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lire-casander · 2 years ago

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He compartido 11.207 publicaciones este 2022

¡Son 1870 más que en 2021!

341 publicaciones originales (3 %)

10.866 reblogueos (97 %)

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He etiquetado 4109 publicaciones en 2022

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#you ask and lire answers: 106 publicaciones

#the fic: 53 publicaciones

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Longest Tag: 138 characters

#what difference does it make that i ask for gluten-free bread if i can't have it with any of the toppings offered for the breakfast/snacks

Mis publicaciones más populares este 2022:

forever in a second too short (home is a heartbeat)

here it is! my contribution to @911lsbb! i hope you're ready for a ride! chapters will be posted once a day for twelve days. are you ready?

on ao3

chapters:

chapter #1: intro — on tumblr

chapter #2: first verse — on tumblr

chapter #3: first pre-chorus — on tumblr

chapter #4: first chorus — on tumblr

chapter #5: second verse — on tumblr

chapter #6: second pre-chorus — on tumblr

chapter #7: second chorus — on tumblr

chapter #8: solo — on tumblr

chapter #9: bridge — on tumblr

chapter #10: third pre-chorus — on tumblr

chapter #11: third chorus — on tumblr

chapter #12: outro — on tumblr

pairings: tk strand/carlos reyes, judd ryder/grace ryder, nancy gillian/mateo chavez, paul strickland/marjan marwani

characters: tk strand, carlos reyes, jonah, owen strand, enzo, judd ryder, grace ryder, nancy gillian, tommy vega, mateo chavez, paul strickland, marjan marwani, izzie vega, evie vega, gabriel reyes, andrea reyes, mitchell, alex, original child characters, original characters

warnings: alternate universe — au, alternate universe — with kids, alternate universe — future fic, alternate universe — school teacher, alternate universe — celebrity, alternate universe — movie, alternate universe — marry me (2022), vaguely inspired by the movie, angst, fluff, cheating (not between tarlos), past/reference drug addiction, grief, references to sister act 2, mentions of death, mentions of accidents, breakup, emotional hurt/comfort, fake dating, more tags to be added

disclaimer: the opinions expressed by certain characters in this work of fiction are not shared by the author.

rating: teen and up audiences

summary: tk strand is a famous singer who’s about to marry his beau alex fletcher onstage in front of around twenty million fans. carlos reyes is a teacher whose whole live revolves around his twelve-year-old daughter and his classes. when tk’s wedding ceremony goes south because of a video of alex cheating on tk with his assistant, their lives become a tangled mess. as they wade through life together by a whim of fate, carlos and tk learn to move forward from a past that haunts them both and into a future that could be everything they wanted it to be, if they just allowed themselves to be happy.

fun facts about writing this fic!

i’ve used transcripts for both the movie and some episodes of the show. here you have the links!

* marry me

* 911 lone star s01e01

* 911 lone star s01e03

* 911 lone star s01e10

* 911 lone star s02e04

* 911 lone star s02e14

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22 notas. Fecha de publicación: 26 de julio de 2022

six sentence sunday

the thing is, this is the last snippet i share publicly from the fic™ until it gets posted as part of the @911lsbb challenge. it's done at 108,763 words, only a few loose ends to fix and then the process of proofreading. so yeah, my baby is definitely grown.

since this is the last i'll be posting about the fic™, i wanted to tag some of the people who have made this possible. you guys rock! @tarlos-spain, @noxsoulmate, @doublel27, @moviegeek03, @meloingly, @marjansmarwani, @morganaspendragonss, @alilypea, @alidravana, @ravens-words, @aliceschuyler, @laelipoo, @breannacasey and everyone in our little discord family! this fic couldn't have been done without you, and i'm so grateful for all of you.

here, have the last offering of the fic™ until july... it's angsty, as you might have already guessed.

“What’s wrong is that I don’t have an answer to give Jonah whenever he asks me about why you guys aren’t in our lives anymore,” TK replies, voice tinged with something that’s rawer than pure feeling. Carlos stares at him wide-eyed. “What’s wrong is that I wish you’d be there but I know that I fucked up and I don’t deserve you, or Leyre, or the happiness we had. What’s wrong—” he trails off for a second, looking down at his feet until he seems to muster up enough courage to look back up at Carlos, who’s entranced by the passion that oozes from TK’s words. “What’s wrong is that every morning and every night,” TK continues slowly, deliberately, as though he’s measuring every single sound that comes out of his mouth, “I lie in bed wondering why you’re not beside me. That’s what’s wrong.”

23 notas. Fecha de publicación: 5 de junio de 2022

wip wednesday

i'm presenting you today a new snippet of my 911ls big bang, that is slowly but steadily growing. now over 7k!

TK wakes up on the day of his wedding to fingers jabbing into his skin. He groans; he went to bed last night relatively late after spending most of his time after rehearsals playing board games with Jonah. It's way too early for anyone to be trying to wake him up so unceremoniously.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Jonah says, his childish voice cheery and clear. "It's time for breakfast!"

"Oh, is it now?" TK replies, cracking his eyes open in time to see Jonah hovering over him. "C'mere, Jonah," he coaxes. He reaches out, but Jonah playfully bats his hand away.

"Not Jonah here," he says, faking a deep voice. TK smiles at the giggles that follow.

"Not Jonah? Then who are you?" he plays along.

"The Cookie Monster!" Jonah shrieks, dropping his whole weight on top of TK. For a moment they're both a pile of flailing limbs until TK decides on attacking instead of defending, and he launches himself into tickling his brother.

"Aaaah, the Cookie Monster is attacking me!" he cries out. "Time for revenge!"

It's not long before Jonah is reduced to a panting, laughing puddle over TK's covers. He smiles softly at his little brother, hair spiked in all directions and still laughing. "That wasn't fair," Jonah accuses him.

"All's fair in war."

"This wasn't war!" Jonah sticks his tongue out to him. “You were attacking an innocent child.”

TK tickles him some more before allowing Jonah to just lie down with his head on TK’s chest and his arms pinning him to the bed. He thinks it’s nice to have his little brother around. He should ask Enzo to bring Jonah over more often, even though he knows that his schedule is all over the place most of the time. But maybe now that Alex is finally finishing his tour and they’re starting a new page of their life together, TK can settle down enough for Jonah to start spending more time at the penthouse.

Maybe that way Jonah may get to know Alex and stop hating on him.

24 notas. Fecha de publicación: 9 de marzo de 2022

the dream of someone else

[4,700 words] [teen and up audiences] [beta’ed by @moviegeek03. you're the best, brit. i wouldn't have finished this without you.] [title from you’ve got mail] [carlos reyes, tk strand, original female characters] [alternate universe — college, alternate universe — coffee shop, alternating povs, carlos is a criminal studies major, tk is a health science major, vandalizing of public property, alternate universe — movie setting, loosely based on you’ve got mail au, mentions of past drug addiction, mentions of recovery] [written for @911auweekend, day 1: not your average coffee shop au, day 3: outsider’s pov tinder date au, day 4: writer’s choice and for my good things happen bingo square coffee shop au]

[carlos reyes wasn’t expecting a penpal out of his busy mornings studying at the cafeteria. tk strand hadn’t expected anyone to reply to his message left on a table out of boredom and struggling.]

the dream of someone else on ao3

The cafeteria is bursting with life when Carlos sets foot in the place, ready for a quick break in between his classes. He’s spent the past three weeks holed up in his room trying to finish one of his essays, and he’s made it in time, so he thinks he deserves a reward. However, he would have liked for the place to be a bit quieter. He eyes the tables warily until he sees one free table further inside the cafeteria. He makes a beeline for the table, dropping his messenger bag on top of it noisily. Whatever happens now, this table is his now.

He knows he needs to leave the bag on the table to go order, and he isn’t really so keen on doing so, but he doesn’t want to give up his table and he desperately needs caffeine. He grabs his wallet, checks that nobody would want to steal his secondhand Introduction to Psychology textbook, and runs to the counter. For all the people boisterously chatting across the cafeteria, the baristas are not too busy, so he gets his coffee and a bagel in record time and rushes back to his table. His messenger bag is still on top of the table, and it doesn’t look like anybody has come even close to it. He sighs, falling down on the chair while managing not to spill his coffee, and takes his book out of the bag.

Carlos opens the book at the page he last marked, realizing he needs to take more notes from the book than he initially expected. He huffs; he’s been attending class these past weeks, but the stress of having to hand in an essay on Violence in Society has made him slack in his other classes. He needs to be ready for his class in around an hour and a half — he’s still cursing the planning he made at the beginning of the year, but he thought it’d be great to have such a span of time to relax and do nothing. If he could travel back in time and tell Carlos from three months ago that he wouldn’t have a moment to himself even with the ninety-minute gap between Introduction to Criminal Justice and Introduction to Psychology. He’s grateful that the building where he has most of his classes holds a cafeteria so he doesn’t have to run around campus and waste a lot of time. He skims over the last of the notes he took in class, which should be complementing the ones he takes out of his book, and reads that, according to what he jotted down a week ago, the professor announced they would be paired up for an upcoming project today.

Carlos doesn’t really want to work with anyone these days. He’s a perfectionist, he doesn’t like how other people work, and he ends up taking more than he can manage in order to finish the assignment in time. He’s been lucky to ditch working with peers for the past three months; he guesses his lucky streak ends this afternoon.

With a shake of his head, he focuses back on his textbook. He notices that the paper where he’s been writing down a few ideas is almost full, so he puts the book downwards and sticks his hand into the half-open messenger bag on top of the table. He fishes for a notebook and his pencil case, only to come up with just the former. He mutters to himself, “I know I put it somewhere in here,” before proceeding to turn the bag upside down — careful as to not slosh his coffee out of the cup. The movement makes the few contents inside the bag spill over the table, and as he finally sees his pencil case, falling onto the surface with a thud that gets somewhat lost in the background noises of the cafeteria, he also notices there’s scribble on the table.

He frowns. He isn’t one for vandalizing public furniture, but the presence of whatever message that’s on the surface makes him feel a bit icky about the cleanliness of the cafeteria. “What the—” he refrains himself from swearing, still under the spell of his mother’s words about gentlemen and swearing. He leans in, face almost against the wooden surface, so he can read the black-inked words, so different from his usual chicken scratch.

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

He repeats the words slowly in a soft voice, for fear that someone might overhear him and think he’s gone crazy. They roll nicely on his tongue, and the message behind them reaches Carlos’ heart. He’s moved by the force of the verses, which he recognizes are from Henley, and before he knows it he’s grabbing a sharpie and writing in the best handwriting he can muster the following verses to the poem.

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

He feels a wave of accomplishment at having followed the poem with the next few verses — conveniently forgetting he’s just written on public property with permanent ink — and sets to re-read his book and jot down a few notes that could help him study for his test.

There's a calmness in the cafeteria right before closing time that TK cherishes. He spends his days running around campus, attending classes or volunteering at the in-campus LGTBQIA+ association he discovered during his very first day of college. And, since about a week ago, he's had to juggle that with having to meet with Carlos Reyes for their joint Psychology project.

Sometimes he hates his life.

He waves at his favorite barista, who's wiping down at the counter, before he approaches her. "Hey, Anne," he greets, leaning onto the surface. "How's the day been?"

"Hectic as always." Anne smiles at him. "Your usual? I can even throw an avocado and Philadelphia bagel in it."

"You haven't run out of them today?" TK beams at her. Those are his favorite treats, but his schedule doesn't allow him to be at the cafeteria before everyone else's gone through the supplies of avocado and Philadelphia bagels.

"Let's say I got one for you," Anne tells him with a wink. "C'mon, TK, I'll bring you your coffee and your bagel to your table."

"You're the best!" He lifts his fingers to his lips to send her an air kiss before turning to his usual table by the far end of the place.

He flops down on the chair, immediately checking the surface for new words. TK knows he shouldn't have done it, but he'd come to the cafeteria one night after his weekly meeting at the local NA — a requirement from his parents in order for him to go to college three thousand miles away from them — and he hadn't felt all that good. He'd taken out his sharpie, and before he'd known it, he'd been scribbling down the first four verses of his favorite poem about remaining whole in the face of adversity. He'd needed the reminder. Anne had almost had a conniption when she'd seen how he'd written on the table.

But, the following night, TK had found the next four verses of the poem scribbled beneath his own four, and his heart had done a giddy somersault. He doesn't know who's behind the chicken scratch, but for a whole week straight he's been exchanging verses and messages. It's been a wild seven days, and there's been some sort of weird comfort in the knowledge that there's been someone at the other end of a sharpie ready to read TK's thoughts and whines.

He checks the surface, but the wood looks pristine — not a single word inked in black and blue.

Anne comes by with his coffee and his bagel, and sighs when he looks up at her helplessly. "Anne—" he begins, but she cuts him off.

"I couldn't stop it," she explains with a shrug after she's left his coffee mug and his bagel with so much as a small droplet of liquid sloshed on the otherwise clean table. "I know it's been some sort of escape these past days, but my manager said she couldn't afford having any table littered like that."

"It's not—" TK bit his lip before raising his voice. He's gone to enough anger management sessions to recognize the signals and try to appease them by breathing in deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth before continuing, "I didn't think when I started doing it. I'm sorry. But this is the only way I could communicate with this person," he says in a small voice. He doesn't even know if he's penpalling with a guy or a girl, but he knows the other person might as well be his soulmate, be it romantic or platonic.

"What about you stick to post-it notes?" Anne suggests. "You can place it under the table, make sure it doesn't fall down."

"If it isn't on the surface, how will the other person know where to look?" he asks, frowning. He has a stack of post-it notes, but he isn't sure the glue on the paper will hold for longer than a few minutes. "And won't it be taken away anyway?"

"What's under the table isn't checked that often," Anne offers. "Plus, Abigail from the morning shift thinks she knows who your penpal is," she continues in a conspiratorial voice. "She can always explain where to find the next note."

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30 notas. Fecha de publicación: 22 de marzo de 2022

Mi publicación más popular de 2022

the fire within

[1,718 words] [teen and up audiences] [beta'ed by @meloingly] [mateo chavez, judd ryder, captain tatum (house 129), captain andrews (house 122)] [character study, angst, spoilers for s03e02, mentions of collapsed buildings, mentions of rescues, mateo-centric]

[the fire has robbed him of so many things. the fire gave and the fire took, and mateo isn't about to let the flames burning in his soul consume him without having fought back.]

the fire within | on ao3

a sense of family series

Mateo wakes up every morning right with his alarm. He gets out on the bed, steps into the ensuite bathroom in the room that was TK’s but it's now his, brushes the morning breath out of his teeth, and comes back outside ready to make the bed. It's his routine — his schedule for every single day that he's got a shift, no matter his schedule, he never fails. It's simple and yet effective; he's never been late a day in his life, not even when his teachers back at school thought he wasn't the most brilliant pea in the pod and he was lacking motivation. He likes having a structure in his life, and he's been thankful for his ingrained habit ever since the 126 station had been red-tagged for demolition.

He wakes up. He brushes his teeth. He makes his bed. He has some oatmeal and orange juice. He grabs his keys and drives to the 129 firehouse every single shift.

He still feels empty inside.

Switching firehouses — being cast separately from the rest of his friends at the 126 — has taken a toll on him. It'd taken him so long to actually believe in himself, in his abilities, and he'd needed Captain Strand and his northern vision to flourish. He'd found a family in the 126, in the outcasts and the abandoned, in the diversity that painted every single corner of the building with bright colors of acceptance and tolerance. He’d felt like he belonged, for the first time in his life — like there was nothing wrong with him, like he was worthy of being loved. When the 126 got closed, the building fit for rezoning, he thought they had a chance at fighting. He thought they could overcome anything if they stayed together.

He’d been so wrong.

They’d drifted away from the very beginning. Paul, Judd and Marjan had been placed together at the 122, and TK and Nancy had followed Captain Vega first to save the world during a dust storm and then into the private sector so they could remain together. Captain Strand had accepted some position in the higher-up ranks as to be able to get the 126 up and running through a shortcut that, instead of working, backfired on them when Billy Tyson used Captain Strand’s arguments to demolish their hopes and their future.

Captain Strand had demolished Tyson with a well-placed right hook, and that had been the beginning of the end.

And he — he’d become stranded at the 129, with people who hadn’t respected them in the beginning, but who had learned to treat him like a human being after saving his new Captain’s life out of a sense of duty; not because he thought the Captain deserved to be saved when he’d given him so much grief, but because this was — is — who he really is. A first responder. A firefighter.

A damn hero like the movies he loves so much.

Not that he feels much like it right now, in front of the collapsed building that once was Providence Pasture Church, waiting on Captain Andrews from the 122 and Captain Tatum — his own Captain, now — to tell them what to do. He can’t stop replaying the exact moment when the building crumbled around Paul, engulfing his brother-in-fire and sequestering him from the light and the safety of the open spaces around the building. Objectively, he knows the dangers they all face every single day — he’s learned the hard way exactly what they might encounter out there during a call, after what happened to Tim — but it’s very different to see it happening to one of his own. With Tim, he’d been far from the scene, Captain Strand being the only one who actually witnessed the ball of fire impacting against Tim’s chest. With Paul, he’s seen first-hand the collapsed roof giving out beneath Paul; he’s been witness to Paul disappearing in a mist of rubble and dust.

It’s giving him a headache.

“Cap, we gotta get in there before USAR boys put a red tag on the whole building,” Judd is almost shouting at his Captain, who’s having none of that. Captain Andrews goes off about how it’d be safer for all people involved to let the building be red-tagged and start a snail-paced rescue who’d end up being a recovery instead. He sees the moment Judd snaps, the vein in his neck pulsating against his skin as he spits, “Well, with all due respect, Sir, that would take a couple of days.”

“That’s better than the roof of Damocles crashing down on your heads right now,” Captain Tatum retaliates, looking really satisfied at his punch line. His radio cracks to life, a voice requesting his attention, and that’s the moment Captain Andrews chooses to intervene again.

“Judd, you saw what happened the last time we went in. We don't even know Paul or that girl's status. Much less where they are in the pile.”

Judd looks crestfallen for a second, but if Mateo knows him well enough — and he does, because he’s grown up with the old 126 — Judd’s just gearing up for a comeback. “Okay, well, hey, Cap, Cap, Cap, Cap,” he begins, almost breathlessly, gesturing back to where Lindsey’s parents are shivering under the snow. “Hey, look, if we lose their little girl, I wanna be able to look 'em in the eye and say to 'em we did everything we could to save her. And right now,” he continues, “we cannot do that. However, if we go in there and we're quick and we tread lightly, we can take a look around before USAR shuts this whole scene down.”

There’s a pregnant silence, heavy with all the words that are kept unsaid between them, like a wordless conversation that Mateo is still trying to figure out. “Okay,” Captain Andrews concedes. “But if they make the call I want your word, you get your butts out of there right away."

For a moment, Mateo fears Judd's just going to flip off his Captain, but after some tense seconds, he says, "Deal."

Captain Tatum chooses that moment to come back, announcing that the 129 is required somewhere else — Mateo isn't paying enough attention. He's staring back at the building, debris and smoke in equal parts calling his name.

"Chavez," he hears Captain Tatum calling him. "You got a wax build-up? Your house is on the move."

Mateo stares back at him. Suddenly, the whole world has slowed down enough that he can feel the twitching of the Earth under the soles of his boots. He can feel the icy bite of the snow already plummeting from the skies. He dares a glance at the collapsed structure, the broken metal a heap of devastation in front of his eyes.

The fire has robbed him of so many things. The fire took the house he shared with his inconsiderate roommates, but it gave him a home with Captain Strand. The fire sent the 126 tumbling down in between well-placed explosions, but it provided him with a renewed sense of purpose. The fire destroyed Carlos’ condo, but it gave Mateo a new family to come back home to. But when the fire that burned deep within them had finally caught in flames around them — sending millions of sparks igniting around TK as Carlos finally walked out barely hours before Captain Strand made a beeline for Hill Country — then the fire had given Mateo anything but grief and despair.

The fire gave and the fire took, and Mateo isn't about to let the flames burning in his soul consume him without having fought back.

He’s a phoenix rising from the dust that settled in his soul when he got swept away from the place he called home. He’s a supernova ready to explode.

He makes the decision in the split second that takes him to understand the difference between duty and love.

"The 129 may be my house," he says clearly, shocking everyone. He’s staring at his captain straight in the eye. "But Paul's my family.” He takes a deep breath, but he’s not backing down. If anything, he’s soaring. “I have to help rescue him, sir.”

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31 notas. Fecha de publicación: 16 de enero de 2022

Descubre tu resumen del 2022 en Tumblr →

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goddessofthundathighs · 6 years ago

Text

DISTRACTION

Just a little filth based off of this post because I feel like I’ve been neglecting my lovelies.

_____________________________________________

“Bro, what the fuck?” Erik yelled angrily into the headset. He’d just returned from a two-month long mission in Colombia and all he wanted to do was relax with a nice game of Battlefield 4. He checked the time on his kimoyo beads. He knew the Princess would be home soon so he removed the headset from one of his ears to listen out for her.

It had been four months since the couple had last had sex, given both of their busy schedules, and Hennessy was more than a little needy. When she came home from work, she noticed his boots and duffle bag laid next to the front door.

“The fuckum?” She paused looking around. “I know this nigga didn't...” she complained as she put away her things and made her way to the game room.

Her husband’s dark brown eyes squinted as he concentrated on the screen, his fingers tapping the controller vigorously. The voices of middle-aged men shouting in his ear made him grumble for what had seemed like the millionth time. Though she was grateful that he still kept in touch with his battles from his time in JSOC, she hated how they sometimes kept him away from her for trivial things. As he reached the end of a heated battle, he heard the light footsteps of his wife come to the door.

“Well hello to you too,” her tiny voice rang out over the loud explosions and gunshots on the TV. He could practically hear her folding her arms.

“Oh hey babe,” He called as he glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his gaze back to the TV. Who knew that one simple phrase could make her blood boil the way it did.

“How long have you been back?”

“Couple hours,” he responded, clearly still distracted by the video game.

“And you didn’t think to —,” her voice trailed off as her anger rose. Typically he made sure to stop by her office when he returned from a mission, but today was different. Today he chose to engage in an online video game battle instead of making an effort to spend time with her.

“Sorry babe,” he grunted as he restarted the game.

“Nah, you good,” she replied as she headed for the stairs. Bratty Hennessy was in full effect and by the time she was done, Battlefield 4 would be the last thing on Erik’s mind.

—————————

Fifteen minutes passed before she reappeared in the doorway of the game room.

“How long are you gonna be down here?”

“I don’t know Princess, why wassup?” He asked as he finished one of the game’s missions.

“Oh I don’t know, I haven’t seen you in two months, haven’t touched you in four. Get where I’m going with this?”

“Yeah, I get it baby. Gimme like 10 minutes and I’m all yours, I promise.”

“10 MINUTES?! NIGGA?!” she screamed exasperatedly.

“Okay, okay, 6 minutes,” he responded as he went back to angrily tapping the buttons on the controller.

“Fine,” she pouted as she walked over to the stereo system.

The sounds of Booty by Blac Youngsta filled the game room as the Princess distracted herself. Erik’s head began to nod to the beat as she bounced around the room.

Girl, I wanna see you twerk

I'll throw a lil' money if you twerk

I don't really think you can twerk

(Toot toot) twerk

If you broke, go to work

Make that big booty twerk

(Toot toot)

Can I touch that booty?

That booty, that big old booty?

Shake that booty, can I lay on the booty?

Mike Tyson on the booty

“Babe, C'mon now.. Move…”

He was so focused on the game that he hadn’t noticed his curvaceous wife’s attire. She’d traded her tan flounce jumpsuit for a navy two-piece lingerie set with a matching see through robe. As the song continued on and her best friend’s verse came on, the tiny princess decided to kick it up a notch.

Yeah, smack it up, flip it, rub it down, BBD

Yeah, I know you heard the news about that BBC

Yeah, greatest in that box, RIP Ali

Mmm, she say she love my kids, taste my legacy

Ooh, she go stupid, I'm no Cupid, I don't cuff her, I can't lose it

What she say I'm sleepin' on her, I just said she just caught me snoozin'...

As Trey continued to rap, Hennessy purposely placed her body in Erik’s line of vision and began throwing her ass like she had entered a twerk contest.

“Hennessy I said —,” his sentence was cut off as his eyes lifted to fully take in her presence. “Gahdamn,” he groaned as he reached out to move the fabric of the robe, giving him an unobstructed view. He stared like a predator watching prey as her plump ass gyrated in his face. The groans of his battles brought him back from the trance she’d successfully put him in. Pausing the game and throwing his controller to the side, he watched her hips move with ease to the beat. Before he knew it, her ass was on his lap, grinding and popping to the music as the bass thumped throughout the room. Groaning lowly, he moved the mic from his headset down to his mouth and spoke to the men who had been complaining in his ear the entire duration of the song.

“Aye niggas, I'll be back. I don't know when though.” The men's voices were cut off as he turned the PlayStation off and tossed the headset on the table. He bit his bottom lip as his calloused hands began kneading the tender flesh of her ass before giving it two harsh smacks. She moaned softly, but continued her ministrations, turning to face him now.

“You just couldn’t wait, huh? Needy ass,” he teased as he pulled her down to straddle his lap. His lips curved into his signature smirk, revealing the gold fronts that she loved.

“Nah, you wanted to play the game, remember? Keep that same energy fam,” she said as she slowly tried to slide out of his lap. His arms locked around her like a constrictor, effectively stopping her escape.

“Nah, the only game I’m tryna play is how many times Daddy can make Hennessy cum,” he growled, lifting from the couch.

————————

Hennessy’s legs shook as he feasted from her, his tongue darting back and forth with impeccable speed. Her hands moved from the sheets of the bed to his unruly dreads, tugging on them as he sucked on her clit.

As his tongue lapped over one of her more sensitive areas, she yanked his hair and moaned. As if her body wasn’t already seconds from overstimulation, a growl erupted from the beast between her thighs.

“F-fuck don’t growl at me…” She whimpered as she stared down at him. As his lips turned into a sly smirk, he chuckled softly.

“Mmm. Why not Princess?”

“Y-You know why,” she whined as his long tongue wrapped around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. He growled again, causing her to gush into his mouth as the vibration traveled up her body.

“Daddy I’m cumming,” she whined as she rocked her hips against his face. He stared up from his place between her legs, dark eyes fixed on hers as he continued to lick slow patterns on the swollen bulb.

“Let it go Princess,” he growled as he attached his lips to her clit and sucked. Her orgasm hit her hard and fast, but his tongue never stopped it’s quest. He continued feasting until orgasm number two had her clawing at his back. He licked his lips as he watched her body shake, determined to have her sated and asleep by the time he finished.

He climbed up her body slowly, kissing and biting at her skin along the way. A firm tug to his dreads had him eye to eye with the curvaceous cutie, her brown eyes piercing his.

“As much as I like the slow, sensual treatment, I’m way too horny for you to be taking your sweet grandpa time. It’s been four months, I need you to break me.”

“Say less ma,” he replied thrusting forward until he was completely buried inside of her. Her legs locked around his waist as he began delivering the powerful strokes that always left her sore and hoarse the next day.

“That’s right,” she moaned. “Act like it’s been four months since you’ve had this pussy, nigga.” He chuckled softly, leaning down to press open-mouth kisses along her cheek and jawline.

“Fuck I missed your fine ass. I missed the way your lips feel against mine, I missed the way your face scrunches up when I hit that spot, and I especially missed the way that pretty pussy clings to my dick like a life vest.” Her inner walls fluttered at his words. She had always loved how nasty he could be during sex. He sat up on his knees and pushed her legs up so that her knees were almost beside her ears.

“Grab them ankles,” he ordered as he lined himself up with her dripping core. She barely had time to comply before his hips snapped forward with electrifying force. This was one of her favorite positions because each stroke had him tapping her g-spot with deadly precision.

“Daddy,” she moaned out, feeling the familiar tingle in her lower belly.

“Wassup?” he smirked, gold fronts gleaming in the purple light of the bedroom. “You close, Mama?” She wanted to answer, but her words were caught in her throat as he continued to fuck into her. He thrust forward a few more times before pulling himself out and smacking it on her clit.

“Answer me, Monaé!” he growled, shoving himself back into her. She bit her lip and nodded, still unable to verbally express her pleasure.

“Cum for me, Princess. I feel the way she gripping me. Show Daddy he can still make that kitten purr.” At his command her released washed over her, coating both of their lower halves with her essence.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he released himself into her. He lazily kissed her lips, swallowing each moan that came in the aftershock of her orgasm. He pulled out slowly and headed for the bathroom as sleep threatened to overtake the tiny vixen.

—————

Once he cleaned both of them off, Erik pulled the Henny close so that her head was tucked under his chin. He kissed her forehead as he slowly began running his fingers through her curly hair.

“Sorry about your game,” she said, yawning into his neck.

“You’re fine Princess. You’ve always been my favorite distraction.”

———————————————

TAG LIST: @vibranium-soul @imagine-mbaku @mareethequeen @greennightspider @eriknutinthispoosy @hearteyes-for-killmonger @theegoldenjaguar @muse-of-mbaku @shesfromwakanda @thehomierobbstark @youreadthatright @tgigoldie @killmongersgurl @dameshaemonique @princessstevens @princesskillmonger @amethyst1993 @iamrheaspeaks @laketaj24 @bidibidibombaclaat @allhailnjadaka @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @forbeautyandlife @yaachtynoboat711 @panthergoddessbast @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @dacreskars @thadelightfulone @drsunshine97 @wakanda-inspired @wawakanda-btch @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @ayellepea @madamslayyy @blowmymbackout @vikkidc @champagnesugamama @sociallyawkward18 @chasingsunlight @dabluestsky

THE HOUSEHOLD: @alyshastevens-udaku @wyldjuan @itsangeludaku @thehomiekillmonger @lovemecharlie @itskimorafireudaku @poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @killmongersprncss

#vanity writes #killmonger smut #daddy erik #erik stevens #bde #killmonger fic #my shit #erik x henny #i’m an artist #and i’m sensitive about my shit #erik killmonger #the kompound

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lady-olive-oil · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 1

Prelude || Characters || Chapter 1

{A/N: First chapter of a new series for the new year! Let’s go! Let me know what you think and if you want to be apart of the tag squad! Huge thanks to my sis Maddie, she’s a character in this one by the name of Natasha}

Squad: @maddiestundentwritergaines

Word Count: 1,295

Warnings: none

Xhosa Translations; (loosely)

‘Ndifungela ndiya kukubetha ngolunye usuku

- I swear I’m going to hit you one day

———

Junior year. Near the final stretch for Nefertiti and her crew. It’s took some time to get here but, with a village she made it through. Getting a degree has always been at the top of her list, alongside becoming a Delta. Becoming a Delta meant that you held yourself to a high standard, a higher caliber of life and was apart of the Divine Nine. This second semester in particular, moving into a better part of the sorority house was the perfect way to start off the year. A room fit for an upcoming big sister.

With some old 80’s and 90’s jams, playing in the background, while sorting the boxes all out, Nefe was just in her element. With the help of her roomie Natasha, fellow Delta herself, she couldn’t help but love the new vibe she felt from Nefe.

“Honey, Chile. I don’t know what got into you, but I’m loving this new attitude of yours. It’s new and vibrant, I wonder what’s gotten into you?”

Natasha, or Nattie, has always been Nefe’s voice of reason along with the party queen. Kind of a contradiction isn’t it? Well that’s how she is: voice of reason and party queen.

“Well what got into me was Sean. Don’t tell M’Baku cause he’ll flip his shit.” A chuckle left her full lips as she opened the box of her room decorations, along with Southern University pennants.

“You mean Mr. Wakanda? Something about him just screams seduction. Why aren’t you with him? Sean isn’t what you need Nefe.”

Nattie did always have a way with words. Maybe she was onto something. But Nefe never really thought of M’Baku that way, and he didn’t think of her that way. Did he?

“Oh so Mr. Wakanda, will have something to say huh?” The infamous thick voice broke the silence, causing the girls to scream.

“Jesus M’Baku! Don’t do that. Ndifungela ndiya kukubetha ngolunye usuku”

To say he wasn’t laughing is an understatement. Along with teaching Nefe Xhosa, which clearly stuck with her like gorilla glue on a boot.

“Your pronunciations are getting better, intyatyambo. That’s flower by the way.”

Sitting on the loveseat by the bay window, giving his ever so sweet smile. He never ceased to amaze them. Okoye and Nakia were in their rooms but knew M’Baku came to visit Nefe. They’d tease her about it occasionally.

“Gee. Thanks great gorilla. I’m sure your home country will be proud.”

The teasing tone in her voice caused him to chuckle and Nattie to shake her head and help finish decorating.

“My parents miss me yes. But they’ll be visiting on parents day in September, along with me going home with you and your family. It’s tradition.”

He shrugged as he grabbed a Velcro command strip to hang up a framed picture. A family portrait that meant the world to Nefertiti. That’s one of the things he loves about her, how family oriented she is.

“Yeah yeah. Ok you two, the jams are on and we all have class in an hour. Gotta start junior year off right, right? So sister Queen Nefertiti, turn up the jams.”

Nattie grabbed another box, as Nefe turned up the song on her Logitech Clock radio, that was currently charging her phone. Prompting M’Baku to either join in or record it.

“I got all this love, waiting just for you I just got to know, that your love is true. Can't keep running boy, in and out my life. Want to be your girl, not cause the mood is right.”

Nefe lip synced into her hair brush, swaying her hips to the beat and making her way to her closet. Pointing to Nattie, and she gladly took the next verse.

“If I let you come inside Tomorrow will you hide? Will you be there for me? When I need someone to hold Baby don't misunderstand. I do want you for my man, I just need a little time, Before I invest my love”

Moments like these were what the group was looking forward to. The late night studying groups, sleepover, Greek recruitment days, parties and most of all graduation coming soon. It was gonna be a grand year.

M’Baku was taping them the whole time and was enjoying being back at SU with his friends. He knew he had to get the group together sooner or later to catch up. But for now he’d settle for this with two of his favorite girls.

“Don't walk away boy, My love won't hurt you. Don't walk away boy, I'll be right there for you!”

The girls sung in unison as they danced around in complete bliss and comfort. The two girls fell on top of a huge bean bag chair, and started laughing The three of them finished decorating and admired their work, ready to take on the year.

The rest of the day was filled with classes, introducing new students to the class; ye old syllabus and requirements to uphold. The old mumbo jumbo. But something in music theory threw Nefertiti off her rocker.

Melanie Davis was her name, being Nefe’s rival was her game. They’ve had it out for each other since high school. Even the delta house denied her application sophomore year, because of how she presented herself. Yet the AKA’s welcomes her greatly.

Sitting next to M’Baku on his left, she batted her falsies at him and smiled.

“So M’Baku, how was your summer? You should’ve went to Jamaica with me and the girls. We would’ve loved to have you there.”

Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Nefe. Her left eye was twitching and Okoye caught it.

“My summer was great Mel. It was good to be home. I’m sorry I couldn’t. Maybe next spring or summer break.”

He did find Melanie attractive. Who wouldn’t? He just let her down gently and she giggled. She made Nefe’s skin crawl.

“Want me to cut her? I’ll cut her for you.” she mouthed at Nefe which cause her to chuckle and shake her head.

“So the homecoming game is coming up. I’ll be cheering for you in the stands. Plus there’s a party afterwards, wanna go with me?”

He was so uncomfortable, and was about to reply till someone stepped in.

“He has plans already, Davis. Stop trying.” Nefe finally spoke up causing everyone around them to laugh.

“Listen here little miss soul sistah. If M’Baku wants to go with another melanin goddess like me, it’s his choice to go.”

Melanie never ceased to get under Nefe’s skin because she knew it bothered her that she could get to M’Baku. After all they did date before, but she ended the relationship because of his friendship with Nefe.

“No you listen here, Mel. He’s obviously uncomfortable with you still. So why don’t you sit ya ass down and chill. Aight?”

Erik always had Nefe’s back. She was like a sister to him. He’s T’Challa cousin and M’Baku frat brother of Omega Psi Phi.

Melanie scoffed and headed out with her little crew, once class was over.

“So y’all want dinner? Popeye’s or is Nakia making jambalaya?” T’Challa, also one of M’Baku’s friends, had asked the group as they headed out the class.

“I’m feelin Popeye’s. Let’s go.”

Once they agreed to Nefe’s statement, they headed that direction. What happened in the music room played again in Nefe’s head. Part of her knew M’Baku still had feelings for Melanie and that somewhat bothered her.

Nah, not somewhat. It fully bothered her to the fullest extent. This was going to be a long year till graduation.

#mbaku au fic #mbaku x nefertiti adisa #mbaku x nefertiti #mbaku x oc #brown sugah baby #winston duke #nefertiti adisa #amara la negra #the black panther #tchalla x oc #erik killmonger #wives of mbaku #m’baku imagine #m’baku #black!oc #black!reader

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