#King Killmonger The Golden Jaguar

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Chapter 6

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"Love Ever since the first moment I spoke your name From then on I knew that by you being in my life Things were destined to change cause

Love So many people use your name in vain Love Those who have faith in you sometimes go astray Love Through all the ups and downs the joy and hurt Love For better or worse I still will choose you first"

Musiqsoulchild – "Love"

His heart was in the shape of his woman.

King N'Jadaka held out his big hand next to Queen Yani's and let their wedding bands touch so the Wakandan media could snap holopics of the bride and groom exiting the Temple of Sekmet. He gazed at his new wife and her smile increased the size of her shape on the left side of his chest.

They were made for each other.

No queen on earth had ever come to the throne like her or had the power she commanded by his side. What the world couldn't see was that she held a priceless leash around his neck and could make him do things that no other woman before her ever did. Yani dominated his every waking moment and was the one he wanted to see first when his work day in the West palace was over. Their wedding cemented a holy bond and he preened before his citizens letting them see how blessed he was to have her and his beautiful children.

He lifted her ring-clad hand and kissed it, then led her down ancient fawn-colored stone steps toward a wedding carriage drawn by two mighty water buffalos whose bloodline his greatest grandmother Queen Shuriya had bred and tamed her entire life. The two giant beasts were direct descendents of the one she rode in a painting hanging in his royal office.

Sydette clapped her hands excitedly as she peered at the giant animals and the decorative vibranium blue colors painted on their flesh.

"They are so huge, Baba!" Sydette yelped.

"Come on, watch your step Sweet Pea, we have to ride through the street," he said, clasping her hand.

Riki climbed down the last step and latched his eyes onto one of the buffalo and raised his arms out wide to try and match the length of the giant curved horns adorned with gold and silver jewels that jutted forward making them dangerous for potential gorging. He glanced back at N'Jadaka and grinned. The great beast's head turned and stared at the little prince. Joba moved closer to her brother and both children peered with quiet curiosity at how massive Wakandan animals could be.

"Yani," N'Jadaka said, helping his wife onto the carriage where she took her seat and fixed the train of her dress.

He lifted Sydette into it next and his younger children waited for him to place them on board. His family seated, N'Jadaka stepped onto the roomy carriage and he and Yani waved at the crowd. Their children sat across from them with booster seats so they could see better.

The two coachman sitting in the driver's seat awaited a signal from the Kingsguard escorting them on foot. There was a slight jerk and the carriage began to move at a steady pace. The proud king kissed his queen and the crowd cheered louder. Flowers and soft palm seeds were thrown at them and the children tried collecting as many as they could catch with delighted smiles on their faces.

He held Yani's hand tight and they all watched their citizens celebrate. Behind them, the rest of the royal family rode in a protected motorcade and they wound their way through the streets of the golden capital.

Surreal.

The feeling of watching himself from afar took over and N'Jadaka took a deep inhale of fresh air. His emotions rested in his chest and throat. This was the fairy tale made real. He had a queen. A kingdom. A giant double palace. To lose so much, but to be given much more in return overwhelmed him.

He gazed at Yani and she continued waving at their people. They waited to cross over a bridge that would take them deeper into the heart of Birnin Zana and a flock of prized river birds flew across their carriage, their purple and blue wings a brilliant flash of color over their heads.

"That's a good sign, kumkani," the lead driver of the carriage said, "it means you will be blessed with many children."

Yani laughed and patted N'Jadaka's hand.

"Listen to the man, Yani, the heavens have ordained that we get it poppin'."

"Any excuse to get me pregnant right away," Yani said.

Riki slipped a hand in his side pocket and pulled out a folded square of money. He gave it to the king.

"What's this for Lil Man?" N'Jadaka asked.

"A boy. If you and Mama insist on making more of us, please let it be a boy. Toussaint and I are struggling to catch up in our age group," Riki pleaded.

"I will do what I can."

Yani took the money away from him and stuffed it into her bodice.

"Not you two plotting," Yani quipped.

N'Jadaka threw his head back and laughed.

"Mama, it's time to throw the bouquet," Sydette squealed.

The carriage crossed over the bridge and stopped once it got to the other side. As tradition dictated, Yani stood inside the carriage and tossed the bridal bouquet into the river water to signify the queen's blessing to become the new mother of the nation. The flowers floated away and spectators snapped holopics and cheered for their new queen.

"They were so pretty, I wish you didn't have to throw them away," Joba said, her face peering over the side of carriage.

Yani caressed her cheek.

"I will have more flowers given to me back at the reception," Yani said.

Joba looked happy about that and climbed onto Yani's lap for the rest of the ride through the city.

Admiration, awe, and even love flowed out to the new Udaku family taking over the throne. A tide had shifted yet again in Wakanda. His popularity was at an all time high with younger citizens, and even some of the old heads begrudgingly accepted his leadership. They finally accepted his love for the nation as genuine.

Their carriage ride continued until they reached Old Village, a section of Birnin Zana that had been the social center for centuries until Queen Shuriya pushed them into a new technological age that shifted the heart of the city elsewhere by the riverbank. While the rest of the world was barely entering the early modern era, Wakanda had already settled into post modern advances.

The family stepped out of the carriage and walked a quarter mile to another temple dedicated to Mama Wati that rested across the mouth opening of the Ibukan River which connected the water flow through the city to the ocean miles away. Priests of the water deity stood outside waiting for them. He and Yani were both anointed with fresh oils and smudged down with dried plants that only grew there. They were prayed over and then led out into an open street where citizens cheered them on while they made the final trek to the edge of the great mound, the place where vibranium crashed into the earth. Singers and dancers greeted them in a secured area where the family could all see the enormous rise in the distance where the glowing blue metal rested underneath.

Ogum shifted inside of N'Jadaka. So did Bast. He pointed to the majestic sight making sure his children studied it. "That's the place where it all began," he said.

Sydette, Riki, and Joba nodded and stared at the mound. At its tip, it stood nearly a mile high, but deep inside the earth where the rest of the vibranium sank itself, there was enough to supply his people for another millennium or more. They all felt the energy emanating from the ground they stood near. His vibram tattoo itched from the mighty source. The great mound wasn't just a mining area, but a holy place too. From their vantage point they couldn't see the mining side of the mound. Their view looked like an image one would see on a postcard or tourist advertisement. High above them the Royal Talon Fighter floated into view. It was time to return to the palace for a twelve course feast, with music, dancing, and a full evening of celebrating the new king and queen.

N'Jadaka gathered his family close as they were lifted up into the air by the gravity beam and gently pulled inside the aircraft.

The cheers from their guests were loud as they exited the Talon Fighter and Yani had to pause in her steps to take in all the love. She gazed across the royal garden at the number of people calling out her new name.

"Queen Yani!"

She grinned and the children ran away from her toward Umama and Dante where all their young cousins stood gathered waiting to run around and play. Yani felt the shift in power in the royal garden. With her new isicholo firmly rooted to her scalp, she absorbed the way all the spectators watched her closely, especially the Wakandans of the noble class. No longer viewed as a separate entity from the king, she was now ogled openly as an extension of Udaku power.

Hugs and kisses were shared and the immediate royal family and the wedding party were gathered up near a view of the river and the backdrop of Mount Bashenga where a photographer snapped holopics before taking different groupings of Yani with the bridesmaids, the children, her husband, and then a lovely shot of three generations of queens. She stood in the center as Umama and Ramonda flanked her, their crowns breathtaking. Sydette and Joba were brought in for a candid, and then N'Jadaka and his groomsman and grandfather were photographed with Riki. Forty minutes later the bridal party was paraded around the guests and Yani saw the breadth of the decorations and reception set up. It took her breath away at how massive the royal garden was and how simply setting up where the sun would set behind them looked so different and unexplored.

N'Jadaka clasped her hand and led her to the head table. Guests were given a brief amount of time to personally greet the king and queen before their twelve course meal began. Love surrounded her and the enormity of her place as the queen of the nation sank down deeper.

Although it seemed like twelve courses would be a long grueling process, Yani found it to be relaxing and paced well. Everyone feasted, laughed, cried, caught up with each other, and dabbled in intrigue with so many important people in one place. By the time the royal orchestra kicked up the music for the first bridal dance, Yani was ready to move around and help her digestive system handle her stuffed belly.

N'Jadaka held her close as they shared their first dance as husband and wife. They then split apart to dance with their elders and then others were invited to join them. She took that opportunity to walk around and greet nobles with N'Jadaka once the dancing area filled up.

Heads bowed at her approach and she shared small chat with dozens of guests on the east side of the reception area. Umama and Ramonda had taught her how to move her eyes so that people around her felt appreciated even if she couldn't get to them one on one. She waved, blew kisses and kept her momentum moving through the hundreds of people yearning to see her up close with the king.

N'Jadaka held her hand like he would never let her go. His love flowed all around her and his gaze never left her unattended. They quickly moved back toward their own table and noticed Mpilo with his mother and sister speaking with Dante. N'Jadaka lowered his mouth to her ear.

"Should we make our announcement now before the party gets a little wilder with all the dancing?" he asked.

Yani squeezed his hand.

The month prior they had been meeting with Umama and the Council of Elders regarding an important decision about Mpilo and his baby sister, Nandipha who had recently turned fifteen. They took their place back at the head table and N'Jadaka gestured for Mpilo to come to him with his mother and sister. Yani sent word to the orchestra leader to finish the song they played that had the wedding crowd cutting up.

Mpilo's eyes grew wide with curiosity as to why he was being summoned by the king in front of two thousand guests. N'Jadaka was handed a mic and Yani stood next to him. The king cleared his throat and gazed upon the audience.

"This is my executive assistant, Mpilo, and he has worked for me since leaving primary school a couple of years ago. Next year he will begin his mandatory military service, and that is a very important and serious undertaking for our young people. My father proudly served and I understand the pride that comes from serving a country such as this…"

Yani watched Mpilo's face as N'Jadaka spoke. He was nervous and shy at being put on the spot, but his mother's and sister's faces beamed at being addressed directly by the king.

"As many of us have experienced in the Great Removal of the last war, Mpilo's father and brothers were taken. He has taken the great responsibility of caring for his mother and sister…however, I feel this is a great burden for such a young man starting out his life. Queen Yani and I have spoken in private about this and we've made the decision to have me step in as Mpilo's unvikeli."

Mpilo's legs almost buckled and his mother and sister kept his body steady. Whispers among the nobles could clearly be heard moving rapidly around dining tables. Yani held out her hand toward Mpilo and pulled him next to N'Jadaka. Her personal attendant Sindiswa handed her the same matching unvikeli necklaces that her own children once wore for T'Challa. Mpilo lowered his head and spoke with a soft voice.

"King N'Jadaka…Queen Yani…I am not—"

"You are not what?" Yani asked.

She touched Mpilo's chin and lifted it so their eyes could connect. The young man pressed his lips together. Yani unfastened the necklace and handed it to N'Jadaka. He turned Mpilo to face the guests while he hooked the necklace in front of everyone.

"Fatherhood is very important along with a mother's love and guidance. Queen Yani has told me time and time again that I have become a father figure to you in these hard times after the war. I humbly ask that you allow me to step in for your father to help guide you until you reach legal adulthood when you turn twenty-six. At that time you and your sister will be registered in our ancestral rolls as extended kin. When you turn thirty I will petition the Council of Elders to grant you a title with a rank that they deem appropriate. I will do the same for your sister when she also turns thirty."

Mpilo's mother and sister wept openly.

Yani touched Mpilo's hand.

"Mpilo?"

Mpilo's chest shuddered and he wiped his eyes quickly. He raised himself higher and pulled back his shoulders.

"I will accept this kumkani," Mpilo said.

The guests clapped and Yani had other wedding attendants escort Mpilo's small family to one of the royal's tables near Umama and Dante. Yani and N'Jadaka followed, giving heartfelt hugs to their new kin. Music played again and the wedding celebration continued late into the night. Once the moon had risen and the children were allowed to stay at the reception for another hour before their bedtime. Yani sensed N'Jadaka's energy depleting. He was ready for the night to end so they could be alone. Their children would stay with Umama and they would have their home to themselves for the night before they had to finish the rest of the wedding duties the next day in Necropolis City. After that, they would be whisked away to their boat where they would have two solid weeks with no one else but them.

She strode past a crowded table of elder relatives from Umama's side of the family and zigzagged to where Twyla and her husband Bibi sat talking big talk with Kendall. Twyla gently grabbed Yani's wrist and pulled her down in the seat next to her.

"Look at you," Twyla said.

"I feel wonderful," Yani purred.

Twyla stared into Yani's eyes and cradled both of her hands.

"Are you finally happy? Have everything you want?"

Yani glanced over at N'Jadaka who strode past with his male cousins from the states. Every eye was on him and his bold steps made her heart thump faster. She patted Twyla's hand.

"It's like being back home when it was us against the world. That peace that we stole together…the peace I thought I would never have again…I have it forever now. Mi can breathe and not fear anything or anyone," Yani said.

"He is so in love with you. Everyone can feel it…oh look, here he come," Tywla said, her voice bursting into loud laughs as N'Jadak reached for Yani's hand and pulled her back by his side. He bent down and kissed Twyla's cheek.

"Tryna steal her again?" N'Jadaka said,

"No king, I would never," Twyla teased. "That was a nice thing you did for Mpilo and his sister. Did Nakia take you up on your offer to be Toussaint's unvikeli?"

"She's still considering it. Her mind is still bent on going to Haiti. I don't think she wants the pressure of the throne on her son. She likes being out of the public with Toussaint," N'Jadaka said.

"Well I think she should let you take care of Toussaint the way T'Challa watched over your brood," Twyla said.

"I agree," Yani interjected, supporting Twyla's declaration.

"Maybe she'll come around. But I won't force it. Umama and Ramonda are worried about her leaving and if I push to protect Toussaint, then she might flee sooner."

Sydette rushed forward and pulled on her parent's hands.

"The magic show is about to start!" Sydette shouted.

"Did you have more cake?" Yanis asked, wiping the side of her daughter's lips that were smeared with blue and purple icing.

Sydette licked the side of her mouth and grinned.

"I only ate a tiny piece. Come on, we have to watch the show!"

They followed Sydette toward a circular stone amphitheater hidden behind the tall row of forty-foot tall ironwood trees. The wedding guests trailed in finding seats and the royal family sat in the center front row. A female magician delighted the audience with an astonishing show that lasted forty minutes. There were acrobatics, visual illusions, mystery and panthers used to entertain a mesmerized crowd. The show ended with an acrobatic troop from Ghana, a gift from First Lady Vivienne Tettah and her husband President Kojo Tettah.

Music back near the wedding gazebo started up again and the guests waited to disperse and party far into the night. N'Jadaka led Yani to the center of the open garden theater and bid their guests a fun evening. They herded their children with Umama toward the East gate of the palace, waving and accepting the cheers and final well-wishes.

Parting ways with Umama and the children inside the palace, Yani and N'Jadaka braced their backs against the private elevator glass that whisked them up to their home. There were no night attendants or servants to pamper them. They were completely alone the way they wanted to be.

N'Jadaka helped Yani out of her dress in his bedroom and then she pulled off his robes. They took a quick sonic shower and scrambled to get into bed. Exhaustion prevented any frisky behavior. Happiness and love cradled them in the quiet privacy of the large round bed. Fireworks lit up the sky from their wall window. The king pulled his queen onto his chest and held her in a tight embrace.

A restful slumber guided them the rest of the night.

N'Jadaka watched Yani sleep curled into his side.

He kept his left arm around her as her soft warm breath blew across his left pec. He checked his kimoyo beads on his right wrist and whispered instructions for their breakfast to be brought to his bedroom within the hour. Snuggling against his wife he caressed her cheek and then carefully kissed her forehead. They both needed rest and quiet before leaving for the family tombs in the city of the dead ancestors. Yani's name would be added to the ancestral rolls as they paid their respect to the past queens and kings. Afterward, they were free to honeymoon.

The wedding had been a tremendous affair and the Wakandan news and the global media had a field day reporting on the splendor and the grand entrance of Queen Yani. The outside world was permitted to see them leave the temple, but only the Wakandans could relive the experience on vids at home. World leaders who were still in Wakanda gave vid chats to their own people describing the experience. Royal images of the wedding party circled the globe.

Yani murmured into his chest and he looked down. Her eyelids fluttered open and he smiled at her.

"Hey Mrs. Udaku," he said.

She grinned and stretched her neck to kiss him.

"Since we never consummated the marriage, does that mean we failed our first duty as a couple?" she asked.

He laughed.

"We were too damn tired, girl."

"You must be getting old then, I could've done a little something," Yani bragged.

"All this talkin' now when you were snoring the moment we hit these sheets last night. Stop lyin."

"Hmmm," she said stretching, "It was a long day. A glorious day, but very long."

She pushed back the covers and slid down his body, engulfing his penis, sucking on it until the hot flesh hardened like a brick.

"Aye, Ma…protocols are in order. You make me nut and we don't pay our respects to Bast, we'll curse this union."

He pushed Yani's mouth away. She rose and left their marriage bed, naked as a jay bird and picked up the ceremonial bundle.

"Should we do this now, or after breakfast?" she asked.

She stood holding the bundle looking sexy and ready for anything he had in mind. His gaze dropped to her vulva. The piercings they marked her as his precious gift sparkled in the morning light that spilled from the window.

"You make it sound so clinical saying it like that," he said.

Yani padded back to the bed and stared at him.

"If we don't do it now, we might forget and mess up later. We'll get on the boat and be so happy that we're alone that I know you'll make love to me and overlook the rules," Yani said.

"We can set an alarm on our kimoyo beads," he suggested.

"So you don't want to do it now."

"I don't want to rush getting intimate with you."

She fondled her vulva, peeling back the outer labia. The pink inside already glistened. His dick jumped at the sight.

"Let's just do the ceremonial part now, pay homage to Bast and then we can relax until we are alone again. Our first time together as husband and wife shouldn't be quick," she said.

She reached for his dick and stroked it, letting the pre-cum pearl down the taught flesh. Fully engorged, his erection looked darker than the skin surrounding it.

"Okay," he huffed, watching her soft hand go up and down the shaft. A thick tear-drop shaped bit of pre-cum slid over the crease in her hand and he groaned. He didn't have to choke back on sound. The home was theirs to be loud.

Yani unfurled the ceremonial leather bundle and they touched the inscriptions of symbols and words etched into the leather. He helped her tie it using the strings on the four corners like a corset around her midsection. She used pillows from the bed to make her head and hips comfortable as he knelt between her legs.

"Ready?" he said.

She nodded.

N'Jadaka began to kiss and lick her clit, pulling soft moans from her lips as his tongue slathered her tender parts with saliva. He stroked his dick while working his mouth magic on her. Yani's thighs parted further while she cupped her breasts.

His lips dripped with her sticky love offerings, and by the time he was flicking the tip of his tongue just under her clit, Yani was calling out his name, letting the sound fly up to the high ceiling. It echoed like angels around them and he grunted a satisfied noise that helped her release into his mouth. Her vulva throbbed against his moist lips, the strong pulses pulling him up to his feet.

"Yani!" he shouted, jerking his dick faster hunched over her.

He aimed his release all over the leather corset, soaking it with hot white semen that continued to spurt as he squeezed his balls. Yani quickly unfastened the strings keeping the offering of cum from spilling away. His sweat fell onto her breasts and he gave one final tug to his dick.

"I've got it all," Yani said.

She curled the sides of the leather back into a bundle and he walked with her out to the balcony. A brass burning ring sat near the center of the space. Yani placed the semen-soaked bundle into the ring and they both struck a long match together, setting it ablaze. They each added small tied bundles of herbs to the leather and the smoke turned from white to purple and sent a trail of thick color up into the morning sky. N'Jadaka held Yani's hand and they spoke out loud ancient words to bless their union in the sight of Bast's offering.

The leather and herbs burned down quickly, and they showered together in his bathroom, taking their time lathering each other up and allowing steamy water to cascade down their wet bodies. He kissed and fondled his wife, enjoying the taste of her in his mouth and the scent of her skin in his nose.

Breakfast was full of them laughing and recounting the events of the day before. Yani held his hand tight when they left the palace together dressed in long white robes.

The trip to Necropolis City was taken in the Royal Talon Fighter with their children.

Walking the steps holding Yani's hand, N'Jadaka stared at the building that his body once rested in. Joba paused walking up the final step and N'Jadaka took her hand. His youngest daughter's body shook and he sensed her hesitancy.

"I'm right here Sunshine," he said.

Joba squeezed his hand and they entered the building following Umama and Ramonda. They walked along a long hallway that led to a special room away from the tombs. The walls in the room were covered by a gigantic purple and silver silk tapestry that displayed all the family names since the time of King Bashenga and Queen Tiye.

The only people allowed to witness the addition of Yani's name in person were their immediate family members. A small ceremony led by a Necropolis City elder didn't take long. Next to N'Jadaka's name was a space for Yani, and she signed a slender tablet that burned her name into the silk for all of time. A small sample of her blood had been taken to make the ink that burned into the material. Sydette and Riki watched with wide eyes. Joba clung to his hand.

Ushered back outside, the rest of their wedding party and familial guests waited for them, tossing flowers at Yani and N'Jadaka. Kisses and hugs were passed around and given to their children last. The ramp to the Royal Talon Fighter awaited them. N'Jadaka and Yani both fought the urge to run away from everyone.

"Have a beautiful trip!" Umama called.

N'Jadaka glanced at his children standing with his grandmother and grandfather. He waved, took Yani's hand and guided her into the Royal Talon Fighter.

Gliding along the Ibukan River, they spotted the royal house boat in the distance. Yani hugged him tight.

"Finally…our honeymoon," she whispered.

The Talon Fighter touched down on the ground near a dock. Okoye and Ayo departed the Talon Fighter first and spoke with the Doras guarding the boat. N'Jadaka squeezed Yani's hand and they both ran toward the boat, flinging off their ceremonial robes revealing swimsuits under neath. Okoye threw back her head and laughed.

"Be safe my king. We will track your trip discreetly and bring the royal children to you in two weeks," Okoye said.

"Bye!" Yani squealed.

N'Jadaka activated the onboard system and programmed it to sail away from the dock. He poured Yani a glass of champagne and they stood on the bow to watch it sail out of the golden city.

Yani toasted his glass again and he held her waist.

"To us, my king," she said.

"To us, my queen," he said back with all the love he could muster in his voice.

Chapter 7 HERE.

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#King Killmonger #King Killmonger The Golden Jaguar #Killmonger Fanfiction #Black Panther Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine Killmonger fucking his Queen in the throne room while he's wearing the golden jaguar suit 🤤🤤😈😈😈😈

This is a good requests for King Erik!

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #ask nahimjustfeelingit #new fanfic

[luguardio]

The Golden Son

#erik killmonger #killmonger #black panther #michael b jordan #art #fanart #gold #illustration #jaguar #leopard #golden #cute #angst #love #shirtless #king #outfit #costume #weapons #scars

[fandom-artworks]

Black Panther VS Golden Jaguar by kingdomba

[Permission obtain by artist before posting here. Please visit the original links and help fave or comment.]

#Black Panther #King T'Challa #Golden Jaguar #Erik Killmonger #Marvel's Black Panther #Marvel Universe #kingdomba

[ventingtoyouuu]

He was so excited about his lifetime supply of apple juice😂❤️

#gif #what a dork #is this your king? #FUCK YEAH IT IS #and the wink omllllll #he’s so cute I’m gonna DIE #michael b jordan #mbj #black panther #erik killmonger #t’challa #t’chaka #golden jaguar #shuri black panther #shuri #marvel #nakia #lupita nyong'o #daniel kaluuya #vegetarian #a whole meal #chadwick boseman #robert downey jr #chris evans #bucky barnes #winter soldier #white wolf #iron man #captain america #black widow

[terrablaze514]

Baby Jaguar Hype! (2)

Time for part 2… Rated K+. Erik is a baby and this fic is intended to be fun. No major warnings apply, although there's some fluff ahead. Hope you enjoy it!

*Part 1*

**Disclaimer still applies**

*******

It's been twenty minutes since the stubborn, lost prince touched what he shouldn't have. Now his Golden Jaguar necklace was too big. Shuri had removed it and carried him to the medical bay nearby.

The wails had ended, for now. The toddler bounced as his cousin sat him on the examination table.

“Okay, let's see.” Shuri had removed his oversized royalty sweater. She made a mental note to shop for clothes his size until she finds a suitable solution to turn him back to normal.

Next, she removed his kimoyo beads from his wrist and placed them in a drawer with his other belongings. A royal blue blanket with gold trimmings now kept a cooing, curious Erik calm. His wide eyes glimmered as they shifted about.

“I'm going to be quick, I promise,” she said as she activated a status screen. Erik's current stats came into view as Shuri took notes on a separate screen.

Age: 10 months old

Ethnicity: African-American

Nationality: Wakandan

Gender: M

Temperament: Slow to Warm Up

Hair Type: 4c

Eye colour: Brown. Turns gold when transforming.

Developmentally capable of walking; very explorative. Language skills are redeveloping - in English and Xhosa. Auditory and visual processing are aligned with his age. Vaccinations up to date.

Gathering Memory Banks * Purple heart shaped herb enabled 20/20 vision… Self-inflicted scars are permanent… Has a War Dog tattoo… Finds comfort in water… Thinking about MIT and Iraq… Plotting revenge against T'Challa… Use to date Nightshade… Does not like T'Challa… Got rid of Klaue… Always fifty steps ahead of T'Challa… this is all his fault… He is the rightful king of Wakanda… T'Challa is the son of a murderer… “Hey, Auntie.” Where is Baba??? Where’s the antidote, Princess?! Where is it? Make me one and I will repay you after I teach the clown manners! I want Mama! Don’t cut my hair or else…

Shuri shook her head and shut off the stats screen. She placed a tiny device behind his left ear, and the other part behind hers. Remaining pieces were set aside for remaining family members.

“So even as a little bundle, you still think like your 30-something-year-old self, right?”

“Yah!” He cheered in response, with a fist pump in the air.

Shuri giggled. The little Erik was too cute for words. There's so much soul in his eyes, childlike and innocent. All the same, it's apparent his current, present-day memories were still intact. Her big brother may not be so lucky, considering the troubling bits that appeared on the screen earlier.

“Are you still upset about Kelendria? Or the nurse who helped you earlier?”

Erik's bottom lip stuck out. His eyes started to water.

Sniff sniff.

Shuri's heart sank. Erik's eyes are slightly bigger, yet animated. There's an innocent boy in there - one who was robbed of warmth at a tender age.

What's a good way to test a baby's cognitive skills?

Her mind clicked. She changed his diaper (despite his rolls and kicks), got him dressed in traditional garb, and placed a golden cap on his head. The mirror displayed a grinning boy, who giggled with delight as he yanked the end of Shuri's braid.

“Hey! Don't even think about it.” Shuri's index finger managed to pry Erik's small fist from her hair. “This is ridiculous.”

Ignoring another round of hearty laughter from her baby cousin, Shuri found a toy truck and the blanket she'd used earlier. She carried Erik to the area and set him down.

“Wanna play a game?” Shuri asked as she hid the truck under the blanket. Erik's wide eyes took her in before removing the blanket. He trotted towards the truck, picked it up and shook it. Out came the Golden Jaguar necklace.

“Mine,” he said as he clutched it against his chest. Shuri couldn't help herself. She chuckled, motioning Erik to follow her as she searched the internet database for fun books to read. His small, chubby figure landed on her lap. He took her hand and placed it on his mane.

“Pease?” His bottom lip pouted.

T'Challa was right. Their late father had created a monster, despite the fact their uncle had betrayed them.

Regardless, may Bast forgive their souls.

~•~•~

A few hours later, Shuri picked him up and carried him to their living quarters. Erik's hands clutched on her braids, but she didn't mind. His memory will shift between thinking like Killmonger, and thinking like N'Jadaka.

Just as she arrived in his bedroom, a playpen with a picture of Vegeta, and a golden jaguar, was ready. The maids had changed his bedsheets and fluffed his pillow. Pyjamas, suited for his height, sat in his playpen. Before Shuri could get him dressed, her kimoyo beads went off.

“What’s wrong, Nakia?”

“Well, hello to you too. I haven't seen you all day.”

“So much has happened. You should've seen it!”

Nakia raised an eyebrow. “Sounds convincing. Who is the little bundle?”

Shuri giggled as she lightly rocked her baby cousin, lulling him to sleep. He blew bubbles, balled fists and bumped them together.

“Ta-tana.”

Shuri's eyes resumed on the call. “Ask T'Challa what happened, okay? He jinxed it. I need to get this little rascal dressed.”

“Will do. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sounds good.”

After pulling on Erik's pyjamas, which comprised thirty minutes of…

Kicks, spit, slaps, yells and giggles… pure indicators of uncooperative behaviour, Erik had fallen asleep.

“I wonder what will happen if T'Challa should take care of him for one day.”

~•~•~

T'Challa had paced back and forth in his office. The thought of a shrunken N'Jadaka didn't sit well with him… who was going to continue the training of War Dog recruits?

Admittedly, they've learned to get along - somewhat. Both royals were still at odds; Erik's hot-headed personality often clashed with T'Challa's cool and collected self. At meetings, press conferences, hotel stays, even the hall one week prior to Shuri's twenty-first birthday celebration.

… Then the invasion happened.

Both cousins were trapped on a pirate ship, imprisoned by fraudsters in their domain, and hope seemed lost.

There were pros to outweigh the cons, however. T'Challa had taught Erik about love in its entirety, while Erik had taught the former how to process pain in stages of brokenness. All of that to break free from a dark cell, reclaim their necklaces, and destroy the empire who stole the talisman that belonged to Shuri, before returning back to Wakanda.

Despite his cousin's blunt aggression when duty calls, T'Challa now missed him. Who's going to steal his breakfast? Make fun of his footwear? Post embarrassing moments to Instagram? Shove him, or trip him in the hall? Spark a debate out of the blue, versus him?

It felt bad, yet good at the same time. One less annoyance, but no fun without a lifelong frenemy around.

Seeing a baby had left T'Challa feeling helpless; the guilt-tripping memory looped  the scenes that led up to this scenario. He should've stopped poking fun at Erik when asked. So what if they've lost that bet to M'Baku (who'd won five bets so far)? This is the only time T'Challa could create new memories with Erik, since life didn't favour them growing up together in the palace.

The king shook his head and made way to his living quarters.

Upon arrival, the sound of cries echoed from Erik's room. T'Challa took his robe with him and entered the room. The sight of a tearful boy, standing up in his playpen, warranted a need for comfort. The room was dimly lit with Christmas lights.

T'Challa slowly approached the little one, in hopes that he won't scare him. Erik's cries, now replaced with sniffles, warmed his heart more than ever. He reached in, picked up Erik and cradled him, humming a warm tune that his late father had taught him. Erik's eyes closed as his small hands instinctively gripped T'Challa's shirt, wherever he could find it.

How much warmth did his cousin miss out on? The answer didn't surprise the king at all. Until things get back to normal again, the least he could do is be present.

Love lesson, 2.0, for N'Jadaka Udaku. Pain process, 3.0, for T'Challa Udaku.

The king rested on Erik's bed, with his baby cousin sleeping soundly on his chest.

~Iza kuqhubeka~

-°¿°

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @allhailnjadaka @mellowjellow6 @maddiestundentwritergaines @blowmymbackout @bidibidibombaclaat @afrobeautii @purple-apricots @supersizemeplz @thadelightfulone @jozigrrl @destinio1 @daft-not-punk @wakanda-inspired @shegoego @fonville-designs @love-more122 @rell-knocks @monochrome-pineapple @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @whoramilaje // (2) @sickaddiktions @kaiipeace @golddmindd @hi-looo12 @fiercegrace711 @tamara-visuals @85love @abeautifulmindexposed @sup3rn0va13 @thisisnajah @ljstraightnochaser @forgottenthoughtsandmemories

#tb514fanfics #black panther #baby jaguar hype #shuri udaku #baby!erik #erik killmonger stevens #t'challa #nakia #black panther fandom #bpwriters #wakanda #n'jadaka #prince n'jadaka #princess shuri #king t'challa

[theegoldenjaguar-blog]

Step into daddy’s lair. The heat here can be too much to handle, you sure you can keep up?

Once those doors are closed, there’s no turning back. Leave all second guessing and thoughts behind in that innocent mind of yours. In this room you will be turned out. I will mold you into a creature of lust, begging for the deepest stroke and the longest lick. I will grace you with my fingertips leaving behind a burn, a heat, an unwavering ember.

The red hue of this room will over power you, and I plan to trap you. So I’ll ask you again: is this what you came here for?

Refer to me as Daddy.

I am your only Daddy- Daddy Erik, Daddy Killmonger, Daddy N’Jadaka, your king, your prince. I expect nothing more or less.

You are my sub, at my complete will. I will control that body- every fuck session, every orgasm, every touch, every kiss. I expect you to remember me.

You like it rough? I can provide that...choke you out and fuck you till your knees buckle. Torture that throat with this dick till you choke on spit.

You like it gentle? I can provide that too...give you long sensual hard strokes, firm kisses and deep whispers while I painsakingly unravel you piece by piece.

You wanna be a brat? You’ll get what your asking for fucking with me, have you crying next.

You wanna be obedient? This dick will reward you in any way I see fit.

This jungle of pleasure is ours to explore.

Now close that door and let’s begin.

- Golden Jaguar

[ursapharoh05]

Redemption (Erik Killmonger)

This is the fourth and final part of my Dadmonger series. It took me a long time to figure out what I wanted to do with this and where I wanted it to go. I hope you like it, I could use some inspiration so hit me up with asks or anything, I’m even down with doing sleepover saturdays now that schools out. Tell me what you think. Thanks for sticking with me

A trial, years and years of therapy, ancestry, and teaching and it all came down to was a single day and a panel of elders judging her fathers deeds. She’d been summoned some week before as N’Jadaka’s last request. Her uncle, a title the hesitant and bashful king had used to introduce himself, had tracked and her down to present back to his cousin and now she was in Wakanda.

She’d been told the stories when she had arrived, servant girls were quick to exchange tales of America for stories of the Tyrant prince that ruled for two days and now was being integrated into their society. She’d engaged in teenage giggling and gossiping, ate the snacks that they had brought and waved from her door as they’d left. It had been a foreign but enjoyable interaction to learn more about what she had missed. She still wasn’t sure why she was there.

Upon her arrival she’d ran all over the palace,soaked in as much beauty and art, and architecture as possible. She walked until she was hopelessly lost and out of breath and her beat up sneakers made her feet throb. She knew her assigned Dora had kept up with her easily and eyed her oddly but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She found a garden, kicked off her shoes and socks and had slept on the grass long passed the sunset and nearly passed her first dinner with the royal family. She’d flinched when it was the King to wake her up and had to scrub tears from her eyes when she realized this was real.

But now, it had been a week and she had grown weary of the grandeur of this utopia. She was a marvel to this place as much as this place was a marvel to her. Being an oddity loses its charms rather quickly.

She was prepared for the cautionary tales of her father, it was expected, failure breeds learning experience. She was not prepared for the complete contempt for her father and of her, the way their whispers twisted to snap out at her, a failure,ruined American half breed, proof of the worlds failures, just another bastard heir that the King had collected, they didn’t call her by her name or even her birthright Wakandan title. They forgot to ask if she spoke their language, she kept it to herself, after all she’d been called worse than ‘the plague of the Jaguar’.

The morning the King came for her, she knew it was for something other than his usual invitation to join him for some aspect of his daily routine. Which is a shame because she does like being with him.

One of her favorite things since her arrival in Wakanda was the kings friendship, though she made him work for it. The King’s eyes were just that shade lighter than her fathers, more golden, less worldly, good for expressing emotions other than rage and hurt. She sees his lips move, knows this is important, that he’s trying to bond with her for whatever reason and stands to follow him out when he bids her to.

The King keeps his stride even and he summons an easy smile “If you would like, after your meeting you could accompany me to the Jabari tribe, or we could practice your Xhosa and go to the market” She shrugs. The King instead stops them walking and places a hand on her shoulder “You will not be there any longer than you wish, little cub. Your father asked for you during his healing process, and throughout much of his rehabilitation. I am sorry we could not come for you except as a last request before his trial”

The beast inside of her tears apart her stomach with nerves, growling out hurt and fear. Her hands shake as she shoves them into her pockets “You sure you got the right guy? Daddy isn’t one to ask, he just...”

“Takes” The King fills in with a sad smile as she tries to shrug “I have learned much from my cousin in his time here, it is why I work so hard to right the wrongs befallen the lost—“

She chuckles then, “Forgive me, your majesty. Our losses in America are different to the losses of Wakanda. I lost a past, I wander along the unknown of a heritage I wasn’t raised in, and I’m not invited back to. You” she glances at him before looking to the large vibranium door “ are suffering through knowing you let your brothers and sisters be dragged away to hell in the name of your own preservation, your future is at a loss because you are unsure where you belong in a world that does not treat you how you deserve, but as a tool.”

She’s overstepped, she can tell by the way the Kings inviting smile wanes slightly, she’s ruined another moment because she can’t tell a challenge from a simple reassurance. She wants to apologize, honesty without tact is just cruelty and she has no use for cruelty anymore.

She’s too late though as the hand on her shoulder squeezes softly and he motions to the guards on either side of the large Vibranium door.  She is pulled into a tight hug by the King as he murmurs “I will wait for you here, I will give you your heritage back, and you can guide us in this dangerous world, eh?” She can’t remember a time someones held her after she’s thrown something so blatantly into their face, she clutches onto him before entering the room.

It...is not a prison cell as she had imagined, no bars or dirt floors. It looks very much like a well lived in apartment, homey American style highlighted with Wakandan decor.  The mantle is covered in pictures, daddy and the King, daddy with the princess, daddy and...a woman. She feels like she’s entered into a strangers home, and her childhood apartment all at the same time.

Soaking in the photographs she turns at the sound of a deep clearing throat, takes in the man in deep blue royal attire grinning with the golden fangs. She doesn’t move “Should I call you Daddy, Erik, or Prince N’Jadaka?”

“Daddy, sounds good to me, c’mere lil girl, let me see you” he moves forward, takes her hand and spins her around before she can protest “Surprised you didn’t let them dress you up right, look attchu, slummin’ it”

She huffs a laugh looking at her worn jeans, and filthy high tops, her accompanying Dora isn’t so amused “I’m workin’ with what I got, not everybody workin’ as the newest royal advisor.” She hugs him tight “You look...” alive, unrepentant, happy without me “So good.”

Erik moves away from her after a firm slap on the back “Eh, you know how I do. Take a seat, tell me what you’ve done with your time” she does, although it’s less personal than her talks with the king and sounds rehearsed even to her own ears. She tells him about all he’s missed, about his other children, about her school, about how she’s applied her lessons.

She shows him the bracelet of scars on her wrist and watches his face turn from polite interest to stone as she explains “The big one was for you, this ones for mama, and cousin Emmit and Trevon. These are for some of the—the other kids you got. There’s four in all, three boys and another girl, I got letters back in my bag from them, pictures too if ya wanna—“

He reaches out and rubs a finger over each mark almost reverently “Oh, girly. Whatchu done.”

She shrinks for a moment before standing her ground “They aren’t dead if that’s whatchu think. These are people I care about, not people I hurt. It’s good”

Erik pulls away, ignoring her defensive tone “I want you to see sumthin’ “ he moves to lead then to a door off to the side. she  follows him around the lavish apartment as he walks them to a room, gives two loud knocks summoning the woman from the photos. The woman’s hair is wrapped, exhausted bags under her eyes. She’s beautiful, strong, and holding a sleeping infant.

Her smile is bright as the sun as she meets Erik’s eyes “Shhhhh, silly man, I just now get your child to sleep and here you are stomping about. Have you finished your meeting?”

He leans in and kisses her softly, like she’s his whole world before pulling her and the infant tight into his arms. He looks down at his first daughter, motioning her closer to look at the sleeping baby. He whispers in adoration “You wanna see the future Lil girl? A black baby raised right. Gonna know of the hardships of the American Nigga and the power and pride of Wakandan royalty. This lil shits gonna change the whole world.”

The woman frowns “N’Jadaka, you mustn’t speak like that, you’ll scare the poor girl away. My husband is a visionary, we are looking first for a nanny, not a revolutionary.  We can give you a place to live with us, and an allowance. You’ll be taking care of our child while I and Prince N’Jadaka are working with the King to help America. Will you accept?”

She recoils from the sight of such a perfect family “But, But what about the trial I thought—“ her voice breaks as her eyes stay on the sleeping bundle, the curly hair, and the little fists.

“Nah, more like a ‘welcome to society’ party, I jus’ needed a way to get you here.” All the air in the room seems to be avoiding her lungs, she wasn’t brought here as anything more than a glorified babysitter and it’s very clear that he meant it that way “I was tellin’ my better half, that our kid needs some perspective. Who’s better to have perspective than someone who’s lived it, besides, Ain’t nobody I trust more.” She wonders if the grin is meant to be reassuring and prideful. It’s not.

She finds her head shaking back and forth, and a laugh bubbling out of her mouth “I—I think I hate you” she gasps for breath around  giggles “I really hate you, I’m glad the others never met you. I’m glad I saw this, I’m done with this weak shit.” She turns to the woman with a predators grin“You better run and take the kid with you. If you need anything, ever, find me.”  She turns to leave, the beast still restrained.

Erik catches her arm and frowns “Where you goin’ lil girl? This is the place to be, Imma change the world from this spot right here. You mine,and I want you here.”

She growls, looking for a fight, praying for one. Shaking her head and ripping her arm free she starts to back him up “Nah, you different. You changed for them, you ain’t my daddy, not anymore.” She sniffs and lets her defenses go up, she strides back for the exit “Congrats on the kid, Prince N’Jadaka. Wakanda fits you.” She takes a deep breath  ”Let’s go, Dora, I’m ready.”

Her Dora is waiting at the door for her, spear in hand as N’Jadaka follows closely behind “Im doing this for you, this is gonna change things, it’s bigger than just a few centers and programs—“ he reaches for her again as she crosses the threshold.

She stops just outside as the two crossed spears stop him short from leaving the room, the beasts roar soaks her words as she bears her teeth in a wicked grin, fingernails digging into her palms like claws “what did you think was gonna happen to us? Huh?! You think if you can’t bring Wakanda to us, you gonna bring us to Wakanda, bitch, where?! I’m goin’ home, and I’m gonna work and claw and fight my way until I got the power to cause the change you couldn’t and then I’m going to shove it down your throat and up my enemies asses! Like you taught me! I’ll burn before I let you or anyone else dictate where I belong! I’d kill you for leaving us to die there, for leaving us to our chains. But it looks like you sitting pretty in chains gold right here.”

She doesn’t stay in Wakanda for the trial that night. She ignores the pleas of the King to stay, and the constant messengers from the Prince. Instead she goes home, gets some sleep, and gets to work on the plans for her new world.

#erik stevens #erik killmonger #black panther killmonger #black panther #dadmonger #wakanda

[franchisewars-blog]

Black Panther: Review and Sociological Examination- Part 4 (Killmonger, Ethnocentrism, Racism, and Imperialism)

Erik Stevens, Killmonger, or N’Jadaka to give his birth name, as played by Michael B. Jordan, rarely has a scene where he’s not smiling a bit towards the rest of the cast. This is not a friendly, reassuring gesture. These are the bared teeth of a predator toying with his food, much like the golden ones forming the image of a gaping maw on his own Black Panther/Golden Jaguar mask. That’s not to say that Prince (and later, King) N’Jadaka can’t be funny. It’s just that the humor isn’t apparent or welcomed by anyone else in the film; it’s a hostile display of verbal warfare enjoyed by “Killmonger” and ourselves, the audience safely outside his reach but ever the witness to his bravado, which is equal parts endearing and terrifying.

This fierce aggression combines with the character’s blunt and irreverent nature to draw a powerful contrast with the dignified and calm Wakandans. Which makes perfect sense; while Killmonger may have a Wakandan father, Wakandan birth name, and know the language far more than he lets on, he’s ethnically more American than traditional Wakandan. His slang, personality, worldview, and very identity are defined by the clash between his father’s idyllic homeland and the harsh reality of his own birth nation.

And that clash will redefine Wakanda.

Killmonger views everything through the lens of the unique view of an *African-American,* not as a Wakandan. He constantly refutes the Wakandan’s view of themselves as separate from their African neighbors and race, constantly grouping all African-descended peoples as one monolithic group instead of a cornucopia of radically different peoples. At the end of the film, while dueling his cousin T’Challa one last time, he disregards his kinsman’s pleas about the safety of Wakanda, in part out of spite for Wakanda’s “abandonment” of him, but in part because he views Wakanda as physical resources, and not as some sacred homeland. Because his view of Wakanda is formed through an american perspective (an perfect example of ethnocentrism) there’s an important disconnect between the figurative “language” of Wakanda and his own.

But it’s his views of his ancestors and personal history that really keeps him out of the Wakandan folk group.

When T’Challa visited the ancestral plain, he encountered the spirits of Wakanda’s past king and champions, with everyone dressed in traditional Wakandan garb and viewed through Wakanda’s own geography. When N’Jadaka undergoes the same experience, he is transported back to his family’s Oakland apartment, still wearing the same blue hoodie he wore the day he found his father’s fresh corpse. This not only shows how N’Jadaka never grew past this point emotionally, but how his ancestry, at least in his mind and soul, is separated from that of traditional Wakandans and based in America. But even more tellingly, Killmonger’s last words and request are to be buried in the sea, alongside his maternal ancestors carried from the mother continent in slave ships. At the end, he acknowledges that as much as his father’s legacy defined his last days, he himself has a stronger personal connection to the tragic history of his black brothers and sisters carried to a new land and a fate of bondage and persecution.

Which is why arguably his most devastatingly accurate line is also one that sadly highlights his own motivation decay: “Ain’t all people your people?”

Killmonger is forcing T’Challa and the other Wakandans to acknowledge the outside world, and the responsibility they have towards the wellbeing of their fellow man. He is in a sad way totally justified in looking back at the history of his people, stripped of their original cultural identities and names, their families, and their lives and very freedoms, and finds himself asking “Where was Wakanda?” And no one really has a good answer for that. King T’Chaka’s decision to leave a little boy, his own nephew, behind in a context clearly more harmful and poisonous to his development, only exacerbates the issue, making it even more literal and personal for Killmonger.

In a strange way, he and Nakia see the same problems, feel the same indignation and righteous disgust with them, but approach the answers in diametrically opposed manners. And unfortunately, Killmonger’s answer to the problems reflects some of the ugliest aspects of the world he was born into. Where Nakia sees altruism and cooperation as the key to saving the world, Killmonger sees only violence and conquest. “The sun will never set on the Wakandan Empire” is pure imperialist (or as Wakandans would say, colonizer) thinking. It’s a stock phrase used by the Spanish upon subjugating people groups in the New World and Asia, and defined in the modern world by the British Empire, the archetypal colonizing superpower. And there’s a bitter reflection of Killmonger’s disdain for the British Museum’s display of African artifacts taken as prizes of war with his own stealing of a tribal mask for equally questionable reasons. He sees the answer to oppression as more oppression, no different from those he regards as his enemies.

Now, it’s important to note that Killmonger is not a suffering from the delusion of racial superiority, as a white supremacist would. He views the situation as more one of racial competition, a nuance that makes classifying him as racist or not a very tricky and dangerous path to navigate. Which again causes a slight disconnect in the way he interacts with the Wakandans; he’s speaking of the condition of a race bound by common physical attributes and history of crimes perpetrated upon that group, and they, in their isolationist country, think more specifically about the cultural differences they perceive. He is both right in his push to improve the condition of his people and in discounting the cultural differences that stand in their way, but wrong to view this Pan-Africanism in an aggressive, kill-or-be-killed (or as the film puts it, conquer or be conquered) way.

He and Nakia form opposing poles that nevertheless act in concert to pull T’Challa and Wakanda as well onto the world stage.

And thus, we shall tackle T’Challa tomorrow.

-The Hopper.

Part 1: Intro-https://franchisewars.tumblr.com/post/171283875295/black-panther-review-and-sociological

Part 2: Nakia and Soft Power:https://franchisewars.tumblr.com/post/171364220370/black-panther-review-and-sociological

Part 3: M’Baku and Ethnicity-https://franchisewars.tumblr.com/post/171295364700/black-panther-review-and-sociological

Part 4: Killmonger and Ethnocentrism-https://franchisewars.tumblr.com/post/171331888740/black-panther-review-and-sociological

Part 5: T’Challa and Isolationism-https://franchisewars.tumblr.com/post/171364220370/black-panther-review-and-sociological

#black panther #erik killmonger #michael b jordan

[markoftheasphodel]

So I had a dream last night. I was inexplicably in my parents’ house in Tennessee with my cats and a puma showed up in the carport. The cats were outside (I NEVER let them out IRL) and I had to brave the puma to rescue them. Then Lolo, my white cat, somehow got out again and this time a black “panther” variant of jaguar, its golden undertones glimmering in the fluorescent light, showed up and I had to rescue an apathetic Lolo from the puma.

Then the whole yard and a strangely Detroit-y detached garage were full of animals including a red deer with massive antlers, a polar bear, a black bear, and an emu. And then the yard filled completely with animal rights activists and neighbors upset about this menagerie in the garage and I had to go out in my nightgown and explain that I had no @#$%ing idea about a polar bear in the garage and I didn’t even LIVE in that house and they could take the whole batch to the zoo for all I cared. I don’t recall what happened next.

I related this mess to my husband this morning and he said eagerly that I could’ve defused all this by greeting the black panther properly and respectfully as “King T’Challa.”

And I, mindful of what tumblr has taught me, pointed out that it was a black jaguar with gold in its coat and was therefore King Killmonger and no he was not allowed in.

#actual dreams #wtf self

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Masterlist

NSFW. Smut. Violence. Mature Audience Only.  

***Author’s Note!***

BEFORE you read this epic, it’s important to note that you MUST have read “Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 1 & 2, “Stark’s New Intern”, “Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 3″, “Wet Sugar” and "Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 4" first, in that exact order. If not, you will miss a lot of story threads that were planted to bloom here. Book order HERE.

Summary:

N'Jadaka prepares to wed Yani, his influential Caribbean fiance, in the most anticipated social event across the land. The new King of Wakanda continues to make global changes on a level that T'Challa refused to do. The C.I.A.'s discovery of vibranium in the ocean brings on the re-emergence of Namor during a Mama Wati celebration. Wakanda's new battle with the Talokanil tests the Golden Jaguar’s resolve to transform his nation into the preeminent superpower on earth. He leans on Yani and Ramonda to reign in the serious infighting among the noble class while presenting Shuri with a life-altering choice: Take over the mantle of Black Panther in her brother's absence.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

#King Killmonger #King Killmonger The Golden Jaguar #Killmonger Fanfriction #Namor #Black Panther Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever Fanfiction #Uzumaki Rebellion #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes #Wet Sugar 3

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

A Calm Storm Raged.

Chapter One.

Ororo Munroe x Erik Killmonger x T’Challa

N’Jadaka,” 

T’Challa made his way into Erik’s rather large and extra palace suite, arms behind his back and shoulders straight. He had on a beautiful gold and purple Dashiki with matching linen pants, feet covered in Shuri’s new collection of sneakers that were sound proof and made with vibranium. 

“What?” He replied malevolently. 

Erik was in the middle of being rubbed down with fresh, raw Wakandan Shea Butter from the popular and historic Shea Trees of the Wakandan jungle. Supposedly the butter has long lasting protection for days and healing elements for scars, bumps, and bruises. The palace maid looked timid as she applied the butter to Eriks naked form, avoiding his ass and dick completely. T’Challa looked on with annoyance, not really thrilled to see his cousins bare behind with his doors wide open.

“I SAID WHAT?” His cousin's sharp tone caused the girl to drop the container of butter. 

“We are having a royal dinner and I would like you to meet my fiancé.” T’Challa didn’t feel like getting into a banter with N’Jadaka today. 

“Fiancé? What ever happened with you and that annoying ass bitch Nakia?” Erik admired himself in his full length mirror like he was the fairest of them all, stroking his goatee and looking at his muscles glistening from the melted Shea butter on his skin. T’Challa rolled his eyes at Erik’s vain personality. 

“Nakia is NOT a bitch… and it did not work out for us.” T’Challa wanted to get past that, move on. He was getting married to Ororo Munroe. She was more so known as Storm being a part of the X-men. T’Challa did have his doubts with Erik meeting Ororo but this was his family and the Kenyan princess would be a part of the Royal family as well.

“Yeah, she's not a bitch, you were.” Erik laughs, “she had you wrapped around her finger, bruh.” 

“For one SECOND N’Jadaka can you please act civil! Ororo doesn’t need to witness nor be apart of your mess-“

“What am I doing? You’re the one that walked up here all high and mighty trying to tell me to act right. I’m a grown ass man, T’Challa. I’ll play nice for your little Fiancé though,” Erik looked down at the wakandan maid, admiring her pretty braided hair and chocolate skin. Puckering his lips, he air kissed her dangerously, his dick all in her face making her shiver. 

“Sakra, you may leave,” T’Challa called to the girl, glaring at Erik for toying with her like that.

“Yes, my king,” Sakra lifts from her crouched position, capping the butter and bowing to Erik before making her leave. T’Challa smiles softly at her, brushing her past as he focused back on his maddening cousin, finally wearing black linen pants and a wool black robe to match. 

“Remember, N’Jadaka, you are a royal prince now. You can’t go around doing such things like that. ufanele ube neentloni,” T’Challa could feel his beads buzzing, preferring it on silent when he was within the palace. 

“Shuri, is dinner ready?” T'Challa looked at his younger sister’s holographic figure, a big grin on her face and hair out in its natural afro. 

“Why else would I be calling, brother?!” 

“A new discovery? Maybe to annoy me like the sister you are?” T’Challa bantered. 

“I’ll save that for later. Where are you?!”

“N’Jadaka’s room. Tell Queen Mother to hold on for us. Is Ororo there?”

“She is, and she looks so beautiful! Nakia would be jealous!”

“Aye! Stop it!” T'Challa's African accent was strong.

“All good fun, hurry up!” Shuri ended the call.

Erik was putting on his last minute jewelry that was unnecessary. Golden Jaguar necklace, gold fangs, kimono beads, and even gold rings.

“It’s just food, N’Jadaka.” T’Challa shakes his head. 

“Mad you can’t pull this off?” He teased his cousin, smiling with those killer dimples.

“ndingathini? Kumkani” T’Challa finally breaks his shell, arrogance showing through. Erik’s jaw clenched with anger, annoyed with the fact that T’Challa had to constantly remind him that he was the fucking King. Just months ago he YEET his ass over the cliff damn near killed him. He would YEET his ass over the balcony of his palace room right now if it wasn’t for his more civil nature. 

“You love using that against me, don’t you?” Erik’s tone was dark just like the jade color of his eyes. 

“Just a gentle reminder since you enjoy being an ass,”  T’Challa laughs, turning to leave.

“Enjoy it while you can, nigga.” Erik could only hope that T’Challa would fall ill or some shit. Maybe if Iron man didn’t reverse the effects of the snap Erik would still be king while filling the space. Being a ruler of Wakanda felt good. He missed that. Now, he was back to being Prince N’Jadaka and lead General for the Wakandan War Dogs.

“Calm yourself, N’Jadaka. Remember who spared your life.” T’Challa didn’t wait for a response, closing Erik’s double doors made of pure gold.

—-

Ororo Munroe sat within the grand dining hall that was surrounded by the tropics. She had a long backless lilac dress on with her silver hair flowing over her pretty brown shoulders. The layout was simply too much but she understood the reasoning. Looking down at the rare amethyst rock carved into a ring on her finger, she twirled it back and forth to watch it catch the rainbows. 

T’Challa was going to be her husband. She said yes before she could stop herself. There were strong mutual feelings back when she was a teen after finding her way to Serengeti. Deciding it was best to part ways, Ororo hadn’t seen him again until a year ago when he joined up with The Avengers. 

Ororo sipped her aged wakandan rum, thinking about how she would become the Queen in only a few short weeks. Pressing a hand to her forehead, Ororo tried to calm her anxiety, the feeling of walls closing in around her triggering her claustrophobia. She needed some wild mava kush blend that a friend of hers of the Botanical Society of South Africa made. The kush always calmed her nerves when she felt on edge.

Three large raps of a gold staff alerted everyone in that room, all of them standing to their feet followed by Ororo. First entered Shuri, then came the Queen Mother, Ramonda. Ororo smiles, bowing her head respectively at Ramonda as she took her place next to Shuri who waved animatedly at Ororo. Next came a face she hadn’t seen before but heard about. The unknown cousin to T’Challa that seemed to stir everyone within that room. 

N’Jadaka.

Ororo noticed his rather loose form, egotistical walk, and dark eyes. Seating himself next to Shuri, N’Jadaka doesn’t even look her way, grabbing the bottle of aged rum and pouring himself a generous amount that slushed wildly within his golden goblet covered in African gemstones. Ramonda gave him a warning look, causing Erik to kiss his teeth, sitting the bottle back in the center. 

“KING T'CHALLA. King of Wakanda!!!”

Everyone stood, even Erik out of respect even though he looked as if it pained him. T’Challa enters, that same rigid form and intense authoritarian eyes sweeping across the room silencing everyone. 

“kulilungelo ukuba nive nonke. wakanda naphakade!” 

T’Challa did the signature Wakanda symbol, everyone in that room following up including Ororo. 

“WAKANDA FOREVER!!!!!” 

T’Challa smiles warmly, walking forward with his eyes on Ororo. She returned the same gaze, waiting for her fiancée to speak.

“Today’s meal is a celebration for my beautiful Fiancé, Ororo.” Eyes were the spotlights for Ororo. 

“She will be the new Queen of Wakanda beside me, and I could not have chosen a better woman. Beautiful, strong, caring. Me and Ororo have a history that none of you would understand. I am the luckiest that I’ve ever been, and that is luckier than being King.” 

Ororo watched as T’Challa walked towards her, the dining hall silent as their king approached the future queen. Even in a room full of people he looked like he wanted to eat her. Storms name, Ororo, translated in her language as beauty which best suited her. The magical aura she possesses from her ancestors being sorceresses and priestesses automatically gave her appeal aside from her striking beauty. Full lips, eyes that changed the color of her hair when her powers were in full force, skin so smooth it was chocolate silk, smell of tropical rain and peppermint scented pelargonium on her skin. She was T'Challa's weakness. Ororo stood, taking T’Challa’s hands in hers, watching as he brought them to his mouth to kiss gently. His inviting mocha eyes made her eyelids flutter. He gave her a teasing smile and a wink in return. 

“So beautiful,” he rubbed her cheek with his knuckles, causing the powerful woman to blush. 

“Panther Goddess Bast sent you to me,” T’Challa whispers between them before placing a kiss to her lips again. What they hadn’t realized was that every man at that table looked at her like a piece of meat. Their mouths watered, skin prickled, hearts pounded. The strong magical pull affected them all. Even Erik. He never looked at Nakia…but Ororo…

“Let’s eat! We can’t let this wonderful Wakandan meal go to waste!” T’Challa’s voice snapped everyone out of their reverie. 

Everyone agreed cheerfully, cooks and palace maids passing around meals and filling goblets with rum or pomegranate juice. T’Challa seats himself next to Ororo, pouring his own glass of rum. Raising his glass, Ororo follows suit, clinking glasses with him before taking a long sip. She needed that drink with how intense things were going. Eyes sweeping about the room, Ororo watched everyone talk Xhosa, eat delicious food, and drink the strong rum like they were chugging water. Placing a lock of her thick hair behind her ear, Ororo’s cinnamon gaze landed on a pair of obsidian colored ones. Locked in a staring contest, she watched the brewing flame within his eyes almost spark her. Scanning her body painfully slow, N’Jadaka takes her in like it was for the first time, learning her from across the table. She felt completely bare under his eyes, a hand coming up to clutch her chest. He smiled smugly. 

“That would be N’Jadaka. My cousin.”

Ororo blinked, looking over at T’Challa’s handsome face as he chewed his slow cooked Oxtail.

“N’Jobu’s son?” 

“Yes. He looks like him, doesn’t he?”

“A little, not the dimples...they must be his mothers.” Ororo wondered who his mother could be.

“His mother is American.” T’Challa grabs a Chapatis to scoop up some spicy red sauce. He was so invested in his food that he hadn’t noticed the lust and interest in his own cousin's eyes towards his fiancé. 

“Arabella is the Cairo princess, correct?” T’Challa asks.

“Yes, not particularly a favorite with her bending of the rules but she’s getting better.” 

“I wonder if we could get her and N’Jadaka to meet? Maybe he would be interested.” 

Ororo looked at T’Challa quizzically, “You would like to arrange that?” 

“Why not? He could use a distraction. Erik needs a companion besides his five cats that roam the castle. A prince single? He should be with someone.” T’Challa laughed to himself, humor and mischief in his eyes.

“We both know how horrible Arabella is. She wouldn’t be a great girlfriend or wife, T’Challa.” Ororo senses that T’Challa wanted to do this on purpose because of the tension between them both.

“You aren’t playing fair, T’Challa,” Ororo spoke with a soft and alluring tone, “just because you are upset with how things are with your cousin doesn’t mean you should interfere with who he falls in love with.” 

T’Challa breathes out a sigh, shaking his head before forking a potato, “He talks to me like I didn’t heal his wound. He doesn’t respect me as King.” That was a personal situation Ororo did not want to get into at the moment. She decided to leave the matter alone for now, turning to her food. 

—- 

Throughout the dinner, Ororo avoided Eriks heated eyes and kept her glass of rum close. Why was he so interested? He clearly had no respect for T’Challa with the way he looked at her like he wanted to fuck her. She considered sweeping him away with a sudden tornado but that would only kill everyone in that room minus her. Plates were replaced with dessert and at this point Ororo couldn’t take any more food. Just when things were going well, the doors to the dining hall opened revealing two women wrapped beautifully in gold traditional wakandan gowns, natural hair in goddess locs. One was slightly shorter and plump while the other was tall and slender. Silence filled the large open space as the two women stood firm at the tail end of the table, waiting for a response or instruction. Wiping his mouth with a cloth, T’Challa takes his stand, the same ruling stance that hushed the room. Erik looked from the women to T’Challa, a knowing look on his face and the urge to laugh ready to explode within him.

Did this nigga really just do this?

All that power made his head swell and Erik couldn’t wait to see Ororo’s reaction to this. Erik chanced a look at Queen Mother, he could even see the disgust that she tried to hide. Everyone else was clueless and it made Erik want to beat it into their skulls with his Nguni stick that he used for combat. 

“Bold,” Erik drinks more rum, wiping the sneer from his face quickly. He wanted to have a little fun. Why not fake surprise just like the rest? He could look at Ororo and give her a reassuring look to calm her hurt. Erik couldn’t keep his eyes off her for a second. The woman was beautiful. It was her skin mostly, it glowed. No… maybe it’s her eyes. She had sexy eyes.

On second thought it was her lips. Erik almost broke his goblet in half from how hard he held it. She was gonna marry T’Challa. How unfortunate. T’Challa cleared his throat, motioning for the two women to speak. 

“I am Chioma, daughter to G’foru, warrior of the water tribe.” She was the plump one.

“And I am Hadiya, daughter to Akuchi, Jabari tribe.” The taller one spoke. 

T’Challa watched as the Dora followed suit standing from their seats. Ororo waited with confused eyes, flickering from the women to T’Challa. She shifted slightly, clearly feeling out of place.

“We are here to serve our king as sisterwives for Queen Ororo.” 

An entire uproar filled the room, some outraged while others agreed. 

“SILENCE!” T’Challa spoke loudly, quieting the room. 

Erik could not keep his composure. His laugh was the only sound in that room. After about five glasses of the strong rum, Erik’s mouth was sure to get him in trouble.

“I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WENT AND GOT TWO OTHER WOMEN TO BE YOUR WIFE!” Ororo screamed so loud that her glass shattered. 

Shuri stomped on Eriks toes, shutting him up. He looked at her like she was stupid, toes burning from the pain. Ororo sat still and stared at the women who looked straight ahead like two dumb ass statues. She could feel her ears ringing now from her rising anger.

“Thank you, N’JADAKA, for your amusement. My cousin always knows when to make light of a situation, right, cousin?” T’Challa spoke sarcastically. 

Erik could see the scorching rage in T'Challa's eyes that was masked with a forced smile. Huffing, he keeps eye contact until he looks at Ororo with a lopsided grin. He could see her energy crackling around her. T’Challa didn’t need to worry about Erik, more so Ororo.

“My King, should we go?” Hadiya asks, eyes reading otherwise.

“No,” T’Challa looked over at Ororo’s angry face, “You will stay. The Dora can take you to your rooms and food will be there waiting for you. I’ll be there soon.” 

Excitement poured through both women as they followed behind the Dora, excluding Okoye who even had a look of utmost shock on her face. 

“THE DINNER WILL CONTINUE AS BEFORE!”

T’Challa took his seat again, grabbing up his fork to continue eating. He completely blocked out Ororo’s glare towards him. Her eyes could be felt briefly changing from cinnamon to silver but all that changed when Ramonda’s warm and nurturing hand gripped hers. 

——

After dinner, everyone joined T’Challa in the throne room where he sat alongside Ororo watching his Wakandan people dance and drink the night away. He felt proud to be the ruler of these people. Ororo however sat lazily in her chair, twirling her eighth glass of rum with great interest. Her long claw shaped nails painted black could be sharp enough to scratch the grins off of her sister wives faces. They danced seductively for T’Challa, gaining his attention in the eyes and in his crotch. Ororo almost gagged. She and T’Challa had a lot to discuss after this unnecessary party. 

“I think I need to get some air. My claustrophobia is making me suffocate.” Ororo whispered to T’Challa softly.

“Take as much time as you need, Ororo. I will be here waiting for you.” 

Accepting his kiss, Ororo stood from her throne chair, walking down the platform with her pretty bare feet and towards the large royal balcony of the palace. The noise faded out as she sipped her rum and walked. The smell of the fresh wakandan air was always soothing and pulled to her aura. Sitting her glass down and causing it to shatter, Ororo gripped the vibranium edge of the balcony, letting out calming breaths.

How could he do this to her? How could he still make her feel second? When things didn’t work out for them in the beginning he ended up with Nakia. Now that things didn’t work out between them he made his way back to Ororo. She always fell for his dazzling smile and chocolate skin. Her hands were in her hair now, scrunching the long silver strands like a mad woman. She adored this man, but he was fgoing to marry two other women to ‘sow his Royal oats’. 

“You want some company, beautiful?”

Turning, Ororo spotted N’Jadaka approaching, a cigar in hand and a drink in the other. Taking a puff, he blew out smoke into the fresh air, licking his lips afterward to take a drink. Ororo looked him over, noticing the scarring on his torso. Imagine how much pain he had to be in to do that to himself. This man that T’Challa despised had a story that caught Ororo’s attention.

“It represents the people I’ve killed. I don’t think you want to know the number.” Sneering, Erik approached her, skin smelling like African fantasy: luscious fruit and musk giving him a sweet but sexy aroma. Ororo turned away, breathing in through her nose. The rum was clouding her brain. She can’t be attracted to T'Challa's cousin...that was wrong.

“That’s the second glass you broke within the past two hours, you good?” That Oakland drag made her belly flutter. It felt good to hear an American speak. She faked an American accent living there for so long as a reporter turned X-men.

“As you can see, N’Jadaka, I’m not all well.” Ororo brushed her hair over her shoulder.

“He is a fucking idiot,” chuckling, N’Jadaka offered some of his rum to Ororo, but she kindly declined.

“Just more for me then, Isondo,” she could hear the flirty nature in his tone.

“Don’t call me that. It’s disrespectful to refer to me as sexy when I am your cousin's fiancé.” Ororo gripped her upper arms as if covering herself.

“You cold?” N’Jadaka’s husky voice practically singing in her ear.

“No. Can you back up?” She shot daggers at him with her eyes, causing N’Jadaka to step away. 

“Fiery. I like that,” he laughs smugly, drowning the rest of the rum and focusing on his cigar, “He doesn’t deserve a woman like you. T’Challa thinks he can have whatever the fuck he wants and clearly having you is the golden egg. Too bad you look like you’re ready to rage a fucking storm.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She sassed him.

“I would actually. I heard about what you can do. Show me.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Show me what storm is all about,” N’Jadaka invades her space again, eyes on the evening sky.

“Show me lightning.” Blinking away from the stars, he looked down on her, “Show me a thunderstorm, no...a hurricane.” 

His eyes were wild and lustful. Ororo blinked away tears, her psionic powers over weather affected by her emotions. She often suppresses extreme feelings to prevent her emotional state from resulting in violent weather.

“And I heard about how cunning you are. You used to be a thief, right? So did I. I bet me and you could have made the perfect team. Stealing vibranium, giving back to our people the proper way, beating niggas asses and snapping necks,” N’Jadaka took his fingers to touch her soft hair, “You’re dangerous just like me.” 

Ororo smacked his hand away, touching her hair as if it were infested, “You’re disgusting. You can have any woman you want and you choose to chase me?” 

“I always get what I want.” He said with a dangerous smile 

“You sure? You didn’t get the throne. T’Challa did that.” 

“Yeah...he did. That’s where I fell short but I’m here. I’m in Wakanda now and I still bark orders and make decisions. I’m the one that pushed T’Challa to open the Outreach Centers. If it wasn’t for me, none of that shit would have fucking happened.” 

Ororo looked at N’Jadaka with great interest, “That was you? You made him do that?”

“In a fucked up way that resulted in me getting stabbed through the chest, yeah.” Her pretty cinnamon eyes had him hooked. 

“Wow...I praised him for that and I should be praising you.” Forgetting her recent disinterest in touching him, Ororo grabbed his hands, grateful eyes dancing with tears.

“I’m happy he finally opened his eyes. You made that happen.” As quickly as she held his hands she let go. N’Jadaka felt a void.

“You didn’t have to stop touching me. Your skin feels good against mine.” His face was dangerously close to hers, their noses almost connecting.

“Did I make you feel better?” He asks in a hushed tone.

“...Not so much. But thank you.” Ororo tucks her chin bashfully only for N’Jadaka to lift it, forcing her to look at him.

“I like what I see...and apparently so do you.” 

“I’m not...I can’t N’Jadaka.” 

“Erik.” 

Confused Ororo looks down at his chest, “Who is Erik?”

“Me. My American name. My alias,” he looked at her juicy lips, “I prefer that anyway.” 

“You’re too close, Erik. What if someone sees?”

“So what? I don’t give a fuck about their opinion of me. They already have their minds made up about me anyway so fuck them.” His hard exterior caused Ororo to step back. He was a force to be reckoned with. Erik was the type of man to ruin her in good and bad ways. The temptation to allow this man to use her body was slowly surfacing. His wild nature was like a drug to her.

“I have to go. T’Challa will be wondering where I am.”

“Only if you give him a reason to. I can take you to my private Villa in the mountains? You can let me fuck you like I know you want me to. I bet T’Challa never ate the pussy.”

Ororo gasped from the vulgar comment, covering her cleavage with her silk lilac dress. This man had no pause. He had no filter. Just blunt and obscene.

“You know about the irvingia gabonensis of African trees? There are some planted in the Wakandan jungle,” Erik takes her hair, placing it behind her ear, 

“some people call them wild mango, African mango, bush mango, dika or ogbono.”

Ororo’s eyes went low from his smell and the warmth of his touch against her ear. He was enticing her.

“They Bear these edible mango-like fruits that if extracted of their juices can arouse the person,” Erik takes her fingers, kissing each one slowly with his eyes on her. She couldn’t breath at all, her phobia back again like the wakandan air didn’t matter.

“You can ask any woman in Wakanda where they like that juice to be,” Erik nibbled the tips of her fingers, Ororo gasping with pleasure. 

“I bet your pussy tastes like irvingia mangos,” his dark chuckle finally did its job with making her pussy wet. Her pussy hadn’t been this wet in a very long time. She thought T’Challa was the only man to ever make her drip as much as she did but here comes Erik with the same effect on her horny body. It was wrong, but sexual desire could cloud your better judgment.

Leaning in close, Erik whispers against her ear, his nose in her good smelling hair.

“If you let me eat I’ll show you just how good I can juice that sweet pussy over and over on my tongue.” 

Ororo bit her lip, fingertips sparking. She imagined laying on Eriks bed, allowing this man to please her with his tongue for hours and making her scream and shout. It was so nasty and bad to think of doing that in the same space as the King but the old Ororo didn’t have remorse. He had those perfect lips to sit her pussy on and ride his face. 

“I’m getting married, Erik, I can’t do this.”

“You don’t wanna be in a poly relationship, Ororo. You telling me you would rather torture yourself? Nah, I don’t believe that. I’m finna take you back to my room and fuck some sense into you.”

“Are you hearing yourself?!!!” Ororo looked around to be sure no one could hear, “You’re insisting on sleeping with me and without a thought as to how this will hurt the royal family?”

Erik kisses his teeth, “Ramonda doesn’t approve, Shuri sure as hell doesn’t and neither should you. The Dora will kiss T’Challa feet before going against him. We ain’t gotta deal with that!”

Erik gripped the sides of her face, eyes boring into hers intensely.

“All you gotta do is say yes. And it’s not the rum talking. I really wanna take you away from him.”

“You don’t even know me. What makes you think I would jump and do that?” 

“Because I already got your attention. All you need is a little push.” 

Ororo took one look at his lips, biting her own before leaning in to taste him. His tongue deep down her throat and grunts deep, Ororo moaned. His tongue wiggles and curls like a garden snake and his lips rubbed hers like soft pillows against her face.

“Mmm,” she moaned into his mouth, allowing Erik to suck on her tongue. He was so nasty and demanding. Gripping the back of his head, Ororo battles him, the sloppy passionate kiss making her stomach tightened and her pussy wetter. She could even feel the hardening of her nipples rubbing his studded chest through her silk dress.

“Mhm,” he moaned in return, pleased with his accomplishment. She was so tasty. Ororo pulled away, gasping for air only to give Erik room to invade her neck with his long pink tongue that stroked like a slippery reptile. She shuddered, back arching like his tongue was deep in her pussy. Ororo bounces slightly with need, mimicking the way she would bounce on his tongue if he told her to. Her eyes turned silver, night sky swirling until a strong wind brushed past, closing the balcony doors. Pausing their kiss, Erik looks her dead in the eyes with a sly smirk, getting on his knees now and lifting her dress up and over his head. The high split of the dress revealed her long toned legs draped over his shoulder. Bracing herself on the balcony edge, Ororo could feel her panties slipping to the side while Erik pulled her petals apart. 

“Fuck,” she widened her legs, Eriks flat and thick tongue brushing everywhere like he was licking a plate clean. He wiggles that damn tongue against the underside of her clit, alternating between sucking and slurping. Mouth wide and wordless, Ororo clawed the vibranium, hips moving in conjunction with his tongue. She closed her eyes in defeat, all regrets long gone as this man ate her pussy like no other. He circled her clit with his pointed tongue, earning a cry. The tears in the back of her eyes fought to fall from how amazing he ate her. 

“Erik,” she whined. He had her begging.

Now he had the nerve to tongue fuck her pussy. Careful not to fall over the edge Ororo held her legs open wider, sliding down on his tongue to give him all of her.

“You’re so good at this, ahhh, it feels so good, N’Jadaka.” She cradled his head closer, rubbing over him gently. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, heart racing at the thought of being caught by T’Challa or anyone for that matter. The long billowing curtains that covered the Palace doors did hide them but that didn’t mean that someone couldn’t be peeking right now. She repeatedly moaned out with every movement Erik made, her intoxicated body moving in slow motion. Drunk or not this felt AMAZING.

“Right there, fuck, yes, right there,” her hitched breath caught in her throat, body frozen as Erik decided to add two fingers inside of her. She could hear him laughing beneath her. Tired of him hiding, Ororo lifted her dress away from his head, lust filled eyes holding his dark and sinister gaze. This man was pure evil sucking on her pussy like a beast. She grabbed a fist full of his tapered dreads, guiding his head as he sucked her clit and finger fucked her pussy.

“Erik!” She was ready to explode.

“Give me all that juice, baby,” he pushed her and pushed, coaxing her with a curl of his fingers.

“Cum on my fucking tongue.” With his command, Ororo shouted so loud it felt like the party beyond those doors ended to see what the screams of pleasure were all about.

“You taste so damn good. Your pretty sweet pussy tastes just like I like it. So pretty and good, baby.” 

Erik kisses her entire pussy with love, watching with greedy and admiring eyes as the Storm goddess moaned and weakly spoke his name.

“Erik...oh, Erik...Erik…”

He savagely started eating her again.

#killmonger smut #Erik Killmonger #tchalla #black panther #storm #nahimjustfeelingit writes

[fcknmagicc]

it looks like ERIK STEVENS / KILLMONGER from MARVEL has arrived in Blackpool. he looks like MICHAEL B. JORDAN, and is THIRTY-ONE years old. i’ve heard rumors from around town that he can be DESTRUCTIVE, but I’ve also heard they can be INTELLIGENT. it seems they’ve been brought here because they are connected to T'CHALLA, JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES, OR ANY CANON from MARVEL by the red string of fate. i wonder how their story will play out. (ooc: sessho, 26, cst, she/her)

kiss me with that b*llshit , hey guys! this is the first of my problematic sons , erik stevens ! aka killmonger , aka weebmonger ( i like that too ) . he’s a character from marvel , more specifically BLACK PANTHER ! and i’m #soft for my son. this is my first time playing him , but it’s gonna feel weird because i’ve played t’challa sm times , and my boys are so polar opposite of each other . but i’ll try to give this specimen some justice ! cause honestly he never got any

i’m splitting this intro up into two parts: non-spoiler & spoilers . if you haven’t seen the movie , read the non-spoiler , DO NOT READ THE SPOILERS . i don’t wanna ruin this character for anyone , and a lot of who he is , is explained in the movie , but if you decide to read both parts , don’t say i didn’t warn ya. 

( if you’ve seen it , read both ! )

NON-SPOILER!

erik stevens was born and raised in oakland , california . 

he was specifically raised in the hood .

he doesn’t remember his mother , only being raised by his father .

his father’s pretty much all he’s ever had , in his life .

yeah , from the trailer , he’s got beef with t’challa .

he is the villain ( but fo real he ain’t )

went to MIT . he has a certain way that he speaks , but don’t be fooled. he’s hella smart.

intelligent , strategic , skilled , charasmatic , but he’s got a lot of pent up anger .

that’s pretty much all i can mention for non-spoilers. so there’s some SHIT down below bruh~

SPOILERS!

spoiler alert spoiler alert ! 

don’t read down below if you don’t want spoilers from black panther !

don’t tell me i didn’t warn ya .

okay so basically i’ll break it down like this:

erik stevens is actually the son of prince n’jobu , t’challa’s uncle , who was once war dog of wakanda .

war dogs are basically wakandan spies .

and ‘ erik stevens ’ isn’t his birth name .

it’s n’jadaka ( i love it )

his father was murdered by his brother , king t’chaka , t’challa’s father , at the time , for selling vibranium to ulysses klaue . n’jobu was really jus tired of wakanda hiding out with their valuable vibranium , while he saw the rest of their people , worldwide, suffer.

erik .  did . not . like . this .

his own family killed his father and he was left practically as an orphan .

so he made it his goal to learn , train , and kill , in order to dethrone his cousin , not only out of REVENGE , but so he could follow through with his father’s dream to use vibranium to help the oppressed stand against their oppressor .

and he sure did dethrone t’challa . he damn well almost killed him , oh boy .

"Erik Stevens . Graduated Annapolis aged nineteen, MIT for grad schoo l. Joined the SEALs and went straight to Afghanistan, where he racked up confirmed kills like it was a video game . Started calling himself Killmonger . He joined a JSOC ghost unit , now these guys are serious , they would drop off the grid so they could commit assassinations and take down governments ."

^literally how everett ross described erik. also why he calls himself killmonger .

he was king of wakanda for a hot minute .

oh and 

 just bury me in the ocean with my ancestors who jumped from ships, cause they knew death was better than bondage.

still sh00k

MY INTERPRETATION!

okay so here i’ll briefly explain where he is in this rpg

I STILL WISH HE DIDN’T DIE . but oh well . in this rpg, i’m picking him up where the kingdom found out t’challa lived , right before the huge fight , he’s in blackpool. so he’s still got a lot of HATE for wakanda and pretty much a lot of wakandans . he still hasn’t separated that hate from t’challa ,  just because i really wanted to try out angry!killmonger for myself too !

but that isn’t to say he can’t be plotted out to direct his anger to t’chaka , at some point ,not ALL of wakanda .

my bb could really use some friends?? bitter tragic backstory bbs need a little love too .

and erik’s a little more charismatic than jason , so he’d probs make friends better .

he’s still got his panther habit ( the jaguar suit ) with him , since he was moved to blackpool with the golden necklace still on him.

best way to contact me if through ims !! i don’t do many ooc blogs or discords these days , unless necessary , sorry .

this mun ships with chemistry .

pm , dm , asks , for plots!

a little psa: this mun is african-american and no racist anons or racism in general will be tolerated on this blog. thank you!

#fshqintro #*sweats a lil cause this is long* #black panther spoilers #spoilers trigger

[ohpeteys-blog]

babe imy, i hope you're doing great! i was just thinking of you the other day because i rewatched black panther for the thousandth time, and because i'm late to every party i finally figured out that erik killmonger is "golden jaguar" and i was like, hmm... black panther, golden jaguar... WHITE TIGER?? KIND OF FITS, DOESN'T IT? and then i just made up this whole alternate identity to Ava in the MCU, like maybe she's found by King T'chaka or something and raised in Wakanda [1/2]

[2/2] with her white tiger amulet as a baby or as a little kid and so he takes her back and she’s raised with t'challa and shuri and… idk that’s as far as i got and there’s really no point to this au other than the fact that i could totally picture ava wearing her high tech suit that her “sister” shuri makes her and kind of being the yin to t'challa’s yang when they’re fighting. and then eventually she meets peter - probably saving his life. idk. my mind goes to weird places :)))

BABE ! this just opened my mind to all the possibilities and i adore you for that. second of all, i miss you too and i apologize for my absence ! i’m gonna make it up to ya, though. ;)

#chalantness #answered #i wanted to hold this until i finish but i didn't want to make it seem like i was ignoring you or anything aaa #this is such a good idea! #i hope you're ready for this!! #chanty

[fagdyk]

what's wrong with calling killmonger golden jaguar, if you don't mind? i know very little about black panther comics

There's nothing problematic about it. I just don't like it. First: Killmongers goal is to be king of Wakanda. Why call himself Golden Jaguar when he wants to call himself Black Panther. Also, it re-establishes that thing where a Marvel main villain needs to be "Evil Iron Man" or "Evil Captain America" or in this case "Evil Black Panther". Killmonger is his own character. The "Golden Jaguar" title doesn't do justice to his character

[icy-ace-1906]

Golden Jaguar doing a border check of Wakanda. The Warrior King the nation needs. Killmonger: @icyace.06 , 📸: @artsortment . . . . . #cosplayphotography #vibranium #marvel #wakanda #killmongercosplay #kingofwakanda #marvelcomics #infinitywar #cosplayersofinstagram #cosplayer #wakandaforever #mcu #blackpanther #cosplay #killmonger #avengers #avengerscosplay #tchalla #blackpanthermovie #comiccon #avengersinfinitywar #marvelstudios #chadwickboseman #comics #marvelcosplay #cosplaying #marvelcinematicuniverse #cosplayers #WCBKs #365daysofblackcosplay (at Ping Tom Memorial Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2b287ujnfg/?igshid=12tgpphn0weht

#cosplayphotography #vibranium #marvel #wakanda #killmongercosplay #kingofwakanda #marvelcomics #infinitywar #cosplayersofinstagram #cosplayer #wakandaforever #mcu #blackpanther #cosplay #killmonger #avengers #avengerscosplay #tchalla #blackpanthermovie #comiccon #avengersinfinitywar #marvelstudios #chadwickboseman #comics #marvelcosplay #cosplaying #marvelcinematicuniverse #cosplayers #wcbks #365daysofblackcosplay