Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

The Way You Lie

Toxic relationship Erik. Prequel to Wicked Games. Co-writing credit to bleepyassbitch

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“Ow, shit!” Erik hopped back when a piercing pain shot up his leg, initiating at the sole of his right foot. “SHIT!” His lip curled in anger and when he lifted his socked foot up he noticed a silver tool laying on the tile. “The fuck? TRIN,” he growled with a shake of his head to calm himself. The eyelash curler that had likely spilled off of the mess of a bathroom counter laid on the bathroom floor as a sign that Trin would be leaving soon to visit her secret side nigga. Erik was no fool. He knew Katrin like the back of his hand.

“When you buy that? You look like you headed to Sunset Boulevard. You look like a straight hoe."

"I look like your $2 crackhead mama," she glared over her shoulder. It was a low blow and she was proud of it. He walked closer, squinting like he hadn't heard what he'd heard. In her face, he dared her to say it again.

"Mention my moms one more time.."

"Your. Mama. Is. A. Hoe," she enunciated with a smile. "Remember? ..She left you for some dick? Like I'm about to? Why? You ain't worth shit."

He gripped her neck fast and her heels raised three inches from the ground as she slid up the nearest wall, gripping his wrist, but he could still see smugness in her face. "I ought to shake the shit out you."

"Do it, you brainless ape," she muttered.

"Oh I'll a slap the shit outta you," he nodded, but on second thought he released her.

"All you do is prove my damn point of how worthless you are, brainless ass beast," she smirked when he dropped her to her feet.

He eyed her suspiciously, his lip curling. She wore lightwash denim bootyshorts with the bottom of her ass cut out and a tube top with tall heels.

"That shit wasn't in your closet, I'd have burned it.”

“Don't worry about it,” she rolled her eyes flipping her long black ponytail. “It ain't for you.”
 
“Run that by me again? Who's it for?”

“Me, nigga.” She snatched her arm away pushing her hand into his stomach to shove him back.

"Wrong, it's for the streets cuz that's where yo ass belong. The fuck you think you going?" He caught her wrist before she could walk out, snatching her from the doorway to slam the door back shut and lock it.

"Get yo skinny ass upstairs," he gritted through bared teeth as she stood firm on her heels.

"Woo," she laughed. "Nigga I don't know what you thought this was. You don't own me. Now move up out my way." She stepped forward in challenge, shoving his hand when he pushed her back. He knew what was coming.  "Don't," slap, "touch me." Slap. Getting away with two hard slaps in his face, she tried to do it again, but he grabbed her wrist firmly.

"I'm not bout to play with you."

"I said don't touch me." She tried again, wrestling to hit him in the face before settling for a knee to his crotch. When his knees sank a little from the impact, she punched him in the cheekbone and scratched him, her nails getting dangerously close to his eye. She was aiming for it lowkey. He grabbed both of her wrists and pinned her to the wall with weight on her legs, deciding to kiss her in an effort to calm her down. Sometimes it worked. This wasn't one of those times. She bit his lip to the point of it bleeding and he slammed her lightly to make her let go.

Hellbent on fighting him, she struggled in his grasp and he let her tire herself out as she called him anything she could think of from "bitch" to things he couldn't repeat.