MARVEL & DC IMAGINES

] nuthin n e w [

pairing: erik killmonger (n'jadaka) / reader

genre/warning(s): language, mature, suggestive, drabble

word count: 870+

synopsis: erik's not so fond of your penchant for working overtime, especially when he's feeling wrongfully deprived of your "affection" as a result...

With arms encircling you from behind, it merely takes a single tug for Erik to pull your back flush against his chest, murmuring words of yearning in your ear.

"I've been lookin' for ya fine ass all day." His nose brushes under your earlobe, warm breath spilling over your neck as he whispers. "Where the hell you been at, huh? You can't answer the phone now, or what?"

Whimpering at the sensation of Erik's lips marking up your neck isn't the reaction you initially hoped to give, although as plush kisses skate along your skin, you can't even begin to suppress such sweet sounds. Even the familiar tickle of his beard against your collarbone doesn't stop you from also relishing the touch of those loose, wandering dreads against your jaw and cheek.

"I was working, and I still am," you inform him simply. "Which means my time is precious, so what do you need, Erik?"

His brows roll together in a ponderous manner. "Hold up, whatchu mean? You workin' overtime again?"

Spouts of an icy spark shoot up your spine; a soft breath catching at the back of your throat at his voice. Spinning around in Erik's hold, you link your arms around his neck, satisfied with the touch of your lover's hands settling upon your hips – though, you don't speak of it, no, instead you'd rather grant him the truth behind your absence like he asked.

"I'm running another errand for my department." You lift the manila folder that's barely clasped in your hand, filled with documents. "And it's pretty critical, so I'd rather not postpone it. Okay?"

Perhaps, you should've expected Erik to scoff with such a reproachful demeanor in response.

"Why they always gotchu runnin' around? You ain't no fuckin' slave." There's a few of his fingers resting beneath your chin, delicious lips pressing against yours in a surprisingly soft kiss just before he mutters something wicked, "You should take some time off, that's what you need to do. Fuck 'em."

"Erik..." you admonish him against his lips, perching a neat brow high in forewarning, though still admittedly amused by his proposition.

"As a matter o' fact, where your phone at?" he prods, tightening his grip on your hips. "I'mma call 'em and tell 'em you might be a little late myself."

"Listen," comes your terse breath. "You know what this career opportunity means to me. How much I've worked my ass off for this."

Swiftly, Erik licks his lips and tilts his head. "So? Don't I mean somethin' to you, too?"

You're taken aback. "Are you seriou—"

"Ay, answer the question for me." There's that sinfully menacing grate to his voice, and you're definitely conditioned to recognize the shift in his aura to know that he means it. Therefore, you're silent – frozen – when he decides to add more, murmuring sharply, "And hurry up, because as I recall, I thought you said you ain't had no time to waste. Or are you just makin' shit up now, hm?"

You stare up at him when Erik guides your back against one of your apartment walls and towers over you, eyes prowling appreciatively over every detail your frame possesses, from head to toe. Every dip and every beautiful curvature. All his.

"Don't I mean somethin' to you? Or nah?" he repeats himself, and you highly doubt he would do the same twice. "It's a simple question, baby. I'm just curious."

This time, it's you who's dragging your tongue along your lips, nodding without hesitation. "You know you do. So much."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." It's a tone of confidence as he runs a hand up and under your blazer and blouse, gripping your waist to stroke the soft skin. "Now like I said before: take some time off. And I don't wanna hear no more excuses, 'cause I know you prolly want this more than I do. I can see it all in your eyes, babygirl. That shit is too obvious."

Whatever inkling of resolve you have left is long lost when you feel those calloused hands withdraw from your waist in favor of trailing down and gripping the back of your thighs in a potent vice. With strength commendable enough to rival a God's, Erik hoists you up, pinning your frame against the wall, growling when your legs are wound around his tapered waist. The moment his lips attach to your neck once again, is the very moment that your fingers loosen their grasp on the manila folder. Weightless sheets of inked paper and printed files go floating to the floor, completely forgotten when your hands tangle themselves in his locs, giggling as you bite your lip during the first stages of bliss.

"You'd better make this quick, too." You warn him between bouts of heavy breaths, caressing the sides of his neck to coax him into making eye-contact. "And don't get fuckin' greedy and rip my clothes up this time, either. I've got things to do, and you know it."

"Calm ya paranoid ass down, aight? A quickie is nothin' new for us." Erik smirks roguishly as peeks of gold emerge from his lower teeth, peeling you off the wall with the intention to drag you right back to the bedroom.