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sunshine-for-serotonin · 1 year

Note

Can I get Headcannons of Erik with a voice kink, auralism, or scent kink please, Mlle. Sunshine? Thank youuuuu!!!

Why not all three? This is cannon now in my opinion-

Warnings: yandere Erik, stalking, male masturbation, desperate Erik, clothes stealing, general kinkiness, unestablished relationship shenanigans, Erik’s mommy kink makes a brief appearance, I think that’s it

VOICE KINK

Let’s start off with the voice kink aspect, shall we?

Erik loves your voice no matter what! It’s so uniquely you, he finds it addictive to listen to you talk about anything and everything.

Come up behind him and speak into his ear. Watch Erik squirm, trying not to give away the fact you turned him on and how his pants feel unbearably tight.

He’s embarrassed to admit that even just you saying “yes?” In a certain way is enough to make him needy for you.

Call yourself mommy for any reason and he’s coming undone, the poor man can’t handle how sultry your voice is and you’re just feeding into his fantasies at this point.

You could literally just read a dictionary out loud and Erik’s curled up with you mentally ranting about how much he loves you and your voice while looking up at you like you hung the stars.

We already know Erik likes pet names, but have I ever told you his reaction when you first called him sugar in a teasing tone? No? Ok-

I N S T A N T T U R N O N

Erik had to excuse himself saying he forgot something somewhere and that it may take him a few minutes to find it. His actual reason? He had a raging boner.

Erik locked himself in his chambers and started pumping himself like his life depended on it, the sound of your voice overwhelmingly seductive in Erik’s mind. Biting down on his hand to keep gasps and moans from escaping his mouth, rhythmic wet sounds filled the room as precum was smeared up and down Erik’s cock, only halting as your voice echoed through his door.

“Erik, sugar, are you ok?”

Oh God- Erik knew continuing while you were right outside the door was risky at best, but he couldn’t deny the throbbing heat in his cock as you called for him so sweetly.

“O-Oui, yes, I am w-well!”

Slowly, Erik resumed making twisting strokes around his dick, doing his best to muffle any sounds he made and swiping his thumb across the slit of his tip every so often as his climax started to build once more.

“Are you so sure, sugar? I can help you if you need it.”

Erik knew you weren’t talking about his current ‘situation’, but God- did he wish you were. Your voice sounded so alluring when you called him sugar, and Erik wanted nothing more than to let you in and let you do with him whatever you pleased.

Letting out a shaky reply, Erik listened as your footsteps faded from his door before going absolutely feral, shoving his fingers into his mouth to suck on and once again stroking himself rapidly.

So yeah- Erik really, really, likes your voice, and that’s just one of an uncountable number of times he’s cum to the sound of you. AURALISM

Auralism is next!!! WARNING: Erik watches you having solo sexy time without your knowledge!

Erik honestly discovered this kink by accident. He was really missing you, but when he had asked you to come visit him you politely yet firmly told Erik to wait about an hour.

Erik is nothing if not impatient when it comes to his time with you, he needs to be with you during his every waking moment, even if you’re not aware of it.

Erik watched from the shadows as you stole away to your room, your fingers massaging your neck to try and relieve some of the pain in the stiff muscles, something Erik would be more than happy to do for you if given the chance, he thought to himself.

From his passage way inside your rooms mirror, Erik let out a gasp and his face turned red as you began to strip before him.

While Erik was thankful for the view you were giving him, he was puzzled. You had been wearing clothes that were fine for visiting in and it certainly wouldn’t have taken you an hour to put on new ones, but the realization hit him like the sky fell on him as you laid your nude form onto your bed.

Oh. Oh. Erik was all too aware that his pulse was dangerously high and that his blood was violently thrumming beneath the surface of his skin further down, begging for him too touch himself.

His eyes were glued to your frame as Erik took himself out of his pants doing his best to be quiet and avoid your detection, only for you to get up and blow out most of the candles in your room.

Erik felt like he was on the verge of a meltdown as darkness obscured his vision of you, that was until he realized how much better he could hear you.

Every little breath sent shivers down Erik’s body, and you hadn’t even truly started touching yourself yet. He could hear you lay back on your bed as Erik’s hand instinctively traveled lower, a small whimper leaving his throat as he traced his tip with featherlight touches.

And then it started. Erik listened as your hand traced the curves of your body, the sound of your skin igniting all the erectile tissue in Erik’s body.

He felt his eyes flutter closed as he gripped himself fully and bit his lip, slowly moving his hand up and down with the image of you in his head.

If the sound of you tracing your skin was having such a profound effect on Erik, the sound of you beginning to gasp and moan was nothing other than heavenly. Desperately slapping a hand over his mouth Erik started to time his hand in sync with every vocalization you made, fantasizing that it was him making you feel so good.

Focusing his hearing even more if possible, Erik picked up on the final noise he needed to push him over the edge. Goosebumps rose on his skin and he flushed further as Erik picked up on the wet, lewd, sounds of you fingering yourself.

A chorus of ‘ah!’s And ‘mhmm!’s were muffled behind Erik’s palm as his orgasm rocked his body, tears leaving his eyes at the sheer amount of pleasure.

Embarrassed and ashamed after, but now he’s figured out that your sounds take his pleasure to another level, so this will not be just a one time experience.

Eriks favorite sound is definitely a tie between your moans and any wet noise you make.

SCENT KINK

Oh boy-

Erik is admittedly gross with the extent he enjoys your scent.

To the point where he has to keep a pair of your dirty underwear on him or he gets anxious because he can’t smell you.

Erik steals your perfume, clothes, pillows, even things like your hairbrush, just so he can enjoy himself and assuage his negative emotions when they get too volatile.

He gets off while holding your underwear to his face ninety-five percent of the time, and he will wear your clothes no matter how badly they fit him.

Because of how often he masturbates with things that smell like you, Erik actually begins to develop a bit of a Pavlov response. What I mean by that is now whenever he catches your scent, he gets aroused. On that note, since most of Erik ‘sessions’ have drawn out imagines of him eating you out, he starts to salivate and needs something to put in his mouth to hold him over.

Hold Erik over to what exactly? Hold him over until he’s alone and he can put your underwear in his mouth sucking like his life depends on it and his hips rolling into the air desperately seeking friction.

Is definitely one to sneak into your room when you aren’t around so he can bask in being surrounded by things that smell like you, letting out happy little hums all the while.

Stole your sheets one day and replaced them with his own, leaving a note to make you think that your room was just cleaned by management. Eriks on cloud nine, this does lead to him having frequent wet dreams about you, however. Not that he’s complaining-

———————————————————————————

@sloppyzengarden

Thats all for now darlings! Enjoy!!!

#Yandere Erik Destler #erik destler #erik destler smut #phantom of the opera #poto x reader #yandere poto #fem darling #phantom of the opera smut

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sor-vette · 3 years

Text

one, strike!! (index/description)

☜ profiles II

two, down!! ☞

Naturally what was estimated into an hour quickly grew into three hours and naturally, those three hours involved a decent amount of manhandling and lots of loose fists. All in all, you limped your way into the annual celebration late and with a busted lip and a nicely settling lilac shade on the cusp of the jaw. The celebration was nearing the end. There were no speakers on the stage or even in the front row. The crowd had mingled already long before.

Jin is actually the first who you notice in the crowd. Uncharacteristically he’s sitting alone by one of the side tables of the room. In front of him, there’s a small gathering of empty champagne glasses, even as you’re looking he’s playing with the thin stem of the glass, face completely blank. You sidestep into a larger group of people to avoid any eye contact. Namjoon is of course the next.

He’s standing listening to someone unfamiliar to you speak. He nods along with the conversation but you can see his jaw clenched in a death grip. He’ll need a brace soon, you think dryly. The rhythmical bops on the sides of his cheeks were amusing, yes, but not when directed at you. At the moment where your legs hesitate by the banquet table, there rings a shutter sound of a camera. You try to peek as subtly as possible and upon seeing a mop of dark curls sticking above the lens, you dip towards Namjoon. Anything but that. Anything. Yeah, you’d rather deal with angry Namjoon than any jabs of resentment with V. Namjoon, in fact, does notice you and his veins, in fact, do actually start showing. He’s one split hair away from foaming at the mouth. And yet, and yet-

“Ah, Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetsov, I’d like to meet R.D. It’s the woman I’ve talked to you about earlier in the evening,” earlier when you were supposed to show your ass up. His voice is completely neutral as if you’d showing up late, tousled, and looking like a digested raccoon was part of the plan.

“Sorry for meeting you this late, there was a situation that needed my attention,” even if they’re not placated by the excuse, the polite hmm’s are still given.

“Mr. Kuznetsov had heard how you declined positions in all of the other departments and he was wondering why.” And you once had thought that Jin and Jimin were award-worthy actors... Namjoon doesn’t give off anything, not a single clue. He paraphrases the belated questions so casually as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t know that the answer was him all along. Sure, there were other… reasons, other circumstances but no matter how the dice was turned, the primary descent into your suicidal career choice was pushed by Namjoon himself.

“I like the freedom of the cleaner department.”

“Freedom?” Mr. Kuznetsov echoes and you politely wait for his interpreter thinking it’d be rude to intrude on his job.

“Freedom?”

“Yes. There are certain characteristics to other departments that require um… putting on airs? Being a cleaner means I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not and I’m largely responsible for my own choices.” Namjoon snorts. It is an ugly, mocking sound.

“Furthermore,” you continue, glaring at him “our department is very friendly and honest. We say what we want and don’t rope people in situations that are only beneficial to us.” Namjoon’s jaw makes an audible tick. For a split second, it seems he has simply managed to dislocate it entirely.

“I thought they were also supposed to be punctual.” He snarks through what was supposed to look like an amicable smile. A miserable fail on his part.

“Yes, they are. It’s just not me. Not a postcard material, you see.” If Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetcov pick up on the rapidly increasing animosity, they at least have the working social sense not to remark on it. Both of them thank you for your answers and then stay a little longer to talk to Namjoon again. At that point, you start to zone out of reality and have something alike Ducktales intro loudly playing in your mind.

When they bid their goodbyes almost twenty minutes later, the re-purposed great conference hall is nearly empty. Jin had disappeared without you seeing. And so has V, thank God. Briefly, you try to find someone else familiar but there is none. Finally, the pair leaves, and Namjoon is left openly fuming. He takes those purposeful, long strides and you almost double in two, growling:

“Don’t you even-!” He does not listen and catches your elbow in a death grip, dragging you to the first exit door into those gray nondescript hallways you loathe. You shove him away unceremoniously.

“Do you enjoy creating a mess? Or are you simply incapable of keeping a promise?” His voice is low, monotone, kicking your self-esteem right underneath Earth’s crust. It was hard - to argue with Namjoon. Just…not impossible. Overall it helped to think of it as the world’s snidest debate match.

“I distinctly remember not promising anything due to this very reason.”

“Your reason being?”

“My direct duties as a custodian.” Namjoon actually snarls.

“To the boy?”

“His name is Erik,” you lightly correct and for some reason, he gives a mirthless laugh. As if that’s faintly amusing.

“You’ve never treated your duties seriously.”

“Actually, I have. You just don’t like it if I do something on my own.” It’s a deja vu at this point. You’ve had this conversation, point by point, five years ago.

A beat of silence passes.

Then another one.

“You’re happy now?” Namjoon asks. You suspect largely to make you feel guilty over something not defined.

“Of course. We just had a perfectly pleasant conversation.” You say matter-of-factly. Yes, it is hard to argue with Namjoon but once you learn that his biggest weakness is someone brushing off all of his righteous fury aside and not let it underneath the skin... Well, it is a couple of hundred steps towards mastery on this very vague debate team.

“Clean yourself up.” He bites his last and stomps away. You wait until he disappears up the exit stairs and let out a long sigh, letting your spine relax.

You turn around all too ready to go home and drown inside your mattress but freeze upon seeing Jimin. He stands quite far away, by appearance having just exited the conference hall. There are faint creases in his face and mute worry reflecting in the eyes. No doubt, he heard at least half the conversation. You both stand awkwardly in the silence of the hallway, each rooted in their own spot. He gives a small smile, an attempt at comfort. So very like Jimin. You lightly shrug as if to say - “it is what it is”. To not look him into the eyes, you turn your head to the top of his head. It is pink now. Looks nice. You point to the top of your own head and give a thumbs up, hoping he’d get what you’re trying to gesture. He does. Jimin gives another smile, a touch shyer as he lowers his eyes in silent gratitude at the compliment but the worry doesn’t decrease.

The conversation if it could be called that ends there and after another heavy sigh, he walks back into the hall.

“Life is like a hurricane, here in, Duckberg,” you bop quietly walking down the empty hallway.

***

Namjoon sags into the chair of his office in total darkness as he didn’t bother to turn on the lights. The only faint illumination is provided by the neon lights of the city below. The walk of twenty-five floors has taken all the wind out of him, along with it the anger. Thirty minutes ago he was mumbling it like a mantra in his head. He’d wrangle your neck if you dared to show your face and now he finds the very idea irrational. Jin had said his temper has gotten worse over the course of six years. The unrelenting stress taking a toll, he said. Maybe, maybe it was the stress. But Namjoon begrudgingly had to admit it was you who hit the nail of the problem. He took an issue wherever you or really anyone in his care did things on their own. He was the leader, the face of everything they try to do here. To save the world, that’s what the tag line said. But years after years of trying to save the world and years after years worth of sacrifices piling up, he’d rather start not to save the world but just save someone.

And then you came here, nearly six years ago, forlorn and bent on killing yourself and he lets you into this hellhole. Let's you stay so you could find meaning in the vague promises of being an underground hero, a vigilante. And then when it becomes peaceful when life seems to be good, you take a dive. A dive that just keeps ongoing. And it’s not that Namjoon doesn’t trust you. You’ve matured in heaps and bounds and reached a notable level of professionalism within the cleaner department. But the world is another thing. A shelter sometimes can be confining but it is ultimately safe. Isn’t safety better than running around jumping from one risky decision to another for the sake of “living adventurous life”?

Namjoon lets his head drop into the palms of his hands. Lately, this is all he’s been doing. Getting angry and then feeling like a complete villain. A pulse begins to form behind his eyes. The telltale sign of an incoming migraine.

God, he just wants to sleep.

***

“Get out,” you murmur half-heartedly, closing the doors to your small apartment. Pop music blasts inside the apartment with Erik lazily enjoying cherry candy sticks on the top of your bed.

“Oh, you’re home.”

“And you’re here. See how upset that makes me?” Erik stared at your stilled expression.

“Devastating,” he murmurs, “did your get your ass kicked? For being late?”

“Well, as long as never show my face there ever again and die on this very spot, no, I’ve handled it quite well.” He points at you with the red object, voice insinuating a captivating intrigue -

“I’m sorry for tonight but I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations.”

- when it was just plain annoying.

“Instead of thousand sorry’s, I’d like to hear at least once you ask for my permission.”

“You’d say no.”

“I like saying no. It lowers your enthusiasm.”

Erik grumbles something indecipherable. A person busts in through the doors along with the hearty clanging of two bottles smacking against each other.

“What is he doing here?” Irina throws a disapproving look towards the bed.

“No idea.”

“Get out.”

“No, but -”

“Get lost,” you echo Irina.

“Okey-dokey.” And with obnoxious curtsy accompanied with “ladies!” Erik is gone without another whine. You sigh heavily, absent-mindedly poking at the small tower of empty coffee mugs sitting in the sink. There has been no time during the week. You’ve been far too busy spending your free time in alteration between watching old cartoons and staring at a wall.

Irina places her coat and shoes next to her, frowning at the door.

“Why do you even like this kid?” You give a simple shrug. Maybe deep down you know the answer, maybe you don’t but largely you don’t think it matters. Erik was your trainee and that was the end of that. Well, that was how much you were willing to share with the outer world.

“He thinks differently.”

“Isn’t it just the fact that he wears red eyeshadow?” You still for a moment, looking at the paper bags Irina places on your kitchen table.

“Omelas?”

“Yeah.” She puts down the two faded tourist mugs from inside the small kitchen cupboard. I love Vienna and Someone in Paris misses you respectively. You look at the mugs almost apprehensively as if their appearance was somehow offensive but say nothing. They were just mugs after all. Nothing more.

Irina pours the champagne and pops open the white takeout boxes, pushing one in your direction.

“Snagged this from the anniversary party.” She proudly proclaimed, “they had really big banquet tables.”

“Yeah, I saw.” You take a sip of the champagne wincing at the taste. The label of 2004 Philipponnat Clos des Goisses Brut promised its tasters lively energy and tastes of lemon peel, pear, hazelnuts, and mint. What was on your tongue tasted like pure acid. No better than the cheapest energy drink found in the shadiest small stores peppered across the town.

“What are you thinking?”

“The name is obnoxiously long.” Irina huffs while dutifully stuffing her mouth full of chicken.

“No, I meant -” she takes a breath, gulping down on the champagne. For a second you almost worry she’ll end up hacking herself to death at this rate of consumption.

“Did our CEO invite you?”

“Yes.”

“And something happened?”

“Yes.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” She falls silent. After a moment, she unexpectedly reaches across the table and pushes a bite of her rice into your mouth.

“Let’s never be sad over anyone, okay.” You push the rice on the one side of your cheek to push through a flirtatious -

“Only over you.”

Irina gives a wry smile.

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

Text

The Coffee Prince Pt. 7

(T’Challa x Reader)

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3* *Part 4* *Part 5* *Part 6*

Word Count: 5.6K

T’Challa’s mouth hangs open as he tried to find the words to tell you what has been held back from you this whole time.

“(Y/N), I have to let you know that as King of Wakanda, I have more abilities than you know. To have the throne, you have to have abilities bestowed upon you in order to protect it. That is given to me through the Heart Shaped Herb-”

“So did you pass some ability to me?” You ask, interrupting him.

T’Challa looks at you curiously. “What do you mean?”

You sigh heavily, trying to get to the point. “I mean, when we…” you glance from T’Challa to Shuri before whispering, “...you know... did it change me? Am I changing on a molecular level? Is that what Shuri saw in her wrist beads thingy?” you ask, growing more stressed by the second. “I had seen enough movies to assume that sometimes powers can be transmitted through contact with someone so maybe…”

T’Challa shakes his head, scoffing at your theory, “Ohhh, no, no. That’s not possible, we just think you are pregnant.” he says a little too matter-of-factly.

Your eyes widen as your mind goes blank with that word hitting your thought process. You then look down at your stomach, as if it would just start spontaneously growing. You world moves slow as you look back at him, the man of your heart, who was supposed to protect you and have your trust. T’Challa studies your face trying to read what’s wrong with you. His mouth is moving but you don’t hear his words. Shuri is back behind him a bit, looking like he is trying to diffuse a bomb.

Suddenly, you erupt. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I’M PREGNANT??!!” You shout at the top of your lungs.

T’Challa jumps back, never having heard your voice at that level of anger spooked him. “Umhle, please c-”

“I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO YOU AND NOW I AM PREGNANT?! We JUST had sex! We used condoms, what did you do??” you shout in T’Challa’s face.

Shuri has backed into the kitchen to give some level of privacy to the situation, while ensuring she doesn’t catch any second hand of the heat you were spreading.

T’Challa continues to try and talk you down sweetly. “Love, I did, I know it, maybe one broke, but-”

“Did you use the regular ones, or the ones manufactured from home?” Shuri asks from the kitchen.

You and T’Challa look at her curiously. The child was going to preach the birds and the bees to you.

She shrugs. “Mother gave me the talk long ago, I am nearly grown! But the ones here do not work like the ones from home. With your enhanced abilities, semen-”

“Aye, aye, I don’t want to hear those words from you, Shuri.” T’Challa says, shaking his head in disgust, plugging his ears.

Shuri looks at him with contempt. “Grow up, T’Challa. This mess is yours to straighten out, I’m just telling you facts. If you had been honest completely from the beginning...”

You rub your temples trying to think, “Shuri, so his...you know….just, what? Broke the condom? Or seeped through or something?”

Shuri nods, “Something like that. I remember Baba talking about a situation similar during a party. It is how I got here…. and why I am the superior child.” Shuri adds in jest.

“Enough! I was never told any of this, I feel like if anyone should know, it would be me.” T’Challa says.

Shuri holds her palms up. “Well it’s not like there are multiple people with the heart shaped herb in their genetic code. It was really just a rumor going around at first, but it may be fact proven today.”

You are pacing the floor, hyperventilating and trying not to go faint. You sleep with T’Challa, who doesn’t tell you he is super human, or that his seed is, and that condoms don’t mean jack shit to him busting inside of you. Perfect.

“(Y/N), did you not have birth control?” T’Challa asks cautiously, not wanting to sound like he is placing blame.

You hide your face, frustrated at yourself now. “Nooo, I hadn’t had to think about it before now cuz there was no point, so I just had an appointment made to get some afterwards, but I guess I’ll cancel that!” You say, laughing like a person who lost their last brain cell.

T’Challa takes your hands, shushing you gently. “Breathe, it’s fine, it’s going to be ok. We will get through this.”

You look at him, heat rising from within you. “What more can I get through?! Get through this past week and everything having happened in the last 3 hours?? How can I get through this, I still don’t know what’s going on!”

“Umhle-”

“No, T’Challa, no! I have little patience right now for the sweet talk and-and calming tones, I need answers, not distractions! You said you loved me, I can’t believe this.” Your tears overflow as you begin to pace again.

T’Challa looks to you defiantly. He cannot hide his offense when you tell him off. “That was not a lie. I have never lied to you.”

You turn towards him so quickly and stalk up to him so fast, Shuri hops up to come over between you two.

“Lies by omission are still lies, T’Challa! You have been playing me for a fool, for what?! To protect your precious kingdom from the gold digging, ignorant American girl that you just needed pop off in real quick?”

T’Challa looks away like you just spat in his face. “Don’t speak like that.”

You shove him, what little that does. “That shouldn't phase you, huh, Superman! You don’t tell me what the hell to do! I’m pregnant! With a baby that I don’t know if I even want! My friend is God knows where, going through God knows what with a madman wanting to kill you, me, or whoever he feels up to seeing bleed. That’s what I’m going through, right the fuck now! What about you?” You point in his face, jaws clenched. “What the hell would your father think of what you’re putting me through?”

Shuri comes back and breaks things up at this point. “Ok, guys. Take a breath. We can’t fall apart before the mission even begins here. You shouldn’t say things that you may regret (Y/N), sit, please. T’Challa, hold your patience”

You sit down, trying to comprehend what you have to do. Between your friend going missing and being a fresh 36 seconds pregnant, you were at the end of your rope. And now T’Challa is just making things seem like a spilled milk situation made you resent him for not being as freaked out as you were.

T’Challa rubs his beard in thought, kissing his teeth. “Do you...want to end the pregnancy?”

You stare at the floor fighting back the flood developing at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t know.”

T’Challa scoffs, stretching his arms out before slapping them down beside his legs. “I will support you…..whatever you decide….” He doesn’t say it convincingly, before he starts to walk away.

“Do you want me to continue the pregnancy?” You ask back at him, looking to him quizzically.

T’Challa remains still a moment. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“What does that mean?”

T’Challa’s shoulders rise and fall in exasperation. “It means, I do not want to influence your decision. I am here for you, either way. I think this will affect our relationship either way, in what manner, only time can tell.” T’Challa says.

Shuri speaks up as referee. “Guys, it is probably best to get some rest for now. I will contact Ayo, see if she can get a location on Erik and his crew so we can get Tavia back, ok?”

You nod absentmindedly as you lie back on the couch.

“No, you can have my bed upstairs, I’ll take the couch.” T’Challa says.

You shake your head. “I don’t want to be in there right now.”

“Then take a guest bedroom. But you will not be sleeping on the couch.” T’Challa protests softly. You get up slowly, heading for the stairs. “You do not have to treat me special because I am with child, you know.”

“I would not treat you any other way, in any circumstance.” T’Challa says in a serious tone. You decide not to test his patience any further as you head to a separate bedroom. You lie down, turning over to observe the sky outside of your window. You didn’t know how to feel, your head was pounding, you needed water from the alcohol at the club drying you out. You avoided acknowledging whatever was happening within your body, as Shuri said, the scan could be flawed. But either way, a Plan B is no longer a viable option for precaution. Only an abortion from here on out. Your stomach churned violently at the mention, so you get up to go get that water you desperately needed.

Making it to the fridge to get a water bottle, you start up the stairs again, but pause halfway up as you notice voices from outside. Shuri and T’Challa were talking in the back patio area. You settle down on the stairs, clutching your bottle as you hesitantly listen in.

“What would the repercussions be to bring a child out of wedlock as a successor to the throne?” Shuri asked.

“I do not know what the traditions are, but I can assure you, that I will not give up on my own flesh and blood for the throne. You can take it, you know.” T’Challa says.

“No, no. Not in this lifetime, I like having you as my guinea pig for my updates to the tech. Why would I willfully sign up in your place? Anyway, you have the birthright, do what you have to do. But then…..what if she decides to terminate?”

T’Challa pauses, hugging himself as he looks on into the distance. “Then she terminates. Simple as that.”

Shuri touches his arm with concern. “But how would you feel, Brother?”

T’Challa looks down shaking his head. “It would depend on when she did it, maybe? The sooner, the better, but even that sounds wrong of me to say. Even though she is hesitant too, I don’t want to seem disappointed in her for keeping it or for…..I just...I love her. I care for her deeply, and the image of her being with child…” He holds a hand to his chest. “...warms my spirit, I admit. Of course, I wish this had happened later than sooner. It is still early in the relationship. I would’ve introduced her to Mother, married her, but these are the cards Bast has dealt.”

“You should've been more forthcoming, Brother. Now she thinks the worst of you.”

T’Challa purses his lips. “I know. It's difficult to gauge what to say, and when to say it. I did have my position in mind, but it wasn't fair to her not to know. Now she must feel she is having a baby by a stranger, so I have to make it right. First by getting her friend from Erik and Klaue safely.”

“I am too young to be an aunt.” Shuri say, making T’Challa laugh.

“Well you would have someone to boss around for once. But do not speak of this with her. I will remain indifferent until her mind is made. I will not have anything to do with the decision making, it is all on her. I just want to support her through it.”

On that note, you head back to your room for the evening to rest. T’Challa’s words weighed heavily on you. In no means do you want to hurt him intentionally with blame or saying you didn’t want the pregnancy, you just wished so much you guys were more careful. In some way, you wish T’Challa would react to make your mind up. If he would break up with you immediately, you couldn't have the baby. But support and affection all just make you feel like nesting but like he said, what did you even know about him anymore? Now other lives are in jeopardy due to his silence.

You swear you feel a flutter in your stomach but you pass it off as gas, still wanting to pretend your body is still yours alone in this bed.

In the morning when you wake up, you still feel tired from the other night but decide to get up and be productive. Reaching for your phone, you see you have a missed call and voicemail.

“Chacha!!” You call out, running downstairs.

T’Challa nearly collides with you halfway up the stairs. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“She called, T’Challa, there’s a message!” Your voice breaks as you speak. Tavia is alive!

T’Challa’s eyes are wide with surprise, but maintains a cool head. “Ok, we need to hear it. She may have escaped and needs us.”

You nod as he leads you down the stairs. Shuri comes from a back room after hearing the commotion. “You have heard from her friend?”

“Yes, we just got word from her. Sit with us while we play it, we may need you to place her location.” T’Challa tells his sister.

You all congregate around his coffee table, your hands shake as you imagine what the message might sound like. T’Challa rubs your arm to put you at ease as you pull up your voicemail and put it on speaker.

As the message plays you hear Tavia breathing hard and frantic. “(Y/N).....where did you go?......I don’t know where I am…..Please! You gotta help me!”

The phone gets a bunch of background noise and movement is overheard before you hear the next voice. “Don’t worry, I gotcha. Heeyy, baby girl!”

Your blood ran cold as you recognized his voice. That voice threatened to take you away on a cat and mouse game with T’Challa.

“Last I checked, your friend here was feeling me. Shit, I don’t know what her deal is now…”

“Don’t fuckin touch me!” Tavia says. “OW!”

Erik kisses his teeth. “Issa shame how pretty she is. All that could change in a instant. So you go head and tell T’Challa to bring your big ass back here if you wanna see your friend again. We still gotta finish our drinks.”

The message ends and you drop your head in agony, sobbing into your lap. Tavia was alive alright, in a living hell.

T’Challa kneels in front of your feet to comfort you. “(Y/N), she is still alive, that is the best news we can have right now, remember that. We can find her now, Shuri, can you trace the call?”

Shuri runs a geolocation program on her kimoyo beads. “Way ahead of you. He stayed on the phone long enough for me to get one…..Looks like a warehouse on 53rd and Ashland.”

“I will go there now. Keep (Y/N) company while I handle this” T’Challa orders.

“But he said he wants (Y/N) there! You can’t risk going against his instructions, you don’t know what he may do.” Shuri says.

T’Challa turns to her fuming. “I will not risk (Y/N)’s life for his games! He gets myself and whatever I have coming for him! That is all he needs to worry about!”

You go up to T’Challa, wiping your eyes, putting a hand to his chest. His heart felt like a speaker on blast in his chest. “Don’t yell at your sister, Chacha, calm down.”

T’Challa closes his eyes tightly. “You don’t know what this means to me to find him. The fact that he got away from me, to get your friend in the first place shows my weaknesses and I must redeem myself. It is unacceptable what has happened on my watch so far.”

You caress T’Challa’s face, admiring the wide innocence in his eyes to be the good man and great King he pushes himself to be. The anger and insecurities etched deeply across his face, brow furrowed in intense inner monologues no doubt. You bring your thumb up to his widow’s peak, brushing it upwards. “Chacha, this is not about just you anymore. This more than just bragging rights, this is my friend’s life, my life, yours. Going in blind with emotion will only make it more probable to fail. You gotta use your head, not your heart, to direct your strategy now.”

T’Challa eyes tell you so much more than he says. They tell you you’re naive, that he is still very much so angry, that he loves you too much to fight against your words. But as long as there was still respect for you, he would bend. “You need to get dressed, but you will not leave my side.” He says with a wag of his finger.

You swipe his hand away, pulling him in for a kiss. You hated to think so, but it felt more like a goodbye.

T’Challa drives you both down to the warehouse in question to get Tavia from her captor. The drive over there is quiet as you were tensely biting your nails, not sure what to do with yourself.

T’Challa looks over at you taking your hand away from your mouth, kissing it. “Everything will be fine. As long as Tavia is out of there safely, all will be well.”

You hold tight to his knuckly, long hands; strong and determined against your shaky, uncertain ones. “And you. You need to come back too.” You add.

T’Challa looks at you like he didn’t even think of that as an option, but quickly smiles. “Naturally. That is a given.”

T’Challa stops the car a few yards back from the building. “Remember, stay by me and be on the lookout for anything. Let me know when something isn’t sitting right.”

As you all get out of the car, you look at the old and rusted abandoned looking building curiously. No other businesses or main roads around, it was perfect to keep someone for an extended period of time.

T’Challa walks around the building entrance, pushing a button that should open a garage door but is out of order. You continue to double check your surroundings before he gets to a window and breaks it in with a nearby rock.

“Shit! T’Challa be a little more quiet, eh? How do you know no one is in there?” You say with a scolding whisper.

T’Challa reaches through the window to the side of a door, working the lock to open it up. “Shuri has the place surveilled. She will let us know if we have company.”

T’Challa steps inside slowly, looking right and left as you follow behind.

“TAVIA, YOU IN HERE?!” You shout out out of the blue. T’Challa looks back at you like you’re crazy. “What? You said Shuri said nobody here.”

“Girl is that you??” a voice calls out.

You look around excitedly, “TAVIA!! Where are you!?”

Tavia steps out from stack of boxes smiling and looking well. “Oh my God! Am I glad to see you bitch!”

Your legs lead you before your head can register your happiness. You run over to your friend, arms outstretched as Tavia meets you halfway.

You both lock each other in an embrace as you both shriek in happiness, bouncing out your energy.

“Ladies, we will need to go soon.” T’Challa insists.

You barely register his voice as you try to check in with Tavia. “What happened to you? After I left the club, I can’t believe you got taken.”

Tavia pulls back from you, fanning your face. “Man, once you left, I wondered why the hell I was waiting so damn long by myself and went to check on you. But when I did, the dickhead Erik from the bar and Catwoman’s husband were out scrappin on the street!”

You shake your head,exhaling deeply. “Girl, that was T’Challa!”

Tavia bucks her eyes out, “Oh really?? Fighting like that?! Was that suit a part of the uhh, night y’all…”

Your jaw drops, pushing her arm. “Tavia, shut the hell up! I’m still just, ugh, girl, so much to tell you, come on.”

You take her hand to go, but she won’t move. “Tavia, what’s up? Let’s go, we can’t stay here all day, like you’d want to.”

Tavia looks at you with a defeated gaze. “I’m sorry.”

You stutter in confusion, “Wha-what do you mean-”

“(Y/N)!” T’Challa bellows. As you turn around, you see T’Challa’s body become covered in little nano-looking parts, expanding all over him until he is enclosed in his signature catsuit, showing every curve and and cavern imaginable.

“Whoa!” You squeak in awe of his transformation.

Just then an explosion goes off at the front of the warehouse, sends you and Tavia staggering back. A cloud of smoke covers everything as you try to make out where T’Challa went.

“T’Challa!! T’Challa, are you alright?”

A figure emerges from the dust cloud decked out in armor and a foreign looking mask. But it was not T’Challa.

“Wassup, baby girl? You miss me?”

You cough as your lungs become upset from the blast. “Who-”

“You don’t remember me darling? That’s ok, me ya friend gonna keep good company with you.” He says.

With a large pow, Erik gets brought down to his knees with a punch to the back of the head, T’Challa stands behind him in full garb.

“Get out of here now!” T’Challa commands as Erik strikes him in the shin to bring him down to his level as they fight on the floor.

You get up, covering your face to make your way through the smoke. Tavia follows closely behind you. As you both make it out into the fresh air, a van with the door open awaits you. Coming around from the side of the vehicle, stands the surly looking white man that was Erik’s partner.

“Hello lovelies. Fine afternoon, innit?” His gravelly voice taunts you as he sneers.

You reach for Tavia to come with you desperately. “Girl, we gotta run! He and Erik were after me that night!”

Tavia looks at you with a hardened stare. “I know I was there.”

You pause a moment, giving her a once over. “Tavia...why are you so calm?”

Tavia laughs hysterically. “Oh, sis, ain’t nobody gonna die. This is dramatic though, right? Well hell, I guess I done flew over the cuckoo’s nest now. But honey, you ain’t gotta worry, we got you.”

You look from her back to Klaue, who raises a gun up in your direction. “Just take some slow steps up to the van and we will handle the rest.”

Tavia waves Klaue off. “Nah, I told y’all not to be like that, I got it!”

Your eyes pierce daggers into Tavia. “Tavia! You with them now? The fuck is wrong with you??”

Tavia pulls a gun from behind her back, holding it by her side. “Get in the van and I can tell you about it. I won’t point this at you, but I want this to go as smooth as possible, without hurting you or anybody else, aight?”

Erik’s body flies out from the warehouse, landing hard on the concrete. Tavia takes you by the arm to shuffle you into the van with Klaue. She shuts the door behind you all as Klaue starts up the engine.

Looking out of the back window as the van pulls off, you see T’Challa has Erik by the throat before tossing him away to start after the van, but falls back after short while.

You turn back to Tavia, fuming. “What are you doing with them, Tavia?”

Tavia picks at her nails. “Oh, stop. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you, I said. This isn’t what this is all about. You’re just a little piece to the whole puzzle, is all.”

“So then why are you doing this?”You ask puzzled.

Tavia turns to you like this is a candid girl chat all of a sudden. “Well, I never got around to telling you, but I met Erik a couple weeks ago from swiping on the apps, right? And I mean, he is really smart, and fine like come on! And you know, he knows the world, and he’s been through a lot, and I really just support his cause.”

“His cause? But what does he want with T’Challa?”

“Oh him? That’s just family mess. But I did not know that the leather bound kitty was your man! Girl, you been holding out details on me, for what?!” Tavia exclaims.

You blink your eyes in frustration. “Tavia! How are you talking to me like this is just some everyday shit? Did he fuck up your head when he got you?”

Tavia chuckles to herself. “Listen I am fine. I’m seeing the world in a new light, is all. Why are our people settling for handouts from the White man, when we can build our own shit, make our own laws! People think we are progressing because there aren’t ‘colored only’ signs, but trust me, they are still there in the way they police us. That’s what Erik wants to change, but he needs support from family that ain’t tried to find him. Now, Erik getting ahold of you, was no part of mine, but he said he needed to get T’Challa’s attention, so that was the way! He promised me he wouldn’t pull no dumb shit or I’d be out, quick!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Nothing that Tavia was saying made any sense to correlate with what you were witnessing.

“But Erik wants T’Challa’s neck! He ain’t here to talk, you see they been fighting non-stop!” you explain.

“That’s just some surface level, family shit! Once that’s out their system, they’ll have time to talk. T’Challa just mad someone can come for his throne now.”

“What do you mean family shit? And he is already king, that’s a done deal...right?” you ask.

“Oh no baby, that can be challenged, ‘specially since they first cousins! T’Challa and the Wakandans never gave him a thought, they need to let him in. T’Challa didn’t tell you?”

You rub your forehead aggravated. “He hasn’t told me a lot of things apparently. I got some much shit with him, that’s what I was going to tell you about but...I can’t trust you, girl.”

Tavia looked at you offended. “Come on, ain’t nobody-”

The loud crash of metal on metal shakes you both up as you hold onto your seats to keep from getting ejected. Over and over again the van is rammed from behind, you try and keep yourself grounded to see what the cause is.

“Girl, is that car driving on its own??” Tavia squawks.

You blink repeatedly, but your eyes are not deceiving you as you see the driver’s side is empty. It was T’Challa’s car, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Klaue growls with anger. “Dammit! The Wakandans are here! You have your gun girl!?”

Tavia shakes her head, looking ready to cry. “No man! I ain’t shootin shit! I told y’all that!”

You feel heat coming from your Kimoyo beads as a light beams from it. You hold your palm out as Shuri comes into focus.

“Hey! Are you alright in there?” She asks you.

You nod. “Uh huh. But T’Challa’s car is coming after us, but he isn’t in it. No one is!”

Tavia looks around Shuri’s image cautiously. “Girl, did iOS get and update? We got hologram handhelds now?”

Shuri smirks apologetically to you. “Yeah, that is my fault. I had T’Challa put an remote control device on the engine so that I can tap in and drive if needed. It never takes long for my services to come in handy. Just hold tight, we are getting you out of there now.”

“Who’s we-”

A large thud hits the top of the van as a spear shoots through the ceiling between you and Tavia. You both collectively scream as the foreign object retracts back.

Klaue exclaims in fear. “Shit! Now we’re really in it. Girl if you don’t get a weapon aimed now, they’ll have you head!”

Tavia is still screaming. “The fuck! I ain’t shootin nobody! How you know that ain’t Erik?”

A loud whistle screams through the air as a gleam of light flashes in front of the windshield. Sticking in the ground with a thwack, Klaue has no time to steer out of the way before the van goes airborne, flipping in the air, landing on its top.

You both took a tumble inside the van, you rub your head and neck from the whiplash. “Gatdamn, Tavia, are you aight?” you ask, trying to move your body from the twist it was in.

Tavia coughs. “Yeah, just got the wind knocked out my ass.”

“Good, cuz I’m going to kick yours once we oughta this, bitch, taking me through all this bullshit.” you say through your teeth.

Tavia rolls over, sitting slightly upright. “The day you kick my ass is the day the Kardashians swear offa Black men.”

“Fuck you.” You quip.

“(Y/N)?” a voice calls out from the side of the vehicle.

You turn slowly to look and see a bald woman, in beautifully adorned red and gold armor and garment, enough to make Grace Jones tumble into a puddle.

“Hello, my apologies for the rough stop. I hope I have not hurt you.”

“No, you haven’t, thanks. Are you someone with T’Challa?”

She nods. “The King is not with me right now, but I am part of his guard. My name is Ayo.”

She smile weakly, thankful for some assistance on the right side of things. “Your voice told me all I needed to know.”

Klaue writhes in the driver’s seat; looks as though he got a good hit in the front of his face, bloodied.

“We must hurry (Y/N), there is no time to stick around here.” Ayo says holding out a hand to help you out.

As you come to standing you ask, “What about Tavia?”

Ayo looks to the car. “That is her in there?”

You nod as Ayo peers down through the window again. “Come on out then. Are you seriously injured?”

Tavia crawls out, trying to avoid broken glass. “No, I’m good.”

“Fine. Then I also have orders to take you back to Wakanda with us, as well.” Ayo says.

“What? Why are we still going to Wakanda, you stopped them, haven’t you?” You question, stress building up again.

Ayo looks to you. “We still do not have a confirmation from the King on the combatant. We hope to hear back soon, but for now my focus is to get you both out of here.”

“Well, why the hell am I going? I don’t know a damn thing about that country, no passport on me, nothing.” Tavia says.

“You will need none of that. We cannot risk the life of (Y/N), or their child for your part in the combatant’s plan. You will be segregated from the population until we figure out what to do with you.”

“There is no child!” You say swiftly. You still denied any kind of pregnancy until you could get to a doctor.

Tavia’s mouth moves in many ways until words fell out. “Wait, what? I never said I was fucking with people’s kids, man! I don’t know anything about a baby!” Tavia says.

Ayo looks confused. “I’m sorry, I must’ve spoken out of turn…”

You sigh. “No, I just want to make sure of things first. And at this stage, it’s not a child anyway-”

“(Y/N), you pregnant?” Tavia says, looking at you flabbergasted.

You roll your eyes. “Not completely proven true yet! Shuri just checked my vitals and found something to be off with hormones or whatever. I haven’t even pee’d on the stick yet!”

Tavia smirks. “This nigga busted his trojan horse all up in your barricades, huh? Girl you ARE a FREAK!”

You fought back the urge to laugh. Even when she was being insane in her logic, she still had that charm that kept you rolling. “Tavia! It wasn’t like that!”

Ayo calls something in Xhosa on her kimoyo beads, and soon after an aircraft appears in the distance like an apparition.

Tavia and you are still going back and forth about you getting knocked up when Ayo reminds Tavia that she is not to try and flee or fight, or she will face consequences.

“If you don’t want me out, why don’t you cuff me, sis?” Tavia asks, suddenly tough again.

Ayo turns to her slowly, gaze unshifting. “You did see what I did to the van, yes? Imagine what else I can do. The Dora do not require handcuffs.”

Tavia just nods, satisfied with the answer. “What about Klaue? You gonna take him?” you ask.

Ayo looks at the wreckage like it was a paper jam. “Eh, let him bleed out.”

As the aircraft opens for them to board, you get on with all the anxiety in the world. You felt woozy from the excitement, probably brought on by pregnancy sickness as well, and you still hoped that was all in your head too. Nothing was ever normal anymore; from men to sex to getting from one place to the other. You prayed T’Challa would get back soon, safely; you didn’t know what the hell to do in a country you’ve never seen, with people unknown. Not even Tavia was a saving grace for you, since she became a part of this mess, how much more could you take.

Part 8

Other Works:

King Kil’mawalls

T’akia

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

Commencement Day

Wakanda Got Y’all

If I Could Do It All Again

#SundaySweat

Song of Stevens

Signs of Rain

World’s Best Baba

My Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@universalbri @therevolution-willbelive@you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines@airis-paris14@afraiddreamingandloving@kreolemami@lalapalooza718 @syreanne@thiccdaddy-mbaku@she-is-golden @wakanda-inspired @90sinspiredgirl@bidibidibombaclaat @sithlordslut@brujademente@chaneajoyyy @slimmiyagi @lewatigress @shesakillerkween

#t'challa x reader #t'challa x you #black panther au #fanfic #shakafic

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