#attoye fanfiction

[mamajanky]

「 Kiln Me Softly 」

Chapter 4: Slip.

[attoye]

Mother Danai teases at Disney+ Okoye Spinoff 👀❤️

mother will perhaps have an episode or two where she reunites with father 👀👀👀🩵⚔️ (cough cough attuma 👀)

[siancore]

Attoye Canon Divergent | DarkFic | Explicit | Part 4 of 6

Summary: Okoye offers herself to be taken by the Talokanil in place of Shuri. As is customary with prisoners of war, they are to be sacrificed to Ku'ku'lkán. However, Attuma is infatuated with the Wakandan beauty and asks his God-King if he can claim her as spoils of war. Okoye has a plan, and she will allow the Talokanil warrior have his way with her to execute her plan.

Content Warnings: Dubcon; explicit sex; language; power imbalance; obsession; violence; dark!Attuma; captivity; mind control; butt stuff; cum shots; cum eating; choking

You are responsible for the content you consume. Heed the warnings and act accordingly.

[attoye]

The Attuma of Talokan/ Okoye (Marvel) Tag ‘AKA 💐✨Attoye ✨💞’

Is at 300+ fics!

Only 14 more AO3 fics until Attoye reaches 100!

If you have something written, SHARE IT! Don’t be afraid!

No matter how short or long you think it is! You can always edit later and the people in the community are always willing to give feedback and show love!

Headcanons, Mini fics, Dialogue, or anything else! Post it to Ao3! And i you’re not a writer, remember to comment and reblog on the works you love, we writers love to read what you think :)

[pilesofpillows]

Won’t You Bring Me Whiskey? || Attoye Drabble || Western AU

Warnings: Hats off to Cowboy Attuma 🤠

Tags: @mamajankyy @xenokattz @tvreadsandsleep @ariyannah @iccedays @blissdoutbyattuma @umber-cinders @mickimomo @dontruinmymorning @princess-of-gondor

“And here I was, thinking you’d forgotten me.”

Okoye acknowledged his presence without ever looking up from the papers strewn across her desk, right where Shuri had said she’d be.

Attuma smiled at her from the post he’d taken up against her office doorframe.

“Darling, I think I could take a hoof to the head and still remember every damn detail about you,” he replied with a soft laugh.

Her writing paused, and she spared him the briefest glance before returning to her work, amusement dancing on her lips. “Flatterer.”

“Maybe so,” Attuma conceded, standing to his full height and flashing her a charming smirk. He strode over to the large oak desk and leaned close enough to smell the lingering scent of orchids and amber on her skin and see the bright glint in her dark eyes, “but never a liar.”

She hummed in response, lips quirking up, and continued her writing. “Staying long?”

The question was a familiar one, and he thought he heard something like hope in her tone. But he ignored it just the same as the pang of disappointment that flashed through him, knowing the answer.

“Just until morning. We leave at first light,” he said quietly, rounding the desk and leaning against it as he admired her. Even after almost a year of this— whatever this was —he still found himself awestruck by her. From the sharp arch of her brow to the wide set of her nose, the deep bow of her full lips and elegant column of her neck, the sleek lines of her collar bones and supple curves of her breasts and hips, Attuma could spend hours cataloging her beauty.

He had.

“Tell me something,” Okoye started as she finished scrawling a few numbers in a ledger and interrupted his musing. “What does it say that your dog found her way here before you did?”

She chuckled at his questioning hum and closed her ledger, storing her pen. Then, she pushed her chair back, nodding to the black-and-white animal napping under her desk.

Attuma glanced down and snorted as Yawri sleepily blinked one eye open. “Comfortable down there?”

She sniffed at him, then crawled from under the desk, yawning and stretching as she went and placed her head in Okoye’s lap, preening as the woman began to scratch her behind the ears.

“You’re an awfully spoiled thing, aren’t you?” Attuma admonished playfully, shaking his head as her tail began wagging from Okoye’s continued attentions. He was suffering from a unique sort of madness where he found himself jealous of his own dog. “but I suppose you’ve got your priorities in order.”

Okoye shot him a dazzling smile lined with mischief. “Why Mr. Almehen, are you implying I’m a priority to you?”

Attuma froze for a moment, biting his tongue to stop the answer from spilling out. She always left him floundering, on the edge of laying out every secret his soul held. Gunfights held less danger, and yet—

His mouth curled into a dimpled grin as he replied, “No need for implication, Ms. Khubana. You occupy every spare thought I have.”

The admission earned him a playful arch of her brow, and she stood after stroking her hand through Yawri’s fur once more. Her eyes remained locked on him, and her skirts swished softly as she danced around the dog to close the short distance between them. His hands moved of their own accord, winding around her waist the moment she was within arm’s reach and pulling her into his chest. Okoye didn’t object; she simply traced her hands up his arms and settled them on his shoulders.

“Every spare thought?”

Her eyes studied him carefully, compelling the answer before there was thought to refuse.

“Mm-hmm.”

She pushed up on her toes, nudging his nose with her own, and something sweet on her breath danced across his lips.

“What about the occupied ones?”

Nimble fingers mapped the veins of his neck before burying themselves in his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut as she began massaging the base of his skull.

“Hm?”

His errant hands tightened around her waist and drifted down to the warm skin of her exposed back.

“Do I occupy your other thoughts? Even the busy ones?”

His eyes shot open, finding hers immediately. Dark eyes entranced and entrapped him, and Attuma drowned in twin pools of brown richer than the ripest cacao.

“Yes.”

His confession was rewarded with a kiss this time, and Attuma found himself uncaring for self-preservation.

Slow and searing, Okoye kissed him until he was drunk with desire and the whiskey that lingered on her lips. He kissed her back fervently, moving his mouth over hers until his mind spun from the lack of oxygen. The hand in his hair tightened as he pulled back, and he cupped her cheek with one hand, resting his forehead on hers as they breathed in tandem.

Orchids. Amber. Whiskey.

Okoye.

He never wanted to leave.

~plus venire~

A/N: I got bored and drunk and I’ve been watching a lot of Yellowstone and this has been in my drafts for… a while. Just a lil bit though I might circle back later... excuse my rambling in the tags

[theattoyearchive]

Join us July 14th-20th and celebrate our favorite top: Attuma x Okoye for the second year!

♡♡♡We can't wait to see your works! Feel free to send an ask or message for any questions you may have, and stay tuned for the guidelines and rules ♡♡♡

- The Attoye Archive

[black-pussy-supreme]

This. This is the moment I knew he was completely enraptured with her.🤣🤣🤣🤣

[mickimomo]

Smile At Me For Once - (Attoye)

I finally got the motivation to write Attoye again! I figured I’d do a few warm ups again, by writing out little prompts that have been living rent free in my mind while working on the next chapters of my fics. Enjoy! :)

p.s. this isn’t set in the Sun and the Sky AU. It’s just post-BPWF, after a treaty has been signed.

Since the treaty was signed between Wakanda and Talokan, little workshops were being held between the two nations to give the people opportunities to learn new skills and build friendships. 

Okoye had been very eager to sign up for a few artsy and combat workshops. The midnight angel was hopeful to learn some new ways to kick ass but also embrace this foreign culture. Throughout the entire cultural exchange, she had been very openminded about it all until she had crossed paths with Attuma in a sparring workshop where they played a rougher version of hot potato mixed with floor hockey using a weaker water bomb and wooden spears. 

Essentially, you had an unknown number of hits to get the ball in a goal.

If it explodes while you’re maneuvering it around, you’re out until your team scores a goal.

It was a fun game that really boosted everyone’s morale but seeing Attuma and Okoye go against each other while their teammates sat on the bench with bated breaths really got everyone invested.

The man had used every chance he had to be near her, trying his hardest to start a conversation as he maneuvered around her. Through mean mugs and stank eyes, Attuma refused to leave her side. Even causing his team to lose a couple of rounds until she made it clear that she only wished to kick his ass.

Attuma understood that as, ‘I will only respect you if you defeat me or lose to me after giving your all.’

Okoye left the workshop sore, wet, and tattered while Attuma watched her retreat with a bruised grin and blood-filled rebreather.

He had managed to win a few rounds, but he played nastier than she ever wished to discuss or think about after today.

It wasn’t even nasty in a dishonorable cheating manner.

He just played without mercy or restraint or any sense of personal space. This resulted in Okoye having to literally fight for her life or peel him off of her.

There were moments where the wind had been knocked out of her and other moments where Attuma had sent her flipping across the field. He’d always be there to break her falls though, unintentionally groping her during inspections that often ended with gentle touches and the occasional Band-Aid.

Okoye never complained out loud though.

If he wanted to be rough, she could be just as rough.

She had been successful enough to knock him down a few times, but it always left her muscles screaming at how much strength it required to send the blue titan into the muddy earth. 

Once she claimed the final victory, earning cheers from her team, Okoye left. She could feel Attuma’s gaze on her back, but she refused to turn around.

She was a wounded cat, desperate to lick her wounds in private.

“Um...Okoye...why did Attuma pin you down like that-”

“-Because he is an idiot.”

“Well, you look like you had fun.” Aneka grinned.

“Do I look like I had fun?” Okoye turned to glare at her friend.

“Well, now you don’t.” She pouted. 

“I hope I never have another workshop with that man present.”

“Eh? Why?”

Okoye’s eyes burned into the midnight angel, forcing her to lift her hands in surrender.

“I’ll be quiet.”

“Good.”

Aneka remained quiet as they left the muddy field.

Okoye’s wish of not seeing Attuma had been granted by Bast temporarily.

She’d gone to weaving workshops, cooking workshops, and even carving workshops without seeing Attuma.

It was all going well until she went to the painting workshop that was being led by the king of Talokan.

She should have known Attuma had been praying to Chaac to see her when the sky opened and dropped an ocean’s load of rain.

The downpour was relentless as it soaked her clothes and pebbled her skin, scolding her until she moved faster.

Sandaled feet carried her towards the citadel and down a gilded hallway before she entered the workshop room that was at the beginning of a well-lit corridor.

Rain dripped from her eyelashes as her eyes scanned the room, eager to find a seat without disrupting the class.

Attuma was the only one sitting by himself in the back, while the king paced the front of the room, talking about a painting he had created.

Namor seemed fixated on the painting he had done while he talked, so now was the best time to go.

She gritted her teeth and mouthed a slew of curses as she took off her shoes and tip toed to the empty seat next to the warrior.

Dark brown eyes locked onto her as she quietly pulled out the chair and sat down, successfully making her way in without Namor noticing.

Attuma breathed out a single word. 

“In ba’ate’el.” (Warrior.)

But this time, it made her skin feel warm as it fell from his covered lips.

It had somehow gone from something he called her out of respect to perhaps a term of endearment. A nickname between foes to something Okoye refused to acknowledge.

Attuma accepted her glare as a warm welcome before sliding her a few pieces of paper.

“I.” He gently touched his chest. “Write.” He pointed at the papers.

She glanced at the papers apprehensively before taking them when she realized they contained details on the culture behind today’s workshop. Little fun facts and important moments of Talokanil history written neatly in English.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed by his act of kindness.

It was clear that whatever his king had written on the board had been duplicated neatly- just for her.

He stared at her, patiently waiting for an ounce of praise.

“Thanks.”

He allowed his lips to curl upward behind his rebreather before he refocused on the speaking king.

Her eyes moved forward too, watching the king pause to put down a piece of paper.

“Alright. Now that we’ve covered the history, let’s jump into today’s craft.” Namor smiled. “Today, you will be working in pairs to create a mural of each other. In Talokan, we keep our culture strong by spilling our history into our art. We tell stories, sing songs, weave tapestries, write music, carve statues, and paint grand murals to record the past. Then, each generation adds to it. This makes our art better and the culture richer.” He lifted up a large painting. “Here is a small example I whipped together for this class. Here we have Chaac leading our priest to the plant that helped our ancestors move to the sea.” 

He began to repeat himself, speaking in his mother tongue.

Her ears were able to pick up a handful of words to verify it, but she eventually tuned him out as she took in the large painting. 

Namor was talented.

Talented felt like a small word.

An insult almost.

His painting skills were known to be amongst the greatest between both nations, so it made sense that he was leading this workshop. However, seeing his craft in person truly left the group speechless.

The mural was detailed, swirling with various cool tones.

Somber ceruleans, rich viridians, and regal violets.

Sprinkles of sand and clay browns as painted hands reached for a plant that floated down from a watching deity.

Everything was outlined with obsidian and highlighted with white and lighter cool tones.

He pointed at each component of the painting before looking up at everyone. “The story is clear that this is how Talokan came to be.” He put the painting down. “I want you all to work together to make a story about the two of you and paint it. At the end of this workshop, you all will present it to the group.”

He repeated himself once more in Yucatec Mayan before he moved forward to start handing out materials. “If you have any questions for me, please do not hesitate to ask. We have three hours to work on this, so please pour out your creativity and make something beautiful and meaningful with your partner.”

Okoye recoiled at the word ‘partner’ as he began his final translation.

Attuma on the other hand was elated.

His eyes moved to the woman beside him, drinking in her soaked attire.

He was used to seeing her in uniform, but today she was wearing a cropped orange and yellow blouse that tied in the front with a floor length orange and red skirt that moved like lava whenever she walked. She was heavily accessorized with golden bangles, a gold idzila, and a few jade waist beads.

Before he could take in anymore of her beauty, she snapped her red polished fingers in front of his face, sporting a scowl she always wore around him.

He blinked and she sighed before moving forward to place a kimoyo bead in his ear.

The world sounded foreign until she tapped her bracelet and looked up at him curiously.

“Do you understand me?”

He blinked before nodding slowly. “Yes. Can you understand me?”

She nodded. “Yes. Technology.” She offered jokingly before leaning back. “So, we need to tell a story. Let’s make some draft sketches of the mural and then pick the best one.”

“Ok.” He nodded. “Do you want to work separately, or do you want to work together on these drafts?”

“Separately.”

“Ok.”

“Let’s regroup in twenty minutes.” She tapped her kimoyo beads to set a timer.

“Ok.”

He watched her grab a piece of scrap paper and begin to doodle before doing the same.

Every few minutes, he would glance at her, stare at her longingly, get scolded, and refocus on his work. 

By the time the twenty minutes was up, he had twenty drafts and she had four.

“I’m surprised you have so many.”

“I’d probably have more if you didn’t yell at me so much.”

“It is difficult to do my task with a creep staring holes into my head.”

“I’m not a creep. I was referencing your features. Your face has to be a part of the mural.”

She gave him a pointed look before she began to lay out her drafts. “Well, let’s see what we’ve got.”

He nodded before laying out his drafts.

He had drawn Okoye twenty times, each one slightly lewder than the first time.

Okoye on the other hand had drawn both of them, taking inspiration from Namor’s style as she drew out different tales from different battles, they’d fought each other in.

There was depth and details and a story.

Everything that was supposed to be there but was missing in Attuma’s work.

He could draw, but nothing he created told a story.

It didn’t capture anything more than the curve of her breasts and ass- amidst the vibrancy of her eyes and fierce scowl she always wore around him.

Very similar to the one she wears now.

“What do you think?” He smiled warmly at her.

“Attuma, you are talented...” She started. “...but you lack the ability to write a story. In fact, you drew me explicitly in every draft.”

“The way I have drawn you is not offensive to my people. Is it offensive to yours?”

“No, but I am more than my tits and ass.”

“Would it look better if I added myself?”

“Why-” She pinched the bridge of her nose to compose herself. “Quality over Quantity. Have you ever heard that phrase before?”

He thought it over. “Not exactly like that...”

“But you understand what I mean, yes?”

“Could you explain?”

“You have nothing more to offer to this idea besides explicit doodles of me. Although the doodles look nice, it’s the same thing... which means you’ve basically given only one idea.” She held up an index finger. “One idea that can’t be used or enjoyed by anyone because there’s no story or lore or creativity behind it.” 

“But you are beautiful.”

“Right, but that’s not the theme of this mural. People will get tired of seeing the same thing over and over again. If I showed someone the same doodle twenty times, under the façade that it was something new each time, they’d grow sick of me. Which is why I’m disappointed with your drafts… beyond the obvious explicitness.” She shot him a look as he listened attentively. “We have to be innovative and creative. Just because it has Attuma and Okoye in it, doesn’t mean it’s good. Especially if it’s just the same thing over and over and over again. Whatever we present has to be new and additive to the story we’re trying to tell and something we’re proud of. We have to present this at the end, you know. It should be something of good quality. Something I would want to hang up in my living room and read books under.”

“Then let’s look at your ideas.” He tilted his head. “Maybe I can help draw one of those in a rough draft before we work on the mural.” He offered a small smile. “Whatever we make, I want it to make you happy.”

Okoye nodded as she looked away shyly. “Ok.”

Her four drafts were amazing, each blending the cultures of Wakanda and Talokan to create an ornate mural.

The first one centered around Bast and Chaac blessing her and Attuma in combat as they fought on a bridge.

The second portrayed a midnight angel descending on a warrior adorned with the head of a hammerhead shark, pointing her spear with a vow of sending him off to his ancestors.

The third centered around her kicking Attuma off the sea leopard and into the sea.

The fourth centered around Attuma pointing down at Okoye while she stood underneath an aircraft, holding a child close.

She spent a few minutes explaining each doodle before waiting for Attuma to pick one to work on.

He stared at each doodle with great focus before picking up the third one. “This one.”

She looked at it. “Why?”

“In that moment, we truly became equals.”

“You looked down on me before I kicked you off that ship?”

“No, but the fire in your eyes burned the brightest that day.” He smiled fondly at the doodle. “It makes me wish we had never been enemies.” His smile dropped. “Perhaps you wouldn’t glare at me as much.”

Okoye stared at him as they sat in silence for a minute or two.

“I glare at everyone.” She huffed under her breath, ignoring how his eyes brightened as she looked away.

“I will keep that in mind and not be offended by your angry gaze.”

“Yeah.” She dismissed him, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by her attempt at comforting him. “How long do you need to add your own style to it?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Ok.” She set another timer. “I’ll start making paint swatches, so we know what colors we want to use.”

“Ok.”

The pair worked quietly on their parts of the project before regrouping when the timer went off.

Okoye looked the doodle over, while Attuma waited patiently for her feedback.

“This looks good to me.” She looked over the patterns he included to add more dimension to the mural. He even cleaned up the design of her characters, being mindful to not erase the notes of her culture she had woven throughout the design.

There were a few creative differences incorporated, but it was definitely something she wouldn’t mind hanging on her living room wall if everything turned out great in the end.

“Can we start working on the sheet of canvas now?”

“I think so.” Okoye nodded. “You can draw the outline and then I’ll paint it.”

“Do a rough draft of what colors you want to use on the draft I just finished while I work.” He glanced up at her. “I don’t want to be in your way when you’re painting.”

“Ok.”

Attuma took a deep breath as he lifted the roll of canvas and rolled it out on the floor. Azure fingers began to spread out the dense material before he grabbed a piece of charcoal and got to work.

Nimble fingers skillfully mixed different colors of paint on a palette before pressing themselves into the wet paint.

She stamped her finger into the areas to denote where each color would go, occasionally going over colors with something different when it didn’t look how she wanted.

Once she was satisfied with her work, Okoye dried her fingers off on a rag and turned back to face Attuma with curious eyes.

At some point while she was working, he had pulled his hair up into a messy bun, failing to catch every single fly away.

His brows were furrowed in concentration while his hands moved with precision and accuracy across the canvas.

Upon closer inspection, it dawned on her that Attuma wasn’t dressed in his usual uniform.

He had on a long jade skirt that complimented his many piercings and a thick band of cream cloth that wrapped around his waist twice before trailing a line diagonally up and over his shoulder.

He didn’t even have his headdress on.

He instead wore a viridian and a cream feather tucked behind his ear with a few shark teeth charms attached to the handful of braids that had been neatly done throughout his hair.

At a quick glance, he looked like a sculpture of a deity who was heavily invested in something.

He was some sort of sea god or water god.

Enchanting her like a siren, luring a pirate out to his demise.

His gaze lifted to meet hers for a moment before he lifted his brow in curiosity.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“You’re staring.”

“I just wanted to make sure I mixed the right shade of blue for your skin.”

“You can do swatches of paint on my back to test it out if you want.”

“No need.” She turned around, flustered, and ashamed that she had been caught.

Attuma chuckled softly as he refocused on his work.

Once he was done, he got up and leaned over her, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“It’s your turn, warrior.”

“Okoye.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Okoye.”

“My apologies. It is your turn, Okoye.”

She offered a small nod before getting up and retreating to the floor.

“Is this okay?” She held up her rough draft.

“It’s perfect.”

“Ok.”

Attuma sat at the table and watched her begin to paint, being extra careful to be neat with each stroke.

Time moved slowly as Okoye worked.

He watched her every move quietly, being mindful not to gawk or make her uncomfortable.

If he was a water god, then she was a goddess of fire.

Beautiful opposites that could destroy one another if not careful but be steamy if allowed to mix.

Okoye could feel him staring but decided not to acknowledge it.

Once she was done painting, Attuma sat back down to finish outlining and highlighting the mural before they signed the bottom right corner.

The pair stepped back to admire their work, covered in smudges of charcoal and a few flecks of paint.

“We’re done.” Okoye breathed out.

“Mhm.”

“We did it.”

“We did.”

“Alright.” Namor spoke up. “While some of you add the finishing touches to your mural, let’s start presenting so that we can clean up and go.” His eyes scanned the room. “Do I have any volunteers?”

Okoye kept her hand down, but Attuma raised his hand.

Her eyes burned into the warrior as Namor grinned.

“Great! Attuma and Okoye will be our first presenters.” He waved them forward. “Come to the front and discuss the lore of your mural.”

Okoye sighed as she helped Attuma lift their mural and carry it to the front of the room.

Gasps filled the air as everyone took in the painting.

The painting was mostly various hues of blue, teal, and gold.

An unmasked midnight angel, striking Attuma into the waves with fire in her eyes.

Instead of painting a ship or an actual sea leopard, a large black panther was painted fighting with a feathered sea serpent in the sea.

The people of Wakanda were denoted by small purple panther cubs clinging to the panther’s back and the people of Talokan were denoted by small jade serpents trying to move up K’uk’ulkan’s back.

Attuma explained it all in Yucatec Mayan first before Okoye spoke in Xhosa.

He removed the kimoyo bead in his ear to relish in the sound of her explaining things in her own mother tongue.

It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Her lips stopped moving as her dark brown eyes moved to meet his.

She looked him over as the sound of clapping and soft cheers filled the air.

It all became background noise the moment she smiled at Attuma.

His skin purpled as she parted her lips to say, “Dios bo’otik.” (Thank you.)

“In k’áatech.” (I love you.) He breathed out.

“Huh?”

“Mixba’al.” (You’re welcome.) He spoke up as his blush deepened.

“Ah.” Okoye laughed softly as she looked away.

“That was a brilliant presentation you two! Thank you for volunteering to share first.” Namor beamed at them.

“Thank Attuma.” She jutted a thumb at the General before taking the mural from him. “I just wanted some art for my home.”

Attuma watched her quietly, drinking in all the joy that crossed her face before looking at his king with wide eyes when he snapped his fingers.

He arched a brow before realizing he was gawking at Okoye again.

Namor only shook his head as Attuma retreated and chuckled. “Alright, who’s next?”

The End

[richonne4life]

Chapter 3 has been posted!

So this fic was supposed to only be three chapters, but these two need four chapters to get where they're going 💕 I appreciate all the likes, reblogs, comments and kudos!

@siancore Almost to the finish line with this story! 🤗

[yennaaworld]

ATTOYE HC

smutty + children + conflicted feelings 

This Idea pop up in my head during a test and I have to share it with you.

Okoye had decided to get her tubes tide after the betrayal of wasabi because she didn’t think she will love again let alone trust someone enough to have a family with

When Okoye starting seeing attuma, building a family with him was not something she was on board with immediately because she entered this relationship with caution. Slow and steady was her idea

On the contrary, Attuma wanted to wed and have a LARGE family after properly meeting  Okoye. He knows what he wants.

After months of being together , the conversation of kids was brought up when attuma made a comment to Okoye that he wants a big family after they went to visit his family

This brought Okoye a sense of dread and sadness because she loves him but she can’t fully commit to that idea. Okoye views herself in a negative light and undeserving.

One day she breaks down and tells attuma of her feelings and her tied tubes.

attuma felt his heart shattered because he made her feel this way and he hated the idea he made his sun cry. While the idea of a family is what he wants he will not force her and will love her regardless or not she will bear his children. 

More time passes and Okoye get to shower in his love.

She hates to admit it but when she saw attuma playing with the local children she wondered how their children would look Like.

Their wedding was the MAIN event. Both countries celebrated and rejoiced.

After taking their leave to their chambers they began getting handsy. Before anything hot and heavy can happen Okoye stops making attuma baffled.

“I want a family. I had my surgery for versed” Okoye blurted out 

This left attuma speechless and this made Okoye nervous. Not a moment later attuma deeply kiss her and laughed. This brought joy to the newlyweds. Attuma promised to cherish the gift he will be given from Okoye.

Attuma was delighted that Okoye found him worthy and trusted enough to have a family with him.

That night will be the night Okoye will convive his child. Because he was on top, below, side ways of Okoye. And vise versa. From the bed too the water. Table surfaces to the ground. They showed the whole house their love.

Attuma make love ( or fucked in this case ) the way he fights. With passion and strength.

Okoye makes love with grace and firmness

[mamajanky]

「 Kiln Me Softly 」

Chapter 5: Blown.

Summary: The events following Attuma and Okoye’s first kiss.

[attoye]

Join Us in the @attoye server! Click here!

❤️🩵⚔️❤️🩵

[siancore]

Writing Pattern Game

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

Thank you for the tag @jbarneswilson

The Prince's Wife

The warmth of the Talokanil morning sunlight warmed Okoye to her core.

The Last Songbirds of Summer

“You don’t deserve this, Bucky,” said Sam, as he threw his hands up in frustration.

We're the ones Who Live

Neither Rick nor Michonne wanted to stop; not when they were still too close to the Civic Republic.

Feels Like Home

It was funny how belonging, and home, was not necessarily linked to a place, but a person.

The Jewel of Talokan

The Kingdom of Talokan was different to what Okoye remembered from when she was a child.

Shark Week

The early morning sunlight peered through Okoye’s bedroom window, rousing her from her slumber.

After the Smoke Settles

The sounds of laughter and clinking drinks filled the space of the club room.

The Queen's Ward

The journey to Talokan was long, and sometimes arduous.

To Hell with the Party

The backyard area of the holiday house was abuzz with a festive air.

I believe most of what I write starts with putting the reader in the place. There's something to ground the character there. The sunshine; the sounds; the sights etc. I just love writing about the warmth of the sun because I go on to talk about how the sun dropped low, or how it felt on tired skin, or how sunlight had given way to the bright moon etc.

Tagging: @richonne4life @sygoflyy @jemgirl86 @cobrafantasies @runzu

[mysticmoonlite]

Nobody:

*Attuma leaving Okoye's house the next morning after she let him spend the night.*

The way it kind of looks like Attumas comic design is taking me ALL THE WAY OUT.

[dasphinxone]

Chapter 7 of As Above So Below is Live!

Look, work has been crazy all summer and you know it's Queen Bey concert season, so I had to do that too. But FINALLY, the next chapter is here.

All I gotta say is, people be PLOTTING...

Feelings are confronted...

And dealing with your ex is always a pain in the ass.

Enjoy!

[pilesofpillows]

Stars Aglow Ch. 4 || Okoye x Attuma

A Sea of Stars ~ Part 3 of 3

Ch. 1 • Ch. 2 • Ch. 3

Warnings: An Excessive Amount of Fluff, Talk of Marriage

Tags: @mamajankyy @xenokattz @tvreadsandsleep @ariyannah @iccedays @blissdoutbyattuma @karimk2 @umber-cinders @mickimomo @dontruinmymorning @princess-of-gondor

Okoye smothered a laugh with her hand, studiously avoiding Nakia’s eyes as they watched Toussaint peer cautiously over the oversized crib the triplets slept in. T’Challa’s son stood on his toes, glancing back and forth between Okoye and her children skeptically. His face was twisted into the most adorable of frowns, and she nearly lost the fight to keep her composure when the boy turned to them with an aggrieved sigh.

“They’re very small, umakazi. And they’re sleeping again,” T’Challa whispered— or at least, attempted to as he stepped into the space between her legs. 

Okoye hugged her precious nephew, trying to quell the laughter bubbling in her chest at his decidedly underwhelmed expression. Junior had waited an eternity (nearly three weeks) to meet the triplets, and Okoye feared the three small infants (who did very little but sleep and eat) hadn’t quite lived up to his expectations. 

“I know they are, sweet boy. But they will grow; you have to give them time,” she consoled with a chuckle. “They’ve only just arrived, you know.”

He returned her embrace, sinking into her arms and sighing again. “Can I still teach them Go Fish?”

“Probably not anytime soon, ingwe enci. But when they are old enough, I’m sure they would love to learn.” Okoye lifted T’Challa into her lap, relishing the ability to hold him close without the barrier of her belly. “You will be the first cousin they know, the one they love the most. You’ll be their best friend and greatest protector, and when the time comes, I’m sure you will be the best Go Fish teacher in all of Wakanda.”

Her nephew grinned at that, chest puffing out proudly. “I will teach them Go Fish when I am–,” he paused, counting quietly to himself, “ten!” he announced, holding out both hands, fingers splayed. “I’ll know other stuff then, too, so I can teach them lots.”

“Indeed you will, chan baláam.” Attuma’s voice sounded from the doorway of the nursery, drawing both of their attention. He and Namora stepped into the large room, both still damp from escorting Ixtli and the Talokanil nursing team to the eastern side of the Continent for the journey home. 

Toussaint wriggled from Okoye’s lap and greeted them with exclamations of joy, only looking a little abashed when Nakia reminded him to keep his voice down. Nonetheless, he took a running leap toward Attuma and giggled when he was caught and hoisted onto her beloved’s waist. Attuma received an affectionate forehead press and Namora, a series of salutes followed by an enthusiastic high-five. 

Her nephew touched Attuma’s hair, taking in his and Namora’s damp appearance, and scolded them in a loud whisper. “You’re still wet, Uncle Tuna! You and Nacomora need to use the dryer better.”

His face and countenance were so serious that Okoye lost the battle with her laughter at Nakia’s unrestrained snort, the mangled combination of Namora’s title and name sending them into a fit of hushed giggles. It didn’t help that Namora refused to correct him. She claimed it was a blessing from her chan aj baláam and even prohibited them from correcting him. 

Indulging T’Challa was a crime they were all guilty of, and Okoye could already tell it would be the same, if not worse, with her children. 

Her giggles tapered off, and she shook her head at her sister as Attuma set Toussaint down, crouching before the boy and solemnly promising to use the dryers better next time. Her nephew beamed at him, offering his littlest finger and extracting a pinky promise from his uncle before darting across the room to his mother, pestering her for the cashews she was snacking on. 

Attuma rose with a quiet chuckle and crossed the room, stopping at her side and dropping a kiss on her head. Reaching up, Okoye pushed his hair out of his face and pressed their foreheads together. He’d been gone for less than an hour, but she’d missed him like it’d been days. They hadn’t been apart since the triplets were born, and if this was how she felt now, Okoye dreaded to think of what she would feel when he went back to work. 

That wouldn’t be anytime soon, of course, so she put the thought out of her mind and tilted her chin up, kissing the corner of his mouth. Attuma turned his head and caught her lips in a brief kiss, and she gave a quiet hum.

“Ts'o'ok u taktal in wilech xan, in yakunaj [I missed you too, my love],” he whispered against her lips, kissing her quickly again. 

Okoye offered him a soft smile as he drew back and settled into the reclining rocking chair beside her, then turned to Namora. “Did Ixtli and the team get out okay?” 

“Chaac has blessed the winds and the waters are calm; their journey home should be swift,” The Talokanil general replied, softening her voice as she neared the crib. She reached a careful hand in and traced the pattern on the edge of B’atz’s blanket, smiling down at her godson. 

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Okoye said sincerely. “We’ll miss them— Ixtli especially. Please thank her again for me, for us.” She would always be grateful to the iyom k’exelom for helping her bring three children safely into the world. She and the Talokanil nurses had made a world of difference in the delivery room and helped immensely in the week of bed rest she’d been mandated to afterward. 

Namora gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment, eyes fixed on B’atz, gazing down at the sleeping infant with pure adoration. The Talokanil general loved all the triplets, but Okoye knew her secondborn already held a special place in her heart. Shuri and Ayo were the same with T’Khwezi and Ixazaluoh, and between their grandparents and godparents, Okoye could proudly say her children were well loved. 

“I don’t think she heard you, diosa. Her ears have gone, along with her head,” Attuma quietly teased his fellow general. He leaned close with a smirk and interwove their fingers. “You could not have known, of course, but babies are one of Namora’s greatest weaknesses.” Okoye snickered at his antics as her beloved gave a heavy sigh and a solemn shake of his head. “I fear our formidable Yeh Kaaye’ Nacom has gone k’iinich [sun-eyed].” 

The Lionfish turned to Attuma with a glare as venomous as her way and arched a sharp brow at him. “You have little depth to tread, Uncle Tuna,” Namora spat back playfully. She leaned back on the railing of the crib and crossed her arms.“You’ve been k’iinich since a K’iino [your Sun] buried her foot in your chest.” 

Attuma let out a garbled sound of protest, trying to deny it, but Namora pressed on, shooting Okoye a conspiratorial glance. “His head has been full of ja'páak'alo' [seaweed] since he hit the water. I fear our mighty Xook Nacom hasn’t been the same since,” she finished, flashing her beloved a triumphant smile. 

The petulant look Attuma sent in Namora’s direction caused Okoye to snort gracelessly, drawing chuckles from Nakia and Namora. Their amusement was only intensified by her mother entering the nursery with a bewildered reprimand clear on her face for their somewhat raucous behavior. Her stern expression nearly caused Nakia to choke on the cashews she’d been snacking on, and Okoye’s attempts to explain sent them back into fits of uncontrollable laughter, their mouths covered in failing attempts to keep quiet. 

Okoye blew out a shaky breath as their laughs faded, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. Bast as her witness, she couldn’t remember if she’d ever been this happy. Here, in this blissful bubble where smiles didn’t cease and laughter came easier than breathing, there was only joy. She was surrounded by more love now than she’d ever known, and her heart sang.  

“I leave for 10 minutes and come back to a pack of cackling hyenas,” her mother scolded, hands on her hips.

Okoye smiled at the newly minted grandmother’s unimpressed glare. “Jokes are meant to be laughed at, mama,” she replied.

“Keep it up, and you’ll have more than just me to contend with,” the matriarch said, shaking her head, but the mirth in her eyes gave her away.

Okoye pressed her lips together to smother the last bout of giggles that threatened to escape, and she looked over to the crib where her babies slept, blissfully unaware of the lively chaos surrounding them. Namora’s attention had returned to the trio as well, and she reached her hand in again, thumbing the edge of Ixazaluoh’s blanket this time as Okoye’s youngest grizzled in her sleep. 

The Lionfish hummed, smile dimming slightly, and she cleared her throat, glancing back at Okoye. “K’uk’ulkan has also sent word— he plans to be here by the afternoon.”

Okoye couldn’t hide her wince at the words, feeling the giddy atmosphere dissipate abruptly at the mention of the Talokanil king. She cast a fretful glance toward her mother, and the matriarch scoffed as if on cue.

“He plans?” came the scathing question, her voice pitching along with her brow. “Did he ask?” 

“Mama, nceda,” she pled, seeing Namora stiffen and hearing Nakia sigh. “Ndiqinisekile ukuba unqwenela ukudibana nabantwana. [I’m sure he just wishes to meet the children.]” 

“Iminqweno yakhe ichitha iimbeko ezilula ngoku, hm? [His wishes overrule simple courtesies now, hm?]” Her mother retorted with a disbelieving huff, drawing a pointed hum from Nakia.

Okoye shot her sister a chiding look, and the woman shrugged, popping another cashew into her mouth. Nakia wasn’t an avid fan of K’uk’ulkan either, but they both knew her mother needed no aid in expressing her discontent. She turned to her mother, silently imploring her to choose peace. The woman kissed her teeth in response and gave a dismissive wave of her hand, agreeing to be civil for the time being. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she shook her head and muttered a quick prayer, asking Bast for patience.

“Did he send word on how long he plans to stay?” she asked, turning back to Namora, who’d tuned them out, murmuring quiet words over the triplets instead. A dazed, questioning hum came in response, and Okoye elaborated. “I know M’Baku won’t mind, but Ayo certainly will.” 

The Talokanil woman blinked as she considered the question, and then her eyes widened almost comically. 

Okoye bit back a snort at her friend’s distressed expression. “I’m sure it’s fine. The guest chambers likely won’t need much preparation, and Nakia can go with you so she can assist the General with security protocols.” Her sister stopped mid-cashew, gaze narrowing at her, and Okoye smiled blithely.

“Well, I suppose I’ve been given my marching orders,” Nakia huffed with a roll of her eyes. She unfolded her legs and stood, passing the rest of her snack to Toussaint. “Come, Nacom. Let’s pray to Bast and Chaac that the General is in a gracious mood this morning.”

Okoye chuckled at the pained expression that crossed Namora’s face as they left the room. “You can always bribe her with baby cuddles,” she called after them, snickering when Nakia kissed her teeth in response. 

Hearing Ixazaluoh grunt softly, she glanced at the clock. If the pattern established in these first two weeks held true, they would all wake soon, and her youngest would wake first— loudly. She turned her head and found Attuma already standing and smiled as he leaned close, bracing his hands on the armrests of her chair.

“Any requests for your midday snack, na' in paalal? Fruit? Yogurt? One of your snack bowls, perhaps?”

“Can you check and see if we have more of those protein balls your mother made?” She cupped his cheeks and made her requests known through a series of chaste kisses against his lips. “The peanut butter and date ones?” A few more kisses because she couldn’t resist the smile in his eyes. “Maybe a cup of yogurt, too?”

“Bix in yaakunaj ku k'áatik,” he whispered in reply, kissing her soundly before beckoning Junior to come with him as they went to raid the kitchen for more snacks. 

Okoye rose from her seat, briefly meeting her mother’s knowing stare before rolling her eyes. “Don’t start…”

“Eh? Start what, intomba?” 

Her mother’s attempt at innocence was laughable, and Okoye snickered accordingly as she crossed behind the elder woman. 

“He’s a good man, Okoye,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and fixing her mother with the same earnest expression she’d been hit with far too often in the past few months, “He’s already an excellent father. Why not make him your husband?” 

Her mother harrumphed at the imitation and mirrored Okoye’s stance. “And why should you not?” she whispered exasperatedly. “Aside from the fact you’re both singularly devoted to one another and have three reasons to remain so, that man worships the very ground you walk on. Every day I become more convinced he believes the Sun rises and sets at your behest. And no matter what you are determined to call it, the two of you are certainly not ‘co-parenting’.”

She spat the word with such derision that Okoye couldn’t help but shake her head. Sighing, she scooped her own daughter from between her brothers, hushing her gently with sweet kisses to round cheeks. They’d had this conversation no less than ten times and would likely have it ten more until Okoye acquiesced— out loud. 

She already knew she was going to marry Attuma. She’d known even while she was pregnant. There’d been no moment of grand revelation or wonder, just a deep ease— something quiet and sure that settled over her while she’d lain in the cradle of his arms after one of their countless hammock naps. There, in the afternoon sun, the pieces of it, of them, fell together seamlessly. 

They’d be married next spring, just after the children’s first birthday. She’d wear blue, but not the blue of the Border. His blue. Attuma would wear white, as was Talokanil custom, and the children would wear a mix of both. Tradition also required they wed where land and sea met, and for that, Okoye could see no better place than Warrior Falls. It was fitting, and in some roundabout way, it would heal something in her she hadn’t quite found solace for yet. They’d create a new memory there, a better one. Yoltzin and her mother would watch the triplets, Nakia and Ayo would be her matrons of honor, and the Muscle Brain would escort her bridal procession. And she’d have henna this time. Maybe Mayan glyphs instead of the traditional patterns.

But the details weren’t so important as the man, and the man was perfect. 

Her mother’s insistent murmurings broke her from her idyllic reverie as she bustled around the room, grabbing Okoye’s support pillow and a few burping cloths while she pressed forward on her mission to secure herself a son-in-law. “I’m simply saying–”

“–as you’ve been saying–” Okoye mused, settling back into the rocking recliner and unfastening Ixazaluoh’s swaddling blanket with deft fingers. 

“–as I’ve been saying…” the matriarch looked ready to swat her with one of the burping cloths. “He would be an excellent husband. He will be an excellent husband. And you wouldn’t even be doing it just for you! Wouldn’t you like to give your mother a son-in-law? A good son-in-law?”

“Have I not just given you grandchildren?” Okoye asked in false exasperation. “Three grandchildren?” she added before her mother could protest. “Let’s adjust to them first, eh? Then, we can talk son-in-laws.”

Her mother huffed in acceptance as she stepped closer and helped Okoye arrange the baby and the support pillow for both their comfort. Ixazaluoh’s eyes blinked open slowly as she settled into Okoye’s arms. The depth of their color hadn’t fully settled yet, but they were dark and hooded, just like her brothers— just like Attuma’s. Her daughter huffed, face almost immediately scrunching into a frown, and her mother chuckled above them. 

She lifted her youngest from her swaddle and kissed her a few more times. “Good afternoon, intombi yam,” she whispered soft words against soft skin, “Your brothers are sleeping. Let’s not wake them just yet, hm?”

Ixazaluoh paid her no mind, nuzzling into Okoye’s shoulder with soft grunts. Patient was not an apt descriptor for their youngest; cuddles would come after food. 

Okoye balanced her daughter in one arm while undoing her dress with the other. Her mother kissed the side of her head, then Ixazaluoh’s, before excusing herself to go find Attuma and Toussaint. She nodded absently, repositioning Ixazaluoh, cradling her against her left breast and helping her latch before her sweet girl kicked up too much of a fuss. Okoye traced the ridge of her brow, lowly humming that same lullaby from her pregnancy. The soft woosh of the door sliding open alerted her to Attuma’s return, and she glanced up, smiling at the overflowing tray of snacks he carried. 

“I see she wasted no time,” her beloved said with a chuckle, setting down the tray on the small table between their chairs. 

“Does she ever?” Okoye replied, echoing his amusement. 

Attuma retook his seat and held out the cup of the peanut butter and date balls she’d asked for. She popped one into her mouth and smiled, humming in pure contentment. The man she loved smiled back, wide and warm, and Okoye never wanted to be anywhere else but here. 

With him and their children. 

In this space. 

In this time.

She couldn’t have prayed for anything better.  

~plus venire~

A/N: There's a long ass author's note on Ao3 if anyone cares to read that. It details my upcoming writing plans in a little more depth. I won't bore you with the specifics here 😂 Instead, I'll say thank you forever and always to the Attoye Fandom for their continual love and support. Sharing my writing has been a privilege, and I hope to continue as the years go on. Thank you to every reader and for every reblog, reply, comment, and kudos. You all make my heart ridiculously happy 💕