Imagine spending a day in bed with Erik Killmonger, and touching his scars.
Every little nub that covered Erik’s torso was a mark of someone that he had killed. You ran your fingers over them, thinking of each life that he had taken. It was the most unsettling thing about him, and yet you couldn’t keep away.
“You okay?” He asked, tilting his head to look at you. “Do they still scare you?”
You nuzzled further into his side, pressing a kiss to one of the scars on his side. “These just make me think, sometimes,” You admitted. “Do you regret any of them?”
“No,” Erik said, his voice turning hard. He used to hate letting other people touch his scars, but he had a soft spot for you. Always had. Always will. “Just making the world a better place, baby.”
You nodded, knowing that he really believed things worked that way. “As part of the world, I thank you.” You said, squeezing him tightly. He chuckled, and kissed the top of your head, then reached for his phone.
“I should put some clothes on, order some food.”
“Just ask postmates to bring it in here,” You whined, playfully. “You’re not stepping a foot out of his bed mister, or I’ll give you some scars myself.”
