in the middle of a game of assassins. He needed to get to the computer at the Reunion Tower to access employee files. That was his start.

Parking a block away, Erik created his own route to side entrance, carrying his bag over his shoulder. It would’ve been so much easier if he could’ve strongarmed an employee to get in, but they were all long gone as were the police so fuck all that. He didn’t need anyone to get the job done, he’d do it himself. Checking out the lock, he wondered about the security system. If he weren’t on a time crunch, he’d have waited to scope the place out for cameras and to check the security system. All he had to go on was what he’d picked up earlier in the day. His knowledge was something, but not thorough. He knew they probably had a security alert system in place but it likely wasn’t sophisticated and officers were not 24/7. He’d probably trigger a silent alarm so time was of the essence as well as a mask for whatever CCTV they had. He had an unassuming black ski mask that he put on, tucking his gold necklace. He also wore gloves so his race wouldn’t be known.

Picking the side lock instead of the front or back was the better decision. Typically it was the least congested when it came to security, in his experience and now that he was into the tower, he had to be efficient and brief. He had two goals. 1) Hack into the employee records for staff schedules and staff personal information. He could get this from payroll. 2) Delete all photos they have on file that way he could delete his own image without singling himself out.

The harsh bounce of the plane as its wheels drop loudly and beat the runway shakes you awake and throws you around in your seat, the mechanical whirring of the machinery rushing forward like a giant car. Judging by the hush that had been as a blanket over every passenger, it seems that you’re not the only one who was knocked out. As the lights shine on in the plane you can see and hear people waking up, shifting to life in their seats. The sky is still black, but the plane is guided by by amber artificial lighting. When it finally rolls to a stop, you have to wait along with everyone else to get off. Fighting the urge to close your eyes, you check the time. It’s close to 2:45, which means it’s almost 5 in Texas.

Erik is probably stretched out right now on his face, buried under pillows and enjoying having that hotel bed to himself. Maybe he’ll let the maids into the room this time… or not. Knowing him, it’s still not likely.

Finally the first few rows stand up starting the exit wave. You jump up with sleep still in your eyes to tug your bag down from the overhead bin, following the quick moving line of passengers through the suspended hall into the airport gate. They all move like they have somewhere to be in a hurry the way they speed speedwalk from the plane like they weren’t just knocked. Meanwhile, you’re ready to take a nap in one of these many empty seats you keep passing up.

“We ain’t that reckless,” you mumble. If you fell asleep in a public area with your luck you’d wake up with half your  luggage or items missing. “..Sleepy sleepy sleepy,” you mumble.

The good thing about flights at this time is that the airport is practically empty which means there’s no one in your way, no one to compare your pace to, and no one to dodge or speed walk against. You can take things at your own pace without the social pressure to keep up without looking fatigued. Collecting your checked luggage from the baggage claim, you go your own pace to the parking lot hitting the unlock on the key fob. The familiar lights flash on and you head on over settling in.

It feels so strange driving Erik’s car without him in it. You feel yourself blinking a little too much and too long, yawning into the side of your wrist with watery eyes. The same energy from the airport is on the road, borderline deserted. There aren’t a lot of cars out riding around past 3 especially where you’re headed. You flip on the radio turning it to a pop station and High Hopes by PATD has just started. Cranking it up, you sing along as loudly as you can muster to wake yourself up. You can feel yourself swerve a bit. The music carries you all the way to that exit where you turn off into some stretch of rural nothing. It’s where you take an unmarked and nearly unnoticeable road that looks like it leads to nowhere. Following it, you find that familiar long and dark backroad, riding through under a canopy of tall grass and weed-like plants that shoot up from the dirt like walls. You drive slowly fearful of a frantic deer or some large animal jumping out in front of the vehicle. Finally, you’re met with the large isolated modern house with glass panels. It’s very dark. Strong shadows are cast all over the surrounding area, the greenery… the only light comes from the stars up above, twinkling mildly off of the glass.

How does Erik see anything when he comes home at night with the lights off? The place isn’t even lit properly, he ought to leave the lights on! How does he feel safe like this?

Come to think of it, he does pack guns. You’d counted three. One he gave to you for emergencies, one you’d seen in his hand when he came to your rescue in your apartment, and one you’d seen at dinner when the restaurant got shot up. You cringe at the memory of the blood and the shots. It looked like someone had died yet Erik had been so ready to rush out to play hero, confronting the situation head-on as if he were still active duty and on the front lines. That part of him while honorable is still very scary because his overconfidence and meddling nature could potentially be the death of him. Then what? He’s only human and not immune to attacks but he just won’t back down. It seems to be embedded into his makeup.

Three guns. That’s only what you’ve seen! The thought makes you shake your head. Maybe that’s it right there. Maybe Erik doesn’t feel safe either. Maybe that’s why he has so many guns.. to protect himself.. because of the life he’s lived. He’s seen some awful things, you’re sure. Things you can’t imagine and the way he hardly blinked watching those attackers… You shiver. He wouldn’t call it fear, he’d call it being prepared. Either way, he feels a strong need to watch his back, that much you can gather.

The first thing you do when inside the house is go through and flip on all the lights downstairs and then upstairs. Well, not all of them, but enough to start to feel like you aren’t the main character in a horror movie with some homicidal maniac hunting you from the woods. The influx of light enough to ease your mind for the time being and you use the excess jittery energy to unpack and put your brand new belongings away. You hadn’t gotten a chance to wear everything you’d bought in Texas, but something told you that you would. Erik was entirely too extra to not find an occasion. He’d probably create one.

Stripping down, you locate his hamper tossing in your belongings. You’ll wash them all tomorrow. As for now, you head naked down the hall and into the bathroom more excited than ever to use his spa room of a shower. Looking over the contents arranged on the long and exposed shelf under his double sink, you pull from the neatly folded white washcloths and towels stacked next to the wicker basket of Erik’s grooming items. To the left are a gang of small white candles in simple glass jars with black labels and white print. He’s got at least two of each scent.. Vanilla, Sandalwood, Egyptian Musk, Coconut Mango, and Leather. Heading back into the hall, you snatch the lighter from Erik’s bedroom drawer, lighting the Coconut Mango before carrying your body wash into the shower.

Once out, you wrap a towel around yourself carrying the candle and head to your own assigned room to lotion down and put on a tank with some small shorts to sleep in. Only suddenly, after showering you’re not ready to sleep just yet.. so you head back downstairs with the spare blanket you found in the guest room’s closet and help yourself to a yellow gatorade and some popcorn figuring you probably ought to cook something tomorrow so his groceries don’t go to waste. There’re some good ingredients in his fridge. You aren’t doing any of it tonight though.

Sitting on the couch and flipping on the TV, you get cozy under the blanket as the current commercial break ends. There’s a lady with a blunt blonde bob popping corn over the stove like she’s in the stone age. You eat a handful of your own popcorn as she picks up the phone and the voice sounds creepy.

Who the hell is she speaking to and why is she entertaining him? Wait, is that Drew Barrymore?

“Wait.. Oh hell no,” you change the channel not wanting to watch a horror movie right before bed, especially Scream.

“Nope,” you repeat suddenly a tad paranoid. Not while you’re in a bigass house in the middle of nowhere alone, like a cabin in the woods and your phone is upstairs. No ma'am, no sir. You keep flipping, sipping your gatorade.

After flipping through nonsense, however, curiosity gets the best of you and against your better judgement, you go back to Scream. You’d never actually watched it before though it was hailed as a classic.

“No he doesn’t have her doing trivia,” you snicker.

“…And he kills her boyfriend. This is crazy… He done stabbed her in the chest and choked her? That’s a little personal, he must have known her. This killer is someone she knows.”

“Dang, he must have stabbed her in the lung because she couldn’t even yell to her parents. Will he kill them too or are they not on his hit list? Her only targets teens who cook their popcorn weird.”

Shovelling more popcorn into your mouth you ignore that you’re basically her right now, choosing instead to watch the mom as she looks outside.

“Don’t tell me… Oh NO.. NO NO NO.”

When you see the body hanging, you almost turn it off but then these homicidal 90s suburban teens come on screen and each of them seem not just capable of murder, but intrigued by it. You can see this creepy film is gonna be a whodunnit. Suddenly, you’re more aware of the chill on your arms and the sounds in the house.

It’s just the house settling, you remind yourself. There’s no one out here. Erik lives away from society and that includes psychotic knife-weilding murderers.

Flu pops into your mind threatening to make you frantic, but you cast his face down immediately.

Nope… no one is out here. It’s just me and I’m okay. I’ll be okay.

The doorbell rings your heart hops into your throat. There’s an accompanying aggressive knocking on the door causing your head to snap right to face it as you sit still as possible.

Who the french toast is all the way out here at 4:40 a.m. and why? Keep it together. Find a weapon.  Don’t freak out. Get up… quietly.

Again, someone knocks and you continue to stare at the door like a deer in headlights. The doorbell rings twice and your eyes widen when a feminine voice yells.

“ANSWER THE DAMN PHONE.” You listen closely. “I WILL BURN ALL THIS SHIT DOWN, KILL,” she threatens as if she’s looking for somebody.


Against your better judgment again, you pad to the door and peep through the peephole spotting a slim brown girl with long dark curly hair in a big sloppy top bun. She’s looking you dead in the eye and you have to remember that she can’t actually see you.

Looks about his type though. Exactly his type actually.

“Stop looking at me and open the door, Kill. This is business.”

With your hand on the knob, you unlock the door and pull it open to a crack. Staring at the woman in front of you, she’s about an inch taller but it’s close. She opens her mouth but her eyes widen briefly in surprise and she closes her mouth, squinting in pure bewilderment.

Who.. are you,” she tilts her head with an pained expression that says you are way out of place and far from home. You know that already and she doesn’t need to look like that. Afterall, she’s the one banging on the door at close to 5 in the morning while you’re inside. So who’s really out of place? “Hello?”

“..That’s none of your business. Who are you and do you know what time it is?”

Her eyes are unwavering, staring you down. “It’s none of your business,” she remarks. You start to shut the door in her face, but she pushes it back open.

“His car is here. Tell him to come out.”

“He’s not here. Check back in a few days.” Rolling your eyes, you try to shut the door again and she pushes her way in going straight to the staircase.

“KILL,” she yells from the bottom. You fold your arms and glare at her until she looks your way.

“Are you done? I don’t know what you two are on, but like I said he’s not here.”

“Look, I’m not the one you wanna toy with,” she retorts, her finger twirling dismissively at you. She takes off upstairs and you follow to keep a keen eye on her, but you need to grab your phone from your room to call Erik. He answers on the second ring.

“What’s up, baby,” he mumbles.

“Why.. what you doing?”

“Taking a shit.”

You frown looking at the woman who’s standing in the doorway watching you. Her eyes narrow and her lips pout.

“There’s a woman here looking for you. She just scared the living daylights out of m-”

“You opened the door?”

“Yeah because she-”

“You don’t know who’s on the other side or what they want so why would you open the fuckin door?”

“Pause. How did this become an attack on me?”

“I’m not attacking you but if she was someone dangerous you’d be dead right now.”

“Erik, anyone out here is out here on purpose as far out into the cut as this damn house is. That means they either know you or they’re extremely lost and looking for civilization. So you tell me who dangerous is lurking around the middle of nowhere? You got evil exes to destroy?”

“KILL. ANSWER YOUR PHONE,” the woman yells from the doorway.

“You never heard of serial killers,” Erik asks. “People who be FUCKIN people up for no reason?! You don’t answer the door at 4 AM, stupid!”

“Don’t call me stupid, asshole! What do I do about this girl here staring at me. Did you not hear her screaming like an idiot-”

“I heard that shit! Tell her ass to chill the fuck out! I’ll get with her tomorrow,” Erik snaps. “Don’t be answering the door so late at night. All them damn movies you watch, you’d think you’d-”

“You’d think you’d control your damn subs! Y'all are both irking the hell out of my nerves.”

“Don’t be doing stupid shit when I’m not there to protect you. What if it were someone dangerous?”

“You so damn paranoid! I’m a ask you one last time then I’m leaving because this is some bullshit and I don’t have to take it.”

“Oh you real bold when I’m not there. Keep that energy in life and you’ll be good.” He’d just left the home of a man on staff who’d gone home early in the day before shit went down.

It seemed a bit suspect when Erik saw it on the schedule and when he was the man’s face on his scanned ID, the man looked like he could be a relative of one of the shooters, maybe a younger brother.

Erik’s hunch turned out to be right and with a gun to the guy’s nose in his sleep, he rushed out an address while begging for his life. Apparently big bro was into some shit he ain’t know about. At least that’s what he’d claimed. It could’ve been the truth. It could’ve been a lie. Erik pulled the trigger and left him there as a stain and a warning to anyone involved that they would be located and exterminated in the same manner.

“She a friend. We collab on projects,” Erik muttered closing the car door as he hopped out and started walking.

Swift wasn’t playing if she showed up on his doorstep. She never did that. She’d never had to, he was typically efficient and even quick. But this time he was fuckin up and trying to fix it. She wanted this job wrapped up.

Of course she had other shit to do and places to be that would make her money, but she was hanging around and standing by for him solely because she had a crush on him. He was very aware although she’d never admit it and he was grateful for her help and support. She was an invaluable partner, much like Rell. He hoped he’d never have to end her the same way.

“Give her the phone,” Erik softened, ignoring Y/N’s grumbling as he walked on a dirt path into a wooded region surrounded by pitch black.

“Hey,” Swift said simply. She knew not to talk in front of his subs. She’d already met Shay once and Jaliyah twice.

“You’re scaring my sub, stop that shit she’s skittish and very sensitive.”

She sighed.

“I was compromised and targeted,” he divulged knowing the expression she’d wear. In his mind he could see her jaw drop, the thinly veiled panic in her brown eyes. “Relax, they took out the wrong guy. I know exactly how they found me and I’m on them as we speak.”

The line went quiet and he waited for her response, standing still.

“Fine. Have fun,” she enthused finally. He knew what that coded response truly meant. Be careful.

“I’ll be fine.” She was probably thinking of coming to Texas just to back him up. She was powerful. However, he was confident in himself and finally in a space where he was thinking clearly. “I got this,” he assured her. “Go ahead to Mazatlan. I’ll hit you up when this is done. No one gets the drop on Killmonger.”

Hanging up, Erik walked carefully and quietly until he heard voices, then he moved stealthily around the clearing that was set up with a camper, fire, and lights to check out the surrounding area. From far back where he stood, there was a narrow road and a few other trailers. The main road was near, but he’d come a back way through the trees on foot. He counted four voices and they were discussing ways to get their hands on more military grade weapons. One of them had a collection of assault rifles for trade and another was looking to invest in a tank. Erik stood positioned in the woods unnoticed with his bag on the ground and 27 lb AS50 assembled and aimed once he got the visual. The AS50 had a lower recoil than his AW50 so it would be easier to hit four targets quickly. He waited a moment making sure he could actually fatally hit each target, determining that he easily could. Before anything could go wrong, he braced himself and quickly hit the trigger four times. The bodies fell and his sharp ears no longer picked up conversation.

Moving quickly to a different position with a visual, he got low. The next person to come into view got popped and fell. Going in closer to the trailers, he waited, but no one else came out.

“Fuck it,” he said after fifteen minutes. He stepped into the clearing and nudged the bodies with his foot checking for reactions and movements. Two responded. He shot them both again. The third body brought him great glee.

“Been chasing yo ass,” Erik frowned staring down. It was undoubtedly his target.. in the flesh. He was late, but he’d gotten him and now Swift could get up off his back and he could go- “Shit.."He felt a bullet go through his leg.

He fired instantly in the direction from which the bullet came and his shot went through the trailer in front of him under the cracked window. He only hoped he hit whoever it was.

Limping, he forced his hit leg to carry him into the trailer where he saw a small blonde boy on the ground bleeding out with a .40 caliber pistol in his still hand. A touch of guilt touched Erik’s heart. It was just a little kid, a kid who likely knew nothing of what was going on and had been raised in the bullshit, taught early on to shoot.. This was probably his first real gun. The little guy was probably the son of one of the five men he shot. He felt even more guilty knowing he’d taken someone’s father away like that. It probably didn’t really matter since the boy was dead now, but still… The world was a fucked up place.

Even more fucked up was the fact that he now had to go into each of the trailers and shoot whoever was holed up in each one. They were probably innocents, but he had to be thorough. No more fuck ups. He ripped a peice of material from a shirt hanging over a chair and quickly tied it around his leg under his pants. He controlled his limp moving to the next trailer finding a haggard older woman holding a little girl to keep her calm. The woman shook her head but before she could speak, Erik spoke first.

"I’m sorry,” he whispered pulling the trigger twice.

34 notes · See All
Next Page