sonofnjobu
Erik Killmonger Deserved Better
Erik Killmonger deserved better and we all want to be the one to give him that werq. This is a 100% thirst blog. NSFW 18+ I write for Diaspora!Readers. If you like my writing PLEASE REBLOG IT. Shout out to the big girls.
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I never finish this despite it being mapped out because the ideas were so fucking dark and I didn’t want to contribute to racial trauma horror for Black people.
But I think I know how to do it now.
The Experiment
The First Purge was considered a success. But any experiment must be peer reviewed and backed up by more data. Erik finds his neighborhood is the testing site for the next round of experiments. Will Erik fall in line with his killer nature, or will his higher purpose have a chance to reveal itself ahead of schedule?
A/N: Today is my blog’s one year anniversary! I am so honored and blessed to have found this little pocket on the internet filled with amazing people (particularly Black women)!
To celebrate, I am branching out of my usual style and writing a massive, horror fic filled with politics, violence, history, hoodoo and much much more. If you were to ever read anything from me, read this. Please comment and reblog if you enjoy it, if it scares you, if you have thoughts… This is my biggest story I’ve ever taken on and it’s been cooking in my head for months. My heart is racing just posting it.
Shoutout to @killmongersgurl for consistently kicking my butt to get this done.
CW: This chapter is not particularly violent, but future chapters will be. Drug mention. ICE. Privilege and poverty. Crying children.
Erik tapped his fingers lightly on the mahogany conference table. Sitting there for close to an hour with no information as to why exactly he was there, combined with the fact that his back was to the door, had him on edge. It seemed everyone else in the room had the same idea and those who had arrived earliest took the seats facing the entrance.
The early bird gets the worm. The early assassin gets the door.
Erik had been summoned there with no explanation. But when you receive a message from The Commander, you come when you’re called. It wasn’t the first time that he’d met for a briefing at an extravagant hotel. It was, however, the first time the entire building had been emptied out aside from the presidential suite. Someone extremely important must be inside.
Keep reading
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Kiki, do you love me? Are you flyin?
Happy Halloween, my loves!
Here's some proof of life featuring my 18 year old cat as Jiji.
#sonny's costumes#halloween 2023#kiki's delivery service#kiki's delivery service cosplay#sonny speaks#black women in costume#plus size halloween costume
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The Tenoch news is so disappointing.
It's not hard to NOT be trash.
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And I say this not out of concern for his roles or the MCU or anything.
I say this meaning for ONCE Hollywood should do something about an abuser and end his career. And then do the same for the rest of them.
They could easily give all of Jonathan Majors’ upcoming roles to John Boyega.
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They could easily give all of Jonathan Majors’ upcoming roles to John Boyega.
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Mama we made it!
We didn’t win in our category but I got to see Viola Davis achieve EGOT, so I’m happy!
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I’m going to The Grammys next weekend and I just realized there’s a very real chance I may run into my abuser there and I don’t know if I’ve done enough mental prep for that collision.
It’s never been “if.” It’s always been “when.”
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Why this Killmonger comic I'm reading had Erik screwing a white woman? 😭😭
Wow. This is one of those moments where fanfic writers understand the character better than comic writers… because he would never.
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Strangers in The Night
Pairing: Okoye x Attuma
Rating: EXPLICIT
Warnings: Masturbation, filthy thoughts, and pining (if you squint)
Summary: Horny Attuma hours after the bridge fight
The surface world was weak.
Attuma had carried this notion with him since he was a young boy gliding past the murals of Talokan, enthralled by the depiction of their gods, and enraged by the cruelty that had forced them to the sea.
And Attuma carried the notion as he circled the single Wakandan warrior on the bridge. She, who protected the disgraceful scientist that would dare to expose Talokan.
Attuma had watched, captivated by the fluidity and force of her movements—the lack of error in her coordination, even when outnumbered.
And even still, he believed her to be weak. She was a surface dweller after all.
She appeared stronger than the others he had come across, but not exceptional. Nothing his kin could not contend with.
Attuma had been so sure as he stalked towards the limp body of the scientist, ready to strike a fatal blow when his attack was knocked off its course, and he felt the lighting quick kiss of a blade against his skin.
He had stumbled back, disbelief disorienting him as he touched the fresh wound against his cheek. His gaze lifted towards the Wakandan warrior positioned between him and the scientist. She glared up at him, her brown eyes as deadly as the weapon she wielded, and an unspoken promise flickered in her gaze.
You will face me.
Attuma could still feel the heat of her gaze. Feel the phantom pain of her spear against his skin.
Miles away, back home beneath the dark depths of the ocean, her presence lingered.
His mission had been completed—of course, but she had been the one thing he never accounted for.
A warrior of the surface world equal to him.
Attuma sat on the edge of his hammock, lost in a foggy haze.
Talokan was at ease, its people grateful to their god and his valiant warriors, but Attuma would know no such peace. Not with the Wakandan warrior haunting his thoughts, and certainly not with the intrigue that pestered him.
The curious, sensuous thoughts that seemed to whisper through the walls of his chamber.
Would she look so fierce if he was buried inside of her?
Would that fire still burn while he had her spread out on a sandy Wakandan beach, while she called out to him in her mother tongue?
Or would she have him at her mercy?
Attuma seldom sought out sex. He found that he was as difficult to satisfy in bed as he was in battle. Relinquishing control was never a concept, and yet the thought of letting the Wakandan warrior do as she pleased made him ache with want.
He imagined her hand wrapped as his dick, tugging roughly in a way that would hurt so good, and Attuma wouldn’t be able to stop himself from bursting all over her hand.
Maybe she’d ride him as earnestly as she’d fought, nails digging into blue skin as she rocked her hips in a rhythm that would be as hypotonic as the Talokanil siren song.
Would she keep going until he was boneless, drunk on the feel of her stretching around him and taking everything he had to give in a way nobody else could?
Attuma shuddered, his hand lowering to wrap around his throbbing dick as he lost himself to his fantasy. It would be in the heat of the moment, a spar fought with wandering hands, instead of their forgotten spears. If the warrior were to lead, she would still not find him gentle. His fingers would bruise her flesh, keep her in place as he fucked up into her aching hole.
And maybe he would be a fool and allow himself to kiss her, to taste her lips against his and pray that he wouldn’t get addicted.
When his warrior finally reached the edge, clenching around him as to keep him right where she needed him most, he would give her his name, and perhaps she would whisper hers back, voice broken and hoarse as she got closer to the ecstasy—the sweet release that they both craved. There would be a competition even in that, in who could make the other come undone first.
She’d only need to call out his name, chant it like a prayer, and he would gladly yield just this once, pounding into her wet, needy pussy until his hips buckled, and her own name was torn from his throat as he filled her with his seed. He would wait, breathless and dazed as she followed swiftly, coating him with her sweetness.
Attuma groaned, blinking through the haze of his powerful release. His legs shook, his breath stuttered. The image of the lust-filled liaison slowly faded, but a feeling settled in his chest.
He needed to see his warrior again. Be that under the alliance K’uk’ulkan wished to form with Wakanda, or on the battlefield.
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Headcannon: Christmas with M’baku.
- Now that the Wakandan borders are open, Jabariland is making a conscious effort to be more multi-cultural.
- Your five year old daughter comes home from school so excited about a holiday she learned about called “Christmas”
- She is HELL BENT on Christmas
- You and your husband discuss it and M’Baku agrees
- He loves gift giving and another excuse to do it is fine with him
- The days leading up to Christmas, you don’t see him at all
- You’re getting frustrated and feel like you have to pull off this holiday by yourself
- M’Baku pops in once and asks you “how that song goes”
- Confused, you muddle your way through Jingle Bells
- Day of, the little one comes running in to your bedroom and jumps up and down until you wake up
- You look over to the other side of the bed and M’Baku is not there
- You mask your frustration and feign excitement
- You grab your daughter’s hand and head downstairs
- Your jaw drops
- M’Baku had single handedly dragged an enormous hand-chopped tree in to your home
- It wasn’t a pine tree and it was leaned up against a wall, but it looked good
- And under it was a present with your daughter’s name on it
- “This is from Santa?! He knew how to find us?”
- “Yes I did!” M’Baku says, entering the room, dressed head to toe in red and with white war paint in his beard
- “Ha Ha Ha!” he bellows
- “It’s Ho Ho Ho,” you correct him quietly under your breath
- Your daughter rips in to her present, pulling out an ornately carved, Jabari wood jewelry box
- M’Baku had made it himself
- Her eyes are wide
- M’Baku leans down to show her how it works, his giant hands twisting a tiny lever at the bottom of the box
- She opens it
- It plunks out the melody of Jingle Bells
- M’Baku and your daughter both squeal with delight
- You smile
- Maybe Christmas can stay
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All I Want for Christmas is You
A/N: Here’s some Killmonger Christmas fluff for you. Happy Holidays, everyone.
CW: drive-by mention, breakups
Reader is Black. If you enjoy my writing, please comment and reblog.
“We landed, but we don’t have a gate… some big back up… ETA 45 minutes.”
Sean’s message lowered on to your screen. You hurriedly swiped it up, determined not to miss your next turn. The airport interchange was a nightmare on a good day, but on Christmas eve, it was a war zone.
Some blonde woman in a mini-van tried to cut you off but you pushed your car forward, glaring at her intently. She actively avoided your gaze. She attempted to get in front of you again, but her tires spun in the rapidly accumulating snow and you were able to jump ahead of her in line.
“That’s right, bitch!” you guffawed. “Driving a barn on wheels. You better be picking up the entire damn McAllister family from Home Alone. Cheaper by the Dozen lookin ass…”
Keep reading
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“Black Panther Wakanda Forever” has a supporting cast of actors and actresses, without whom the story may not have been as effective. Sure, our main leads and the secondary characters are cool and awesome, and the story is amazing, but it’s people like the ones above who play small but very important roles in the story.
Having a young boy witness the trauma of his people be subject to horrors no child should be privy to, and hold on to that fear and rage with a grip so tight it transforms into vengeance that burns within a god-king hell-bent on protecting his people… little Manuel Chavez may not have been onscreen long, but his presence very much informed the charismatic K’uk’ulkan who is both filled with rage and kindness in equal measure.
Like Manuel, Irma-Estel LaGuerre and María Mercedes Coroy may not have been onscreen much, but their portrayal of a mother who, for the sake of her unborn son, must ingest a concoction to save both her and her people from the raging fires of colonialism resonates with many. In the film, K’uk’ulkan wonders what it is like to be a people in a pristine land who never have to leave. His mother loved him, cared for him, and wished for him to bury her in the land she loved so much, even if it was being desecrated by people who most certainly did not belong there to begin with. LaGuerre and Coroy portrayed a woman who had so much love to give, yet lost so much; it is to nobody’s surprise that her son adopted the name “Namor”, itself shortened from “el niño sin amor”, the child without love.
Without Josué Maychi, there may well not have been the inclusion of the Yucatec Mayan language in the film. Maychi’s role as the shaman who was guided by a god to retrieve a plant grown in Vibranium-rich soil to heal his smallpox-afflicted people is very important to the story, as without him, Talokan is as good as nonexistent. It is thanks to the shaman that Talokan was able to thrive as we see it do in the film.
María Telón Soc portrays a Mayan elder in the film. Her role, though small, is crucial as she is one of the guiding forces who help convince K’uk’ulkan mother to ingest the herbal drink to save her and her unborn son. Like the other actors and actresses mentioned above, she may not have been onscreen for long, but her presence informs the decisions we see the other Mayan-Talokanil make.
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Since the Tim Burton dick riders have shown up in my mentions… explain this then.
Jenna Ortega is acting her ass off as Wednesday, but Tim Burton is fucking this entire show up. He does not have the range for The Addams Family.
All he knows how to do is pale face, dark hair, and big eyes. That’s not enough.
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It’s almost my birthday! Capricorns stand up!
Photos by Holy Smoke Photography
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It will never not be fucking jarring to have maskless people come up to me and say “Omg! I love your outfit and your matching mask! That’s so cool.”
Like… let me tell you how easy this is to replicate, Sarah. You could do it too. It takes such little effort.
#sonny speaks#the pandemic is NOT over and I need y’all to bffr and live in reality#it’s only getting worse and the solution is sooooo easy
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Ages 51 to 55, to be exact. Looking moisturized, hydrated and healthy 🙌🏾
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