#like its reaching a point where i think we need to discuss it . bruh moment

[disengaged]

actually kinda fucked up how intensely biphobic my best friend-slash-roommate is

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

I”m gonna do two imagines at once because I figured these two can go hand in hand

The reader face-riding Erik and Erik holding the reader’s hips down and overstimulating her/ Erik telling the reader “lemme dig in that pussy one time”

This shit here... WHEW!

Nasty smut per usual.

“Happy birthday you fine ass Sagittarius.”

Y/N’s boyfriend, Ace, was gliding his tongue like the black mamba snake along her exposed neck. He had just taken her to a fancy dinner and now they were headed back their place to finish the night off just right. Ace looked over at his woman dressed in a satin mini dress colored sage. Her braided hair was twisted up into a bun and her skin shimmered from all the body glow she had put on.

“Thank you, Baby,” Y/N squeezed Ace’s hand, interlacing her tiny fingers with his long slender ones, “Now, are you gonna tell me who you’ve been texting all night talking about it’s a surprise?! I am fucking dying over here.”

“What I tell you? Save that begging shit for later.” Ace looked at Y/N with sly eyes, “Sexy ass.”

Y/N wanted to savor this moment as much as she could while her man was home from the military. He would be leaving again in about a couple of weeks. She pouts like a baby, folding her arms over her 36 C cup breasts. Tiny whimpers escaping her mouth, Ace adjusts himself in his seat, trying his best not to react to her seducing sounds. He’d missed every ounce of her. Every curve, every noise she made, the way she smelled, how soft her skin was. Being away and seeing all that death, Ace had to keep a positive image of Y/N in his brain.

They both pulled up to a gated community. This is where they both live. A big house built from the ground up. An accomplishment he happily came back to when he could. Pulling up in one of the spots of their three-car garage, Ace turns off the car, not yet getting out as his phone was in his hands again. Y/N had her Pink Whitney Amsterdam Vodka bottle resting in her lap ready to be opened. Ace was driving her crazy!!! She wanted some of that good dick. She just knew he would beat her pussy up like he’d been locked away in jail for 30+years. She needed a hurting on her good pussy.

“Wassup, E,” Ace acknowledged the man on the other line with a grin, “You here already? Where? I didn’t see you when I pulled up.

E? She looked behind her out of the rearview window, spotting a blacked-out G Wagon flashing its hazards to gain their attention. She turns back around in her seat, side-eyeing Ace. What was this nigga up to? He’d already bought her all the things she wanted, taken her out to eat, what else could he have in store for her? Y/N unbuckled her seat belt, turning towards Ace while he talked on the phone.

“Nah, I think she’ll remember you, bruh. Y/N got a good memory... yeah, shes giving me a look right now,” Ace laughs at Y/N’s annoyed expression, “Just come over to the house, let's make this reunion happen.”

Ace hung up his phone, pocketing it before taking his keys out of the ignition and getting out of the car. Y/N waited as he came around to her side, opening her door and grabbing the 24k gold and red roses he purchased from THE. MILLION. ROSES out of her hand with the bottle of Amsterdam Vodka. since Ace’s sports car was so low she had to duck while getting out. Y/N reaches out her soft manicured hand for Ace to grab, but it wasn’t Ace’s hand that took hold. She could feel a thicker, more solid hand grab hers, fingers covered in rings, very sturdy and overpowering her rather tiny one. Startled by the unfamiliar texture, Y/N placed her doe-eyes on a man standing at 6’3, braided-back dreads, black T-shirt on with a denim jacket, black ripped jeans and a pair of Vans on his feet. Gold around his neck, wrist, and fingers, even in his teeth when he smiled down at her.

Ace stood back, hands in his black and red plaid jacket pockets, watching the scene in front of him. Y/N was pulled from her seat, her hand reaching behind her to fix her mini dress since her ass was too much for it. Ace told her it was two sizes too small but she didn’t care. Now that she’s standing in front of E, she felt exposed.

“Wassup, birthday girl,” He spoke softly.

“E...Erik?” She finally recognized him. It’s been at least a few years since she saw him. He had a curly fro the last time they’d seen each other.

“It’s been a while I know,” his eyes trailed down her frame, “Still looking good I see.”

Y/N, perplexed that Erik so openly gave her a compliment in front of her man, looked over at Ace to see if he would correct his boy. To her surprise, Ace has this coy smile spread across his full lips.

“Can we go inside? It’s getting chilly out here,” Y/N tried to revert the topic of discussion. Ace hands Erik her roses and vodka while he leads the way to his front entrance.

“After you, ma” The gesture was simple but so...tantalizing. A shiver spread throughout her body at the thought of Erik checking out her ass as it swayed in her tight mini dress. The way her legs looked in her heels didn’t help situations either. Ace held the door opened for her, allowing her to walk past. Ace slaps her ass hard as hell, Y/N giving him a shy look before turning towards both men. Erik was smiling wide and dangerous at Ace before turning his hard, intoxicating eyes onto Y/N’s body. That entire moment made her ankles buckle a little and she hoped that she didn’t look crazy.

“Can I get comfortable before we have some drinks?” She rested her plush bottom on the grey velvet ottoman in their shared living room, taking off her heels. She flexed her toes, resting the shoes next to the love seat.

“Oh Nah, keep that dress on, girl.” Ace instructed her.

Y/N looked over at Erik who was helping himself to some Hennessy that Ace has at his living room mini bar. He had his denim jacket off at this point, all those muscles in his arms...his almond skin looked beautiful....

She froze.

Now she was beginning to think that Ace must have known how attracted to Erik she was. She had eyes, her man's friend is sexy as hell. It just overwhelmed her seeing him like this. More muscles, hair in those sexy dreads, gold in his mouth...

“Hey,” Ace’s lips were on her cheek, trailing down to her neck. Y/N took her hand, rubbing it against the shiny black waves in his hair. She placed her lips against the chocolate skin of his cheek before teasing him with her jeweled tongue.

“Mm,” Ace lifts her up, making her straddle him while he rested on the grey velvet love seat. Drink in his hand, he sipped while his other hand moved slowly over her arched back and ass. Y/N felt so nervous doing this in front of Erik. Erik was seated on the edge of the ottoman right next to them both, drinking out of his glass with those eyes on her face and only her face. She wrapped her arms around Ace while his soft lips attacked her protruding cleavage. Y/N held Erik’s gaze but it was a challenge with the way those whiskey-colored eyes surveyed her.

“Damn, shit don’t make no sense how much I missed you. Tell her Erik, my ass was going crazy.”

Erik smiles, “you had this nigga fantasizing about you. Every fucking day. And every fucking night. Couldn’t get this nigga to shut up.”

“Awww, babe,” Y/N grabs Ace’s chin, “Daddy, I missed you too.”

Erik made a sound at that, causing Ace to laugh and Y/N to blush profusely. What Erik didn’t tell her was how Ace shared all of their wild sex stories with him. Ace would tell Erik how bomb Y/N’s pussy is. Straight wet wet and nice and tight like she did kegel exercises. He even disclosed that she had a major head game too, jaws strong as a bitch.

She can suck a golf ball through a water hose that’s how he described it.

“Damn, bro. She got it like that? Just the thought of it is making my dick hard,” Erik said, laughing.

Another thing Y/N didn’t know but Erik and Ace did, was that she would be fulfilling her man's deepest, darkest fantasy. Give the birthday girl a real treat. From talks about how his girl put it down to Erik spotting Ace from time to time admiring nude photos of Y/N, he was thinking about fucking his friend's girl. He never told Ace, but now he didn’t need to. Ace hit him up about a week ago before Erik came home from a JSOC mission that he wanted Erik to fuck his girl in front of him.

“Say, bro, would you like to hit Y/N?” Ace had asked.

Erik was in disbelief on FaceTime with Ace. He couldn’t believe that he asked him that so openly, even though his brain was saying hell yeah I want that puss.

“Are you for real? Man, you are crazy, nigga.”

Ace’s look said it all.

“You are for real, Huh? Okay,” he said, letting Ace know he was game.

And Erik was down for whatever. Clearly, Y/N was too with the way she looked at him with those come fuck me, Daddy eyes. He’d fuck her real good too. That nigga Ace was in for a show. This fine bitch Y/N was about to give that pussy up.

“Are you having a good time, baby?” Ace asked Y/N, looking from her to Erik.

“Yes, this is really nice. I feel like a princess,” she stated, satisfied with the outcome of the night.

“It’s cuz you are a princess.” Ace said, praising her.

“You want some of your vodka, Y/N?” Erik asks. Y/N nods her head at him, watching Erik get up to retrieve her bottle and make her a nice cup of it. Ace whispers happy birthday in her ear, bringing his lips to hers and sucking on her bottom lip. She could taste the Hennessy on his warm wet tongue and feel the icy grill on his lower teeth. Right then and there she wanted his tongue dancing around her pussy.

“Daddy,” she moans.

“Yeah, girl?”

“I need you to fuck me now. I want your dick inside of me. Fuck me please.”

Y/N tried to be discreet and whisper that but Erik heard it all loud and clear while making her drink. He walked back over to the horny couple, standing behind Ace and handing Y/N her glass over the back of the couch.

“Thank you, E,” she takes a nice sip, eyelids fluttering from Ace’s slick tongue on her neck and his hand rubbing her juicy, hard clit through her satin thong. Y/N ground her pussy roughly against his hand, nonverbally urging him to plunge his fingers deep inside of her little pussy.

“Mmm,” Y/N moaned while stroking the back of Ace’s head. Ever so gently, while Erik stood there behind the love seat, lustfully gazing at Y/N and loving the sounds she made, Ace caressed her face and brought her lips to his once more, and gave her a nice sloppy kiss.

“I told my boy you have some good pussy, baby girl,” Ace whispered, informing Y/N that Erik knew of some of their sexcursions.

“Oh, really? And why would you do that, Daddy?”

That seductive look in her eyes said it all. Ace placed Y/N on the couch, adjusting his dick in his dark-wash denim jeans. He sat his empty glass on the black and silver coffee table. Y/N’s pussy was extremely wet and warm. The moisture probably made itself visible through her panties. Erik came over to seat himself next to Y/N while Ace was on her other side. Both men refilled their glasses, Ace reaching between Y/N’s legs to see exactly how wet his woman was.

“Damn,” Erik says, licking the liquor from his bottom lip, “that shit wet wet just like you said, Ace.”

Y/N lets out an airy sigh, face hot from the way Erik leaned forward with his elbows to see it all. He was seeing everything. The way Ace rubbed her wet satin thong, how the exposed skin of her pussy lips shined like she’d been oiled down.

“I told E how good your pussy tastes,” Ace whispered. “He wants to eat it for you.”

“E?” She asks timidly. Oh, it was written all over her face. That sexy helpless look on her face. E wants to eat my tight little pussy, Daddy, that’s what she looked like she wanted to say. Drink almost slipping from her hand, Erik takes it, placing it on the coffee table next to his. He swallows spit before biting his lip, preparing his taste buds for her pussy. Erik and Ace shared a look, both mischievous men smirking.

“Hey, bro,” Ace finally pulled Y/N’s soaking wet thong to the side. Erik let out a hiss, the sound causing Y/N’s toes to curl, “You wanna taste this pussy? I told you it was good. Come and get this pussy.” Inviting Erik to join in.

Without saying another word, Erik was bending over Y/N’s lap in a single bound and attacked her pussy like a flesh-eating piranha. Y/N was semi-naked and it wasn’t enough for Erik at all. He wanted to see her fully naked while he stared up from between her legs. Ace sat back on the ottoman, one hand palming his erection while the other held his glass of Henny. His voyeurism kink was finally going to come to life in front of him. Y/N looked overwhelmed by the way Erik licked her. She was squirming and shaking, looking from Ace to Erik with a bewildering look in her eyes. The soft-sounding moans that escaped her mouth seemed to grab hold of Erik’s dick because now he wanted to yank his jeans off and plunge into her tasty pussy. Erik sopped her pussy like it was a full course meal. This nigga was really eating it up and Ace couldn’t help the grunts that escaped his mouth.

“Take this shit off,” Erik demanded Y/N. Y/N timidly lifted her dress over her belly and up past her tits.

“Don’t be shy, listen to Kill,” Ace had his hands down his pants now.

“Kill?” She asked with a perplexed expression. Y/N felt Erik’s lips on her neck, his hands helping her the rest of the way with that dress. She was finally fully naked, her big juicy nipples all poked out and ready to be sucked up.

“Kill wants some of that pussy.” Ace reminded Y/N. She could feel Kill against her inner thigh. He was much thicker than Ace but they were around the same length. She wasn’t used to being stuffed and bottomed-out at the same time.

“Yo, this couch ain't doing it for me. Can we take this shit to the bed?” Erik asked while running his fingers between her pussy lips. He sounded so desperate and it made her bite her lip. She couldn’t believe she was going through with this. This was a surprise alright.

“Take it wherever you want, bro, as long as I get to watch the way you fuck her.”

That was enough for Erik. He picks Y/N up, throwing her over his shoulder. The action was rough and the way he slapped her ass didn’t help make it any less rough. Ace was following behind Erik, telling him where the master bedroom was on the second level. Finally there, Erik takes a naked Y/N and laid her softly on her back on the large bed. Ace made himself comfortable in a chair facing the head of the bed, the sound of his belt and zipper loud in Y/N’s ears. Erik was taking off his clothes.

“Happy birthday, you know you special,” Erik told her with a low seductive voice. Shirt off, she took in his defined body littered with scars. Now, he was working on his jeans, pulling those down nice and slow so she could watch his dick bob out at her. Once the long, and fat pole was free from its confines, Y/N gasped, mouth hanging open and ready for a dick in it. His dick in it.

Ace gave his right hand a workout by stroking his dick. He planned on cumming all over himself tonight. Erik returned to the bed, Ace witnessing the helpless look on his girl's face as Erik pulled her legs apart roughly, his face disappearing between her legs. It was as if she had no control over her reaction to the way Erik ate her pussy. That pretty face of hers contorted with pleasure.

“FUCK. Ace forgot to mention how sweet this pussy is,” Erik was eating that little pussy better than Ace. It didn’t make him feel jealous, it made his dick harder and heavier in his hand. All he wanted his woman to do was cum on his homeboy's face. Erik breathes hard on her clit and then started kissing all around her glazed pussy. He was licking and kissing everything but her clit.

He brought his face up to Y/N’s, kissing her lips, “what you want me to do, princess?”

Without stuttering, she said, “I want you to suck my clit, Erik!!!”

Finally, Erik began sucking it. He would move away and then come back to it. Move away and then come back to it, and that shit felt so damn good! He started licking it with long strokes, and she could feel his tongue working it’s way around the lips of her pussy and then dart in and out of it with expert precision. Erik worked his way back to her “trigger” and ran his tongue down each side of her clit and tickled it underneath. Erik didn’t miss a spot and Y/N enjoyed every bit of it. Erik swirled his tongue around the hood of her clit and Y/N started rocking her hips back and forth as he started pushing down harder with his mouth. He didn’t come up for air once, and the pressure and rhythm of his tongue on her clit was almost poetic!

Y/N never knew there were so many ways to suck a pussy before this moment on her birthday. Just when she thought it was over, Erik enclosed his whole mouth around her clit and started sucking it lightly, as he blew on it with his warm breath. He kept glancing up at her pretty face; she could tell he was getting off by the way she was moaning and driving that pussy into his face. He placed deep French kisses on her clit and sucking on it until Y/N was ready to cum. The stimulation was toe-curling, and as she thought she would fly off the bed but Ace was by her side now, keeping her legs open with his dick all out and slick with pre-cum next to her mouth. Erik was in the zone, he wasn’t about to turn the pussy loose for Ace to get a taste.

“Damn, homie, you sucking it like it’s your pussy...stay still baby, let him have it. This nigga Kill is hungry I see.”

Right when Ace said that, Y/N shouted at the top of her lungs in between chocked up moans, “This is your pussy!! This is your pussy!!” Erupting all over Erik’s face. As she rested her head back against the pillows, Erik finally let Ace join in as they both leaned forward and started slurping and feasting on what Y/N could rightly say was both of their pussy.

“Daddy,” she looked into Ace’s eyes then over into Erik’s, “Daddy.” She called both of them niggas Daddy.

“Damn, E, got your whole mouth on her clit.” Ace watched Erik back at it again with the sucking and slurping.

“Look at the way you making her pussy cream, bro,” Ace scoops up some of that cream, placing his finger in his mouth, “Fuck, this slutty little pussy is leaking.”

Ace goes back to his seat, rubbing Y/N’s juices on his dick. Erik lifted up her body, making her sit on his face. She could feel him running his tongue up and down her swollen pussy. He had his big biceps holding her in place while he overstimulated her clit with a back and forth motion of his sharp tongue and a little pulling and nibbling action of his plush lips. She was grinding all sexy on his mouth, her eyes watching Ace standing directly in front of her now, jerking his long dick. His slit was open and a long string of pre-cum spilled out and to the bed. Y/N had nowhere to run while Erik worked her sensitive clit into yet another orgasm.

“Daddy, Erik,” she cried, her arms shaking while her cum spilled and spilled into Erik’s mouth. He licked her clean, giving her pussy gentle kisses before pulling her off of him.

“You ready for me, Y/N?” He looked at her, his face shiny with her juices, “you ready for me to fuck that little pussy while your man buss a nut to it?”

Y/N got into doggie style position. She opened her pussy lips wide and said, “Here, Daddy, fuck this juicy pussy.”

“Shit,” Erik moaned.

“Keep that slutty little pussy open just like that baby girl,” Ace encourages. Erik takes a condom from his jeans pocket, opening it and rolling it over his dick. Secured, getting behind Y/N, he placed her body at an angle so that Ace could see how Erik was going to fuck her. Her shoulders and face were pressed into the bed, everything else up and to the ceiling. Erik reaches up under Y/N, rubbing her swollen clit.

“Lemme dig in this pussy one time,” Erik whispered. If only he could take Ace’s words literally. With the pussy Y/N had, once wouldn’t be enough. Erik thought he only needed one round of sex with this bad bitch to satisfy his fantasy...

“Fuck me, Daddy,” She cries, backing her twat into his meat.

“Yes! Call me Daddy,” Erik said, taking his enormously impressive dick, attempting to push it inside of Y/N’s pussy.

“Ace, yo,” Erik stops for a moment, looking over at his friend, “Yo, she hella tight, bruh,” He laughs.

“Told you, Bro.”

“Erik beat Y/N’s clit with his dick before trying to get in her shit again. The condom was a bitch tryna get all up inside of her.

“Take the condom off, fuck her raw,” Ace said with finality, “She feels sooooo much better that way anyway.” Ace didn’t understand the mistake in his words. Y/N had some good pussy...

“Please,” she begged.

Erik let out a satisfying moan at the way she begged for it raw. Shit, he liked this little one. Erik takes off the condom, rubbing her wetness over his dick some more before trying again. The minute he pushed himself inside successfully, was the moment he knew he was never going back. She literally swallowed him. Sucked him in like a vacuum. Ace’s words weren’t enough to explain how good this pussy was.

“Damn, baby girl, you giving up that juicy pussy to the homie?” Ace came to stand in front of her, bringing his dick to her mouth.

“That’s right, suck my big dick, baby, suck me good.”

“Damn right, I’m gonna suck it,” Y/N said with her mouth full of dick. Ace gripped her braids in his hand, popping her mouth off.

“Here,” he said, stuffing her mouth again with dick.

Erik was taking long, deliberate strokes. He feared if he picked up the pace, he would cum quick and he didn’t want that right now. She was so damn tight and warm around him.

“I love this sloppy pussy!” Erik has his lip between his teeth, fucking Y/N with no hands.

“Damn...Ace...look at her throwing it back on me, look at all this ass on my dick, bro.” Erik moaned.

Y/N found an easy rhythm to suck Ace while Erik tortures her pussy.

“She wetting you’re shit up man, I see them jaws you were talking about, mmm,” Erik had the best view, her little pussy wrapped around him and her mouth on Ace’s dick.

“Come get you some,” Ace slips out of Y/N’s mouth, stepping back to sit down and jerk his wet dick. Her spit gave him the best lubricant while he stroked. Even though he just wanted to sit back and watch Erik fuck his girl, it was damn hard. He’d always wanted to know what she looked like getting fucked. Ace decided to sit back and enjoy the rest of the moment for now so Erik could have all the fun he wanted. Erik was in front of Y/N now, his soaking wet dick mixed with her cream all over him and his pubic hair.

“Keep your mouth wide open. You ready for all of this?” Erik swinging his wet dick in front of her face had her slobbering.

“Yes, Daddy.” She gave him that innocent look with those big eyes.

“Gimme Some,” Erik whispers, grabbing her hair with one hand, and her chin with the other while his dick pressed between her lips and into her mouth.

“Suck that dick,” Erik grunted, thrusting his hips forward, causing Y/N’s head to push back. Erik started pulling his dick all the way out and thrusting all the way back in.

“She working your shit, E? Using them tight jaws on her?” Ace said, stroking his dick. Ace watched his girl swallow Erik’s dick, making his friend's eyes flutter shut.

“Goddamn, Bitch! Take it...yeah...take it deep.” Erik reached behind Y/N, slapping her ass hard. Her ass thrust up into the air, basically letting him know that she wanted that. Erik slapped her ass again, Y/N moaning around his dick. She popped her mouth off, a string of spit falling to her tits.

“Spank me again, Daddy.” She asked in a child-like voice.

“You like it when I pop that big ass?” Erik said, both of his hands came down in unison on her cheeks, “Yeah, you like that,” he thrusts his dick back into her mouth, making her gag.

“If you stay in her mouth too long she’ll have your ass cumming,” Ace joked. He was ready to buss a nut himself but he wanted to witness Erik back inside of Y/N’s slit.

“Same thing for that pussy,” Erik joked back. He slipped out of Y/N’s mouth, laying her on her back and putting her legs over his shoulders. Erik rested his arms behind her thighs to elevate her even more, her ass hanging over the edge of the bed, Erik’s toned hips angled perfectly over her body. His dick slipped inside with ease this time, even though she gripped him so tightly. He pistoned in and out to the tip of his dick down to his balls. Her body was bouncing against the damn bed. Erik was on his hands, looking down at her. She had her hands up, grabbing his wrists, her toes curled. Erik has to look down at the way his dick was murdering her pussy.

“Damn, Daddy, it’s so thick.”

Erik’s eyes rolled shut. He brought his mouth down to suck on her pretty chocolate nipples.

“It’s too big for my pussy,” She announced, “I thought my pussy could handle it.”

Ace felt his balls swell up, his hand shaking around his erection. Ropes of cum shot out and on his jeans, a look of disbelief on his face. He couldn’t believe how much cum spilled from him. That cum was begging to be freed.

“Daddy, let-let me lick it up,” Y/N wanted to taste him again. Ace groans, getting up to allow Y/N to taste the rest of himself off his dick. She took him deep into her mouth, sucking him dry while Erik held her thighs back with his hands.

“How’s That mouth?” Erik asked while deep in her pussy.

“Fucking amazing,” Ace said while holding Y/N’s head with both hands, “how’s that tight little pussy?”

“Goddam, she’s tight as fuck,” Erik panted.

Erik picked up the pace, Y/N’s mouth popping off Ace’s dick to let out a sharp moan. He was bold in her pussy. He really wanted this.

“Erik, homie, you going crazy with it. Beating that pussy up.” Ace was jerking his dick again, smacking Y/N’s face with it.

“Bruh,” Erik slips out of her good puss, “I was about to buss in your bitch.”

Ace’s dick jumped at that.

“Flip your pretty ass over,” Erik demanded. Y/N lifts up, flipping her ass over. Erik pressed her down yet again, making sure her ass was up in the air.

“Get that shit,” Ace was ready to watch Erik fuck her ass up from the back. Erik spread her cheeks open, his dick so deep she felt it in her abdomen. He was so deep if you looked at her belly you’d probably see his dick digging in her guts.

“You’re fucking me so good, Erik,” she panted.

“Giving this pussy up, huh?” The loud clapping sounds from her ass on him made Ace grunt.

“Pound that fat puss, E, give this bitch what she wants!” Ace yells.

“Look at this pussy, you can see it gripping my shit,” Erik said. Ace came behind, a load groan escaping his mouth. She was so wet. She dripped to the bed, pussy fitting tight around Erik. Her pussy was loving him.

“There’s enough for you, Daddy!! Take me please!!!” She whined so sexily beneath him. All soft and delicate like a little. Erik was about to cum, his fingers sinking into her flesh. She was looking back at him with those pretty ass eyes. Erik was caught up in them, giving her more of him like he wasn’t already filling her up.

“Oh, fuck,” she let her mouth hang open, her hands coming back to grab her own ass.

“I’ma cum on your dick, Daddy. Your making my pussy cum so good!!!”

She squeezed his ass. Erik almost fell from behind her with how she had him.

“Gimme you’re arms! Now!” Erik barked out. She reached behind her, her eyes falling on Ace’s dick, then to Erik’s intense sweaty face. She felt him beat her down. Her stomach tightened again, cumming on him yet again.

“Fuck!!!!” Ace yells, cumming on the bed. He was so overwhelmed by how good Erik fucked her.

“Damn! This good pussy...ima cum all over this fat butt!!!”

Erik pulled out, cumming on Y/N’s back and ass. She reached behind her, taking his cum on her fingers and bringing it to her mouth. She sucked it all off before lifting up to suck the rest off of his dick. She grabbed hold of Ace’s dick, jerking his while sucking Erik’s. The sounds coming from them both had her ready to take both dicks at the same time.

“Ace, are you gonna get in my pussy?”

She pouted while Erik massages her nipples.

“You know ima get in that pussy, baby.” He reassured her.

“You were such a good fucking girl for me,” Erik praises her. He leans down, kissing her lips softly. Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest. It felt so good kissing him. Her eyes connected with Erik’s, looking at him with a desperate need for his lips again.

“Mm,” Erik slipped away, laying flat on his back with his fist around his dick. Y/N was sucking Ace off now, Erik focused on the way she took her time to suck it. It was like art. His eyebrows knitted together, jaw growing tight. Damn, he was hooked and it was just one fuck.

Lemme dig in that pussy one time.

He lied. There was no way he could leave here with just one taste.

“You staying the night, E?” She asked softly with Ace’s dick in her hand, face all covered in spit. She was fucking killing him.

Erik looked up at Ace, his friend shrugging his shoulders.

“You wanna stay the night?” Ace asked.

“If that’s cool with you, yeah,” Erik slowly stroked his dick. Y/N had an expectant look in her eyes.

“Please? Stay,” she grabbed Erik’s dick, causing him to close his eyes and cover her hand with his, stroking his dick with her.

“Okay.” He allowed her to stroke him fully. His dick was like steel.

@tgigoldie​ @soufcakmistress​ @chefjessypooh​ @chaneajoyyy​ @pananegra​ @theblulife​ @becincere​ @blaqwidow91​ @fish-outta-watah​ @moonlight-night-sky​ @eyeknowmywrites​  @crowngold​ @njadakillthiscookie​ @blktinkerbell​ @luvanxi​ @sheisexcellent1​ @chocolatedippedinhoney​  @brandithecrystalgem​ @dababydababydababydababy​ @soulfulbeauty19​ @btitannaaa​ @sunkissedebony97​ @youngblackndgifted​ @harleycativy​ @rbhp​ @thee-germanpeach​ @thadelightfulone​ @bugngiz​

[florencefallons]

Life and Stuff

August 10, 2020. The the first day of the most insane month of my life. Of course it would happen in 2020. I hope you’ll forgive me for using this platform as a means to get the thoughts jumbled around in my head out into a more organized form. I rarely ever even use this platform anymore. When I do, it’s to reblog pictures of Carol Burnett or Barbara Stanwyck. The occasional Emma Thompson photo. Never to sit down and spill out everything on my mind into what, very likely, will become a novella on its own.

I’m not a prolific speaker. I trip over my words. I say “um,” and “uh” a lot. My brain is moving at twice the speed of my mouth and my poor mouth can’t keep up. Therefore when I have things on my mind, like I do today, I can’t just talk about them. A) Who would I talk about it to? and B) Even if I had a place to talk about these thoughts, it would come out all jumbled up and I’d end up sounding totally ridiculous and having said nothing I wanted to actually say.

When it comes to expression, writing is where I’ve always excelled. Excelled is a strong word, but when you compare it to other forms of self expression, it’s the only form I am able to use proficiently. I don’t have a vlog or a youtube channel. I don’t have a blog that reaches people. I have no voice. No influence in this world. But I have this platform and it allows for posts like this, and for once, I’m going to use it.

As I said, August 10, 2020 was the first day of the most insane month of my life. More has happened to me in this one month span than has happened to me at any other time in my life...and you’re hearing from a person who was injured on the job and has had a fractured spine and 13 surgeries. I’ve been through some stuff. Nothing with the intensity and frequency this month has thrown it at me though. This month has resulted in seven major events that have deeply impacted my life in some way. Nobody is being forced to read this. In fact I expect most will see its length and scroll past it faster than a fundraising ad for Donald Trump. I do hope SOME of you will take the time to read it though. I’m mainly writing it for posterity. To have a place where this month is recorded, so I can come back someday and remember it. So, with that being said, here are the things that have happened (or are soon to happen) in this 1 month span. Listed in chronological order.

1) August 10, 2020. I was in my 2nd week of work at the new clinic our hospital opened. Working for the largest hospital and clinic system in the state, sometimes our clinics outgrow our ability to contain them. My job was in the neurology clinic. I worked as the nurse who took care of all the multiple sclerosis doctors and nurse practitioners, while answering all the patient questions, emails, and voicemails. We’re looking at about 2,500 patients on the generous side of the estimate. Needless to say, I was busy. It was said many times by coworkers, by the doctors I worked with, and--admittedly--by me, that the job was a two-person job. It was too much for one person to handle. I was drowning fast in a mountain of paperwork that needed to be filled out, messages that needed to be answered, phone calls that needed to be returned. I’d accomplish finishing, say 25% of the work, and 50% more work would come in. I was at the end of my rope. 

--Let me interject here by saying that, over the course of the 16 months I worked this job, I had to start seeing a psychiatrist, I had to start psychological therapy with a licensed therapist, and I was started on no less than 5 new psychiatric medications. Once the correct balance was found, I was reduced down to only 2, but regardless, I think this fact alone proves the point that the stress of the job was getting to me.--

I finally looked at the mountain of work in front of me and I broke. I set up a meeting with my boss, the director of nursing for all of the neuroscience service line (that covers 6 clinics). We met, and I told her “You told me to be open and honest, and to come to you whenever I have an issue.” She agreed. I went on to tell her that I was losing my mind. The workload was entirely too much to hold over one person and needed help. Desperately. I was constantly being interrupted by people needing help with this or that, which was fine. I don’t mind helping anyone, I love it...but it took away from the time I had to do my already overwhelming job. I may have cried some, I don’t remember. 

Her solution was probably the worst idea ever put forth, but I was so devastated and down and overwhelmed, I didn’t really even hear anything she said after I spoke my piece. Her suggestion was that, if our clinic was too hectic for me, I needed to transfer to the new clinic. It was an epilepsy clinic but we had 2 multiple sclerosis providers there too, so I could go there and be the MS nurse there. At that moment, that sounded like a great idea. Fewer people=less stress. Yeah, no. Once she sent me over there, she decided with me being there, they had no need to keep our patient care tech there. So she took her away and made her work at the main campus, where they have tons of patient care techs. That left me and another nurse who, due to a bad knee, did very little that tinvolved getting up off his ass and helping out with goings on in the clinic. He much preferred to sit in his fancy chair and delegate duties to me from there. I was younger, I was newer, and he was--in his mind--the charge nurse.

So, thus began the saga of my doing at the new clinic, the job that THREE DIFFERENT PEOPLE did at the main clinic. I was forced to triage (get into a patient room and go over everything to make sure it was up to date) every patient, draw labs on every patient, all while trying to do the job I was ACTUALLY hired for, which was answering phone calls and returning messages. Which was a full time job on its own. Needless to say, my “new’ duties took all that time away and all my stuff went unanswered. I kept getting harassed by patients and managers that stuff had been sitting waiting too long to be done. 

Mr. Charge nurse, from his chair he never left, didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. “It’s not that bad here” he’d say. Sure, if you never have to get up and do anything, but for me, it’s very hard. I have to do all the job of a PCT (getting paid nurses’ wages by the way) along with a job just as busy as the one you’re having to do. I’m expected to do as much if not more in the computer as you do, yet I never have time to touch it because I’m always triaging patients (half of which are YOURS) and drawing all the labs. Well of course he disagreed and said he helped and I was overreacting. By that he means he maybe got up once or twice a day because someone needed attention and I was still busy in another patient’s room.  My boss would berate me, asking why my inbox was sitting there so full and nothing was being done. 

“WHEN DO YOU WANT ME TO DO THESE THINGS *Insert her name here*??? I spend my entire day, I mean my ENTIRE day, doing the job of a PCT and you’re paying me to do the job of an RN. “Well, *insert his name* says he helps you.” That’s a damn lie and he knows it. He thinks that he’s the charge nurse, he’s older, and he has a bum knee (mind you I have my entire lower half of my spine fused so don’t give me that “I have hardware in my knee” bullshit. I’m full of titanium too. Fight me.) Well, help was refused, the other nurse was just told to try and help more and that he was not the charge nurse, that our clinic didn’t HAVE a charge nurse since there were only 2 of us. Well, he got so butthurt over that, he interviewed for a new job in the same building as our main clinic. He was offered the job. He was getting ready to give his notice and I was literally at the end of my sanity. So I turned in my notice to my manager on August 10, 2020. I told her I couldn’t keep doing the job of 3 people by myself and it was too much I was through. My doctors begged me to stay. She asked if I was sure that’s what I wanted. I said it wasn’t what I WANTED, but I can’t keep working like this. So I really don’t have a choice. “Well we don’t have the staff or money allocated to give you a tech if you’re over here.” So I shrugged, said I was giving her 4 weeks notice and I’d have to leave.

This was a Monday. On Wednesday, she came back and not only gave our tech back, she gave (*insert his name here*) everything he wanted, because she’d caught wind he was getting ready to leave too and she’d have no nurses at the clinic. I told her I’d retract my resignation if she would let us keep our patient care tech, because with her, I have time to actually do my job. She all but said “OK” and to give her a definite answer on Monday. So I did. Monday I told her I’d stay since we had adequate help. Well apparently she discussed thsi with her boss and came back at me with “Sorry, but all we can accommodate is an as needed position or you can extend your leave date and stay on full time until your replacement is hired and you can train them to make the transition easier.”

Are you freaking serious, bruh? “As needed” meaning “free reign to fire you with no consequences when we don’t want you anymore, plus all my benefits would be taken away.” Or, I could “stay and help train my replacement.” Are you out of your mind? Then what? Fuck off into the sunset, your job here is finished? I think I’ll take a hard pass on both those options. My last day will be September 4.

So, while going through all this I was being tested and was diagnosed with not one, but two life-altering disorders.

2) First, I was diagnosed with severe attention deficit disorder. I was told I’d actually had it my whole life based on testing and had never been evaluated or treated. This would have been the 1990s when this started, and I found out my parents were approached about the possibility I had ADD. I made excellent grades, but had major problems with impulse control and talking too much and paying attention. My parents dismissed this suggestion. They did not--and to this day still did not--believe ADD was a real diagnosis. They said ti was nothing more than kids who needed their asses beat and they’d learn to behave. I could not possibly be one of those hyperactive kids who suck in school and just all-around do poorly. I did too well in school. I was told to pay attention more and stop goofing off. I was threatened with spankings if I messed up. So I worked really hard to stop my impulses from taking over. And I did, some, but not always. I got punished quite a bit for things I did in school. Not on purpose, but it’s how I was. And now, as an adult, I was still struggling with impusle control and with paying attention. I still struggled in prioritizing tasks and organizing things. I could never figure out why my brain wouldn’t let me do those things. My PCP said I had ADD--he KNEW it--but I had to be diagnosed by a licensed psychotherapist. So I went and was diagnosed. And it changed my world. It was a lot to process, knowing what I went through as a kid and knowing the punishment I went through for something that was not my fault. I wasn’t abused, I wasn’t mistreated. If I’d been treated for ADD as a child though, I might not have just done well in school, I might have kicked ass. I might have been valedictorian rather than 6th in class to graduate. That was hard to swallow. Yet a relief at the same time.

3) Went to the sleep clinic and got a take-home sleep apnea study kit. It came back positive for sleep apnea. My oxygen was dropping to 70% at night, which is basically hypoxic, and the reason I’m probably so sleepy all the damn time. As soon as I get home from work and get settled, I fall asleep for at least an hour, maybe 2. I haven’t always done that. I used to have trouble sleeping to the point I needed Lunesta for help (although the taste was so bad I rarely took it).Sure enough, I need CPAP when I sleep to help keep my oxygen over 92%. They told me I’d feel better almost instantly. So I’m hoping to go see them next week about getting my machine. 

4) My friend’s little 4-year-old niece died. She was a special, miracle child who touched so many lives it’s insane. She was a beautiful soul. I never met her but her death affected me profoundly because her aunt posted so many photos and videos online. I felt like I lost one of my godchildren or something. It hurt. I can’t imagine what they are going through.

5) My uncle Jerry died. The day after the little girl I just mentioned. I can’t even attend HIS funeral due to COVID and the risk of contamination. My mom is  on a chemo drug for an autoimmune disease that destroys her immune system. So we’re trapped away from everyone (if I want to see my mom that is). 

6) My last day of my job was today, September 4, 2020. It finally came, my time there is done. 16 months of hard work down the toilet. Because of poor management, shitty leadership, lack of care or respect for employees, etc. I offered to stay, but my offer was rejected as it was given. It just served to remind me I made the right decision, even if it was a bit rash. Several others have quit or gotten fired so staffing will be interesting. My old “charge nurse” is about to learn what getting off your broad butt and helping is all about now. They aren’t sending him ANY nurses to help him next week. I’ll be honest, I hope the whole thing blows up in (insert name here)’s (my director’s) face. she is trying to run the neuro clinic like she runs her other clinic--which is TOTALLY DIFFERENT. I thought she’d be good for the clinic, turns out she wants to get rikd of EVREYONE who has FMLA-Anyone who has permission to be off work without fear of repercussions. She wants a bunch of “as needed” staff so she doesn’t have to hire full time people, she doesn’t have to pay anyone benefits, and she can get rid of them whenever she likes “your as needed position is no longer needed,” without going through all the bullcrap red tape the state puts you through to fire anyone. Anyway, bottom line, today was my last day at a job that--the job itself--I loved. The patients I loved, the doctors and nurses I loved, and my coworkers I loved. I have never left a job I loved. It was 100% management. My main doctor, the medical director of the service line, did not want me to leave and keeps asking me to say. I had to explain to him I tried, but they refused. Broke my heart. He’d take me back in a minute though, if the situation at the clinic ever changes. I hope it does. He was the most brilliant, kind, generous, respectful, patient, and dedicated man I’ve ever met. He taught me a lot. I’ll take a lot of what I learned from him with me wherever I go.

7) The final thing has not happened just yet, but it will be very soon and I’m already dealing with it. So September 7 is the 1 year anniversary of the death of my best friend. I still miss her like it was yesterday. Time has, as they say, healed some of the wound, but not all. Every now and then I get slammed with the realization she’s gone. I’ll never see her again. Talk to her. Hug her. Laugh with her. Ever. Again. And I cry and suffer with it all over again. That is happening less frequently, but it has picked up again now that 1 year is approaching. I can’t believe it. My best friend has been dead for 1 year. The 1 year anniversary of the last time we spoke was August 20. It hurts so much. But slowly, over this year, I’ve started dreading getting up in the morning a little less, I can breathe again, a little. I can laugh again without feeling guilty about it. I’ve finally hit all the 1 year milestones with her death (well, as of 9/7). I’m going to her grave this weekend to place some special things I purchased in honor of her 1 year anniversary since her passing. Damn I miss her so much.

So, this month--this whole year technically--has been a lot to process. A lot to find out, a lot to digest, and a lot to grieve through. I keep thinking “it can’t possibly get any worse, maybe things will get better now” and it always does. That trend for 2020 doesn’t bode well with the election coming up. That makes me so nervous I feel sick. But I refuse to get political here. If you’ve stayed with it this far, you have tremendous stamina and I salute you. It’s taken me hours and several breaks to write thanks to my ADD and just being sleepy and falling asleep in the middle of typing. But that’s it, my month inside the year straight out of hell. 

[rewrite-the-wrongs]

introductions / howdy, pardner

My first short story was about a fishboy and his human best friend. They battled a mutant piranha (whose name I think may have been Mutant Piranha, such was the monumental daring of my creative endeavor) and his army, who were out to destroy a mountain that held a whole planet together. The boys won singlehandedly, because scale was apparently a bit of a mystery to me.

This was the second grade. My teacher--who held me every day as I cried for weeks, confused and miserable and stranded in the throes of my parents’ divorce--understood before I did that I create to a ploddingly slow and steady drumbeat. A sentence is always so much more in my head than I’m able to let out, at first; I have to pore over it again and again, fleshing and flourishing (and often correcting) it, the same way I often have to reread paragraphs or pages or whole books to truly capture their meaning. In a word processor, this back-and-forth is as easily said as it is done; on double-wide ruled paper with dashed-line handwriting guides, the task is magnitudes more time-consuming, especially for somebody as messy as I am. So, while nearly everybody else played at recess on the sandlot and the jungle gym around us, a select few stragglers laid our reading folders on our laps and finished our stories.

My villain, that dastardly Mutant Piranha, found himself in prison at the story’s close. Awaiting trial, I guess; I never ventured that far ahead, seeing the big fishy bastard for a coward. “When no one was looking, he stabbed himself.” That’s the last line, stuck in my memory, not for its own sake, but for my poor teacher’s horrified face as she read my final draft there on the playground.

A mom volunteered to type up the class’ stories and get them printed and bound. For years afterward I reread that collection, always proud to have written the second-longest piece therein. I felt the weight of the pages, inhaled the tiny but acrid breeze that came from rapidly leafing through them. Knew it was a whole smattering of worlds inside, that one of those worlds was wholly mine, and I had the power to show it to people however I wished. Yes, I thought, I want this.

*

I’ve been introduced to writing many times over, by many people. Don’t get me wrong--I nightowled the first several chapters to many half-baked novel concepts all through my youth. But teachers have a way of showing a thing to you from new angles.

The first person to impact me as such was a high school teacher who was essentially given carte-blanche to construct a creative writing workshop in the English curriculum. The first semester was structured--you practiced poems, short fiction, humor and essay writing, drama, the gamut. Every semester after, the carte-blanche was passed on: A single assignment due a week, each a single draft of a poem or a minimum of two pages’ worth of prose. Forty-five minutes a day to work, and of course free time at home. By the time I graduated, I’d finagled my schedule such that I was spending two periods a day in the computer lab, and several hours after school every day working the literary arts magazine before I went home to get the rest of my homework out of the way and write some more..

My next big influence came in the form of  a pair of writers who taught fiction at my university, a married couple. One had me print stories and literally, physically cut them up section-by-section as a method of reworking chronologies. Told me stories happened like engines or clocks or programs--pieces that meshed differently depending on how they were put together, rules that held each other in place. The other showed boundless confidence in me, listened happily to some older students who recommended I be brought on board for a national arts mag. They both encouraged me toward grad school, but toward the end of my junior year I began to stumble, and by senior year I was, to be frank, a drunken asshole. Time I could be bothered to set aside for writing began to dwindle. I limped through the editorship with the help of my extremely talented, utterly more-than-worthy successor--and come to think of it, I’ve never truly thanked her. Maybe I’ll send her that message, now that I’m feeling more myself.

*

On feeling more myself:

That drunken rage was brought on by a myriad list of factors, the primary ones being 1) I am the child of recovering alcoholics, and our inherited family trauma runs deep, 2) An assault that will likely be mentioned no further from hereon in, as I have reached a solid level of catharsis about it, 3) Some toxic-ass relationship issues, and 4) I was a massive egg and had no idea (or, really, I had some idea, just not the language or understanding or even the proper empathy to eloquently and effectively explore it).

I had a recent relapse with drinking, technically--a mimosa at Christmas breakfast at my partner’s parents’ home--but I’m not honestly sure I can call it a legitimate relapse. I’m not in any official self-help group, I’ve never engaged in the twelve steps or a professional rehabilitation. I had a very wonderful therapist for a few years but reached a point at which I could not pay her any longer and we parted ways--I miss her dearly, as she truly became my friend and confidante; she was the first person I came out to, and very well-equipped to handle it, lucky for me--but I’m still on behavioral medication. That tiny smidgen of alcohol pushed my antidepressants right out of my brain, and I became terribly anxious and angry and sad all at once, and briefly lashed out during a conversation with my partner behind closed doors. Not nearly the lashing out I’ve released in the now-distant past--more on that maybe-never, but who knows, as I am obviously a chronic over-sharer.

Frankly, I don’t deserve my partner. She endured my past abuses, told me to my face I had to be better, and found it in herself to wait for me to grow. She’s endlessly and tirelessly supportive of me. She sat with me to help me maintain the nerve to start this blog tonight. I came out to her as a trans woman just under a year ago, now, and I’m happier than ever, and we communicate better than ever. Our relationship is, bar-none, the healthiest and stablest and happiest I’ve ever been in.

So, naturally, I apologized fairly quickly at Christmas, and continuing where I’d left off at two and a half years, decided I’m still solid without booze.

If we’re all being honest, though (and I’m doing my best to be one hundred percent honest, here, though I will absolutely be censoring names because no shit), I still smoke way too much fuckin’ weed. High as balls, right now. 420 blaze it, all day erryday, bruh. That self-medicated ADHD life. I should be on Adderall and not antidepressants, probably, but it’s been a while since an appointment and psychiatrists are expensive, so I’m at where I’m at for now. Sativas help a lot. It helps with the dysphoria, too.

I don’t have a legal diagnosis for gender dysphoria, but tell that to my extreme urge to both be in and have a vagina. I’m making little changes--my hair, an outfit at a time, no longer policing how I walk or run or how much emphasis I put on S sounds. If I manage to come out to my parents sometime soon--and it feels like that moment is closer every day--maybe I’ll tell y’all my real, full chosen name. For right now, call me Easy.

*

Anyhow. My goals here are pretty simple:

1) Share words, both those by people I like/admire/sometimes know! and occasionally words I’ve made that I like. See the above screenshot from my notes app. Steal some words if you want, but if you manage to make money off some of mine, holler at ya gurl’s Venmo, yeah?

2) Discuss words, how they work, and how we create them, use them, engage with them, and ultimately make art of them. I am not a professional linguist, but I went to undergrad for creative writing, so, hey, I’ll have opinions and do my best to back them up with ideas from people smarter than I am.

3) Books! Read them, revisit them, quote them, talk about them, sometimes maybe even review them, if I’m feeling particularly bold. No writer can exist in a vacuum, and any writer who insists they don’t like to read is either a) dyslexic and prefers audiobooks or b) in serious need of switching to a communications major (no shade, but also definitely a little shade @corporate journalism).

5) I added this last, but I feel it’s less important than 4 and does not deserve bookend status, and I am verbose but incredibly lazy, so here I am, fucking with the system. Anyway: Art! Music! Video games! I fucking love them. I’ll talk about them, sometimes, too. Maybe I’ll finally do some of the ekphrastic work I’ve felt rattling around in my brain for a while now. Jade Cocoon 2′s Water Wormhole Forest, looking right the fuck at you.

6) Ah, shit, I did it again. Oh well. Last-but-not-last: This is obviously, in some ways, a diary, or a massive personal essay. I will sometimes discuss people, places, or experiences that have informed my work just the same as other people’s art has.

4) Be an unabashed and open Trans woman. TERFs, transphobes, ill-informed biological essentialists not permitted. Come at me and my girldick and prepare to be dunked on and subsequently shown the door via a swift and painful steel-toed kick in the ass. Everybody who doesn’t suck, if I screw up on any matter of socio-ethics or respect for diversity, please feel free to correct me.

*

Punk’s dead, but we’re a generation of motherfucking necromancers. Be gay, do crime, fight the patriarchy, and fart when you gotta. May the Great Old Ones select you to ascend to a higher plane and learn the terrible truths of existence.

Much love--

Easy

[cancerianprincess]

Birkin Bag (2)

|Part One|

Summary: Erik finds out he might’ve rubbed off on his best friend a tad too much and that she’s really with the shits

Warning: Language, Angst, Kidnap Mention(s), Mild Violence

Quick A/N: Didn’t plan on doing an OC, but still wanted ‘Reader’ to have a name, so you are Aniya, Aniya is you, & that’s “Y/N” for the series. That cool? Everybody got it? Aight bet 🙂👍🏾

~~~~

“I bought my bitch a Birkin Bag so she could hold my fucking strap..”

____

“It’s been two days now, can’t we just kill him already?”

“No, stupid! Do you want to start an international incident?”

Erik could only roll his eyes at the bickering taking place in front of him. They couldn’t have possibly been professionals, because professionals never discussed business around their captive, or argue, to put it more accurately. Still, they weren’t totally inexperienced either, and that’s probably what pissed him off the most about this situation.

“Man whatever, I’m tired of this ‘being patient’ shit.”

“Well that’s what yo’ ass get for giving him the wrong injection! Ain’t nobody fault but yours he was out for a day and a half, we coulda been got somewhere with the operation.”

Him of all people, Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens, Prince N’Jadaka of Wakanda, had been taken down in his own home. And even if it was late when he got home from the range with Aniya, he still should’ve sensed them from a mile away. Though he couldn’t be too hard on himself, because thanks to the big, burly, Harambe looking nigga in the corner, he had given him a run for his money in that fight. That dude was damn near bigger than M’Baku!

“Fuck the plan, I’m bout to just shoot this nigga right now.”

“Tee, put the gun away. What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

Nevertheless, now wasn’t the time to think about that. Before the vaguely familiar woman could put a cap is his ass, Erik needed to concentrate on how to escape without breaking the promise to his aunt and cousins that he’d never go on another psychotic murderous rampage ever again.

“Please? Just one to the shoulder, that’s all I’m asking.” But Harambe wouldn’t give in to the whining.

“You heard what the man said, we gotta wait til she notices he’s really missing.”

His brain had been multitasking the entire time, dually focused on both the conversation and breaking free of his restraints, but when the word ‘she’ hit Erik’s ears, he only had to ponder for half a minute until it registered. There was only one female he was tight with that would think to immediately come to his aid in circumstances such as these.

‘It’s a trap.’

Alarm rapidly grew in the pit of Erik’s stomach, but he refused to let it show. He wasn’t sure how to make it happen, but if there was any chance to prevent Aniya from getting hurt, he would have to play it cool in trying to get the two captors to accidentally disclose pieces of their strategy to him.

“Aye...Aye!”

They turned around at his second shout, realizing that Erik was actually speaking to them now.

“Look, Jay, he’s finally talking to us,” the girl cooed, pretending to be honored. Her partner whipped to peer at her with a hint of panic. “How the hell you gon’ just throw my name out there like that, Tracee?”

She simply scoffed. “Bruh, you literally did the same thing to me, like just then.”

“And?” Jay shot back. “He been awake for a good minute now. Ain’t no telling what he already done heard.”

“Exactly. So stop bitching, aight? He gone be dead soon anywa-”

Erik cut into their dispute with an intentionally exaggerated laugh, which gave him precisely what he wanted.

“Yo, y’all funny,” he joked, drinking in their irritation expressions. Time to follow his asshole side with the playboy act. “Listen, y’all two real cute and allat, but say shawty, why don’t leave ol’ Magilla Gorilla over there alone and come talk to a real man?”

Tracee’s face fell blank for a second or two before brandishing a wicked grin that was semi-genuine. She retrieved something from the table they were working at and began stalking her way over to the chair Erik was strapped to.

“Yeah, gone head and cut me out these ropes, ma.”

He didn’t really except her to comply that easily, but if she got close enough, one good head butt would do the trick. All he’d have to then was get loose, grab the gun from her hip, and tag Big Boy one good time so he could dip.

But unfortunately for Erik, the woman advancing on him wasn’t about to let that happen in the slightest. Tracee knew if anything could weaken her prey, it was the file she held in her hand. Which is precisely why she threw it open in Erik’s lap after drawing her weapon, placing it to his temple. She nudged him with the barrel, silently prompting him to take a look at it.

“You know if I were you, I’d shut my mouth and open my eyes instead,” she purred. “Save as much energy as possible.”

Erik bore his daggers at her for another moment, but reluctantly did as he was told and inspected the image lying on the very top of the pile of paper.

“Because that smooth talking ain’t gonna get you far with me,” Tracee continued, her voice growing darker with each word she spoke. “Unlike it did with my sister, sadly.”

That’s when any sort of guard Erik had up began crumbling away.

He thought he recognized the crazy bitch towering over him, and when his gaze fell on the name at the top of the folder, he knew exactly how he knew her. Through clenched teeth Erik asked her, “‘The fuck is this?” His voice was low but the bass in it caused his barely audible question to be heard. Tracee responded with malicious snickering rather than an actual answer as she backed away from him slowly. Erik repeated himself again, only this time he roared it, finally tearing away from the black and white photo that was now burned into his memory.

Still the woman said nothing, merely flickered her eyes to a spot behind Erik to glance at the source that would rebuttal in her place.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to, homie.”

It was a third voice that Erik had yet to hear since waking up in the foreign location, but before he was even able to identify it the third stranger struck him with something blunt, delivering a hard blow that knocked Erik out cold.

********

You felt something was up by the third day. Erik never missed a chance to taste your mom’s cooking, except for the rare cases when he was otherwise occupied. Even in those instances, he would always ask you to snag him a to-go plate to retrieve later on. So when he never showed up for dinner that Sunday afternoon without a heads up, it had been icing on the cake.

Granted, it wasn’t like the two of you constantly stayed up each other’s asses and talked every single day, but 72 hours of complete radio silence? No texts, no call, no stupid Snapchat, absolutely nothing. There hadn’t even been one single funny tweet sent to your DM’s and it just didn’t seem right. Plus, Erik’s fatass never turned down some good soul food, so after lumping two and two together, your better judgement was done taking the back seat. Something was definitely wrong.

“Your boyfriend not coming for dinner today, Aniya?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Ma,” you said, rolling your eyes at her obvious teasing. She merely smirked, thinking otherwise by how frequently you were checking your phone. You fed her the first sensible excuse that came to mind as an attempt to downplay it.

“The center has some kind of conference or something coming up, so they probably had Erik on call for the prep work. But because you’re so worried about him, I’ll go fix him a plate since he’s your ‘favorite child.’”

That had been several hours ago, the recent memory playing back of you ambling into the kitchen to mask your jittering leg. Now you were hurrying towards Erik’s front door, having practically sped over to his apartment the minute you reached your car. But after making the walk from the elevator, your hand stopped short of knocking, eyes alert once spotting that the door was already hanging open slightly. You inched it open a little further, tapping twice with your knuckles just in case anyone was still inside.

“Erik,” you called out. “Yo, you in here?”

No answer came so you proceeded to investigate with caution, but instantly felt a wave of queasiness bud in your stomach due to what you saw next.

Nearly everything in the main room of the two-bedroom had been trashed. The couch was slanted at an odd angle, no longer in its designated place, while both armchairs had been overturned on their sides. Shards of what used to be the glass coffee table laid scattered across the living room floor along with all the items it once held. There was even a rather large hole in the wall closest to the hallway. All clear signs that there’d been a struggle or fight of some kind.

As soon as shock loosened its grip on your body, panic took over and sent you searching through each section of the apartment, yelling for Erik the whole way. Your feet raced from room to room, your mind going twice as fast trying to piece together what could’ve possibly happened. None of them appeared to have been damaged; the kitchen, bathroom, home office, and Erik’s room all remained untouched, but unfortunately empty as well.

Returning to the starting point of your search, anxiety continued to flow through you as you placed your hands on your head, thoughts bouncing around like rapid fire.

“Who would attack Erik? And in his own house, at that? I mean, sure he’s done his fair share of wrong, but he’s been making up for it all since coming back from his first trip to Wakanda,” you thought.

No matter who was behind this or why, you knew you had to track them down quick before Erik relapsed back into his old ways, or worse. The list of enemies was potentially endless, with the outreach center opening and newest addition to the United Nations and all, but you figured you had to start somewhere. Right as you reached for your phone, racking your brain on where to even begin, it went off in your pocket. In fact, it buzzed continuously, signaling more than one new notification:

Unknown (3)

At first you raised a puzzled eyebrow at the screen, but given the circumstances decided to click on the messages rather swiping them away. When it opened the first thing you saw was a shared location, leaving you even more confused than just a few seconds ago. But when your gaze drifted up to the bubbles above it, confusion quickly evolved back into panic.

‘If you want your boyfriend back be at the old Stokely Warehouse by midnight. Come alone.’

The next one was even more grim than the first.

‘No cops or we put a bullet in his skull.’

You blinked at your phone several times, gradually letting your mind wrap around the seemingly unreal situation that was now at hand. You had to have been staring at it for a good bit, because you only zoned back into reality long after the device’s screen had went black.

And that’s when it all hit you like a ton of bricks.

Erik had really been taken by some mysterious ass goons.

Who had evidently been tracking his whereabouts.

Or the movements of the apartment at the very least. That had to be it, for it was the only way they could’ve known to send you the demand right then and there. And now they wanted you of all people to be the one to go and retrieve him.

But that was the question, though: why you? If it was money these people were after, you certainly didn’t have it. They should’ve hit up the Wakandan council for that; it wasn’t necessarily a secret anymore regarding their wealth, or Erik’s true identity, so demanding ransom from them would have made more sense.

None of that mattered now, though, because the bottom line was that your best friend was in danger. You registered the fact that Erik’s specific skill set would probably kick in and he’d off every last one of those dumbass bums, but instantly remembered that he was on a different path now. You were so proud of him for attempting to overcome all the traumas of his past and trying to shy away from the ‘Killmonger’ persona, and now who knew if this would trigger a setback for him? Just thinking about either dilemma and its following outcome was enough to launch your anger into overdrive.

You bolted from the loft, dialing a number while backtracking to your car. Starting the engine and reversing from the parking space in record time, you began leaving a voicemail for your boss when she didn’t answer. Not going into specifics, you simply spun a tale about some ‘family emergency’, knowing it would get you at least the next week off. That way, you’d have plenty of time to save your partner in crime and put the bitches in the dirt who’d started all this. Maybe ask questions first, if you felt like it.

But before any of that could happen, you zoomed through the night, shredding back to your place for a swift pit stop inside. Because if you were gonna do this, you would need the bag Erik had brought back for you from Wakanda.

~~~~

*Y’all I’m so sorry 😭😭 I know this one might have been a teeny bit long but it’s just how it ended up flowing but still, thanks as always for reading and sticking with it!! 💋”

|Part Three|

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