#bisexual!oc

[tchallasbabymama]

Ménage à Trois Part Deux: Chapter One

Hey there! Mholo! Sawubona! What’s been up??? I know y’all missed me, and I missed y’all too. I think I’m figuring out the whole work/life balance thing a little better, but I still have less time to write than I used to. That being said, it might take longer than before, but I just couldn’t wait to start this series finally! For those of you who are new here, welcome, and check out the first part of this series HERE before you read part 2. Also, check out my masterlist HERE to see my other stories.

Your feedback is always appreciated, so leave comments and please, please, PLEASE reblog if you like what you read. As always, just let me know if you want to be added to this taglist, and ENJOY!😘 

Word count: 5,023

T’Challa looked out over the bustling Golden City and tapped his long, slender fingers against the side of his leg. An annoyed grimace tightened his handsome face while his eyes frantically searched the skies for even the tiniest hint of movement from the west. Even though the king desperately wanted to pace around the room, he stood still while his tailor put the finishing touches on his suit for the night. His agitation grew as the time ticked on, but despite his less-than-pleasant mood, he couldn’t help but admire himself in the mirror when he caught a glimpse of his reflection. The embroidered black ensemble he chose for the occasion covered his streamlined body like running water. The locs that usually dusted his jawbone were twisted back into an elaborate bejeweled bun, and he looked every bit a king.

A knock at the door eased T’Challa’s anxious mind for a second until his younger sister swept into the room in her suit that mirrored his, just with a silky golden scarf draped across her shoulders. T’Challa’s own shoulders slumped with disappointment, but he pivoted to positivity quickly enough for Shuri to miss his initial reaction. 

“Look at you copying your big brother,” he teased her.

Shuri rolled her eyes as she crossed the room, but she still dapped him up in their special way. He was still her favorite person, no matter how much he annoyed her. 

“Whatever,” she sucked her teeth. “I wear it better than you.”

“Who lied and told you that?”

“Zora. And she’s about as honest as they come!”

T’Challa’s jaw tightened at the mention of her name.

“Where is she, anyway?”

“Late,” grumbled the king. 

“I should have known,” Shuri chuckled. “She also never gets anywhere on time.”

T’Challa grunted in response, and Shuri noticed the annoyance in his voice. She put up her fists, playfully tapping him on the shoulder with a weak jab.

“Come on, bro. She’ll be here. Chill out.”

“She’s two hours late.”

“Was there a problem with the opening?”

“No. According to Okoye and Bahati, they just could not pull her away from conversing with the crowd.”

The princess smiled.

“You know how Zora is. Or has it been so long that you’ve forgotten?” she asked him dramatically, with a hand to her chest. 

“Just wait until you meet someone. You’ll finally understand why being apart is so painful.”

“It’s been two weeks, T’Challa. You’ve gone away for longer on missions before.”

“Being the one left at home makes the time move slower.”

“I guess.” Shuri shrugged as she plopped down on the end of the bed and began picking at her fingernails–an anxious habit that she rarely resorted to. T’Challa immediately caught on to her discomfort, and his overprotective nature flared in his chest. He hated when Shuri wasn’t her normal bubbly self.

“Something bothering you?”

“Just your mother.”

T’Challa laughed away the tension that had built in his shoulders just that quickly.

“What did our mother do this time, Shuri?”

The exasperated younger sibling groaned as she fell backward onto the bed, “She won’t stop trying to set me up!”

“Who is it now?”

“Nakia’s younger cousin, L’Nela.”

T’Challa’s face scrunched up disapprovingly. Even the tailor stopped moving the lint roller across the king’s chest to look at Shuri in disbelief before continuing his job. 

“She’s not your type,” T’Challa stated as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

“You know that. I know that. All of Wakanda knows that! But mother is horrible at lesbian matchmaking. Bast bless her for trying, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take, brother!”

“I will talk to her,” the king chuckled at her dramatics.

“Well, actually, I came to see if Zora would-“

T’Challa’s kimoyo beads chimed with the tone he had reserved for his love, and the communication bead rolled down into his palm. 

“Speak, and she shall appear,” he grumbled as Zora’s hologram smiled at him apologetically.

“I know, I know, I’m late-”

“Two hours, Zora?”

“I couldn’t just cut off the Ghanaian ambassador and ignore the excited children, T’Challa.”

“Brother’s been in a sour mood all day,” Shuri tattled from her spot on the bed, and Zora chuckled before her picture cut out momentarily.

“What are you doing?” T’Challa asked with an accusatory tone, his eyes squinting curiously.

“Getting dressed-“

“Just now?! It’s a two-hour ride!”

“I needed a nap!”

“I tried to tell her,” snarked Bahati, now promoted to Zora’s assistant, as she helped her into her attire for the evening. 

“Not you both ganging up on me! I can be late to my own damn event if I want to. And need I remind y’all I’m not even that late? We’ll be landing in a minute.”

“A minute?” T’Challa asked for clarification, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“More like ten, kumkani wam.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati,” Zora mocked. “You know, sometimes I think she’s your favorite.” 

“It’s because she listens.”

“She’s paid to listen; I’m not.”

“Don’t I know it,” T’Challa smirked, and Zora mirrored the expression. 

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

————-

Racing through the central African skies on the Royal Talon, Zora ended the call and allowed the makeup artist to touch up her gold eyeshadow while Bahati zipped up the side of her backless black jumpsuit.

She knew she was pushing T’Challa’s nerves by running so far behind schedule, but Zora liked it when he was all worked up about one thing or another. Granted, that wasn’t actually her intention this time. She really did get caught up at the grand opening of the new Wakandan International Outreach Center in Accra. Still, she recognized that she should have planned for that possibility instead of booking a gala immediately after.

After two years of working with T’Challa and foreign dignitaries to bring her vision to fruition, Zora was finally kicking off her student exchange program. One hundred students of all ages, fifty from Wakanda and fifty from across the diaspora, would trade places for a semester. Zora spent countless hours pouring over applications and hand-picking who she thought would benefit most from the carefully crafted program. Now the diaspora students were coming to Wakanda for a warm welcome. 

As excited as Zora was for her exchange program to begin, she was running on fumes and needed time to relax and refuel. Not only had she just left Ghana, but she and T’Challa had just visited several Outreach Centers before that. Their trip started in Oakland at the very first Outreach Center. Then, they made stops in Houston, New Orleans, Chicago, D.C., and Atlanta before finishing their rounds in Charleston, where they met their goddaughter for the first time. Unfortunately, T’Challa couldn’t visit long because the elders called him away to handle a security problem near the southern border, but what little time he spent with the new addition to their extended family was more than enough to make an impact on Zora.

Indigo Ayers-Odun, daughter of Keisha and Dakarai, absolutely took Zora’s breath away. She was the best of both her parents, with her mother’s catlike eyes and her father’s broad smile. Zora and T’Challa were both tickled by how cautious the little girl was with them initially. Dakarai’s cautious nature shone through her before Keisha’s bubbly personality took over once she determined they were trustworthy enough for her to bless them with her laughter. She was a little miracle. One that captured the attention of everyone around her and made them wonder about making little miracles of their own. 

Zora got caught up in the magic. As soon as she observed T’Challa playing with the infant, she began wondering if maybe the time was right to try for one. She thought of her belly stretching and her hips cracking to make way for a baby that she hoped looked like her twin, and a warmth filled her chest. Those thoughts didn't stick around long, though. They were quickly shot down by her logical mind telling her she was too busy for babies, but they still lingered in the back of her consciousness like a dull headache.

T’Challa noticed the way Zora’s eyes seemed to look past Indigo into the potential future, and M’Baku saw it when she called him on her kimoyo beads so he could see the baby while stuck in Jabariland. Neither man mentioned their observation, but they both held onto hope that they could become parents soon. They tried to hide their baby fever from Zora so she wouldn’t feel pressured, but she knew what they wanted. And as the days passed by, she wanted it more and more, too…

The thought of a tiny hand wrapping around her tattooed finger made Zora sigh as her eyes examined the design, and Bahati smiled knowingly at her friend. 

“Missing your Jabari man?” she asked.

Zora simply nodded, not wanting to get too deep into the true reason for her melancholy. 

“The gala will fly by, and you can be together after.”

“I know,” Zora sighed again. “I just hate having to treat him like a spare.”

“Zora, I’m sure he knows he’s not a spare. This is all just for show. It’s all politics.”

Zora glanced at herself in the full-body mirror, and a sense of déjà vu washed over her as she found herself transported back to her first morning waking up in Wakanda. She’d never forget the day that Bahati first gave her, Keisha, and that incompetent ambassador a tour of the country that she now called home. She had come a long way in just three, almost four short years. Zora was just an ambassador’s assistant when she first came to Wakanda. So much had changed in her life with that trip to Wakanda. It was supposed to be for a few short weeks, and she ended up falling in love with the country and two of its sons and sticking around. Now, Zora couldn’t imagine living anywhere else in the world.

“Don’t worry. Tonight will be a breeze,” Bahati reassured Zora as she gave her one last glance over to check for anything out of place.

Zora smiled at her friend and let the optimistic words wash over her. Tonight would be a breeze…

---------

Black students and their chaperones, journalists, and government officials from across the diaspora flew into Birnin Zana earlier that day, and each member of the royal family greeted them with a welcoming speech when they arrived. Shuri spoke of her excitement about sharing her technology with the brilliant young minds that had come to Wakanda. Ramonda spoke of how her travels with her late husband only gave her a taste of the outside world but encouraged the young Wakandans that would spend time beyond their borders to truly appreciate the cultural exchange. T’Challa ended the welcome brunch by telling them how the program came to be: Zora. He explained her absence and promised she’d grace them with her presence at the gala when she returned that evening. 

Zora ensured each guest received a kimoyo bracelet complete with translator capabilities, and Wakandan tour guides were assigned to small groups of five to ten people. The following day, they’d all receive the same tour that Bahati and T’Challa gave Zora and Keisha when they arrived, plus more specialized tours based on academic focus. The Wakandan students would be greeted by their host communities in their own unique but similar ways. They mingled with their visitors with ease, and by the start of the gala, the only thing that separated them was the culturally specific styles of their formal attire.

The event was held in the palace courtyard, with the setting sun front and center for the guests to marvel at while they trickled into the space from their lodgings across the city. Zora had spent months working with a team of artists, contractors, and craftspeople to make sure the courtyard (as well as the entire palace and the visitor’s apartments) was perfect and to her liking for her visitors. Drummers struck their instruments with their palms in a high-energy rhythm that got the guests dancing before the event began. By the time the guests spotted the Royal Talon descending from the sky on the other side of the palace spires, spirits were so high that they erupted into applause that rang out loud enough for Zora to hear inside the aircraft. 

She was a vision in black when T’Challa laid eyes on her as she came down the ramp, and as soon as she saw him, her face lit up. Zora ran to T’Challa and jumped into his arms, not caring about messing up their formal attire or makeup. Their lips locked in a wet embrace they had longed for over the past two weeks, and their bodies came alive at the other’s touch. His firm hands held her up and grabbed her cheeks to pull her body closer to his while her arms wrapped around his neck. Tongues explored mouths, and they breathed as one again.

Being apart for the past two weeks was rough for Zora and T’Challa. Seeing Indigo brought up a lot of emotions for them both, and being without their loves during that time made for some lonely nights. Kimoyo chats can only do so much, especially when Zora loved taking every opportunity she could to tease her man. Her fingers would explore her depths while she panted and moaned and called his name, wishing her walls were contracting around his girth, and he couldn’t help but stroke himself until he overflowed with passion watching her performance. He’d tell her what to do, and she’d become her bratty self instantly, forcing him to keep a running tab of her infractions.

There were eight.

Half of those infractions come from her insistence on not calling him by whatever name he allows her to at the time. Sometimes he wants to hear her call him the same name as the rest of the world, and other times he only allows “Sir.” When she wants to get under his skin, she’s always resorted to calling him by his title, and T’Challa kept count of four times when she chose to push that button.

Another three came from her refusal to take his directions. He told her to remove her panties; she pushed them to the side. He ordered her to stop rubbing her clit when she seemed like she was about to climax, but Zora did it anyway, a satisfied smirk on her face as her juices dripped down on her hand. Then, her striptease while the king was in a meeting with the council. Every few seconds, T’Challa’s kimoyo beads dinged with a picture that he dared not open until after the meeting, each one of her in fewer clothes than the one before. By the time he called her after the meeting ended, she was cumming all over her favorite vibrator and screaming his name in her soundproof suite on the Talon while he tried his best to maintain composure in the two free minutes he had in his schedule.

The last infraction was when Zora’s bratty side got out of hand. T’Challa had missed her usual before-bedtime call, and when he called her back twenty minutes later, Zora was tired and cranky from a long day of global politicking. Her attitude made her mouthy, and when she accused him of sleeping with his assistant, he’d had enough. The following day, she didn’t even remember their conversation, but the king had already begun plotting revenge. 

Those thoughts of punishment disappeared from T’Challa’s mind when he saw Zora in the flesh again. His heart nearly stopped as he took in her curves, from the royal purple polish on her stubby toes to the tip of the beaded halo resting comfortably in her curls. His hands felt like they were glued to her ass, and he couldn’t help but squeeze it tighter and test the jiggle in his hands to make sure it was all still there.

Zora whimpered against T’Challa’s mouth when his fingertips got dangerously close to her lower lips, and his body responded with a rush of blood between his legs. He pressed his pelvis into her warmth and held her tighter while she gripped him as if he would ever drop her.

“Oh, my Bast!”

Zora pried her eyes open at the interruption and saw T’Challa’s new assistant trying her best to remain professional. The rest of the staff was used to their displays of affection and worked around them like it was nothing, but poor Kidada looked stunned to see her boss and king in such a precarious position. 

“Uxolo kumkani–”

The two lovers cooled down and pulled apart with a chuckle, and the king waved off her nervous ramblings.

“No need to apologize, Kidada.”

She nodded and pushed her gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her round nose, looking away nervously while Zora and T’Challa were both swarmed by their stylists. 

“How’s it looking out there?” Zora asked the assistant while the makeup artist touched up her lipstick.

“The visitors saw the Talon arrive, and they’ve begun asking for you.”

“We won’t keep them waiting much longer.”

“We?” T’Challa scoffed, and Zora cut her eyes at him, forcing Bahati to stifle a giggle.

“We’re a unit now, T’Challa, or have you forgotten your vows?” Zora teased, and it became T’Challa’s turn to cut his eyes.

“As if I could ever do such a thing.”

“I know, baby. You love me too much.”

“That and the eidetic memory,” T’Challa smirked, his eyes trailing up to the isicholo on Zora’s head. 

His mind traveled back to the day he first placed it there as vividly as if he still existed in that very moment. The procession through Birnin Zana was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen until they made it to the palace steps, and he was allowed to turn around and face his future wife. The brightly colored flower petals that filled the air and covered the ground they walked on as they made their way through the city streets had nothing on Zora in her intricately woven purple robes and stark white wedding paint. Ramonda comforted Cheryl as they gave their children away to be married on the palace steps, and both mothers had tearfully proud smiles on their faces as the priestess declared their union to be blessed by Bast. T’Challa remembered hearing slight sniffles coming from Shuri’s direction, but he was too busy gazing into his new wife’s twinkling eyes as he secured her crown.

Zora caught him staring, but she knew where his memory had taken him. She reached out her hand to intertwine their fingers, and the swirling patterns that the tattooist etched into their skin the day they were wed completed the design in the way they intended. 

“Let’s go,” she said with a soft smile.

T’Challa brought her hand to his lips and led the way out of the dressing room with Kidada, Bahati, and their Dora Milaje detail on their heels.

“My king, my queen,” Kidada rushed out as she followed behind them. “The queen mothers and the princess are already seated at the table, as are the council members, and the-”

“M’Baku?” Zora stopped walking and looked back at the assistant expectantly, but Kidada deferred to T’Challa.

“Zora,” he began, “he decided it would be best if he kept his distance. He sent Dembe in his absence.”

“Oh.” Disappointment weighed on Zora’s vocal cords like the heaviest boulder. “Is he ok?”

T’Challa sweetly cupped Zora’s face with the hand not interwoven with hers.

“He knew he could not remain professional in front of our guests.”

Zora nodded solemnly, and took a step forward, only to be pulled back into T’Challa’s embrace.

“My love, he-”

“I understand… it’s hard for me, too.”

He kissed her forehead, and the two of them took off again towards the courtyard with their entourage in tow. 

Zora tried to go over her speech, but her mind kept wandering back to M’Baku. She couldn’t help but feel a little hollow inside every time he came up. That emptiness came not just from missing her Jabari man, but because, in order to build relationships with foreign dignitaries, Zora had to become something she despised: dishonest. More than telling simple lies, she had to hide a piece of herself because of her global peers’ conservative sensibilities surrounding non-traditional relationships. 

Wakanda was already under so much scrutiny from the global press. The country’s name was being dragged through the mud by conservatives and liberals alike for their exclusionary practices, neither side of the political spectrum truly grasping the concept of reparations for descendants of chattel slavery. The United Nations was breathing down their necks for a taste of vibranium. Zora specifically had become the target of many a smear campaign calling her every foul name under the sun for “sleeping her way into the palace”—a sentiment that lost a news reporter in the UK his job when his boss mysteriously received pictures of said reporter in blackface taken just two years prior. 

To Wakandans, and many people around the world with liberated mindsets, polyamory is just another way of life; there are also many who see it as unacceptable, especially when a woman has more than one man. The woman is considered loose and therefore unworthy of respect, and the men are seen as weak for allowing such a thing to transpire. As incorrect as that thinking is, Zora knew all too well the ass-backward logic of the colonized world, and it was her decision to keep the true nature of her relationship with M’Baku under wraps to be taken seriously. The world would at least halfway respect a gold-digger, but a whore, especially when in the body of a Black woman, was seen as nothing more than an object to be used. To only speak when spoken to and to not demand the respect said whore deserves. 

That meant that while the visitors were inside Wakanda, the throuple was to act as a couple in public, and that M’Baku didn’t join Zora and T’Challa for diplomatic trips to foreign countries. However, when Zora chose to keep her other man from the world, she quickly learned that it wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. In fact, it downright ripped her apart every time she had to restrain herself from holding his hand or planting a kiss on his cheek in specific settings. Every time Zora had to lie about their relationship or stop herself from touching him, her stomach churned at the lack of affection, but she’d always more than make up for it later.

Zora gave up on practicing her speech and let her mind wander to after the gala when the three of them would be together for the first time in weeks. She knew her guilt would make it difficult for her to accept the intimacy that M’Baku and T’Challa were undoubtedly about to lay on her for both her successful event and to celebrate their reuniting after her travels. She’d have to pay extra close attention to M’Baku, but as soon as she began planning all the things she wanted to do to him, the group arrived at the final set of double doors leading to the courtyard. 

---------

The king and queen of Wakanda smiled so wide their cheeks hurt as they took picture after picture with their guests, much to Okoye’s dismay. She was on high alert, having so many foreigners in her home country, and although she loved the idea of the children coming to visit, she loathed the politicians and journalists that followed them. She didn’t trust them one bit, so she had her Dora Milaje, the palace guards, and the tribal warriors, on guard. Of course, each person had been vetted, and no weapons were brought into the country, but the warriors remained ready just in case something popped off. 

The general scanned the crowd while Zora spoke to a twelve-year-old girl who was interested in design and had complimented her isicholo when she noticed the entrance to the gardens darken, and a prominent figure appeared from the shadows. Okoye fought a smirk as she continued to survey the space, and as soon as the young girl left Zora’s side, she leaned in close to whisper a message to her queen.

“Your husband is here, kumkanikazi wam.”

Zora’s face lit up, and she instantly began searching the crowd for his figure until she felt a nudge on her shoulder. She looked T’Challa’s way, and his eyes darted to the back corner as he nodded in that direction, having heard Okoye’s whisper with ease. Zora’s gaze followed his lead, and not a second later, her body felt flush as she laid her eyes on none other than the chief of the Jabari himself. 

M’Baku stood near the entrance to the gardens wearing his chief furs, his large arm guards filling out his already massive silhouette in a way that made Zora’s mind go straight to the gutter. She felt a tingle between her legs at the thought of parading around his room in his furs while he was naked and tied down to his bed. The queen tried in vain to fight the urge to stare, but she was too weakened by his presence. He felt her gaze from across the room and looked away from his conversation with his liaison Dembe. Their eyes met, and it was as if the entire room had melted away. All that mattered was the man by her side and the man yards away from her. The only thing she felt was T’Challa’s warm arm sliding around her waist and the icy chill of M’Baku’s absence from her other side. 

Always knowing exactly what Zora was feeling, T’Challa leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Now would be a good time for you to stretch your legs if you’d like.”

Zora tore her eyes away from M’Baku, and they landed square on the only man the entire world knew to be hers, a knowing and thankful smile gracing her plump lips before she met him for a chaste kiss. 

“I’ll be back.”

T’Challa unhanded her waist and let her slip from his side, his eyes slyly taking in her figure in her jumpsuit as she sashayed toward the gardens with Ayo not far behind. He didn’t have time to daydream about what lay beneath the dark fabric because the U.S. Secretary of State dampened his mood by stepping into his line of vision. 

While T’Challa was being hounded by Secretary Ross yet again, Zora slowly made her way through the room, stopping every few steps to mingle while she monitored M’Baku as she grew closer and closer to his warmth. When she stopped just four feet away from him to applaud a blended group of teenagers dancing together, he slipped away from Dembe and back into the gardens, causing Zora to smirk. So, he wanted to play games?

Zora glanced at T’Challa across the room to check in, and his slight nod gave her all the approval she needed.

“Ayo, please make sure we are undisturbed.”

“Ewe, kumkanikazi wam,” the lieutenant nodded and stood guard at the garden entrance. 

Zora winked at Dembe as she slipped through the gate, and they sent back a knowing little wave as she disappeared into the shrubbery. The sounds of the party grew fainter with every step she took into the depths of the lush gardens until her stilettos became louder against the stone path than the drums in the distance. Zora’s feet carried her all the way there on autopilot, and when she rounded the last corner, her body came alive when a warm presence engulfed her.

It was a presence she knew all too well, one she had joined with before Hanuman in a ceremony that brought tears to her eyes. When she looked down at the large hands that had taken hold of her waist, a smile took over her face at the black ink embedded in the skin. His and her hands marked forever to solidify their union, just as her right hand held the same marks that decorated T’Challa’s skin. Her smile grew wider when he pulled her in tight and kissed her neck, his hands gripping the two strands of beads that decorated her waist given to her by her two husbands in a much more intimate exchange within the confines of her bedroom.

“You were great up there, my sweet,” M’Baku rumbled into the crook of her neck, and Zora sighed into the deep vibrations.

“How would you know? You missed my speech.”

“Dembe recorded on their beads so I could still watch you.”

Zora turned around in his arms and cupped his bearded face in her hands.

“I wish you could’ve been there with me.”

M’Baku kissed her deeply.

“I do, too.”

Zora reached for his hand and led him to her favorite bench in the entire garden. It had been carved from the trunk of an ancient tree that fell during an unseasonably powerful storm that blew through the night Shuri was born and placed in a secluded corner of the gardens. The carpenter paid extra close attention to detail when they made it, and Zora couldn’t help but feel drawn to it every time she entered the green space. So much so that M’Baku and T’Challa regularly found her escaping her duties by reclining on that very bench and soaking up the fresh air in silence. 

“I have missed you, Zora,” M’Baku mumbled, his lips dusting over Zora’s knuckles as he planted soft kisses on her inked skin.

Zora’s lips met his before she could even think to preserve her makeup, and not seconds later, she was straddling his lap… until the sound of a shutter pierced the air, and a rustling of leaves forced them apart.

Next chapter

Taglist:  @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @brihann, @impremenior, @nahimjustfeelingit-writes, @brattyfics, @cecereads209, @afriendlyblackhottie, @queengodiva619, @musicisme333,  @dersha89, @ljstraightnochaser, @bornamiracle, @xoxoviva, @goddessofmischief0711, @issahyland, @blkbutterfly816, @judymfmoody, @novaniskye, @prettystringbean, @martakllv, @blackpinup22, @griot-of-wakanda, @mermaidchansons

[cardentist]

people on twitter freaking the hell out because rebecca sugar drew a comic of pearl and greg having a messy situationship in the aftermath of rose dying wasn't on my 2024 bingo card if I'm being honest

even Less so because the thing they're apparently mad about is that the nonbinary alien rock was supposed to be a lesbian (as if there's anything wrong with a nonbinary alien rock being bisexual, Or that lesbian can't have a situationship with a man without still being a lesbian on the other side.)

anyways, may take on it is: you don't have to consider any of rebecca sugar's sketches "canon," because it's not actually in the source material. rebecca may have a strong influence on how the fandom sees the characters but it does Not actually change the show. so getting worked up about it in the first place is ridiculous.

That Said, it kinda works with whatever they had going on in the show if I'm being honest

[tcustodisart]

Happy Pride Month!

Faust the Crow loves you even more than she did the last 2 years!

[bluebiscuitraine]

Another Pride half body for Capeline!

[quicklythisway]

Self discovery is all about finding new perspectives

[ashleyloob]

AJ attempts to flirt (badly)

insta || twt || patreon || shop

[telanadasvhenan]

This was funnier in my head

[girlokwhatever]

can i request a paige smut where like the reader had pissed her off BADDD (in whatever way you see fit) and so paige fucks her with the strap BUT the reader keeps like pushing at her abs and ahitbtryna het her to slow down which in return pisses her off more…pls :)

i love you 😭

₊⊹༉‧₊˚.˚ · .ׂׂૢ·˚ ༘ you can take it,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

“i don’t wanna talk to you dude.”

paige was absolutely furious. you missed one of the biggest shots of her career— a score-tying buzzer beater that ended up saving her team and securing them a win in overtime— all because you were talking to a guy in the stands. she was so excited to talk to you about it, for the both of you to share that excitement. so you could imagine her disappointment in hearing that you didn’t see it.

“paige are you serious? i’m sorry alright? i got to see it on the replays, it was really good.”

you try to reach out for her but she shrugs you off again, and now you’re pissed too. the guy was your classmate that spotted you in the crowd and wanted to say hello. you had apologized about a trillion times for missing the shot, still affirming to her how awesome it probably was in the moment.

it only made her feel worse when the guy approached you again at the end of the game. hadn’t he taken enough of your attention already?

“just leave me alone. if you want to be entertained just go talk to that guy again anyway. let him stare down your shirt for all i care.” paige throws her shirt into a corner of your room, littering her sweaty garments around your room.

“is that was this is about? a guy?”

she rolls her eyes, flopping onto your shared bed. she scrolls through her phone to avoid your gaze because she doesn’t want to say something she regrets. her legs are spread, creating space that in any usual situation you’d gravitate towards.

you stupidly decided to tease paige after finding out the true root of her anger. half-naked, you crawl towards her legs on the bed and seat yourself right on her lap. your hand pushes her phone away for her undivided attention.

you were probably going to regret this later.

“you know what we were talking about?”

she knows she shouldn’t give in just by the look in your eyes, but she does anyway. she’s a sucker for you.

“well he kept asking if i wanted to leave with him. i told him i had a girlfriend but he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” you lean closer, lowering your voice, “you know what he told me paige?”

“what?” she’s near breathless, anger still lingering because this guy seems like a douche.

“he told me he’d fuck me so good if i left with him. said he’d fuck me better than you ever could.”

“fuck off. don’t fucking piss me off.”

“he was cute. maybe-”

“paige!”

she’s rutting into you relentlessly, the same way she has been for the past hour. you’ve been squeezing around her strap like a vice the entire time from one position to the next.

after you teased paige earlier all she saw was red. she knew it wasn’t true, but the fact that you even uttered the words had some insane affect on her. she instantly had you on your back, purple strap heavy between your thighs. ever since then she’d been thrusting into you, never stopping or letting up unless she was finding a new angle.

she’d effortlessly coaxed you through three orgasms already and you were definitely feeling the effects. your thighs shook as she held them flush to her body, eyes glued to your face that was twisted together with pleasure.

you were so fucked out you hardly realized your girlfriend’s hand trailed down to the heat between your legs. her thumb rubbed sloppily against your throbbing clit, your eyes shooting open with a pornographic moan. the feeling was overwhelming and made your body shake even worse because, how many times had she done this?

“oh fuck- paige i can’t..”

“yeah you can baby. want you to cum for me.”

your orgasm feels different this time, sensitivity heightened and you can’t control it. she’s so deep and she’s filling you so good, thrusting hard and with so much purpose.

“bet that guy couldn’t make you feel this way huh?”

you’re nodding at her words because she’s right. no one has ever or could ever make you feel better than she does. she knows it.

paige continues stimulating your already over-sensitive bud, pressing harder and faster to match the pace of her hips. you moan out a high-pitched screech and mumble incoherently as your back arches off the bed so much paige has to push you back down. the pressure on your stomach sends you over the edge, sheets tight in your grasp as you finish.

she soothes your sides by running her hands up and down your body, slowing her thrusts but never stopping. you’re attempting to push your body up the bed but her grasp on you is firm and bruising.

“one more baby.” you’re still delirious from the last orgasm and she’s already speeding up her pace.

fuck her and her cardio.

you finally let go of the sheets, reaching out to push at your girlfriend’s abs. “paige please, i can’t. s’too much p.”

she’s immediately pulling your hands away, pushing them above your head as she leans over to whisper in your ear, “you can take it.”

she’s offended that you even suggested you couldn’t. her large hands find your hips again, pulling your body further down the bed and onto her silicone dick. your mouth fell open with a moan and you didn’t know if it was from the feeling of her splitting you in half or her persistence. probably both.

“tryna push me away,” she groans, “don’t be stupid baby.”

she pulls your legs over her shoulders with urgency as she snaps her hips against your own. the burn is finally catching up with her but she doesn’t even care because all she can focus on is you and the way you’re moaning her name.

you gush around her, cum dripping and soaking your sheets. the shake of your body vibrates against paige and encourages her to thrust impossibly faster, a whine escaping past your lips. she’s too good.

the all-too-familiar feeling forms deep in your abdomen again. you shift your hips, chasing your release as your hips angle down. paige’s last thrust makes you cry out, the bubble of anticipation for your orgasm popping. even paige moans as she stills because she swears she can feel you throbbing around her.

a sigh escapes you when paige pulls out. you feel incredibly empty after being filled for so long, a quiet whimper sounding through the room at the new feeling.

paige slips the strap off quickly. once she does, she resumes her previous position between your legs. she’s being gentle as her hands glide over your skin to massage the ache away. it’s a large contrast to her harsh thrusts only minutes ago.

“you did so good, ready to go again?”

“again?” you’re in disbelief as her legs slot with your own, leaning back ever-so-slightly so her pussy meshes with your own. the feeling makes your legs twitch and you’re already moaning at the barely-there friction.

“you didn’t think that was it, did you?”

₊⊹༉‧₊˚.˚ · .ׂׂૢ·˚ ༘

i hope i did this request justice!!

actually partially spell-checked this time 🤗

[vertyd]

Cherchez La Femme

[yandere-writer-momo]

I often daydream about a mean girl who is actually a yandere (closeted) lesbian. She’s a spoiled rich girl that has an unhealthy attachment towards you.

Yandere Imagines: What She Wants

Yandere Mean Rich Girl x Fem Reader

Mean yandere who was your childhood bully growing up. She hated you the minute you arrived in her fifth grade class with your bright smile and cute clothes. She’d often pull your hair or throw rocks at you at recess. Anything to get you out of the good graces of others… yet she couldn’t help but be fascinated with the texture of your hair…

Mean yandere who apologizes months later because she can’t help the way her cheeks heat up whenever you’re around. To her, you’re like a new toy she really wants. She’s never felt this way before since she wanted you more than any toy she’s ever had.

Mean yandere who integrated you into her ‘friend’ group just to keep you closer to her at all time. You became her designated ‘best friend.’ The two of you now went everywhere together as you sat with her and her lackeys… she threw tantrums if you refused anything she asked of you so you always went with her will. She loved your submissiveness

Mean yandere who plays with your hair whenever there weren’t people around. She thought your hair was so pretty… and she didn’t want anyone else to touch it. Despite being ‘friends,’ she doesn’t allow you to hang out with other people. She cannot stand to share you.

Mean yandere who told everyone that you still slept with a stuffed animal like a baby in high school! She didn’t want anyone else to think it was as cute as she did… it seemed it wasn’t an odd enough rumor either since no one seemed to care as much as she did. You’re a bit frustrated that she shared that secret about you, but it’s not a secret you really cared too much about.

Mean yandere who gets a boy expelled for starting a rumor about sleeping with you. She will not let anyone tarnish your reputation except her! She would rather cut her toes off than let someone touch you… yet she wasn’t sure why that bothered her so much.

Mean yandere who ended up going to the same college as you. She was so delighted when you ended up as her roommate in her dorm. It would be easier to keep an eye on you then! She totally didn’t pay the dean off to make this arrangement happen.

Mean yandere who uses her daddy’s money to buy you new clothes. Clothes that cover most of your skin since she didn’t like the way the men and women stared at you on campus. You deserved only the best!

Mean yandere who is taken aback by how sweet you are. You obey all of her rules and you clean up after yourself. Were you some kind of house wife? Did you want to be?

Mean yandere who can’t help the wet dreams she has of you. She’s always so terrified whenever she dreams of kissing every inch of your soft skin as her fingers explore the inside of your wet heat. The possibility of liking other women never occurred to her… she always thought she just hasn’t met the right guy.

Mean yandere who found out you’re bisexual when she comes back to the for early to see you kissing another girl. She pushed that poor girl out of the dorm before she storms off to her own. Her hands clutch at her chest to try to calm her frantic heart. Why was she so jealous of that other girl? And why did she want to kiss you so badly?

Mean yandere who crawls into your bed when you’re not home so she can inhale the scent of your pillow. Your scent drove her wild and it felt like she was closer to you than ever… it finally hit her that she was in love with you. That’s why she was always so strange when it came to you…

Mean yandere who finally gathers the courage to hold your hand as the two of you watch a movie. Her heart hammers in her chest as you give her an odd look. Yes… this felt right! Being with you felt right!

Mean yandere who doesn’t handle your rejection well. She loves you! Why can’t you accept her? Was that other girl better than her? She highly doubted it because she was far prettier than she was! She had more money! Didn’t you know she could ruin that girl’s life.

Mean yandere who resorts to threats. She doesn’t want you to leave her! You cannot leave! Never ever ever ever ever. She would ruin your life and make your family live on the streets. She will chase you to the ends of this earth until you’re in her arms where you belong.

You can only watch as your childhood friend has a mental breakdown before you reluctantly accept her. You’ve seen her wrath once and you don’t want anyone else to suffer because of your selfishness. If would just be better to give her what she wants.

[timot-ei]

Happy Pride darlings!

[crtki]

more art hello void !! this is my pirate oc sidra who gets turned into a siren <3 (she/her)

[rose-of-strangers]

Wanted to hop on @bogcreacher speed date challenge

This is Golden, a dragon oc from my own fantasy world. I saw Red Kite's trait of chronic pain and was like, Yo that works great for an interaction with ma gurl :3

I feel Golden would immediately help soothe some of Red Kite's pain with one of her healing spells

[tcustodisart]

Happy Pride Month!

Faust the Crow is back and she loves you as much as she did last year!

Here's a link to my dropbox if you want to print this artwork yourself or if you want to use your preferred crow as an icon. Just keep in mind it's for personal use only (please give me credit if you're going to use it). Have a great Pride <3

[emthimofnight]

when the prettiest girl you know thinks you are pretty!!

(respost of my Sonadow fan kid Stellar and my Blazamy fan kid Camellia!! I decided to color it bc I wanted to show off Camellia's colors :P)

[soranatus]

Pride of the Galaxy | Illustrations by character animator, Niq Ducote