Description: Michael is just so in love with his girlfriend
Warnings: (smut) 18+ Mature themes, pnv⚤ (no use a condom☻) fluff
God help him.
That was the only thought running through his head.
Poor Michael didn’t understand it—couldn’t, really. In the past, things had always been easy. His girlfriends adored him, clung to him, wanted him in ways that felt predictable. Comfortable.
This?
This was different.
It showed up in the smallest ways—how his hand felt empty when hers wasn’t laced through his, how the quiet of his trailer stretched too long when she wasn’t curled into his side. Even now, surrounded by flashing lights and applause, none of it reached him.
Because she was right there.
The two of them sat side by side at some award show he couldn’t care less about. The host kept talking, names were being called, people stood and clapped—
Michael heard none of it.
His gaze was locked on her, soft and heavy, like he couldn’t look away even if he tried.
Damn.
Something in him snapped—quietly, but completely.
He leaned in, pressing slow, lingering kisses along her jaw, like he’d been holding back for too long.
“Baby…” she murmured, a quiet laugh slipping through her lips.
“Mm?” he hummed, barely pulling away.
“What are you doing, sweet boy?” she teased, her fingers brushing along his cheek.
“I just need you,” he said lowly.
Her smile softened. “You have me.”
He shook his head slightly, voice dipping. “No… I need more.”
That was all it took.
She stood, slipping her hand into his, pulling him up with her. Neither of them said a word as they slipped out into the hallway—but the second the doors shut behind them, it was like gravity shifted.
They found each other instantly.
Like magnets.
Like they’d been waiting all night.
His hands found her waist, hers slid up his chest, and their lips met somewhere in the middle—hungry, familiar, a little breathless.
When they pulled back, just barely, her eyes searched his like she was trying to steady herself.
He didn’t let her go far.
“Bathroom?” she whispered, half-teasing, half serious.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he lifted her easily, earning a surprised laugh, and carried her down the hall as he had somewhere else in mind entirely.
By the time they reached the car, neither of them was thinking about the show anymore.
Not the awards.
Not the cameras.
Just each other.
The drive was quiet—but charged. His hand rested on her thigh, her head tilted toward him, and every glance they shared said everything they weren’t putting into words.
“We’re not making it home,” he muttered finally.
She smiled, already knowing.
He turned into a dark parking lot where no paparazzi cameras would flicker. The pest-like media teams were the only reason he didn't just park outside the ceremony.
When the car parked , the world outside didn’t matter. Sevyn Streeter played as they stripped in the backseat, and the space between them disappeared all over again.
“I love you,” she moaned, breath unsteady as she slowly grinded against his lap.
“I love you” he repeated biting his lip as he guided her body down
He licked his fingers and teased her already soaked core.
“Please” her eyebrows furrowed needily
Then he carefully pushed into her wetness, skillfully curling his slightly cooled fingers and hitting that spongy spot so perfectly that her back arched into his hand grinding her throbbing clit onto his palm.
“ ‘Kari” she whined frustrated
“Ok, baby” Mike whispers pulling his fingers out and pressing his large tip to her hole getting it wet before pushing into her.
Her arms snaked around his neck, trying to get impossibly closer, as her legs enveloped him in her warmth.
“Ohh God” she purred into his ear
“I love you so much baby” He groaned as he thrusted into her sweet velvet pussy beyond drunk off of her.
Michael fucked normally, he solely focused on how good he felt and chased after his own high, but right now he didn't care if he came or not it felt so much deeper than that to him. Slowly realization hit, this was his first time making love.
Crystal tears from pleasure poured from her eyes as his dick kissed her cervix while he kissed a constellation of delicate hickies onto her skin.
Her thighs shook under him as he begged her to cum. With his forehead stuck to hers and his lips ghosted her lips, Michael’s hips met hers as he coaxed her through an earth-shattering, toe curling orgasm as he followed closely after.
This…
This was different.
Not rushed. Not careless.
Something way deeper.
Something he wasn’t used to.
Later, when everything quieted down and the car was still again, he glanced over at her—resting peacefully, wrapped in his shirt, completely at ease.
Michael smiled to himself, brushing a gentle kiss to her temple before starting the car.
Yeah, this was different.
ℰ𝓃𝒹.
Note: First time posting smut I practice writing it but never post sooo…don’t kill me if it’s a little bad🥲
pornstar!erik whom is very big in the sex work community; in fact almost everytime someone opens up twitter one of his explicit posts pop up. every video or tweet has some type of lewd and yummy kink imbedded in it.
pornstar!erik who’s videos are your absolutely most favorite porn videos to watch; your body releases the most amazing mind blowing orgasms known to mankind whenever you’re watching him.
and one normal day; you’re at the store buying a series of things that you know you’re not going to use but yet choose to go ahead and get them anyways when you see a handsome and muscular tall man with long dreads flowing down his back, his gorgeous brown skin gleaming in the light of the store. his stance seemed awfully familiar; almost too familiar like you’ve seen his body naked a few times.
the man notices you staring and walks over to you before flirting; + getting your number and giving you his. after that day on you start messaging and talking to the man more. and once three weeks of talking when by you end up going out on the first official date with him.
the place was a bit fancy; the meals were pricey and in the back of your mind you couldn’t help to question on how one would be able to afford all of this for a first date.
after the date was over more time passed and the two of you became very clingy towards each other; and were going out on dates a lot. but your suspicions grew more stronger about the man’s career, you wondered how he afforded to buy you all these gifts and clothes and buy himself all these things.
it wasn’t until you logged into twitter one day; and the familiar account that you oh loved so much had described a moment that you and erik shared just a few days ago; and in that moment you decided to break up with him for keeping such a big secret.. and you tried, you really did try. but as the words were leaving your lips erik stopped you and immediately had you face down ass up in his mattress; purposely and deeply but yet also roughly drilling his long && veiny dick into your wet, gummy, && pink walls. cries and moans flew out of your mouth.
“can’t believe this shit.. you think ‘bout leavin’ me?” he spoke; grabbing a fistful of your coils and pulling you up to him. “nah.. that ain’t gone happen.” he groaned before slightly dropping his back. the feel of your walls gripping his sensitive member felt so euphoric, he felt himself about to spill in you for what felt like the millionth time. “pa! i’m g-gone cum!” you cried and whimpered; thrusting your hips back. trying oh so desperately to chase your orgasm.
“cum.” the simple command was the only thing you needed to help push you towards the edge; your orgasm rippled through your body and your juices splurged out of your sweet, overstuffed, and overstimulated essence. your orgasm was followed by erik moaning and spilling his seed into you before softly thrusting into you to pump it deeper inside.
Erik does not speak in riddles. Doesn’t like too much complexity, but he will show you exactly what happens when your words fail.
_________________________________
Tonight was supposed to be perfect. You and Erik were hosting a barbecue. Everyone was healthy, happy, and freed their schedules just for a chance to be surrounded by the people they loved the most.
Erik’s best friends and their wives and a few of your closest friends and their spouses. This was supposed to be fun. But here you and Erik were on the opposite side of each other not addressing one another.
You two were indifferent since the morning. A small disagreement has now boiled over into the evening. Usually, you’d have time to talk to each other, fuck it out, and be cool again by the next morning. This was different.
Erik had to be up early to barbecue and you had last minute errands to do for your guests’ drink menu. That left no time to address the problem and it was clear by noon that neither of you cared to fix the issue.
The original agreement was to wear cohesive outfits, but Erik decided to dress himself in a plain white shirt with shorts, ignoring your request to match.
Two could play that game.
You’d match him alright. So here you were in a backless white romper with your hair down instead. He didn’t say a word but his stare held weight when you appeared downstairs for the first time.
You were watching something mindless on your phone as you prepared the drinking glasses from the bar. You could smell the salivating scent from the grill airing through the house and sighed. He’d always bring you a piece from the first batch to “taste” it, but you knew that it was just one of his favorite gestures to do.
You hated being into it, but you would not be the one to cave first. He was the one who was short with you. The least he could do is apologize and send a rib inside.
Erik’s eyes burned your skin when you walked past him in your backyard, stepping on your tippy toes to reach for something near the window. He kissed his lips silently but didn’t say anything.
When you gave up and went back inside you weren’t expecting him to put the speaker down for you.
Silently, of course. Stubborn as always.
Your curls could be tighter and you wanted your makeup to last, already knowing that this night would end up with you being drunk under your own roof.
You waited for your curlers to warm as you refreshed your makeup. Pressing powder under your eyes, adding white into your waterline, something that drove that man downstairs crazy.
You lined your lips with your favorite brown lip liner and paired it perfectly with a baby pink gloss. The combo that fueled your confidence. It was also the reason that you were on birth control.
You curled your hair quietly, thinking about how long you two planned this event and sighed.
Erik’s footsteps were louder to your ears than usual. Almost like he was announcing himself before entering your shared bedroom. He found you in the bathroom and just starred. He walked past you, grabbed something from his side of the vanity, but at the last second, almost like he was considering not to, he slapped your ass and walked away.
“Change.”
You jolted forward, bracing yourself on the sink and shook your head. Visually taken back. Change? Right before people started to show up? You considered both sides of the night and muffled a frustrated scream.
Your titties did try to peak through the fabric and the stinging of your ass served as a subtle reminder.
You decided on white shorts with a simple white top. Still you, still matching Erik, and genuinely more comfortable. You hated when he was right.
When you reentered the kitchen you noticed the rib steaming from its place on the counter. An ode from Erik that he was still yours. Still there even when he was upset.
He didn’t look up, but you knew he was waiting for you to crack first.
As guests begin to arrive, you and Erik’s feud was put aside. You hugged all your friends, complimenting their outfits. It was so nice to see everyone and even better to be with each other rather than being at some longue with others.
One of your besties, Lara, softly glanced in Erik’s direction. She turned back to you. “After all these years he’s still obsessed with you.” She laughed, hitting you softly.
A few others laughed too. You looked over your shoulder to see what they were looking at. Your man was holding a conversation with someone’s husband, but his eyes were closed on you.
You shook your head. “Girl enough about me. How’s the new job treating you?”
The small talk continued and the drinks were poured. Everyone groaned over Erik’s food which he greedily accepted.
He sat next to you on your outdoor furniture once everyone started to mingle in one area.
“Man what you put on these ribs?” Rick, Janet’s husband, asked while practically licking his fingers.
“A little bit of everything. Then wifey taste tests for me.” He answered his eyes now focused on your lips.
Your lids fluttered under his gaze so you decided to look elsewhere.
Conversations started to spiral over to different subjects but all you could feel was the tension radiating between you and Erik. You refilled your drink to give you something to do.
You hadn’t heard the exchange between Erik and Rick once you walked away.
“You good?” Rick asked Erik, watching his gaze not leave your body.
“Yeah.” Erik sucked his teeth. You were on your third drink which means you were very close to being too drunk. Erik knew this but you weren’t speaking to him.
“Just be careful. Last time I intervened Janet’s good time we ended up having RJ.” He admitted.
Erik shook his head. “That’s exactly what’s about to happen.” He grumbled half heartedly.
You spoke around Erik all night. Never addressing him directly. “Erik did our lawn so well,” and “Oh yeah my husband bought those for me,” and his favorite “I just show him which color I want and my man makes it happen.” In reference to the newly built deck.
Erik’s hand on your thigh looked normal but you knew it was strategically placed there as a warning.
“How long do you think this can last sweetheart?” He whispered lowly.
When you didn’t respond he just nodded, rubbing small circles on your thighs. He downed the rest of drink before moving. You could hear your own heartbeat thumping loudly in your chest.
“Baby can you get the other cord?” he asked, just for insurance if anyone was paying attention to you.
You nodded, practically running into the side door to enter your home. Erik took his time walking behind you. He enjoyed making you squirm.
You’d barely touched the cord on the counter when Erik’s shadow filled behind you. He didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, watching you fuss with nothing.
Finally, his voice cut through the quiet. “You think I don’t notice?”
Your eyes flicked up, wary. “Notice what?”
He moved closer, slow and deliberate, until your back brushed the counter. His jaw was tight, but his voice was steady.
“You braggin on me, fixing my plate, making it look real sweet for everybody else.” His hand found your hip, squeezing just enough to make you swallow. “But you won’t even look at me when you do it.”
You opened your mouth, then shut it, pressing your lips together.
“I don’t need an audience to know I’m your man.” He leaned down, nose skimming your cheek. “I need you to stop acting like I don’t exist.”
The words hit heavier than his grip. Because he was right — you’d done everything tonight except give him the one thing he wanted most: your voice, your softness, your attention.
“Erik—” you started, but the warning in his eyes stopped you cold.
“Don’t ‘Erik’ me now.” His thumb slid along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face to his. “You’ve been talking around me all day. That stops now.”
“Been watching you all night,” he muttered against your skin.
Before you could answer, his hand slid between your thighs, pushing your shorts aside like they were nothing. Two fingers stroked you slow at first, testing, before entering.
Your gasp was sharp, your hands scrambling for his shoulders.
“Say my name,” he demanded, curling his fingers until your body jolted.
“Erik,” you whimpered, finally giving him what he’d been starving for.
“That’s right.” His lips brushed your jaw, his pace quickening until the wet sounds of his fingers filled the room. “Don’t care if the whole damn neighborhood hear you right now. You don’t ignore me.”
Your moans spilled out in broken pieces, your body trembling against him as his thumb pressed against your clit. You broke fast, quicker than you were ready for, and you came undone on his hand, shuddering against his chest.
Erik didn’t let up until you were sagging against him. Only then did he pull his fingers from you, bringing them to his lips to taste before pressing a slow, possessive kiss against your mouth.
“You hear me now?” voice steady despite the storm he’d just pulled out of you.
You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, and he chuckled. All you heard was satisfied but not finished.
“Good,” he said, setting you gently back on your feet, smoothing your shorts like nothing happened. “Because when they leave..” he left it up to you to imagine.
“Go on and fix that pretty face,” he said softly, thumbing a smudge of gloss from your chin. “Don’t want our guests knowing you’re already out of it.”
Your chest was still heaving when he set you back on your feet. Your legs nearly buckled, and his smirk deepened when you grabbed the counter for balance.
“I’ll head out first,” he added, adjusting his shirt like nothing happened. “Give you a minute to pull yourself together.”
And just like that, he left — casual, unbothered, slipping back through the door with the smell of smoke and ribs following him. You caught a glimpse of him outside, laughing with Rick like he hadn’t just had you gasping on the kitchen counter.
When you finally reappeared, fresh gloss and powder disguising the wreckage on your face, his eyes found you immediately. He didn’t call attention to it, didn’t say a word, but the smile tugging at his lips told you he knew.
The rest of the evening was torture.
His hand on your thigh, his thumb stroking in circles that no one else noticed. The way he leaned close when you refilled your glass, his lips brushing your ear: “Careful, babygirl.”
The glance he gave you when someone complimented your deck again — a look that said, Tell them how you thank me.
Every laugh, every nod to your friends, every bite of food he ate — all of it was normal. But every time his eyes cut to you, you felt the heat of what happened in that kitchen. And the weight of what was coming after everyone left.
When the last pair of tail lights disappeared down the street, and the house fell quiet you were nearly shaking. You leaned against the door for a second, exhaling, trying to will your heartbeat back to normal.
But Erik was already behind you.
“Don’t get comfortable.” His voice was deep, steady, making your skin prickle. “You thought fixing your lip gloss and sitting pretty was gonna get you out of what’s coming?”
You turned, but his hand was already on your throat tight, it made you tilt your head back and force your eyes to his.
“All night I smiled for them,” he said, jaw hard, his thumb stroking the soft spot beneath your chin. “Fed them, laughed with them, played the part. Meanwhile, you…” He smirked, though his eyes were sharp. “You out here testing me.”
“Erik—”
Your voice cracked, and that was all it took for his expression to soften just enough. He leaned down, kissing you slow, swallowing your protest before it could form.
Then his hand dropped from your throat to your waist, and suddenly you were airborne, tossed over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.
“You had no problem keeping quiet earlier,” he cut in, his hand landing sharp on your ass, making you yelp. “Keep that same energy now.”
By the time he dropped you onto the bed, your cheeks were hot and your eyes stung, though you couldn’t tell if it was from frustration or the fire building in your chest.
Erik stood over you, peeling off his shirt slow, deliberate. The sight stole what little defiance you had left.
“You think you teaching me something,” he said, climbing onto the bed, caging you in with his arms. His lips brushed your temple, deceptively tender. “But I promise you, baby… I’m doing teaching around here.”
And then his mouth was on you again while his hand pushed your shorts down with one smooth tug. He moved quick. No more foreplay, no more monologues. He’s been holding back all day and you needed to feel that.
He slid inside you with a groan, deep and unyielding, forcing your back to arch and your breath to catch in a sob.
“Yeah,” he taunted against your ear, his thrusts slow but punishing. “That’s mine. Every cry, every tear, every breath. Mine.”
Your vision blurred, your body breaking under the weight of him — his pace, his words, the way he never let your eyes slip from his. Tears slipped free, hot down your temples, and Erik kissed them away without losing rhythm.
“Go ahead, let it out,” he coddled, pinning your wrists above your head. “You don’t get to ignore me. You don’t get to pretend I’m not the center of your world. Not when I can make you come apart like this.”
Every thrust drove the truth deeper — into your body, into your bones — until the tension finally shattered and you sobbed his name, breaking against him completely.
Erik didn’t let up until he followed you over the edge, spilling into you with a groan that rattled your chest. He collapsed against you, heavy and warm, his breath ragged against your throat.
When the silence settled, his lips brushed your damp cheek again, softer this time.
“You should’ve known,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss against your mouth. “I keep promises.”
summary: You left Erik once, and he goes above and beyond to ensure that doesn't happen again.
𓇼
⠀
The sound of the ocean waves—something that took a lot of getting used to at first—were now the driving force behind your calm moods these days. Another nightmare had forced you to wake up drenched in sweat, and the only reason you’d been able to slow your breathing was because of the familiar whoosh of ocean water outside of your window.
You didn’t grow up by the water—wasn’t raised anywhere near it—and that sound quickly reminded you that you were far away from home, far away from anywhere familiar, and it filled you with relief. You now spent your days somewhere you would’ve once never considered living, and that was good because it meant no one from your former life would consider it a place for you to live either.
…and they wouldn’t come looking.
You watched the tea kettle heat up with your back pressed to the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Your satin robe stuck to your skin from the thin layer of sweat that still clung to it. Your heart had long stopped racing, but despite that, goosebumps still littered your arms, and you rubbed your hands up and down them. Despite how safe your mind assured you that you were, your body just refused to agree.
The low lighting in the kitchen was the only warm glow that filled the modest house, and you rubbed your head as you turned to get a mug. When you briefly closed your eyes, dark ones appeared in your mind, and you wondered when—after two years—you’d finally stop conjuring him up.
The face belonging to Erik Stevens was one you hadn’t seen in years, but that name was one you never not thought about. Not only had he been a part of your life for too long to just forget him, but the lasting impact he left made him impossible to ignore. You were literally hiding out in a foreign country under a different name surrounded by people you didn’t know because of that man.
There were days where you cursed yourself for ever getting involved with him—recalling your initial thoughts of him and how he looked like trouble—but Erik had a charm that was hard to resist. With a pretty face framed by locs and gold that winked at you whenever he smiled, he wasn’t the kind of man you’d ever be brave enough to bring home, and you had long reluctantly admitted the part that played in his appeal.
He was kind of dangerous…and you’d liked that.
Until it wasn’t random men on the street he was threatening…but you.
The whistle of the kettle pulled you from your thoughts, and you jumped at the sound. You ignored how your hands shook as you poured yourself a cup of tea, exhaling an uneven breath with thoughts of your ex boyfriend on the brain. You never thought that sleeping with the guy who was just way out of your league would change the trajectory of your life. You thought it’d make for a good story to tell to your friends and maybe even a niece or two one day.
You didn’t think that he’d keep coming back, knocking on your apartment door throughout all hours of the night, that plump bottom lip jutted out as you attempted to put your foot down—something something boundaries and respect and all that jazz. The brown-skinned man would slowly blink at you, silently telling you that he wasn’t hearing a word you were saying. The corner of his lips would quirk up into that haughty smirk—something only worn by a man who knew he was going to get what he wanted—and he’d push himself off of the wall, straightening to his full height.
“So you want me to leave?”
The question never sounded sincere, because it wasn’t, and Erik would look down his nose at you while you shuffled your feet, one hand still on the door as you fought with yourself over whether or not to close it in his face. It was useless though because you never not let him in.
You never not took a step back and watched him stride through your door like he owned the place and you with it. You never not watched him peel his jacket off, your own arms crossed over your chest as you committed to being angry for far longer than you actually were. It made you feel like less of a weak willed woman. That too was useless though because its not like you ever stopped him when he turned to you and pulled you closer.
It did no good pretending to be mad when the night always ended the same way.
Erik with his arms around your waist and you with your legs around his.
He was always gone in the morning, until the day he wasn’t, and you couldn’t find it in you to be upset about him sticking around. You actually kind of liked it, and that had scared you. He wasn’t supposed to be there in the mornings, and you weren’t supposed to be asking him if he wanted anything as you stood by the stove. Erik Stevens was not boyfriend material, and yet…
That’s what he became.
Even now, years later, you still weren’t quite sure how that even happened. You didn’t know how you ended up sharing an apartment and picking things up at the store for him and sinking into the warm scented bath water he’d draw for you. You didn’t know how you ended up obeying whenever he’d look at you with those dark eyes before softly demanding a kiss. You didn’t know how you’d started letting him circle his hand around your neck while he was fucking you, pulling words and promises out of you that you’d never say in any other circumstance.
It was something you still couldn’t make sense of, and you desperately needed to if you ever wanted to prevent it from happening again.
“Erik Stevens isn’t your average man off the street…”
That was what they told you when they sat you down in some room that was too bright only hours after showing up at your doorstep. All of it had been too much information to fully retain, but you’d processed the important parts. Erik was military—a SEAL to be more exact—and not just a SEAL but also the kind of man who occasionally dropped off the face of the earth to take out important people. It was a nice way of calling him an assassin, and you remembered how sick you’d felt sitting in that chair, recalling the feel of running your fingers over every raised abrasion along his skin whenever he had his hands on you.
“Is this some frat thing I just haven’t heard of?” you’d jokingly wondered one day.
Erik had simply turned to look at you, a hint of a smile on his lips and a hidden joke in his gaze.
“Nah,” he’d drawled. “They just represent something important to me. Milestones I guess you could say.”
Your determination to be open minded had you relaxing in the arms of a killer—a proud one who wore the name KIllmonger with no shame.
Even still, you hadn’t understood what any of that had to do with you. At that point, you and Erik had been broken up for months, something that hadn’t been easy for you to do. Not just because some part of you still wanted him at the end, but also because a huge part of you was terrified of him. You hadn’t realized that his anger and possessiveness were low on the list of reasons why you should be afraid of him.
“This man is dangerous…and the way you parted ways was…less than amicable to say the least…”
You still hadn’t put the pieces together.
“...and the U.S Government is unable to locate him.”
Winding up in something akin to witness protection because the U.S Government had lost one of their own best ‘assets’ had not been something you ever saw for yourself. To this day, you wondered why the one questionable guy you took a chance on turned out to be far more than just the average jealous asshole.
As you sipped your tea, you thought about the last time you were with him, the way your voice trembled as you stood up to him, telling him it was over. You rubbed your arm, recalling the tight grip he had on it, his voice cold and clipped as he asked you if you realized what you were saying.
“You wanna leave me?” he’d asked, head dipped and brows raised like he wanted to make sure you knew that was what you wanted to do.
You could see then that he’d wanted to fight you on it—probably wanted to do a whole lot more than that—but no one had been more shocked than you when he simply let you go with a soft “a’ight” before gesturing to the door. Everything you wanted to take had been removed while he was out, and you’d been surprised at how sad you weren’t to glance around at the apartment now empty of your stuff.
That was the last time you’d been face to face with Erik Stevens.
Until now.
When the cup that was once in your hands shattered against the floor, you paid no mind to the slight sting of hot tea and ceramic shards hitting your bare feet. Your attempt to turn and leave the kitchen had been thwarted, a tall and broad figure standing just before you in the entrance. The sight of the shadowy figure made your heart drop and your blood run cold. The only light from the kitchen wasn’t enough to reveal him completely, but you’d always been able to recognize him in the dark.
He enjoyed scaring you.
For the first time in your life, your mind went blank, finally understanding that phrase as your lips parted. No sound came out—from neither you or him—and you were sure that the sight of you two just standing in the dark and staring at each other would’ve been comical if you weren’t terrified out of your mind. The figure finally moved to tilt his head, his only movement as it leaned to the left just a tad, and the angle made the light glint off of his eyes in a way that made your stomach churn.
You were quick to search for the big light.
You sharply inhaled at the sight of him, confirming what you already knew. He looked the same and different all at once. He was still handsome and tall and wore that expression like you were just so silly to him. However, his hair was longer and the bands of muscle that were his arms were thicker, and he stood with an assuredness that you didn’t like, at all. The flashy gold tooth necklace resting on his collarbone caught the light, and your eyes were briefly drawn to it.
You traced it, a frown taking residence on your face as your gaze kept going. The casual clothes you were used to seeing him in were nowhere in sight, and you took note of the dark attire he was wearing and its patterns. He looked nice—regal one might say—and you swallowed, a very bad feeling festering deep in your stomach.
“What? You got nothing to say to me?”
Hearing his voice for the first time in years brought up a whole lot of emotions you’d tried and failed to bury. You were reminded of his voice in your ear as he woke you up in the mornings or even when he was whispering the filthiest of things against your skin as he kissed his way down it. But you also remembered the angry tone of it when he was interrogating you about some guy who’d waved at you or was questioning your feelings for him.
You remembered loving him and craving him…but you also remembered how terrified he made you feel.
At that, you took a step back—almost dazed—and the man before you kissed his teeth.
“You still on that bullshit, huh.”
Those words—filled with so much dismissal and arrogance—finally made you find your voice.
“What are you doing here?” you gasped, your question coming out choked. “How did…?”
When Erik finally moved, half of him was bathed in the shadows from the rest of the house, and the kitchen light hit his eye again in the way it did before. It glinted dangerously, almost like a feline if you didn’t know any better, and you took another step back. Erik followed your movements intensely, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.
“How…” he tested the word in his mouth, humming. “How is never as important as why.”
You weren’t amused by whatever he was playing at, and that crooked smile only grew.
“So serious,” he mocked, moving to fold his hands behind his back as he looked you up and down, and you hated the way he swiped his tongue between his lips as he did so. “You’re not glad to see me? Not even a little?”
When you said nothing, you watched him roll his eyes, shaking his head and his locs moved with the action. When his gaze met yours again, all humor had been wiped from his face. His dark eyes were intense as he stared at you, lips pressed together and chest heaving with the deep breath he took. You felt like an insolent child beneath his gaze.
“You know what I’m doing here.”
He was entirely serious, and you didn’t doubt him for a second.
“No…”
“You had to know I was never gone let you just walk away from me like that,” he continued, slowly pacing the kitchen and backing you further into a corner with every step he took.
His words brought tears to your eyes, and in this moment, you hated him. What was the point then? Why did he give you false hope that you were free from him? Was it just to fuck with you? Was it his idea of a sick joke? As if he could read your mind, he elaborated.
“I had some things to do,” he told you. “Some…business to take care of before I came back for you and …”
He shrugged like that explained everything you’d been put through because of him.
“...and now that I got my shit together…got everything I deserved, it’s only right that I come back and get you too.”
A noise of disgust left your throat before you could stop yourself, and Erik didn’t try to stop you as you hurried past him. You didn’t hear him behind you as you made your way to the door, too nervous and fearful to look over your shoulder. However, once you made it to the front door, you realized that you didn’t hear Erik after you because he wasn’t after you.
He felt no need to be…and with good reason.
The statuesque women on the other side of your door made you come up short, mouth falling open as you took them in. They were beautiful and straight-faced, heads smooth and wearing colorful attire that didn’t deviate all that much from what Erik was wearing. The long spears in their hands had you stumbling back, and so in shock, you didn’t even register that you’d stumbled right into Erik.
One of his arms snaked around you while the other gently closed the door, effectively trapping you once again.
The silence was loud, and finally, a few tears escaped.
“Earlier you started to ask how I found you…”
You felt Erik’s lips grazing your ear before moving down to brush along your neck. One hand was on your waist while the other had found a home on your arm, kneading the skin through the thin robe. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and you swore that you felt him shudder against you.
The breath you let out was shaky, more tears collecting in your eyes.
“You’d be amazed at what you can do when you’re the king of Wakanda.”
Those damning words had your knees buckling, and when you attempted to throw yourself away from him, Erik’s hold tightened. One hand had a vice grip on your wrist while the other hand snaked around your neck.
“I like to tell myself that I did this because I deserve it, because I was wronged…but that ain’t all…”
When Erik leaned in to press his lips to yours, your mind was finally at war with your heart once again. You’d forgotten what it felt like to kiss him, forgotten what he tasted like, and you couldn’t stop the sharp breath you took as he moved his mouth against yours. The hand on your neck tightened just a tad, like a chain keeping you to him, and you felt him smile into the kiss.
“I like being somebody that you can’t ever leave.”
Those words whispered into your mouth made your heart sink, and your protest was lost as he kissed you again.
You shook in his hold for varying reasons, fear above all else. Erik had his hands on you again, and he had no intention of taking them off. They pulled you and pushed you where he wanted you to be, and it seemed that he decided the couch would suffice. He wasn’t bothered by your lack of consent, and somehow that didn’t surprise you.
There’d been moments in the past when you expressed discomfort or you protested or you rejected him and for the briefest of moments, something had passed through his eyes that made you think he didn’t care. A glint in his gaze that made you think he was going to do what he wanted—take what he wanted—anyway. You’d always had a nagging feeling deep in your chest that Erik was just holding back, keeping himself in check with you because it was socially acceptable and not because he actually wanted to.
…but he was a king, now—something you believed without a doubt—and that title corrupted even the best of men…let alone a man who already wasn’t shit to begin with.
When his bare chest grazed against yours, a shudder traveled down your spine, and Erik reached under you to trace that path with his fingers. One hand was still carefully at home on your neck, and the gold fangs in his mouth winked at you in the nearly invisible lighting. When you felt those abrasions underneath your fingers—every one for a kill—it suddenly hit you that you were underneath him again and for good this time.
“You don’t know how much I missed this pussy,” he murmured into your skin, a hand tightening almost painfully on your waist just as he sank into you.
The feel of his cock stretching you out had your back arching, chest pushing up against his. It hadn’t been just years without sex with Erik but years without sex altogether. Part of it was because you still had some lingering loyalty to the man between your legs, telling yourself he’d somehow know and find you—despite the fact that you weren’t his anymore—and part of it was because he’d simply ruined you for any other man. Either way, it all came back to Erik.
You couldn’t stop the strained gasps that left your lips, the slight sting and dull ache from the stretch making you dig your nails into his skin. This was not what you wanted, but you swore that Erik was stronger now than he ever had been before. The feel of him thrusting himself into you reminded you of all the hours you’d spent wrapped up in each other when things were still good between you. Hell, even when they weren’t, it wasn’t uncommon for an argument to end in you bent over the kitchen counter with Erik’s pelvis pressing against you.
He had a way of controlling a situation, steering it in whatever direction he wanted it to go.
Like now.
How was it that you go into hiding to remain safe from this man only to wind up at his mercy yet again? It was unfair, and you couldn’t stop trembling as you pushed against his chest.
“Erik…”
Your words died on your lips when he shushed you, his locs brushing against your skin as he nipped at your neck and then your shoulder and finally your chest. The light moan you let out was involuntary, and you hated that smug chuckle that escaped his lips.
“You always try to act so tough and shit…but we both know once I get my hands on you…”
Anger bubbled up within you at his words, and you couldn’t resist slapping him. Before where that might’ve pissed him off, Erik only smiled in your face. Taking your hand, he held it tight before pinning it against your stomach, and he looked down, briefly distracted by the sight of his cock disappearing into you. He slowed his thrusts down, and the change in pace almost made you roll your eyes.
“You gone love Wakanda, baby,” he said to you, lips meeting your skin again. “The most beautiful sunsets…”
He nipped at your shoulder.
“...anything you could ever want…”
Another kiss to your lips.
“...and guards to watch your every move.”
His nose touched yours as he said that, and you felt him reach down to hook his arm under your leg. You hissed, feeling him even deeper into your gut as he bent your leg back. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of you as he fucked you, hips meeting yours and the wet sound of his cock dipping into you reaching your ears.
“I came back just for you,” he darkly told you, completely ignoring your hand pushing at his stomach. “...because what kind of king would I be with no queen at my side?”
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After the abrupt and perilous reunion with Erik in front of your neighbors, you try to take a few moments to prevent yourself from self-destructing. The keyword here being try. No matter how much you want to be alone with your thoughts, Erik has other plans. But your desperation to prove that you aren't the same frightened 'Bunny' from two years ago might just backfire when it has to stand the test of Erik's determination.
𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 🔞Explicit Sexual Content, Blood & Violence, Toxic Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Intimidation, Occasional use of N-Word, and Monster Fuckery. For more extensive tags, see Ao3 listing below
❥ 𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑥 ❥ || || ❥ 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ❥
A/N: 👋🏾Hi, this is me re-warning you all that Erik is both an asshole and an actual supernatural being in this story. Tis the season, so please enjoy the self-indulgent nonsense on my behalf 💕✨
𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙸𝙸: 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞
Making cupcakes for a block party wasn’t exactly the norm. Though it was relatively nice outside, there was enough humidity to keep the windows shut and the air conditioning on full blast. It was past noon, so things were slowly cooling off. But in your compact, poorly insulated townhouse, having an oven going at nearly four hundred degrees in the summer would make the kitchen warm no matter what temperature you set it on. You’d begun to sweat, but you powered on, pushing your glasses up your nose and staying fully focused on icing cupcakes instead of thinking about him.
It was working. Even though his presence hovered eerily at the fringes of your mind, it was working. You might’ve stowed away in the house for an hour like a coward, but you were calm.
At least somewhat.
You hadn’t really thought about anything. Not since Sarah had come in to give you icing for your impromptu baking session. You could tell she was dying to ask questions, but she kept them to herself the moment she acknowledged the frazzled state you were in.
You declined her offer to stay the night at her place. Both her boys and EJ would be sleeping over at the church after the block party was over. The idea was to end the day with a movie night. However, you weren’t so sure how long the movie-watching would last with all the playing and running around they were doing.
As much as you would’ve loved Sarah’s company, it didn’t sit right in your heart to put her in so much potential danger. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, but that dull, swirling ache in your gut was the only warning you needed to keep your guard up.
You look abruptly up from your work when you hear the creaking spring of the screen door. Thankfully, it’s only Tyler who peeks his head in a few moments later.
A look of relief hangs on his features when he sees your expectant face looking back at him. “Hey, Sweets, Ms. Munroe sent me to check on things…How you holding up?”
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ➤ after erik killmonger seizes the wakandan throne, a royal strategist loyal to t’challa is forced to remain in his inner circle.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➤ my sister wanted this, and this is my first Killmonger fic? LIKE HELLO??? definitely making more because why didn’t i think of this BEFORE? enjoy!
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ➤ 6.3k
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ➤ dirty talk, hate sex, emotional and psychological manipulation, impact play, mild breath play, throne sex, black!thick!reader (but anyone can imagine themselves), use of african language (xhosa/zulu inspired), mentions of political violence. 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈! 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!
the halls of the golden city no longer sounded like home. they echoed now. not with the ancient rhythms passed down by your foremothers. not with the low, ancestral chants that once settled over the palace like fog at dawn. no — they echoed with the weight of new boots on sacred stone. boots that did not belong to a king.
they belonged to a conqueror.
erik stevens — no, he called himself n’jadaka now — had taken the throne barely two weeks ago. the blood from the ritual combat had not yet fully dried in the sacred pool, and yet the council already bowed their heads to him, lips tight with fear. there had been no second trial. no challenge. the mountain tribe stood down. t’challa’s body had vanished with the river.
you’d known t’challa since you were children. you used to spar with him beneath the shade of the elder tree, both of you too proud to admit when you’d bruised. he trusted you to hold the long-view strategy for wakanda in your hands — one of the few civilians allowed in the high council chambers. strategist. advisor. loyalist. and now… traitor, by some mouths. prisoner, by others.
but erik hadn’t thrown you to the dungeons.
instead, he kept you close.
“a mind like yours shouldn’t rot in a cell,” he’d said, the day after the coronation. he’d spoken it low in your ear, like a secret only you were worthy of. “nah… i want you right where i can see you.”
and now here you were — standing in the war room, your thick frame wrapped in deep blue and gold robes, tension stiff across your shoulders. the rich fabric clung to the slope of your hips, accentuating the body that no uniform could hide. you could feel his gaze on you before you even turned around.
“what you think, strategist?” erik’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. deep, deliberate, heavy with that oakland-born bite. “we hit london first? or new york?”
you didn’t look at him right away. instead, you traced the holographic map glowing across the table with your fingers, watching the borders pulse with potential violence. cities were marked in red. colonizer capitals. your jaw tensed.
“wakanda does not conquer,” you said, carefully. not too soft. not too sharp. “that is not our way.”
“yeah,” he muttered, stepping closer. “and where that get y’all? watchin’ while your brothers and sisters got they necks stepped on. wakanda been hiding.”
he circled behind you like a panther. not quite touching. but close enough that your skin prickled where his heat brushed you. you refused to flinch. he wanted to see you rattle. it was the game, now. every day — the game.
“this ain’t about revenge,” he said, lowering his voice. “this about balance. and power.”
“power built on blood doesn’t last,” you replied, turning finally to face him. your eyes locked. his were molten — dark and unreadable, but sparking with something cruel and magnetic. “and what you’re building… it’s made of bones.”
he didn’t blink. just smiled slow, head tilting.
“so?” he asked, tongue dragging across the edge of his teeth. “that bother you?”
he was too close now. tall, broad, shirt open at the chest. gold fangs flashing beneath full lips. skin dusted in the faintest sheen of sweat and sun, each raised kill mark down his chest a monument to pain — and victory. you hated how magnetic he was. how his presence filled the air so fully it pushed everything else out. his scent was warm metal and cedar. his voice was gravity.
“you loyal to t’challa,” he said, voice dipped low again. “i know that. but you still here. still breathin’. still dressin’ like you got somewhere to be.”
his eyes dragged down your figure — from the tight fold of your waist wrap, across the swell of your hips, to where your thighs brushed under soft fabric. you shifted. not out of discomfort — but because you could feel how intently he watched you.
“you tryna prove somethin’?” he murmured. “or you just don’t know where else you fit now?”
you straightened, spine like steel.
“i serve wakanda,” you said. “not the man who sits on the throne.”
his laugh was soft, almost amused. but there was no kindness in it.
“sound like you tryna convince yourself.”
each day after that followed a pattern. you studied maps, advised on diplomatic approaches you didn’t believe in, and fed him half-truths through clenched teeth. still, he kept you near. always asking for your perspective, always testing your loyalty. his soldiers looked at you with suspicion, but they didn’t touch you. not without his permission.
he was possessive like that. even when he didn’t say it out loud.
and slowly — sickeningly — you started to understand him.
not agree. never that. but understand.
how anger had carved itself into him, root-deep. how power was the only language he’d ever been taught. he wielded it like a weapon, sharp and beautiful. and when he wasn’t using it to dominate a room, he used it on you — with whispers, glances, and challenges he knew you’d rise to.
he never tried to force you. he didn’t need to. erik killmonger was more dangerous than that — because he made you want to play his game.
he’d lean close during briefings, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured critiques. he’d stand at the top of the royal steps while you debated councilmen, watching your every word like a test. and when you succeeded — when your voice swayed the elders just enough — he’d nod, slow and proud, like he was claiming you for it.
“look at you,” he’d say, later, while passing you alone in the garden corridors. “still tryna save people who would’ve let you die with the old king.”
you hated how deep those words burrowed. hated how you still walked the halls after dark, pulse racing at the sound of his voice in the distance.
one night, weeks in, you found yourself summoned.
not by a guard. not by a formal scroll.
just a voice in the corridor. soft. direct. one word.
“come.”
when you stepped into the throne room, it was empty but for him. torchlight flickered along the walls, casting long shadows across the black stone floor. the panther statue loomed silent behind the throne.
erik sat on it like he was born there. legs spread. arms relaxed. gaze dark and direct.
you didn’t bow.
you didn’t speak.
he studied you in silence for a long moment, then motioned you forward with two fingers.
“you believe i don’t deserve this,” he said, voice level. “say it.”
your throat tightened. but you forced yourself steady.
“i believe your rule is built on a lie,” you said. “wakanda’s legacy is not yours to twist.”
he didn’t move. didn’t blink. but his voice dropped, slow and rough.
“and yet here you stand.”
your lips parted — to argue, maybe. or to defend yourself. but no words came.
“i ain’t stupid,” he said, rising from the throne. “i know what this is.”
he stepped toward you again, each stride deliberate.
“you hate me,” he said, stopping just inches away. “but you watch me. every time. you listen. you fight back.”
his hand didn’t touch you. but it hovered just near your jaw. his heat was a weight. your breath quickened.
“ain’t no loyalty in that,” he said, eyes burning into yours. “that’s desire.”
you said nothing.
but you didn’t step back.
he smiled. slow. teeth sharp.
“loyal little queen’s dog,” he said, voice dripping heat. “you ever wonder how it’d feel to break?”
your pulse thudded between your thighs.
but your voice stayed even.
“never,” you whispered.
his eyes dropped — from your lips, to your chest, to the curve of your hips.
“we’ll see.”
his fingers ghosted along your jawline, calloused and hot, but still not touching. erik didn’t rush. no — he never did. dominance for him was earned in slow, suffocating inches. he wanted to watch you squirm under your own restraint. test the shape of your resistance until it shattered on him.
“ain’t gotta say yes,” he murmured, voice low and thick like honey-drenched smoke. “but you ain’t leavin’ either. so what that tell me, hm?”
his thumb dragged — barely — across the curve of your lower lip. your breath hitched. he felt it.
you hated him.
but you wanted him more.
you turned your head just enough to break the spell, stepping back one pace. but that inch was his permission — and he followed, advancing like he owned the ground beneath your feet. your back met the edge of the throne before you realized he’d corralled you there. trapped between carved stone and muscle-thick heat, your body buzzed like war drums. your thighs clenched without command.
“mm,” he laughed, low in his chest. “there she go. wakanda’s finest. thick as the land itself, still actin’ like she ain’t dyin’ to break for me.”
you didn’t respond.
not with words.
you reached for him instead — finally, with fingers curling into the front of his open vest. not a surrender. not exactly. just… the beginning of something too old for language.
his mouth met yours like fire. brutal, claiming. teeth clashing, lips hot. it wasn’t gentle. it wasn’t sweet. it was a fight dressed in heat, breath on breath, until you moaned into his mouth and he groaned against your teeth. the taste of him was sweat, blood, and something darker — control.
his hand came down on your ass with a sharp, open slap.
you gasped, clinging harder.
“yeah,” he growled, sliding one thick thigh between yours, forcing them open. “you like that, huh? all that royal pride, but this fat lil pussy tryna talk to me different.”
you rocked against his leg before you even realized it — heat pooling deep between your thighs, clit desperate for friction. the throne room was silent but for your breath and the echo of his voice wrapping around your moans.
“what would t’challa say, huh?” he teased, hand curling around your hip as he pulled you harder against his leg. “his loyal strategist grindin’ on a nigga she swore to kill.”
you bit your lip, tried to turn your face — but he caught your chin in one hand and held you there.
“nah,” he said, low. “you look at me.”
his eyes pinned you in place, molten and unmoving. you couldn’t look away if you tried. not now. not when his fingers slipped beneath your wrap and found your bare skin, dragging slow up the inside of your thigh.
“this what you been hidin’ under all them robes?” he whispered, voice almost reverent. “this fat-ass pussy been waitin’ on me, huh?”
you whined — not in surrender, but need.
he chuckled deep.
“bend over.”
you hesitated.
his gaze sharpened. darkened.
“ngenze njalo.”
the words hit your core like a flame. do as i say.
you obeyed.
hands braced against the throne, you bent for him — thick ass high, legs wide. you heard the hitch in his breath as he stepped back to take in the sight.
then—
smack.
his palm cracked across your cheek again. not too hard. but enough.
“keep that arch,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your folds from behind. “mm… this shit wet as fuck. and i ain’t even fucked you yet.”
you moaned, low and shivering.
he knelt behind you, breathing hot over your inner thigh. his mouth pressed to your pussy — not kissing, tasting. tongue flat and deliberate, slapping your clit before sucking it with slow precision.
“fuck—!” you gasped, knuckles white on stone.
he didn’t rush. took his time. tongue moving like he owned the rhythm of your body. your thighs trembled, fat and soft against his jaw. he moaned into you like the taste alone was divine.
“you ridin’ me tonight,” he said, rising behind you again, voice thick with hunger. “on my throne. i want them pretty titties bouncin’ while i watch you fall apart.”
you turned as he shed the rest of his vest — then his pants.
his dick hung heavy, thick, the kind of size that made you pause. covered in veins, head dark and already leaking. he stroked it slow while he stared you down.
“come on, queen,” he murmured. “show me what loyalty look like now.”
you climbed onto the throne — his throne — hands braced on his chest, thick thighs spreading over him as you straddled his lap. his hands found your hips, pulling you down so the head of his cock teased your entrance. you both breathed ragged.
then — you sank down.
inch by inch.
his mouth dropped open, teeth grit.
“god damn,” he hissed. “this pussy heavy as fuck.”
you rode him slow at first — adjusting to his size, your walls clenching tight. his eyes never left your face. not once. his hands guided you, rhythm building with every bounce of your thick ass. you bounced harder. louder.
smack.
his palm slapped your ass again. then again. red prints bloomed.
“take that dick,” he growled. “look at you — thick lil loyalist, takin’ a real king’s cock.”
you whimpered, rolling your hips faster, sweat sliding down your throat. your tits bounced, full and heavy, catching his eyes with every thrust.
“say who this pussy belong to,” he demanded.
you moaned, too far gone to think, riding him like salvation. like war. like you hated him — and loved the way he destroyed you.
he grabbed your throat.
“say it.”
you whispered it.
“…you.”
his eyes lit with fire.
he flipped you in one swift motion — your back now against the cold stone of the throne, legs spread as he pounded into you, harder, deeper, cock hitting every spot like he knew you already.
you were nothing now. just gasps. heat. slick. sweat.
he grunted, one hand pressing on your lower belly as he fucked you deeper.
“you feel that?” he rasped. “i’m in there. ain’t no goin’ back now, mama.”
you clawed at him, body coiling tight.
your climax ripped through you like thunder — back arching, mouth open in a silent cry.
he followed seconds later, spilling deep inside you with a growl, hands fisting in your waist like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.
you laid there afterward — still on the throne, legs sprawled, his breath heavy on your neck.
Punishment & Aftercare - Erik Killmonger - Kinktober Day 9
Summary: Don’t tease Erik
Warnings: whatever the kink of the day is, implications of dom/sub dynamics, spanking, aftercare, tell me if I missed any
Main Masterlist
Kinktober Masterlist
”Did you really think you could get away with being such a fucking tease?” Erik asked before you felt the sting of the leather belt against your backside again.
“I’m sorry, sir!” You yelled out, your hands fisting the sheets as the belt cracked against your skin again.
You heard his cold chuckle from behind you, then jumped when the fabric of his pants rubbed against your sore skin, his hand landing on the bed beside your face to support himself, and his voice in your ear.
“Are you sorry?” He asked. “Or are you sorry you’re getting punished?”
When you hesitated on answering, a dark and menacing chuckle left him and he sat back up.
“That’s what I thought,” he said in a smug voice.
The next four strikes came from the belt in his hands, three total landing on each side of your ass.
Once he had decided you’d had enough of the belt, Erik dropped it and ran his hand gently over one cheek and then the other, chuckling quietly at the way you jumped.
He rubbed your skin just long enough for the tension in your shoulders to drop the slightest bit and for your tears to dry. The next moment, his hand was coming down on your sensitive skin in a sharp smack.
Your hands were sore from how tightly you were gripping at the sheets, tears streaming down your face as he continued to spank you, and you knew you wouldn’t be sitting on anything hard the next day. Incoherent babbles and apologies left you, but you knew he wasn’t going to stop so soon.
It wasn’t until you lost count of how many times his hand slapped your ass, your upper thighs, and your inner thighs that eventually he stopped.
This time, when he leaned over you, he placed a gentle kiss to your temple.
“I’ll be right back,” he told you in a voice far more gentle than anything he had used previously, then he was gone.
You had enough time to take a few deep breaths and wipe away your tears before he returned holding a wet wash cloth and a bottle of water, grabbing your lotion off your vanity.
With a gentle touch that most would think the trained killer was incapable of, he began to spread the lotion everywhere the belt or his hands had made contact with.
“You did so good for me, Princess,” he praised, setting the bottle down, sitting next to you on the bed, and then gently wiping your face clean. “Come on,” he said softly, helping you move up the bed so that you could lay on top of him.
“I’m sorry for teasing you,” you whispered as he opened the water for you.
“I know you are,” he replied, letting you drink half the bottle of water before kissing your forehead.
You laid your head back down on his scarred chest, your free hand coming to rest beside you while your thumb ran over the small collection of scars in its reach. As his hand ran up and down your back, you found yourself easily lulled to sleep.
